Quan heard the bang of the pistol firing and jumped just like everyone else. He had a half-second of confusion and fear, just like everyone else. But he wasn’t scared for his mother or Fen, and he closed his eyes to return to his meditation before Lian emerged to shoo everyone away. He knew his mother wasn’t going to come all this way just to get killed the night before a battle. He’d watched her go in there and thought that some sort of sparks would fly, though gunsparks were not quite what he’d had in mind.

Most of the villagers were too scared or nervous to fall asleep. The few that had taken his mother’s suggestion and drank a bowl or two of wine were in the best shape, but even they tossed and turned in their sleep. Quan knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep – he’d aim to get a few hours in before sunrise – so he’d forced his mind into meditation. Just like when Palden had been whipping him a few days earlier, meditation brought Quan to a mental place where things like hunger, pain, or not having slept for forty hours, were distant nuisances.

Usually he could stay in that mental space for hours, oblivious to the outside world. Usually.

As he sat cross-legged next to some of the unconscious but restless villagers, he could sense every one of their rustled movements: every scratch, every turn, every sigh and snore. And each one met him on his plane of mindfulness, disturbing the quietude he could usually hold close. He tried pushing further into himself, centering his breathing and reciting the mantra the Keepers had taught him. But nothing worked. Every whisper from across the network of caves magnified and slammed into his exhausted brain like a blacksmith’s hammer, forging louder, stronger steel.

He’d encountered those kinds of distractions before, but never with so much exhaustion hanging over him, burning through him. It wasn’t the physical exhaustion – he’d had practice managing that – it was the emotional drain of the past few days. The excitement of setting off, the terror of the first meeting with the bandits. Hearing about his mother beating a relatively innocent man. Fen.

His eyes snapped open and he stood up out of the meditative pose, all hint of patience gone. He set off for a walk away from the camp, north up the gash in the earth, the rage of failure setting his heart to tremble. He left the din of the camp behind him and enjoyed the cool night air on his face. It urged him awake but also to calm, the free flow of it achieving what the stale, windless sweep of the campsite had denied him – a reminder of his place in the larger world.

Those were the two dilemmas of Tiendu Shu life: to find the universe in one’s self, and to find one’s own place in the universe. The monks taught that the two were the same, that spiritual truths would illuminate the social worries that plagued each and every human being.

Quan had always found truth in those teachings, even beauty. When his mother had left him when he was a child – every year around the same time, abandoning him to people whose love felt conditional at best – he’d found wisdom in meditation, in striving inwards. And when he’d grown older and developed a better appreciation for Lian’s situation, he’d reflected his own discoveries of who and what he was back upon her. That was how he’d forgiven her for all the tearful goodbyes and resentment. He’d found a vacuum somewhere beyond conscious existence where he could release all the hatred he’d felt towards her, and in doing so, he’d finally seen just how much love she’d had for him. Love enough to come back every year, around the same time, despite the poverty she endured or the toll the travel took on her every year. Forgiveness was what he discovered, inside and out.

But Fen seemed incapable of forgiveness, and that, more than anything else, tore at him. He couldn’t sleep, not because of the bandits the next day, but because of the night before. The rush of feelings, the terrifying embarrassment of having so incorrectly judged her, of that shift from li – love – to terror as she pressed the knife into him. He’d felt his body alight with wonderful new senses, and then tremble at its own fragility, all in one short sweep of time. And yet still, when he thought of her, he thought she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. And that confused him more than any type of meditation could possibly fix.

He’d wandered off, out of the tunnel and stood looking at the wide open plateau before him. The wind cooled and relaxed him, to the point that he barely heard when Li Jie walked up next to him.

“Can’t sleep?” He asked.

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Quan turned to him formally and bowed his head slightly, as he’d been instructed to do around elders. He knew Imperials could take offense from the young from the slightest movement. Li Jie didn’t respond, just looked where Quan had been looking: nowhere.

“There was too much noise back there,” Quan admitted, turning again to follow Li Jie’s gaze.

Li Jie nodded. They stood side by side for a long minute, staring at nothing, before the nobleman spoke again. “I don’t know what she did to you last night, but I hope you can forgive my niece.”

Quan was taken aback. He hadn’t expected such a direct address on the previous night, and he certainly hadn’t expected it to come from Li Jie.

“It’s fine. We have… an understanding,” Quan responded.

Li Jie continued almost as if Quan hadn’t spoken. He quickly saw it wouldn’t have mattered what he’d said. Li Jie was speaking from concerns that had nothing to do with Quan.

“She never had a mother, you know. Not really. She was so young when she died. All she had was her father. And she idolized him for so long. If he was still doing it today – beating up peasants, that sort of thing – she’d probably start to question it. Question him. Just because she’s a teenager. But he was taken from her too early. She can only remember him for the good things.

“And by the Gods, she wanted to be just like him. Big and strong. That was always her father. Big and strong and nothing could hurt him. And she wanted to be like that – invulnerable. Then suddenly he wasn’t and her whole world started to fall apart, a piece at a time. You understand what I’m saying? It was slow enough she felt the pieces coming apart, like limbs peeling, and every one hurt worst than the last. From invulnerability to a torso floating out in some ocean, the water creeping above her neck every day. And this is her chance to feel like her father made her feel. At least for a while.”

“Her chance? You mean, to kill my mother?”

Li Jie shook his head. “No. It’s not really about Lian. It’s about Fen. This whole thing is in her head. She’ll see that too. Soon.”

Quan considered it for a moment, reconsidered the look in Fen’s eyes when she’d held the knife to his throat. Reconsidered the gunshot. Two empty attempts at revenge gave credence to Li Jie’s understanding of his niece. Perhaps, Quan thought, she’ll find forgiveness too.

“We really are fine,” Quan reassured the nobleman. “If you were worried about—”

“You have a very important role to play tomorrow. I wanted to make sure you didn’t have anything on your mind that might distract you, or keep you up.”

Quan realized, with too much exhaustion to do anything about it, that his own role in tomorrow’s plan hadn’t even registered yet. His mother had lain it out plainly for him, but it was some distant moral point on a map he knew he wouldn’t visit for some time. Fen was real and nearby and for the moment, he could feed on her own troubled moral location.

Quan smiled weakly, flattered and wanting to reassure. “Thank you. I will be fine.”

Li Jie looked at him and smiled back. “Good.”

They remained on the open field, the wind soothing them both. Then Puotong ambled up out of the tunnel and next to them, bowing to each in turn before addressing Quan directly.

“Young master,” he went straight to the point. “You are very important to tomorrow’s plan. You should probably go to sleep.”

“Thank you, commander,” Quan replied, “I was just about to head back to my bed roll.”

“Ah, yes, well,” Puotong glanced at both Li Jie and Quan for a second before again hitting the point in the face. “We’re all men here. Right? Well, one of my archers – her name is Peng – she was making some, um, rather lewd comments about you earlier this evening, when the wine was being passed around. Now, she’s not much to look at, but I’m sure she could help a young man like yourself relax before bedtime, if that would help at all.”

Quan no longer had any embarrassment to spare regarding the interest in his sex life. All he had left was a long sigh and a question. “Is it some sort of Imperial rite of passage to pimp out those closest to them?”

Puotong was mildly insulted, but remembered that, despite looking Imperial, Quan had been raised amongst the Zhosians and their moral puritanism. The officer scoffed. “Actually yes. Imperial soldiers can’t be married without the approval of their superiors. But that’s not what this is about! We’re going into battle tomorrow boy. Lives could be lost. Fucking the night before is a tradition across borders.”

“That’s not what I—” Quan stopped mid sentence and hung his head. “I’m… fine. Thank you. In fact, I think I’ll go to sleep right now.” He bowed curtly to both men before hurriedly walking away back towards the camp.

Li Jie and Puotong watched him go. Puotong nodded in the boy’s direction and shook his head. “Youth is wasted on all the wrong types these days. Nobody knows how to enjoy themselves anymore.”

Li Jie chuckled. “Commander Puotong, why do I have no problem believing you have enough stories from your youth to make a brothel full of prostitutes blush?”

“Blush?” He scoffed. “There aren’t fans enough in the Empire to keep them from passing right out.”

Li Jie laughed aloud and then bowed formally towards the officer. “I’d love to hear one or two tonight. Over wine. I don’t want to be completely sober tomorrow morning.”

“It’s the only way to go into battle – a little hung over. A little lighter on semen works too.”

“Yes, about that archer. Peng was her name? Does she like older men too?”