A year had gone by since the last military offense from the exiled prince of Tianchao. Emperor Ji Yuan, Huang Di of Tianchao, spoke with the Emperor of Zhongguog, Tianzhi, often, though it could be described more as coercion and intimidation.
Since the breakout of the civil war between the two factions of the current monarch of Tianchao and rebelling prince for forty-five years, the situation birthed further poverty and plagues throughout the land; yet, even before that, there were different anecdotes that highlighted the problems since the ascension of the current emperor. The nation was powerful, but every great power had a weakness. Tianchao was unable to withstand the blows of the civil war, called DaiZai-Yige, ‘The Intranational Conflict of Blood.’
Yet, the scale leaned to one side now. When the great offense from a year ago occurred, fame grew to the heavens for the rebel prince.. A direct attack of the destruction of four battalions and eight watchtowers, led by him. They call him ‘Heibao Emperor,’ a title that spat upon the legacy of Huang Di. The power of Heibao was no longer in the imperial family of Zhongguog, yet somehow reached the lineage of Tianchao, which now flowed through the veins of the exiled prince.
Lands began to fall under his rule outside of Yinghua, and more people pledged their allegiance to him each day. Tales of his paramount leadership infatuated and filled the broken empire of ravished lands with hopes. They whispered to their children, “The Heibao Emperor will save us all.” They spoke stories of his confidants who lead behind him as his moon and shadow. The hearts of these people relied upon and obsessed over the promised salvation of this exiled prince, for salvation to stop the tears of Tianchao. To betray the imperial edict and Mandate of Monarchy by blaspheming to speak of rebellion, the people no longer had the eyes to the throne of the current emperor.
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Under the moonlight spilling through hand-sized windows, Zihun unfurled a scroll, bound by a crest of deep purple, and the head of a great bird, the Roc. Eyes quick to glance at the right bottom corner: a red mark the shape of the Roc. He looked back at the paper, taking every word and every detail provided; he closed his eyes and rolled it.
“Xiaowei Mao.” Zihun looked to the front. Five men knelt in front of him. “What did Tianzi relay?”
His lips pursed, and he caught a glimpse of Xiaowei Lin who stood beside him, shamelessly open to her curiosity and smiles, as the other men followed suit. Heavy sprouting vines, torn between trust and conduct, lodged between them; it was something that he couldn’t discuss with them.
Xiaowei Yang,
This emperor awaits news about your progress. There have been many growing rumors within the city, and you must investigate this before you plan an assassination of the Heibao prince, or whatever the civilians of Tianchao call the low-born child. Make certain that you do not fail. If you do, this emperor cannot guarantee your life. It has been said that the low-born prince is brutal beyond comprehension. If you fail, you will not receive any form of aid nor rescue. If you succeed, you will be relieved of your duty as a Xiaowei in the Zhongguog army.
With lowered eyes and a solemn regard, she stared for a second and suddenly coughed. “Men, you are dismissed for now. Xiaowei Mao and I have grave matters to attend to, one from Tianzi.”
The men lept to their feet and left as obedient as a dog would if offered food, though there was none of that here, only loyalty—but not for Zihun.
He looked at Lin. “I received word from Tianzi.”
With the letter kept by his side, Lin gazed at it and brought her attention back to Zihun who approached with similar sincerity of neither contempt nor hurt. It was considered foolish to share a private letter from the emperor with others, and if there were orders directed to others within the letter, then Zihun was the one who would relay them.
Lin smiled at him, to which Zihun already had a festering suspicion. Although a glare was rare from her, a smile was rarer. As much as there was history and considered kindred spirits, Zihun was not one to lie and think that her mischievous behavior was anything but normal in the current situation.
“What is it, Xiaowei Lin?”
The smile fell. “It’s nothing. I just wonder if my husband back in Zhongguog will be able to write a letter to me, haha,” she laughed and scratched her nape. “I’m not sure, and neither is Xiaowei Yang, I believe” —Lin closed her eyes —”Not sure how till we can return to Zhongguog.”
Zihun’s gaze fell in deep thought. The words in the letter parroted. If we were to complete his mission, what would become of him? From his conversations with the emperor, it implied more than just simple freedom from the position—maybe he would be exiled.
Lin stared at Zihun and nodded, to which Zihun droned, “We can only hope to finish our duties as soon as possible.”
“What did Tianzi say?” she asked with a firm gaze, her hand over her heart.
“He said that we must investigate the entirety of Yinghua, from what I understood. There are irregularities occurring in every corner, and I don’t think it is simple.”
She nodded her head, considering everything he said to her. She was as skilled as a seasoned Xiaowei of one of the five groups of the army, just as Zihun. A hum lingered in the room, and the dilapidated house did not seem as terrible, decorated by musical sounds.
“Xiaowei Mao, you are more accomplished than me in the area of information gathering and overall a spy. I am not sure what the emperor wants from either of us, but there must be a reason why he chose us.” She sighs, scratching her nape with her gloved hand. “Why is the emperor so cryptic?”
A frown laced his lips. “I’m quite tired of it, too. But what can I do?
She didn’t seem to have him, and if she did, her listless expression pointed that she had more important things on her mind, like her own words clicked something.
What is she thinking though? Zihun almost asked her before she turned her head and spoke in quick succession, “Xiaowei Yang, could you go to the Emperor of Tianchao when we return to our quarters?”
“Huh?” Zihun blurted and processed her words for a second. “You want me to speak with the emperor?”
She gave a wry smile. “Yes. I am not very skilled in speech, and it would be a great offense if I misspeak. I’ve heard a lot about your discussions with Tianzi, and even praises when Tianzhi speaks with the other three Xiaoweis. You must be aware of how strict the Emperor of Zhongguog is. Even from this past year, you were the one who managed to get us out of the political opposition.”
“You are not wrong, but you are not lacking in any way either, Lin.”
“And who is it the emperor entrusted with letters most of the time?”
“Hmm, alright, I will see the emperor. He also needed to say something to me, apparently, so that’s that. But what do you want me to speak about specifically?”
As satisfied as a puppy, she beamed and nodded her head. “Thank you, Xiaowei Yang. I feel relieved that you are the one speaking with the emperor. With your charisma, I have no worries.”
Her features tightened into a frown. “For the past few months, I was observing and taking notes of the security levels around Yinghua. Given that most of the wealthy live on the Northern Gate half of the capital, there is a denser allocation of soldiers around that Gate. But then again, it may be intentional to keep the Southern Gate susceptible to crime, or even other matters. A few days back, while directly investigating—I am not fully sure of the issues around, but I have observed many smuggling of drugs and some…concerning things.”
Her voice tapered into a hushed murmur, “It was quite disturbing.”
“What are the concerning things?” Zihun’s fingers twitched to her words.
She rubbed her forehead, taking a deep breath. “Well, firstly, around the back alley near the Southern Gate, there are…a lot of foreigners, likely merchants, carrying large sacks into warehouses or houses. I’m not sure what it is, but the smell…” Her face twisted into one of disgust. “It was the smell of blood. I think those were dead bodies.”
What the fuck—a whooping cough burst out.
Lin paled and began to slap his back, rubbing and whispering in a frantic tone, “W-what’s wrong, Zihun? Why are you coughing all of a sudden!?”
“I—cough cough!” He wheezed, before another round of coughs broke out. Through gritted teeth, he slammed his fist into his chest.
Human trafficking. HUMAN TRAFFICKING! How is she even saying this so calmly? I’ve never in my life handled human trafficking cases, and she’s suggesting that I have to bring the issue to the emperor of Tianchao directly! Zihun's throat convulsed with a relentless series of coughs, each rasping breath unable to ease the queasiness rising within him. The taste of bile clawed at the back of his throat, a bitter accompaniment to the spasms wracking his chest. He pressed a hand to his mouth.
For the past year, due to political tension and power play, they were mostly bound to the palace complex, Heibaocheng. Only for the past few days did they start directly investigating. Although they could figure a few things out, such as the illness of the emperor, the heavy corruption, and the intricacies of the economic state of Tianchao, it was not quite the same as hearing about a human trafficking case, especially for Zihun.
“How—cough, COUGH!” He fell to the ground, slapping his chest with Lin chirping on his side to his back. “How on earth are you expecting me to be calm?!”
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“Wha—huh?” She exclaimed
“OUCH!” Zihun barked, before another rough cough burst.
Lin began to slap his back with her flat palm, a scowl etched deeply onto her pretty face. “What in Heibao’s name are you saying? Do I look calm to you!”
“Cough—why are you nervous too?!”
Heaving and spitting on the ground, he looked at Lin, whose face immediately contorted. “Why are you looking at me as if I said something wrong?”
Is she serious? Really? He thought to himself and shook his head. “Nevermind, nevermind.”
Her mouth opened and closed immediately, as if he would flick her forehead if she said something. With a heavy sigh, she aggressively scratched her head and mumbled, “Okay…I trust you to relay this to Huang Di well. It’s okay to start coughing like a sick person in front of him too; maybe he won’t be so offended that he chops off your head.”
He grimaced. To cough in front of a sick man who has coughing fits was a suicide attempt. “I value my life.”
Zihun straightened up and patted the dust off his clothes. “Telling the emperor is fine and all, but”—he glanced at her, who turned stiff—” why should we tell him?”
“That…”
“Lin.” He furrowed his brows and stared dead in her eyes. “This thing you’re asking me to do to tell the emperor has nothing to do with our objective. More so, this in itself is not what we agreed upon in the contract between Tianzhi.” Lin cast an embarrassed, pleading look towards Zihun who crossed his arms in response. “When you began to snoop around the Southern Gate, you were supposed to scour the area for potential rebellion bases and to estimate the land that might be under their control. Instead—”
“I can explain!” she shouted, waving her hands like a bird. “I definitely did the above, and I already gave the brief report to you and Tianzhi as well!”
“Then…”
“Zihun. People are being trafficked.”
He nodded. “Lin, what would you have done if you were caught up in something worse and died? There is absolutely no guarantee of our safety in Tianchao—in any way. And the fact that you went all the way to meddle into a serious matter is a danger in itself, not just because of the Huang Di of Tianchao."
Her face turned in confusion then settled in deep thought. “Who would dare attack me?”
“Many people.”
She shifted and groaned. “I guess so…”
He let his arms to his side. “It’s fine to talk about it and be concerned, but we just resolved the matter with the court. I don’t know what they are planning to do. If I am to tell the Emperor of Tianchao this directly, he may as well use it against both of us—so, make sure not to tell anyone.”
She nodded. “Mm, I am well-aware. I suppose I can rely on you to find a suitable excuse to convince the security around the Southern Gates to be improved?”
“That is not a problem.” He put his hand on his hip. “I will try and figure something out. But for now…”
Three moons hung at the center of the sky, the night fully sunken into Tianchao. He glanced at Lin, the dark circles under her eyes a bit more prominent than the last time. To take rest now would be appropriate, but Zihun remembered a few things that Lin was eager to say.
“I considered it for a bit, but which place should I gather information or investigate?”
Her eyes lower, eyelashes set against tanned skin. Scratching her chin, biting her lip, given the fact that it was Lin who was in charge of information gathering for the week’s rotation.
“Tianzi told me that Liang Teahouse is good”
“Except that place. We both go there every day.”
“Then, hmm.” She hummed, a strand of her hair twirled around her finger. “Maybe you can try the city center—ah!” Her face instantly brightened. “I remember now! Zihun, there is apparently going to be a prisoner demonstrated in public next evening. They held a high position in the rebel army from what I have heard.”
That was interesting, not that it mattered if it was or not. Zihun didn’t think an opportunity would fall onto his lap like a golden apple. If there was a high-ranking officer of the rebels, without, doubt, he would have to focus his attention on the crowd, where the real value lied. The prisoner was a to-be dead man, but there would certainly be people from the rebels who would take their time to pay respect.
Zihun replied, “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Good, good, Zihun. Also, we are moving quite fast, in truth. I didn’t expect that you would’ve already scoped out Lingxi.” Lin flashed a proud grin.
“I didn’t scope it as of yet.” Zihun coughed and looked away. “We already lost a full year due to court struggles. Those officials of Heibaocheng are vicarious with their views on Zhongguog. Fortunately, we were able to quell the matter.”
“That is true.” She lowered her eyes "But then again…" Her gaze lifts to his. "If you are curious…maybe even Tianzhi means it: there would be no harm in thoroughly investigating the Southern Gate of Yinghua. Afterwards, maybe you can try and look through the slum area."
Zihun considered her words for a second. “You have a point, but you are well aware of the risks, aren’t you? Laughably, the only 'safe' places could be Heaven's Delight, HongTiane, or the Weeping Empress Tree But…” he sighed and walked to a nearby wall to lean again. “There is a chance for the rebel army to be involved in human trafficking, but then again…”
Lin rolled her eyes. “What’s with all the ‘but’s?”
He kept his head down, face as still as water. He couldn’t say this to Lin: is it possible that Tianchao is aware of this and intentionally ignoring it? I can't understand what is going on here.
A casual glance pointed to Lin who bobbed her head to the side. “What is it, Zihun?”
He looked back down at his feet. “It’s nothing.” He quickly added, “What was it that you wanted to tell me again, Lin?”
A cloud of confusion fettered across her fierce appearance. Zihun noticed the obvious look and gave a crooked frown, just for her to exclaim with the clap of her hands. “Yes, yes! I remember now! Zihun, Zihun, there is a high-positioned official, a Guoshi, who just returned from this rural town! From what I heard, he was gone for a year, and returned earlier in the morning when we were already in Lingxi!” A little frown crowned her cheeks. “It’s such a shame that we could not see him in a place outside of Heibaocheng.”
Zihun blinked a hundred times before a wry smile formed. “Is…there a reason you’re telling me this? I didn’t take you for liking the scholarly types.”
She slowly nodded. “Affirmatively, yes. There is no woman who would not admire such an intelligent and accomplished man! Even my husband loves to talk about his courtly duties with me!”
Zihun averted his gaze. “I’m glad to hear that? Then what is the reason?”
An unamused expression plastered her face. “Guoshi is a highly accomplished court official. Have you never heard about him? I swear you have; even my husband knows about him. He is as famous as the Heibao Prince, but in a positive way.” She sighed and shook her head. “You will meet him sooner or later, given that we stay at the palace complex for safety reasons.”
Zihun nodded with a smile that barely reached his eyes. “Sure.” He pushed himself off the wall. “I have something that I just thought of.”
Lin immediately calmed down. “What is it?”
“Well, do you have any or what are your plans regarding the…assassination?” He asked with a careful tone.
Her lips slightly twitched. “I am unsure of what to say. Our current plan is to find the whereabouts and pattern of the Heibao prince. Until we know, it would be very difficult to formulate a proper plan.” Her eyes harden in resolution. “Don’t you agree, Zihun?”
“I don’t agree, particularly,” he said with a flat tone. “But if you prefer that method, then that is fine.”
“What is your plan, then?”
Zihun posed a helpless expression, sighing. “Firstly, it is good to discuss matters like this. Even though we may not know their whereabouts nor the pattern of the prince, looking into matters of leaving your men around the central places of Tianchao is first. If the emperor questions your reasons to station the soldiers, simply tell Huang Di that they were given leisure week, since they have not been allowed to leave the palace grounds anyhow. Then, we can consider compiling intel. At the very least, however, when the assassination itself is discussed, I am not sure we can take the prince head-on. Discussing this matter with the Emperor of Tianchao is important.”
Her eyes became narrow. “Are you saying that even though you and I, the most distinguished archer and spearman, were sent by Tianzi?”
Lin was a crane: calm and beautiful on the outside, but prideful to her very soul. She had all the prestige and right to be that way, but even the skies were the limit.
“What are we but a passing blink before the Holder of the Mark of Heibao?” Her eyes lowered at his words. “Yes, I am aware that we are both recognized highly by the emperor, more so after defeating the previous two Xiaoweis, but most short-lived mortals like us can only dream of defeating the Holder. We are both trained, far more than most will achieve in their lives, but…” The image of the ferocious figure amongst the hundred soldiers from the year before reaffirmed his words. “But we most likely will not be able to kill him without underhanded methods.”
“You talk like we cannot even be near his presence,” Lin whispered in an almost painful and brutalized manner, like her heart was ripped out.
Zihun interjected, “That is not true. I am sure that we can be a formidable opponent, but it is still best to be cautious.”
She grumbled, mouth in a tight line. Zihun somehow felt a bit guilty for speaking so highly of an enemy, when her pride and joy were her martial arts and her mastery of the box. It was her life. Nonetheless, she was not a child and was not fragile in ego and blinded by it.
“I must get going!” she exclaimed, eyes wide, and she gathered herself before bowing in an orderly manner. “If you have any questions, please ask me by the morning. The empress requested my presence. Also.” she looks back at me with a solemn stare. “Please don’t forget, we cannot allow our identities to be revealed to the common folks.”
Before Zihun could even lift a finger, she dashed out of the dilapidated house, and would most likely bump into the door if not for the rain that rotted away the wood. Zihun released an exasperated sigh.
He followed tracks left behind in the house to the outside, hands folded behind his back, a sword to his belt.
Although it’s late, I’m not tired. I would even say I’m restless. Zihun mused to himself. Unlike Yinghua, Lingxi was a place almost alienated by the war: beautiful mountain ranges to the east of the village in a rolling grassfield, the wide river that coursed from the highlands to tumble into a lazy path. Stars glittering and burning in the night sky, and the three moons unsheltered nor overshadowed by city lights. Yinghua was alluring in its own right, but Lingxi possessed the peace that Yinghua never would.
If he went back to now, there was no way to guarantee a time where he could free his mind and body. Suddenly, a mischievous grin settled across his face.
Childhood antics never died, and that was what Zihun always believed. The sand crunched under the weight of his feet, a rhythmic scratching of the soil along his boots, and a breeze blew through tree leaves adorned by the emeralds of nature. The sea may have been a bit excessive with its gift of wind, but out on the mainland, it was not as unbearable.
The running water was like a clear morning day. With each step forward to the stream, one of the branches of Lingxi river, a cold breeze cut under his clothes. A black shirt crossed over his chest and didn't go below his clavicles, with a sash tying his top, matched with the brown pants from training in the morning.
Zihun had a plethora of outfits in his room back in Heibaocheng, so when he felt like it, he could dress and change whenever he wanted. For now, the winds will be his companion for the night.
Like chimes in the wind, a clarified resonance of rushing water, where the beauty of turbulent flow unlike laminar streams, found no end. It only grew louder, as would a chorus in a song, and when he opened his eyes again, a river more brilliant than crystal took with it leaves and stones.
The wind blew again and the fragments of Zhongguog were brought. There were many stories of the Roc from Zhongguog, written about the new god of Zhongguog in all manners: mythical and majestic. One particular tale that was told to people of all ages and places was one where the Roc blew its breath upon the verdant Purple Hills that was found at the center of the continent. A great wind came upon the nation, bringing the seeds to fill the lands with prosperous soils.
Most books of grand martial artists and their flying swords were there for the dreams of youngsters or those who wish to fall into a landscape of idle fantasies.The younger children in Zhongguog, and even Tianchao before gathered in eager waiting—they all asked about the Yang family of military lineage. ‘Do they ride swords into the sky? What monsters did you fight?’ Zihun always laughed and wished he rode powerful swords, maybe order a spear with some form of whatever-it-may-be to fly through the air and slay his enemies.
A warm heart fluttered in his chest. Outlandish as it may be, it was a rare joy in his younger days in Tianchao. To hear and dream of the words woven by the storytellers in Tianchao of the stories of magicians whose hands brought fire and wind at their beckoning, the mighty martial artists and their bold endeavors. To Zihun, they were his wings in his childhood.
Pulling in a deep breath, he approached the waters. The banks brimmed where they almost turned into the Lingxi river themselves. The constant rainflow from the last few weeks nourished the humble stream into a wide meander.
He squatted by the border between land and water, where he delighted in occasional splashes of aquatic creatures; the bright tails of fish glistened under moonlight like an immortal pond.
His hand strayed to the back of his head and a tug released his hair to fall across his neck , to his shoulders. He shivered to the cold tingles, water gliding through his fingers, and he closed his eyes again.
“Brother!”
Eyes flicked open and he sprung to his feet. Left to right, side to side, he looked at each corner, where the moonlight revealed.
“Brother?” he whispered under his breath. A voice so mellow and sweet like flowers was not mistakable. He looked round again, this time, across the stream, hoping to see under the moonlight, or maybe the keenness of his vision, which was most definitely not enough to permeate through the darkness of the other side.
Zihun sighed and shook his head. “My head is probably playing with me again.”
Just like it was an hour ago, he remembered the visceral image of dead bodies and the brutal figure painted in crimson blood. He would not have remembered it, if for not he had seen a looming figure across the stream, tall and imposing as a panther, and dressed in black martial arts outfit. Then again, he wasn’t sure. The man and the event happened in the forest near Lingxi river.
A heavy breath pulled into his chest.
“It’s better if…I just meditate right now,” Zihun croaked and his head cradled in his hand.
Near the stream, he went down on his knees and sat cross-legged. His hands rested on his knees, back straight in discipline. The whispers of the wind echoed in his ears, the trickles of the water pulsed through his mind. To take a deep breath, it pooled in like a rush of winter air, chilling every bone in his body. Turbulence of the water was like the spirit: troubled and you'll drown. Laminar and you'll be as swift as a hawk. He kept a thymic breathing pattern.
Allow the mind to lay to rest intruding thoughts and memories, and become one with the sounds and nature around me. Sweat trickled down his chin and back, tickling the nerves and skin.
The winds quieted down, and when the turbulence of the waters seemed calmer, he opened his eyes. He was quick to look up to the sky, trying to consider how long he had been in this position, and the moons were at their highest peak. He let out a sigh. “Not a lot.”