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Hearing the sound of heavy footsteps fading away from the other side of the door, Fei Qian couldn't help but frown.
What was this all about?
Not even exchanging a few words upon meeting, just slamming the door and leaving?
Did I say something wrong?
Fei Qian first suppressed a slight sense of displeasure, then mentally reviewed his words and actions, finding nothing discourteous. This only deepened his confusion.
Huang Xianliang, who had just persuaded Fei Qian on the road to allow him to copy the Spring and Autumn Annals of Zuo, was now somewhat unable to contain his anger upon seeing Fei Qian and their group left outside the gate. He shouted, "My lord has come out of admiration, yet he is treated with such coldness. Is this the Ma family's way of hospitality?"
From behind the gate came a muffled grunt, followed by complete silence.
Fei Qian thought for a moment and called out, "This visit was somewhat abrupt, and if we've caused any disturbance, please forgive us." Then, he gestured for the pheasant they brought to be hung beside the gate, and led Huang Xianliang and the others away.
In the Han dynasty, etiquette was of utmost importance, and a pheasant was a customary gift for a first meeting among the gentry. The Han people believed that when a pheasant was surrounded and unable to escape, it neither succumbed to fear nor took bait, but instead swiftly ended its own life. Thus, capturing a live pheasant was difficult. Using a pheasant as a gift wasn't about its delicious taste but symbolized that both parties were people who "upheld integrity and righteousness."
As Fei Qian and his group departed, the courtyard fell into silence, as if the entire area had died, utterly still.
Only the gentle breeze softly rustled the feathers of the pheasant hanging upside down.
Perhaps a long time passed, or perhaps only a moment, when the gate creaked open slowly. A middle-aged man, his face heavy with emotion, moved as if the gate weighed a thousand pounds.
Seeing the courtyard empty, the man's expression was complex—as if he had finally cast off a stone pressing on his heart, yet also as if he suddenly realized the stone he discarded was a precious jade…
As the man stepped out, he noticed something to the side. Turning his head sharply, his neck let out a crack, and he froze as if struck by a spell.
For a long time, he stood like a statue. Only after what felt like an eternity did he slowly reach out, hesitating. The moment his fingers brushed the pheasant's feathers, he recoiled as if scalded by a red-hot iron, his gaze scattered, his expression dazed…
A woman emerged from the courtyard, quietly stepping to the man's side, gently taking his trembling hand.
After a long while, the man let out a heavy sigh, lowered his head, and looked at the woman beside him. In a low voice, he said, "Yun Niang, this… throw it away…"
"Dalang…"
The man, heading back into the house, stiffened for a moment. "…Throw it away!"
Yun Niang sighed, watching the man flee as if escaping. She stepped outside, untied the pheasant, held it in her hands, glanced back at the house, then down at the pheasant…
The curtain at the door was lifted, and the man glanced quickly, relieved to see Yun Niang return empty-handed.
Yun Niang looked at the man but said nothing, silently heading to the kitchen to prepare.
Inside the house, neither spoke, as if they had both lost the ability to speak.
Yun Niang prepared a simple dinner: two bowls of mixed porridge and a small dish of salted radish.
They ate in silence.
They finished in silence.
They washed up in silence.
They rested in silence.
The night in the countryside was tranquil, with only a cricket chirping tirelessly from some crevice.
After an unknown amount of time, Yun Niang suddenly whispered, "Dalang… you're not asleep, are you?"
The man didn't speak, only letting out a soft hum.
"I know you haven't forgotten… and you can't forget…"
The man clenched his teeth, silent, his eyes gleaming with an indescribable light in the darkness.
"…These past five or six years, every morning you rise at the crow of the rooster, rain or shine, even during the busy farming season, never stopping… I know, you can't forget…"
The man finally spoke, his voice hoarse. "How could I forget? I want to forget, but…"
Yes, how could he forget?
That year, the people of Shangjun, dragging their families, lost their homes, fleeing south like stray dogs, in constant fear…
That month, facing the onslaught of Qiang and Hu invaders like a swarm of locusts, Shangjun's defenses were riddled with holes, with beacons of war rising everywhere…
That day, the last county in Shangjun fell. He could only protect the Shangjun governor, leading remnants of soldiers to break through the encirclement, fleeing for their lives…
That night, pursued relentlessly by the Qiang and Hu, his comrades, his brothers, unable to run or escape, turned back one by one, squad by squad, to hold off the pursuers, buying just a moment more for the others…
How could he forget the flames burning atop the city walls, the homeland ravaged by the Hu?
How could he forget the blood that flowed in Shangjun, the piles of heads that could not rest in peace even in death?
How could he forget the one who died in his arms—his child, the sole heir of the Ma family, only sixteen years old?
The man climbed out of bed, looking up at the sky, where a lone moon hung, cold and desolate.
He had once hoped that one day, a messenger from the court would gallop to his door, shouting for him to return to duty, so he could ride with his old comrades, charging back to Shangjun!
Ten days passed, a month passed, a year passed, but no one came…
Over these years, he thought he had forgotten—forgotten how to command troops in the fields, forgotten the sword and spear amidst sickles and hoes, forgotten the glory of his military days in the endless years of waiting, his hopes dimmed…
Just when he thought he would grow old here, Fei Qian appeared!
When he rushed out the door, how he hoped it was the old governor, with familiar faces behind him…
But he recognized none of them.
And this new Shangjun governor was so young.
He hesitated…
Yun Niang quietly got out of bed, dragging a large chest from the corner of the room. By the slanting moonlight, she opened it, revealing two sets of scale armor clattering within!
The iron plates of the armor gleamed with a chilling aura under the cold moonlight, bearing faint scars of slashes and stabs.
Yun Niang closed the chest, placing one set of armor on top and donning the other. Tying the straps at its side, she transformed from a peasant woman into a heroic warrior. Holding the other set, she stood proudly before the man!
"Ma Yan, Ma Chengyuan! The glory of the Ma family was won on the battlefield, not dug from the fields! All these years, isn't this the day you've been waiting for? If you can't forget, then don't! Go back! Let's go back together! With the weapons in our hands, let the Hu in Shangjun know that the former General of the Frontier, our Ma family, has returned Through storms of arrows or seas of fire, I… I'll be with you…"
Ma Yan took the armor, tracing the marks of blades and arrows, tears streaming down his face. His mouth opened wide, but no sound came—only a choked sob in his chest. Tears mixed with mucus covered his face, matting his beard, dripping to the ground, stirring faint dust…
To the soldiers who have guarded the frontier, from ancient times to today…