The Legend of Chu Qiao - V1C2
Chapter 2
Zhuge, Wei, Mu, Jue, Che, Yan.
4th of January in the year 770 of the Bai Cang calendar, Xia Dynasty.
Jing Yue Er, age 8
The pack of wolves was afraid of fire. Watching Jing Yue Er, who was shielding the children in the middle, they hesitated and dared not step closer. They had been starving for too long. Seeing their prey now protected, they retreated to the bodies in the arena, devouring everything they could find.
Zhuge Huai's long, narrow eyes narrowed as he looked at this sight and murmured, "Useless animals." He drew his bow and began shooting at the wolves.
Sharp arrows shot toward the pack, hitting them unknowingly. The wolves yelped in pain, collapsed to the ground, and quickly, they were all dead.
The children who survived were thrilled. Ignoring their wounds, they cheered loudly.
However, even before their cheers could be heard, another wave of arrows rained down on them, piercing their fragile bodies.
The empire's aristocratic descendants shot ruthlessly with their sharp eyesight. Unfeelingly, they aimed directly at the children in front of them with bloodthirsty arrows, rushing in for the kill.
An arrow swooshed through the air, coming at a frightening speed, shooting through a child's head with a thud, entering through her left eye and coming out from the back of her head, stopping right in front of Jing Yue Er's nose. Warm blood splattered all over her face, and she opened her mouth. With the burning rod being held tightly in her grip, she froze. The cries of children reverberated in the sides of her ears. It was all like a nightmare.
The arrows began to slow down as Prince Wei and Mu Yun laughed together. Both drew their bows, aimed directly at the girl, and released their arrows, sending them soaring through the air.
Zhao Jue frowned and guided his horse forward. When he reached for his quiver, he realized he only had one arrow left. With a cold groan, he snapped the arrow in half and nocked it on his bow. With a precise shot, he fired both arrows, knocking Prince Wei's and Mu Yun's arrows out of the sky.
Zhuge Huai laughed and commented, "Good shooting skills!"
Finishing his sentence, all cries ceased, and the northern wind blew through the snowy arena, carrying the stench of blood. The entire arena was soaked in red, and the only surviving child was Jing Yue Er. Her hair was tangled and matted, with hay stuck in it; her clothes were stained red, and her face appeared pale. She clutched the wooden rod and remained completely still. She gazed around, her expression stunned and shock-stricken.
Zhao Jue said, "The seventh brother is still the best. I have no more arrows left. I think you will be the winner today."
Prince Wei raised his brows, looked at his quiver, then Mu Yun's, and finally turned towards Zhuge Huai.
Zhuge Huai smiled smartly and said, "I was out of arrows long ago."
"Yan Shizi still has some arrows, doesn't he? The time is not up. Whose hand the deer will die under is still unknown," Mu Yun said suddenly.
All gazes fell on Yan Xun.
Zhao Jue looked coldly at Yan Xun and said without emotion, "Yan Shizi is known for giving everyone surprises at unsuspecting times."
The joss stick was only burnt halfway through, but everyone else had already used their arrows. Only one snowy, white-feathered arrow was lying in Yan Xun's quiver.
Yan Xun sat tall on his horse. Although he was only thirteen, his back was straight and firm, with striking eyebrows and bright eyes. His nose was sharp, and he had an intense gaze. His neatly pressed clothes, setting him apart from the crowd, made him look handsome but cold. With his cold expression, he nudged his horse forward and drew his bow, aiming at the child standing in the middle of the arena.
Gusts of wind swooshed by, blowing up the child's tattered clothes and messy hair. She was still very young, not older than seven or eight, looking malnourished and ghastly, like a hairless little wolf just born. Her arms, neck, and calves were covered in wounds, and the wound on her shoulder was near her artery. She stood in the middle of the messy Xiu Luo Arena, with dismembered limbs strewn everywhere, fresh blood flowing from bodies, and the stench of blood filling the air. The strength of cruelty was like the spirit of hopelessness, tearing at the delicate eyes of the child.
A glistening, bloodthirsty arrow slowly aimed at the child's throat. The teenager sat stately on the back of his horse. With his sharp gaze and furrowed brows, the veins on his arms bulged as he pulled back his bow.
There was nowhere she could hide. Disorganized thoughts rushed through her mind, with many questions and mysteries fading under the sudden rush. She slowly lifted her head. Her gaze was icy, full of hatred and resentment. She stared at the teenagers in front of her without a hint of fear.
That day was the year 770, the fourth day of the first month on the Bai Cang calendar. The people of Zhen Huang had just celebrated New Year's Day. It was the first time he and she met in the royal hunting arena on the outskirts of Zhen Huang City.
Time traveled along the course of history, tearing open the gates of time and space. Two souls never meant to meet had been placed on the same stage.
Yan Xun knitted his brows. Moving his fingers a little, he let go of the arrow.
The long arrow shot out, pushing the cold air as it soared. All eyes focused and fell on the child rooted to the spot.
With a swoosh, the line of blood lengthened as the sharp arrow grazed the child's neck, cutting her. Her figure wobbled slightly but she kept standing after staggering for a few steps.
"Ha Ha! Congratulations, seventh brother!" Zhao Jue laughed.
Zhao Che looked at Yan Xun with contempt and smirked, "Yan Shizi has been spending all his time on song, dance, and poetry. Did he forget how the ancestors of the Zhao clan held a bow?"
Yan Xun lowered his longbow and turned around. With a flat tone, he said, "How the ancestors of the Zhao Clan held the bow, it would already be enough if their descendants remembered. I wouldn't dare to meddle in your family's affairs."
Zhuge Huai let out a big laugh and said, "Since everyone is here, I guess the winner of this competition is his Seventh Royal Highness. I have dinner ready for all of you at my house. Let's go and have some drinks there."
They all agreed and mounted their horses together as if everything that had happened was just an ordinary game.
A powerful gust of wind swept through, causing the men's robes to flutter and filling the air with the smell of the wind across the vast snowy plains. From a distance, Yan Xun turned back, eyes fixed on the child covered in blood and dirt. She had been standing alone in the middle of the plains all this time, her intense gaze directed at them, lingering for a long moment.
The sky slowly darkened. As the northern winds howled past, the biting cold chilled them to the bone. The wind whipped snow across the ground while it moaned like a wild beast.
The men from the Zhuge family were clearing the arena, shoveling up those small, young bodies, and tossing them into a cart behind them. Not far away was a medium-sized ditch dug out, with wormwood crackling in flames within the ditch and thick smoke rising from it. It was used to bury those children, along with those bloodthirsty beasts. These lives were worthless, as if they were balls. Their wealthy owners would play with them only once, then grow tired and throw them out.
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Jing Yue Er[1] had a torn sack draped over her, and her head hung low in silence, sitting quietly beside the cages. She was seriously injured, but even if she had been a grown man, it would have been hard to suffer the immense pain in total silence.
The men from the Zhuge family thought she would die soon, but even after a long time, they noticed her chest was still rising and falling, though very little. They knew she was alive because of her breathing and that some unknown source of strength was still supporting her, even though she was close to death. So, they didn't throw her into the mass burial ditch. Instead, they put her back in the cage when they left.
The cage, which had initially been filled with children, suddenly felt spacious. All the children were dead; only one had survived. As the men marveled at the child's luck, they couldn't resist the urge to turn back and examine her carefully.
Although they couldn't find the words to describe it, they strongly sensed that the child had changed since she arrived.
The Zhuges' home was very large. They entered through the back door, and Housekeeper Zhu handed Jing Yue Er over to two workers. After giving a few instructions, they took one last cold look at her, turned around, and left.
With a click, a lock on one of the rooms was opened. Jing Yue Er was pushed inside. The door was locked before she could even get up.
It was pitch dark inside the four walls, with a pile of firewood stacked together. You could still hear the rustling of rats scurrying through the room. The child did not scream in horror. She sat in the center of the room, taking off the sack draped over her shoulders. Using her teeth to secure one end of the sack, she began tearing pieces of cloth from it, wrapping the wounds on her body with intense focus. Her methods were surprisingly well practiced.
Such a long time was enough for the qualified agent to calm her nerves, using careful thinking and a calm demeanor to handle anything that came her way, even if the circumstances were unbelievable.
Indeed, Jing Yue Er of that time was Major Chu Qiao[2], assistant commander of the 11th division, who had sacrificed her life for her nation. Fate, at many times, could be as unbelievable as this. An abyss may not hide certain death, but maybe it leads to a new life.
Chu Qiao raised her arms. Using the light outside, she looked at her small palm. A hint of sadness filled her heart, but she wasn't sure if she felt sadness for herself or for this pitiful child.
There's no one here. I can let myself be sad and scared, but I need to make this time as short as possible.
The child murmured to herself as tears streamed down, flowing across her dirty, thin face. Hugging her knees, she lowered her head, resting it between her arms. Quietly, her back began to shake.
This was the first night Chu Qiao spent in the Xia Empire in the cold, well-ventilated firewood shack of the Zhuge household. She cried helplessly because she was weak and afraid. She gave herself an hour to curse her fate, reminisce about her past, worry about her future, and adjust to her new life. After an hour, she would no longer be Chu Qiao, the elite commander of the 11th division, but instead, a young and helpless female child slave with nothing, struggling to survive in this inhumane, bloodthirsty, and chaotic empire.
Fate had pushed her into the ditch, she told herself. She had to climb out.
This terrible situation left her no chance to feel remorse or anxiety. If she didn't pull herself together, she might not survive the night.
She raised her blackened hands and grabbed a wooden stick, gradually beginning to write on the ground.
Zhuge, Wei, Mu, Jue, Che. At this word, her brows began to furrow. The sky outside darkened, and the sounds of woodwind instruments playing within the palace grounds could be heard. Amid the rustling, waves of laughter also echoed. She silently gathered her thoughts and finally wrote the last word: Yan.
Everyone was toasting each other in the main hall of Zhuge palace. Yan Xun's right eye suddenly twitched. He scrunched up his beautiful brows and slowly turned, gazing deep into the darkness.
The night was completely dark. With jackdaws flying high overhead, this murky, ugly empire was decayed.
The old order was meant to be destroyed, and the new order would take its place, rising from the ashes.
