"Shen Wei, the Prince of Jianxing, suffered a crushing defeat at Chashi River in the northeast. The prefecture of Dunzhou's front line fell into enemy hands, and thirty thousand soldiers were buried alive in the
Chashi Sinkhole. You were among them—so how is it that you're the only
one left alive?"
Shen Zechuan's eyes were glazed and unfocused. He didn't answer.
The interrogator slammed his hands on the table and leaned in, a vicious glint in his eyes.
"Shen Wei had long been in secret communication with the Twelve Tribes of Biansha. He intended to hand the six prefectures of Zhongbo to our enemies on a silver platter. Together with your Biansha
allies, you planned to breach the defenses of Qudu from within and without.
This is why the Biansha Horsemen spared your life, is it not?"
Shen Zechuan's dry, chapped lips parted as he struggled to understand the interrogator's words. The jut of his throat bobbed as he
answered with difficulty, "N-no."
"Shen Wei immolated himself to escape judgment. The Embroidered
Uniform Guard has already presented correspondence proving his secret
liaisons with the Biansha tribes to the emperor. And yet, boy, you still deny it. Your stubbornness borders on stupidity!" the interrogator snapped.
Shen Zechuan's head felt heavy, his mind dazed. He had no idea how long it'd been since he'd last slept. He felt as though he was hanging from a
single thread thousands of feet in the air. If he negligently let go for so
much as an instant, he would plummet to the ground and be smashed to
pieces.
The interrogator opened Shen Zechuan's written statement and gave
it a cursory glance. "You said last night you were able to climb out of the
Chashi Sinkhole alive because your elder brother protected you—is that
so?"
The scene swam hazily before Shen Zechuan's eyes. The sinkhole
was so deep, countless soldiers packed together within. But even as the pile
of corpses grew higher and higher beneath their feet, still they could not
reach the edge. No matter how they struggled, they couldn't climb out.
The Biansha Horsemen surrounded the sinkhole, and the whistle of arrows
mingled with the frigid night wind. The blood rose up to his calves as the
anguished wails and final gasps of the dying crowded close to his ears.
Shen Zechuan's breaths came fast and shallow, and he shivered in his
seat. He clutched at his hair despite himself, unable to prevent a strangled
sob from escaping his throat. "You're lying."
The interrogator held up the statement and flicked it with a finger.
"Your brother is Shen Zhouji, the eldest lawful son of the Prince of Jianxing. This brother of yours abandoned thirty thousand soldiers before the Chashi Sinkhole and attempted to stealthily flee with his own private
guards.
The Biansha Horsemen lassoed him with a rope and dragged him to death on the public road along the Chashi River. He was dead by the time the Twelve Tribes of Biansha slaughtered those soldiers in the sinkhole.
It's impossible for him to have saved you."
Shen Zechuan's mind was awhirl. The interrogator's voice sounded
so far away; all he could hear were the unending wails.
Which way out? Where are the reinforcements?
The dead crowded against the dead. Putrid, decaying flesh pressed
down on his hands. Mu-ge shielded him
from above, sprawled over the
bloodied corpses. Shen Zechuan listened to Mu-ge's ragged breaths, and the
cries that escaped his throat were those of despair.
"Your brother is invincible." Ji Mu struggled to squeeze out a smile,
but tears were streaming down his face and his voice hitched as he
continued, "I'm an impregnable fortress! Hang on just a bit longer; it'll be
fine. Reinforcements will arrive soon. When they come, we'll go home and
get our parents, and I need to find your sister-in-law…"
"Come clean with it!" the interrogator barked, banging on the table.
Shen Zechuan began to struggle as if to break free of invisible
shackles, but the Embroidered Uniform Guard swarmed over and pinned
him to the table.
"Since you arrived in our Imperial Prison, I've taken your youth into
account and haven't meted out severe punishment. But it seems you don't
know what's good for you—don't blame us if we're ruthless. Men, carry
out his punishment!"
Shen Zechuan's arms were bound with rope; they dragged him to an
open space in the chamber. Someone set down a bench with a clatter and
tied his legs to it.
The burly man beside him lifted his broad wooden staff,
hefted it briefly in his hands, and swung it down.
"I'll ask you one more time." The interrogator brushed at the foam on
his tea with the lid of his cup and took a few unhurried sips. "Did Shen Wei
collude with our enemies and commit treason?"
Shen Zechuan gritted his teeth and refused to yield. He shouted
between strikes of the heavy staff, "N-no!"
The interrogator set his cup aside. "The Shen Clan wouldn't be in this
position today if you'd shown such fortitude on the battlefield. Continue!"
"Shen Wei didn't collude with the enemy…" Shen Zechuan rasped,
his head hanging and his voice hoarse. He was crumbling, bit by bit.
"We suffered a crushing defeat at the Battle of Chashi River all
because Shen Wei recklessly met the enemy head-on. After that loss, he had
a chance to turn the tide at the Dunzhou front line—yet despite his great
advantage in strength over the enemy troops, he withdrew his forces.
Because of this, the three cities of Duanzhou Prefecture fell into enemy
hands. Ten of thousands of common citizens lost their lives on the edge of
Biansha scimitars."
The interrogator heaved a lengthy sigh and continued with rueful
disdain, "All six prefectures of Zhongbo were bathed in blood. Shen Wei
took his troops and retreated south once again. But the battle he fought in
Dengzhou Prefecture was the most suspect of all. The Chijun Commandery
Garrison from Qidong had already crossed Tianfei Watchtower to provide
assistance—yet he abandoned this pincer attack. Instead, he mobilized
thousands of cavalry to escort his own family to the city of Dancheng. The
entire front line at Dengzhou Prefecture collapsed without these troops. Was
this not intentional sabotage? If it weren't for the Libei Armored Cavalry
racing three days and nights to cross the Glacial River, the Biansha
Horsemen would even now be at the gates of Qudu!"
Shen Zechuan was drenched in cold sweat, his consciousness fading.
The interrogator flung the statement at him in contempt, and it slapped
against the back of his head.
"Rather a dog than a man of Zhongbo, eh? Shen Wei is a sinner
before Great Zhou. Do you yet deny it? You have no choice but to accept
your guilt!"
Shen Zechuan was in agony, half of his body numb. He lay collapsed
on the bench, the paper fluttering before his eyes. The ink strokes on it were
clear, every character like the humiliating lash of a whip on his face,
announcing to the world:
Shen Wei betrayed his country. He's less than a dog.
They had left the six prefectures of Zhongbo piled high with bodies.
To date, the corpses at the bottom of the Chashi Sinkhole remained
uncollected. Everyone in the cities of Dunzhou who might have collected
them had been massacred.
Shen Wei had burned himself to his death, it was true—but this debt
of blood must be borne by a living person. Shen Wei had a harem of wives
and concubines who bore him a bounty of sons, but every one of them had
perished when the Biansha Horsemen entered Dunzhou.
Only because Shen Zechuan was of low birth, raised far from the family, had he managed to escape with his life.
They dragged Shen Zechuan back to his cell, his heels leaving twin trails of blood in their wake. He faced the wall and gazed at the small, narrow window. Outside, the frigid wind howled, and the snow came
pelting down. The night, black as pitch, stretched without end.
In his head was primal chaos. Amid the cries of the wind, his mind
wandered back to the sinkhole.
Ji Mu was dying. His breathing had grown labored. Blood dripped
down his armor onto the back of Shen Zechuan's neck, where it quickly
turned cold. The wails around him had quieted, leaving only the groans of
unendurable pain and the bellows of the biting wind.
Shen Zechuan lay nose-to-nose with a dead man whose features were
no longer recognizable. His legs were pinned under the weight of human
bodies; a shield dug painfully into his ribs. All he could smell as he gasped
for air was the thick stench of blood.
He gritted his teeth, tears streaming
down his face, but he couldn't afford to cry aloud. In despair, he stared
down at the face trampled beyond recognition, yet could not tell if this was
a soldier he knew.