Chapter 3
Madam Gu did not see me. She was struggling beneath one of the tribesmen.
The raiders had taken quite a number of prisoners.
Madam Gu belonged to the first group. She was beautiful, soft, and well-fed, which made her stand out among the gaunt servants and poor women. I heard that women like her had been selected separately.
The rest of us—the dirty, foul-smelling ones—were roped together and tethered to horses for the northward march.
The raiders wore animal-hide masks. Even so, their tightly pressed lips made it obvious that they felt no kindness toward us, much less any inclination to treat women gently.
We often received only one meal a day.
They meant to keep us barely alive until they could sell us to herders as slaves.
Perhaps Madam Gu regretted not keeping those two beautiful concubines with her.
At least then there would have been others to share the burden.
I shrank into a corner and watched.
The tribesmen did not share the capital aristocracy’s taste for willow-slender beauties. They preferred women with soft, generous curves.
That was my good fortune.
My bad fortune was that some men among them were defectors from the Li Dynasty. Their tastes had not changed. They still preferred Li women.
The man who had captured me happened to be a turncoat officer.
He emerged from the crowd wearing a fox-hide mask. His armor was covered in blood. He pointed at me.
Two men dragged me forward.
He lifted his chin, and the personal guard at his side immediately rattled off a string of questions.
“Name? Home? Occupation? Age? Married? Any chil—”
The masked officer glanced at him. The guard shut his mouth.
I answered meekly, “I am Gu Zhilan, the Minister Gu family’s legitimate daugh—”
At the word minister, the officer’s mouth curved into a cold smile.
I hurried on. “—daughter’s personal maid. My name is Zhang Yinhe.”
The officer raised his chin again.
His guard sliced through the rope around my wrists.
Another tilt of the chin.
The guard said, “Wipe the blood off your face and wash properly. From now on, serve our lord well.”
The officer lifted his chin one last time.
His guard interpreted with perfect speed, like a worm living inside his commander’s belly. “You can wash in a moment. You stink.”
The officer nodded.
The guard led me to a cart piled with stolen jewelry, rummaged through it, and found a clean set of clothes.
He threw them to me.
“Sir,” I asked cautiously, “how should I address our lord? He doesn’t look like a man of the Northern Rong.”
The guard looked sideways at me. I immediately put on my most obedient expression.
He called the officer Ling Feng. Apparently, the man had suffered a disastrous defeat that very morning and surrendered to the Northern Rong at noon.
This raid was meant to secure captives as tribute, so he could buy himself a respectable post among his new masters.
He was not really a general—only something like a centurion.
Why defect?
Under the laws of the Great Ye realm, if the leader of five died, the other four were executed. If a leader of ten died, his subordinate leaders of five were executed. If a leader of a hundred died, the leaders of ten beneath him were executed. Collective punishment all the way down.
Since he would die either way, he had chosen treason.
I turned to look at Ling Feng. Maybe my eyes were failing me, but he seemed familiar.
The clothes his guard had given me were ornate and finely made. I inspected them, handed them back, and asked for something easier to move in.
“Easier to take off, isn’t it?”
The guard gave me a look that said he knew exactly what kind of woman I was. Still, he obliged.
Finding a bath was easy enough. Beyond the grassland ahead ran a river.
The early-spring wind remained bitter. Whips cracked above the captives, driving them forward with the tolling menace of funeral bells.
The women shivered.
At the riverbank, a soldier watched me.
I flexed my hands and feet and did a few simple warm-up movements.
The soldier called, “My lord.”
Slow footsteps approached from behind.
I had just slipped off my outer robe.
“Not afraid of me?” the officer asked.
I bent at the water’s edge and cupped my hands to wash my face. The filth came away, revealing a tolerable reflection in the river.
Still bent over the water, I slowly turned my head toward him. His gaze behind the mask became amused.
His guard tactfully withdrew. No one else was near.
I smiled meekly and caught the hem of the officer’s robe.
His hand rested on his saber. He did not move.
“My lord, let this slave clean your face.”
His gaze traveled from my shoulder to my lips. He gave the faintest smile and crouched without answering.
“Have you ever kissed a woman, my lord?”
One eyebrow rose. He gripped my chin and kissed me.
The mask smelled faintly of wine. His kiss was clumsy, rough, and utterly inexperienced.
I seized his lapel and deployed the expertise acquired from certain videos in my former life. Turning the tables, I gave him a proper French kiss.
Surprise entered his eyes. “You are rather—”
I looked past him. The tribesmen and his personal guard who had been peeping from behind had all gone.
So choosing me had been a performance of loyalty, intended to reassure the Northern Rong.
Good. Now I was reassured too.
I took a small step back and pretended to slip.
The river rushed behind me. Damp mud gave way beneath his feet.
I widened my eyes innocently. The face behind that mask really did seem…
I reached up and hooked one hand around it.
He seized my wrist.
I lowered my head as if shy. Understanding dawned in his smile, and he leaned closer again.
I tore off the mask and yanked him straight down the bank.
The river was freezing.
He wore soft armor. It dragged most of his body under at once.
I arched backward and dove.
My mother had been right. Knowing how to swim could save your life.
By the time I reached the middle of the river, I heard a man thrashing and swearing in fury behind me.