Chapter 3 QINCHUAN

　　After applying the medicine to Xiaotong's soles, Luo Huangyi rose to her feet. The maidservants beside her and the little girl also stood up and swiftly gathered the items spread out on the ground.

　　The household guards were even quicker—by the time the maidservants had finished tidying up, each guard was already holding the reins of a Shu horse, standing ready at its side.

　　Seeing Luo Huangyi give a slight nod, Chen Jiang raised his hand in a signal, and all the guards swung themselves up onto their Shu horses. Chen Jiang then addressed the party: "We have reached the summit of Qinchuan. Three days ahead, we shall arrive at Dingrong City, the capital of the Wei Kingdom. The Shu horses have recovered and can now serve as mounts. Everyone mount up and follow me—let us move forward!"

　　As his words fell, a wisp of arcane power streaked up into the sky, signaling to the guards at the rear of the column that it was time to move.

　　The servants mounted their horses, the maidservants settled into their palanquins, and the entire caravan set off in orderly fashion.

　　After that brief rest, everyone's spirits had lifted considerably—especially Xiaotong's. He had already swung himself onto his Shu horse, Hanhan, and could not resist shooting a glare at the little girl. But she was not riding at all; with her cultivation fully circulating, she was already drifting forward gracefully alongside her master in yellow.

　　As the steady hoofbeats of the Shu horses and the creaking of the cart wheels faded into the distance, the dust on the mountain path slowly settled once more, and the woods soon returned to their usual silence.

　　After a long while, the marten that had been frightened away crept back, step by cautious step. They were the true masters of these desolate hills—merely startled off for a moment by passing intruders.

　　This time, the commotion had been considerable—so many dangerous creatures gathered together in one place was not a common sight in these mountains. The little marten's heart was filled with a mixture of fear and curiosity.

　　Quite clearly, it had come back for that massive strange bird the party had discarded there. The bird seemed to have completely ceased breathing, lying motionless in the wild grass.

　　Martens were omnivorous creatures, eating both meat and plants. To have such a bountiful feast suddenly dropped from the sky was a cause for pure delight.

　　But before the marten could cautiously approach the giant bird's carcass, the sky suddenly darkened. The marten looked up in alarm, and there, spreading across the heavens, were two immense, broad wings—gliding downward toward the bird's body on the ground.

　　It came to an abrupt halt just as it neared the treetop canopy. Between the two wings, a dark-clad figure dropped silently to the ground. So fast was its descent that it was only after the figure had landed and stood still that the marten could make it out—it was a creature of the same kind as the two-legged beasts from before. If not for the fact that its garments were a dusky, mottled color—hard to distinguish or name—the marten would have thought that one of those earlier two-legged creatures had returned.

　　The marten fled once again in panic, vanishing instantly into the undergrowth. The instinct to sense danger was innate—the foremost skill for survival in these perilous woods.

　　The dark-clad figure, upon landing, cast a brief sidelong glance in the direction of the marten's escape, then bent silently over the dead bird, lifted its head, and examined it with care.

　　As the marten darted away, its heart seethed with resentment. What rotten luck today! It hadn't even caught a whiff of the bird meat, and twice now it had been scared half to death.

　　After fleeing a good distance and scrambling up a tall tree, the little creature was just about to find a hollow to hide in when it saw the dark-clad figure rise to its feet, leap upward, and alight upon the great wings that had been waiting motionless among the treetops.

　　Moments later, a gust of wind scattered in all directions, and the sky cleared once more. Dappled sunlight filtered back through the branches and leaves, falling silently upon the green grass and the yellow earth of the road.

　　The mountain woods returned to their stillness. Were it not for the dead bird lying on the ground, it would seem as if none of this had ever happened. The marten's mind wavered again—the terror of two near-escapes and the lure of that feast of flesh circling endlessly in its tiny head…

　　The danger of Qinchuan lay in its vastness—stretching for tens of thousands of li, its true breadth beyond knowing. The eight-thousand-li stretch within Wei territory was especially treacherous, and had long served as Wei's natural rampart.

　　Heaven protect Great Wei—and Qinchuan deserved the foremost credit for that protection.

　　Earlier, at the border between Wei and Chen, the Wei border garrison commander had presented Chen Jiang and his party with a map of Qinchuan. On it was marked an official road that cut straight across the mountain range—one of the few passageways through the mountains connecting Chen and Wei.

　　The two kingdoms had long taken the southwestern foot of Qinchuan as their border, with the mountain range itself belonging to Wei territory.

　　Xiaotong, the black-turbaned guards, and the entire party continued along the mountain road. With the way now leading downhill, their pace finally quickened. In just half a day, they covered as much ground as they had in the previous three days.

　　The Shu horses pressed forward with ease, and the dust gradually began to settle. As dusk fell, the party came upon a pool formed by the backwater of a mountain stream. Commander Chen Jiang reined in his Shu horse, and the others followed suit, dismounting one after another to make camp and rest for the night.

　　Earlier, when the great wings had lifted off from above the strange bird's carcass, Chen Jiang—who had been leading the column—had given a slight, almost imperceptible pause. But he did not stop his Shu horse, nor did he look back.

　　Now, as the party dismounted, Chen Jiang sent a brief telepathic report to Luo Huangyi about what had taken place behind them. It was only a few words—he knew that she was already more aware of the details than he could tell her.

　　Then Chen Jiang turned to Xiaotong and said, "Your Highness the Crown Prince, we shall make camp here tonight. I will go and scout the surrounding area."

　　Xiaotong—now addressed as the Crown Prince—waved a hand. "Go on, Uncle Chen. I'll follow your arrangements."

　　Chen Jiang nodded and turned away. The other household guards also fanned out. One of them faced the rear and let out a whistling call from his throat. As the note faded, a answering call came back from behind, startling a few birds from the branches.

　　The Crown Prince sat down on a flat bluestone by the roadside and released the reins of his horse, Hanhan, letting a maidservant take them. He muttered under his breath, "That wasn't enough. I could have run a few more days..."

　　Just then, the little girl approached, carrying a water jar, and handed it to him with a habitual curl of her lip.

　　At the sight of her, a sudden surge of anger rose in the Crown Prince. He remembered the humiliation of being reduced to tears by his blistered feet—and she had seen it all. That curl of her lip just now must have been exactly that.

　　Burning with indignation, he swung his hand at the water jar in the girl's hands. But she, with nimble fingers, dipped her hands slightly and dodged the blow with ease.

　　The Crown Prince was not about to let it go. Still seated on the bluestone, he curled his toes and shot his foot out swiftly toward the dipping water jar. But the little girl rotated her upper body slightly, and the jar followed the motion, swinging aside. The prince's toes grazed the rim of the jar—and missed again.

　　A surge of indignation rose in him. Unwilling to concede defeat, he braced his left foot against the bluestone and prepared to spring up, intent on continuing his assault on the water jar—he would not stop until he had his way.

　　Just then, a cold laugh sounded from beside them. Aunt Hui said, "Quite idle, are you?" Before the words had fully faded, the Crown Prince dropped back onto the stone with a heavy thud, snorting through his nose in frustration. When the little girl brought the water jar before him again, he took it—ignoring the smirk she was trying to hide—and gulped down a few sullen mouthfuls.

　　The maidservants nearby paid it no mind, chuckling softly to themselves as they busied themselves with the camp. Before long, the outline of the night's encampment began to take shape.

　　After attending to the Crown Prince's drink, the little girl went to her master, Luo Huangyi, and gave her an impeccably proper bow. Her master smiled and nodded in return, and the girl reached back, brought a small satchel from her shoulder to her chest, and held it ready.

　　As expected, her master crouched down before the Crown Prince. The young prince obediently stretched out one foot, his face completely devoid of the angry, shamefaced expression he had worn only moments before.

　　The little girl's dark eyes fixed unblinkingly on the prince as she deftly handed over the ointment. Aunt Hui in yellow took the ointment, pinched off a small piece of the brown paste with two fingers, and placed it in her palm. In an instant, a wisp of green smoke rose, carrying the scent of medicinal herbs.

　　She spread her palm open, and the brown paste had already melted into a thick, viscous liquid of a vivid red hue. She dipped a finger into it and applied it to the broken blisters on the prince's feet. Though the reapplication of medicine still stung, the Crown Prince did not utter a sound. After she finished, he silently raised his other foot.

　　Luo Huangyi quickly finished applying the ointment to both feet, then rose and said, "Rest here for the night. By tomorrow morning, they should be mostly healed."

　　"I understand. Thank you, Aunt Hui," the Crown Prince said, rising quickly to return the courtesy.

　　"The road ahead is smooth, and the Shu horses have recovered. We must quicken our pace and reach Dingrong City in three days," she said as she extended both hands. The little girl beside her picked up the water jar and tipped it, pouring a thin stream of water into those pale, fair palms. As the clear water fell, steam rose from her hands—and in mere moments, they were clean.

　　With a flick of her hands, Aunt Hui turned and walked away.

　　The little girl, standing nearby, gazed at her master's hands with an expression of deep admiration, utterly transfixed. But then she heard a snicker by her ear. "Ha! I bet you'll never learn that," the Crown Prince said, seizing the chance to mock her upon seeing her expression.

　　The girl did not retort. She picked up the water jar and walked over to the maidservants who were preparing the meal, offering to help.

　　The Crown Prince's jab had landed on empty air—like punching a pile of cotton—and he felt his irritation flare up again. Just as he was glancing about, Aunt Hui, as if she had eyes in the back of her head, said, "These petty squabbles have made you angry three times today already. After supper, you will add another three hours to your meditation session." Without turning back, she walked toward Chen Jiang, who had just returned from his rounds.

　　Upon hearing this, the young Crown Prince's face darkened instantly.

　　Chen Jiang made a slight bow to Luo Huangyi, then drew a map from inside his robe and spread it open before him. He released his hands, and the map floated suspended in the air.

　　He turned the map around, pointed to a marked spot, and said, "I report to you, my lady, that we have already reached this point. Here, we are less than three days' journey from Dingrong City. Tomorrow, without doubt, we will leave Qinchuan behind, cross the Li River to the east, and then encounter the Wei troops coming to escort us—after which we shall be largely safe."

　　Luo Huangyi nodded. "Very well. Strengthen the night watch, and go check on the tribute offerings once more."

　　Chen Jiang bowed his head. "As you command, my lady."

　　Luo Huangyi then walked to the edge of the pool, where the thicket along the water's edge was somewhat lower. Lifting her gaze, she saw the distant mountains etched like dark blue brows against the sky, with a faint white veil of mist draping the treeline in the twilight. From the woods came the deep, powerful cries of beasts—melancholy yet fierce. Luo Huangyi remained unmoved, her gaze fixed steadily eastward, murmuring to herself, "Dingrong City... Dingrong..."

　　Back by the bluestone, the Crown Prince was growing bored. His soles still throbbed with a faint ache, and he did not feel like moving.

　　Utterly listless, he suddenly felt a large head nudge against his chest. It was his Shu horse, Hanhan, returning from grazing. Seeing its young master looking downcast, it came over to rub against him. The Crown Prince's spirits lifted at once. He threw his arms around the horse's head and said, "Good Hanhan—you're the best, the sweetest. Not like Little Shan—she's just plain mean." As he spoke, he rubbed his face affectionately against the horse's head.

　　The "Little Shan" Xiaotong spoke of was precisely the little girl who seized every opportunity to mock him.

　　According to Chen custom, on a boy's seventh birthday—his coming‑of‑age ceremony—he would receive two gifts: a beast and a human companion. In the Crown Prince's ceremony, the beast had been the Shu horse Hanhan; the human companion was a girl of the same age.

　　In truth, the granting of a child companion at the coming‑of‑age ceremony was a practice reserved for wealthy households and noble families. For an ordinary family, being able to bestow a Shu horse was already a sign of considerable means. Those of humble means could not even afford that—let alone a child companion.

　　The child companion was expected not only to serve the boy of the household, but also to learn martial arts and needlework. If she possessed the aptitude for cultivation, so much the better—she could one day serve as his personal bodyguard. In childhood, she was first and foremost his playmate.

　　The boy whom everyone addressed as the Crown Prince was the eldest son of Chen Ying, the Chen Kingdom's ruler. His name was Li. At his coming‑of‑age ceremony, the girl bestowed upon him had been chosen from countless candidates—exceptionally bright and gifted—and was given the name Ying Shan by the Queen herself. The young prince and everyone around him had always called her Little Shan.

　　Ever since Little Shan had come to the prince's household, she had been clever and mischievous, winning the hearts of all who knew her—with the sole exception of the prince himself, with whom she seemed fated to be at odds. Together, her quick‑witted mischief and his stubborn pride made for endless squabbles—but in the end, it was always the young prince who came away frustrated and worsted.

　　The Crown Prince had no way to get the better of her. Apart from the simple fact that he could not best her in a fight, the main reason was that Little Shan was deeply beloved by both the prince's mother—Queen Ying—and her own master.

　　And those were the two people the prince feared most in the world: his mother, Queen Ying, and Aunt Hui.

　　The queen was occupied with many affairs of state, so the responsibility for the prince's upbringing had largely fallen to Aunt Hui. Before a boy turned seven and began formal schooling, it was Aunt Hui who carried out the duty of educating him on behalf of the queen mother.

　　Aunt Hui was exceedingly strict with him. Every time the yellow‑clad woman let out a single cold snort, the young prince would fall silent and hold his breath—fearing her as though she were a tiger.

　　Luo Huiyan—Luo Huangyi—was, in fact, a bestowed child companion of the Crown Prince's mother, Queen Ying.

　　Although the earliest custom of granting child companions in Chen was originally for boys, it gradually spread among the nobility to include girls as well. Families of wealth and power would also have a companion bestowed upon their daughters, with duties identical to those given to boys' companions.

　　A bestowed girl would remain with her master for life. Nothing—not even the king himself—could dissolve this bond, save for death or the natural end of years. In childhood, she was a playmate, growing side by side with her master. In adulthood, she became a sworn protector—a loyal guardian unto death. As such, she was generally deeply trusted and beloved by her master.

　　This custom, however, was now showing signs of decline. In the old tradition, once a companion was bestowed, her fate was bound inseparably to her master's—sharing in his rise and his fall. Should her master perish, she could not survive him.

　　But where there were perils, there were also rewards. The masters to whom companions were given were almost always nobles or the very wealthy. Not only did such companions enjoy their master's trust and affection, they often shared in his glory and his riches as well.

　　The bond between master and companion was regarded as the most unbreakable of all pledges. Yet there were many who had the misfortune of being granted to an unworthy master—and these, too often, met tragic ends.

　　Thus, there was now a growing chorus of voices calling for the abolition of this custom. As the Crown Prince of Chen, Li's bestowed companion naturally held the highest status among such girls, and she was taken as a disciple by Luo Huangyi.

　　This arrangement had been made after careful deliberation by the King and Queen—though the young prince himself was not yet aware of the reasons behind it.

　　Yet, remarkably, the Crown Prince and his bestowed companion, Little Shan, seemed fated to be eternal rivals. The prince was always at odds with her, and in nearly every clash, it was he who came out the worse.

　　The prince's mother and Aunt Hui would witness these squabbles time and again, but they never seemed to mind—and never took the prince's side. In fact, if the prince's behavior grew too outrageous, he would be punished without fail. This was why the prince had always held Aunt Hui in such awe.

　　On the other hand, the bestowed beast—the Shu horse Hanhan—had won the young prince's heart entirely. Though still not fully grown, Hanhan was already as tall and imposing as any ordinary adult Shu horse, and standing among the Shu horses of the royal guard, it held its own without the least hint of inferiority.

　　Even the royal horse appraisers would give a thumbs-up and lavish sincere praise upon seeing it—though whether it was genuine admiration for the Shu horse or simply to please the young prince was hard to tell.

　　After three years together, the beast had won the prince's heart completely, while the girl had become like a thorn in his back—always there, always vexing, and utterly inescapable. To make matters worse, Little Shan had been taken as a disciple by Aunt Hui. Though she was a bestowed companion, she was in no way inferior to the Crown Prince himself in terms of standing.

　　Before the prince could finish lamenting the injustice of fate—which had seen fit to saddle him with such an unrelenting adversary—and before he could find any outlet for his frustration, the maidservants announced that supper was ready.

　　Travel being what it was, everything was kept simple. Once the Crown Prince had taken his seat, Commander Chen Jiang and the eight black-turbaned guards positioned themselves in a wide circle around him, standing eight feet apart.

　　The guards exchanged quiet words among themselves while the maidservants placed food jars before the prince and the others, then went about distributing the meal to each person. The maidservants were quick and practiced, and the food was soon passed out to all.

　　When everyone had taken up their jars and sat down, the Crown Prince raised both hands, clasped them together in a gesture of ceremonial salute above his head, then lowered them slowly, saying: "We give thanks to our ancestors; may they watch over Great Chen."

　　Once the prince had performed the rite, the company lightly tapped their bronze food jars—three low, resonant chimes in perfect unison—and spoke as one: "We give thanks to our ancestors; may they watch over Great Chen." The ceremony concluded, and all began to eat.

　　Luo Huangyi and Chen Jiang, however, set down their jars. Their cultivation had advanced so far that they no longer needed to eat—they merely raised their jars in observance of the pre-meal ritual.