Fifth Year of Tian, autumn.
"Hyah!"
The sound of a whip cracked through the crisp fall air. A horse's hooves kicked up a flurry of orange and yellow leaves as it raced through the forest, leaving a chestnut blur in its wake. Its rider, a young woman in scarlet riding attire, laughed as the wind caressed her face and her hair fluttered behind her like an ebony brushstroke of liberty. A simple tassel hung from her belt, but instead of fashionable beads or fragrance sachets, a reed whistle was attached to it. Next to the whistle, a golden bell decoration tinkled along with her symphony of joy.
Some distance behind her, a young man atop a white horse tried to catch up, but his steed was slowed by the earth made soft from morning rain, unable to match the speed and agility of the young woman's smaller mare.
Yang Zi Hua spared a glance backwards and teased, "You've grown slow with your age, Brother!"
"Hey, I taught you horseback riding!" Yang Zi Hao hollered back, his face flushing with competitiveness.
"I'm not the one losing!" Zi Hua retorted, urging her mare faster and leaving him in the dust.
As the familiar scenery sped past her, Zi Hua let out a whoop of joy, spooking the birds into flying from treetops in flocks. There was nothing more freeing in the world than a race through the forest, the wind whispering tales of adventure, and the sensation of—
'...What's that?'
Her horse neighed as they screeched to a stop. Zi Hua backtracked towards the riverbank they had just passed. Although it had only been a flicker, she swore she saw something unusual.
The unnatural lump looked like... A man?
His body was slumped by the riverbank, the calm water lapping at his toes; his fingers dug into the ground like it had taken every last bit of his consciousness to grab on. A short arrow shaft stuck out of his shoulder. Beneath him, the soil was dark red.
"Blood," Zi Hua gasped. She quickly grabbed the whistle on her waist and blew on it.
SCREE—!
Not long after, the sound of hoofbeats drew near, revealing a familiar figure with a serious face.
"Brother, there's someone here!" Zi Hua shouted.
Seeing his unharmed sister, Zi Hao sighed in relief. He dismounted briskly and took in the injured man:
His dark clothes, though torn, were in the distinct style of Li Empire's fashions, and his skin was far too fair to be related to the barbarians of the Lawless Plains. Most importantly, the arrow embedded in his flesh bore the barbarians' signature hawk fletching and clan paint.
"He's a citizen of Li," Zi Hao deduced. "But how did he get attacked by barbarians? Our troops reported nothing abnormal during patrol..."
While her brother went to inspect the riverbank for clues, Zi Hua knelt down by the unconscious man and brushed his matted hair aside, revealing his face—and what a face it was: bloodless lips the shape of the world's most elegant bow, a nose as straight as an arrow, and cheekbones cutting a striking figure which ended in a firm jawline. Even his closed eyelids hid promises of a pair of sharp and beautiful eyes, tempting her to touch them.
Snap!
Her brother's returning footfalls snapped Zi Hua out of her reverie, but thankfully Zi Hao was too busy sharing his discovery to notice her dazed expression.
"The rain washed away any tracks," Zi Hao shook his head, indicating his fruitless endeavour.
"We should save this man," Zi Hua said, straightening. From this angle, the victim looked like a sleeping beauty, albeit one whose life was draining away as they spoke. "He might be able to give us more information on the barbarians."
Zi Hao nodded. "Help me carry him onto the horse."
At that time, neither sibling knew this choice would change the fate of their homeland forever.
***
The rain was torrential. The Western River roared near them while crows cawed overhead, a bad omen.
"We really should turn back..." someone mumbled, fearful he might hear.
He heard anyway. Gave the command to push on.
He would not allow an enemy to escape from under his nose.
But then the ambush happened—
"Watch out!"
"Get in formation!"
"Protect the emperor!"
A stray arrow. A slippery slope.
The river catching him with a cold embrace.
"YOUR MAJESTY—!"
In a dark, candlelit room, the man's eyes flew open, frenzied yet alert.
He shot up straight, only to hiss and collapse onto the bed immediately. Through his clean white undershirt, crimson blood bloomed.
He raised a shaky hand to his shoulder—
"I wouldn't do that if I were you."
—and froze.
Instinctively, he reached for the dagger at his waist.
A dagger that was not there.
"You nearly didn't make it, you know? You lost a lot of blood, but I'm glad you pulled through," spoke the intruder's voice—a young woman's.
She stepped into his line of sight, a vision in red that he was in no mood to admire.
"The physician had to cut up your clothes to remove the arrow, so we stored your belongings elsewhere," she finished.
"Who are you?!" the man demanded. However, the hoarseness of his voice reduced the convincingness of this authoritative statement.
'Like a helpless, injured animal.'
'Weak.'
He hated this feeling.
He moved to sit up again, ignoring the black and white spots exploding behind his eyes.
"Don't move!" the girl shouted, throwing out both hands in panic.
Her warmth seeped through his sleeves, her grip unlike the coy, delicate ones he was accustomed to. Instead, she held him in place firmly, temporarily neglecting the bounds of society.
He frowned.
"I-I'm sorry." She let go of him, flustered. "It's just that your wounds have reopened, so you shouldn't exert yourself... Please don't move. I mean no harm, I swear."
She slowly removed a jade pendant among the mismatched ornaments hanging from her belt (a reed whistle, an ornate gold bell, and a crudely-embroidered sachet).
"See?" she said, holding the jade out for him to see. On its plain, round surface was the surname 'Yang'. When flipped, there was a family crest of three sparrows in flight.
'Low-ranked nobility,' the man noted. 'Probably a vassal of the military family presiding over this area.'
"You are in the manor of Deputy General Yang Guo," the young woman explained. "I am his daughter, Yang Zi Hua. My brother and I found you unconscious on the riverbank when we were out riding. You'll be safe here."
She introduced herself informally. The man had never met anyone as impudent as her—was she simply easy-going, or oblivious?
Her next words confirmed it all.
"What is your name, sir?" she asked. "My family and I deserve to know who we let into our humble home, do we not?"
Her joking tone eased the tension.
Good... She truly did not know his identity. It was for the best.
Although, she wasn't joking about her home being humble. It was a far cry from the palace, and there wasn't even a servant in sight. What kind of household would let its young mistress watch over an unknown man at night, albeit one she had saved?
"Zhen," he answered at last. "You may address me as Zhen."
"Sir Zhen, I'll call someone to change your bandages. Please rest in the meantime," Young Lady Yang smiled, innocent and kind under the candlelight. He couldn't help but think she would be too gullible if he were any other ill-intentioned man.
"Go ahead." He waved in dismissal before catching himself. Thankfully she did not notice.
Once the young lady left, Zhen forced himself to rest. She seemed trustworthy, but he knew better than to let his guard down.
She was right about one thing, though: he shouldn't aggravate his wounds further. The longer he took to heal, the longer the capital was left unattended, ripe for the exploitation of those greedy leeches at court. It would be a most unfavourable scenario.
Zhen's phoenix eyes hardened, cold calculation flashing through them.
No.
Perhaps his absence was an opportunity.
His opportunity to weed out traitors to the Dragon Throne...