In the fifth year of Daijiang, the kingdoms of Qiangda and Gongzhuan went to war. The eldest Prince of Qiangda attempted to assassinate the king, being subsequently imprisoned and sending the short-lived peace of the country into chaos. All along the border, fights erupted. The Great General had forcibly overthrown the monarchy and steered Gongzhuan like a broken ship into battle. Their resources were scarce; they didn't have the means to support the war. But the General was persistent, caring neither for the lives of the people nor the lives of the soldiers.
Liu Qingyuan saw how the people's suffering pained his king. He departed for Gongzhuan to resolve the matter between his master and himself once and for all. In this fight, one of them had to die. At present, it had already been half a year; the tender spring blooms were already wilted, giving way to the fresh greens and heat of the summer.
In a camp situated not far from the border, a large squadron of soldiers milled about, preparing for the upcoming battle. The air carried the heavy undercurrent of blood and carnage, tension running thicker than the Huo river at their side. The flap of the largest tent was pushed aside, a face entering, both familiar and unfamiliar. The sorrows of war had changed many; Jiang Zhilan's peach blossom eyes were tired, his lips perpetually pursed, and a permanent frown between his slender brows. Eunuch Shuang immediately rushed forward, helping the king strip off the heavy, stained armour. Jiang Zhilan rolled his shoulder, wincing at the soreness that shot across his muscles.
"Your majesty, a bath has been drawn."
"Mm, got it."
Dressed in a simple, but high-quality set of inner robes, Jiang Zhilan swept his damp hair behind him, leaning over the tactics table, a map of the surrounding terrain spread out on its surface.
"Your majesty," Eunuch Shuang peeked around a partition dividing the space of the tent into several rooms. "The food is getting cold."
"Mm, yes. I'll be out in a bit." Jiang Zhilan replied casually.
"Your majesty..." At his forceful tone, Jiang Zhilan finally looked up. Eunuch Shuang stepped fully into view and bowed. "You've already said that twice, your majesty. This servant begs you to rest. It's not good to overdo it and strain your body." Eunuch Shuang's worry manifested in his actions, wringing his hands fretfully every three breaths. Jiang Zhilan sighed, closing his eyes as he pinched his brow. For a few seconds, there was silence, and in that silence a heavy loneliness swept over him. How good it would be if that person was here. To hold him gently in his warm embrace and tell it was okay. Everything would work out.
"Alright," The king's voice was uncharacteristically soft and he even shot Eunuch Shuang a short smile. "Let's go eat." He swept past him, his head still full of strategies and tactics. Eunuch Shuang trembled, lowering his head. He hadn't seen the king smile in such a long time.
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"March!"
"Yes sir!" The sound of war drums rattled out over the ground, the thunderous symphony of thousands of marching feeting shaking the very earth they passed. The king's imposing figure, dressing in armour, the red horsetail swaying from his helmet, led the charge, the black war beast under him striding with powerful steps. Qiangda was going to war.
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Jiang Zhilan woke groggily, his whole body filled with soreness. The ground beneath him was hard, his shoulder blade digging awkwardly into the rocking surface. "Mnh!" A piece of soaked cloth was stuffed into his mouth, forcing his tongue in an uncomfortable position, while another piece was wrapped around his eyes. With his hands bound behind him, he couldn't move, the musk of the wooden floorboards permeating into his nostrils.
Thankfully, the cloth was thin, allowing meager light to shine through. From the motion, Jiang Zhilan deduced that he was in a covered carriage of some sort. Shuffling awkwardly, he managed to shuffle into an upright position, spitting out the soiled ball of cloth in his mouth. 'Ow..." the corners of his lips had split, feeling tender and painful and tasting slightly of blood. Through the cracks in the wood of the carriage wall, a small draft blew through, tickling his skin and sending a chill down his body. Jiang Zhilan curled up, feeling a little ashamed at the realization. No way...they even took his outer robes? Only a single, white inner robe stained with dirt was left on his figure.
After twisting and turning every which way, the blindfold fell off. Jiang Zhilan squinted, blinking his sore eyes. In the cramped space, he only needed to roll a little further and he would have hit a wall. Beneath him, the wagon wheels rattled and shook. The rough rope on his wrists rubbed the skin raw but it was too thick to try and untie; not with his hands in that position. Jiang Zhilan struggled uselessly for some time before giving up.
He closed his eyes. The uncertainty and fear made his chest hurt but he couldn't do anything but wait and try to collect more information about his own situation. Where was he? Where were they going? What were they going to do with him? He hoped his comrades on the battlefield were okay; he remembered the shouting, the glow of fire, the blood, the chaos and the chokingly sweet cloud of medicinal powder thrown at his face. The offender, of course, was cut down by his sword, but after that, everything became a kaleidoscope of colours. He couldn't even remember clearly what had happened. But the battlefield was always a chaotic place. Jiang Zhilan wondered why they hadn't just killed him and ensured victory for Gongzhuan.
Outside, with the group of rough and vulgar soldiers, a new recruit asked the same questions. His companion, a man years his senior with an ugly face, laughed mockingly, his mouth lifting in a leer. "What do you know? Of course the Great General has a special ending for him. Who knows? Maybe he'll be tortured to death."
"R-really?"
He glanced at the younger man condescendingly. "Are you stupid? Of course. What other fate would that scum ruler end up with?"
"R-ruler?" Originally, this small soldier had thought that Jiang Zhilan was just some unlucky noble of Qiangda, kidnapped for his pretty face and...those sorts of reasons. Even with cloth covering his eyes and a gag in his mouth, he could see that jade-smooth skin and his slender body. Truly an incomparable beauty. Anyway, all leaders had some sort of weird hobby one way or the other. Cough. He didn't think that...
An incomparable fear and uneasiness filled his heart. That really was...the king of Qiangda? But to be treated that way...His face turned white and he glanced at the covered carriage.
"What are you looking stupid for? Hurry up and march!"
"A-ah, yes."
Because that younger soldier had fallen behind, he fell within earshot. Jiang Zhilan turned his head quickly, narrowing his eyes. There were people outside! If that was the case, it meant they'd have to rest at some point. He could take that opportunity to find a way to escape. But first, he needed to break these ropes and if possible, again a weapon of some sort.
As the small carriage trundled along, the prisoner within its grasp was busy trying to remove the thick rope from his wrists. Jiang Zhilan closed his eyes, panting. Sweat beaded at his temples, muscles trembling from the awkward position. Even after this long, watching as the light leaking through the gaps in the planks became less and less, barely a quarter of the rope's diameter had been sawed through. Furthermore, because of the broken wood, countless splinters had embedded themselves into the flesh of his hands, his skin covered with both blood and sores. Jiang Zhilan wiped his forehead on his shoulder, gritting his teeth and continuing to rub the rope apart even as his shoulders and wrists screamed with agony. It was fine. As long as his life was preserved, the body could withstand injury; his first priority was getting out of here!
When the procession stopped for the night as predicted, Jiang Zhilan gave himself a small rest. His chest heaved with small, shallow breaths, pale skin flushed from exertion and pain flooding over his body. For a moment, suffocating sadness and frustration expanded in his chest, almost choking his breath away from the sheer intensity. He closed his eyes, forcing his mind to think of nothing.
In the early hours of the morning, a sudden commotion rang out, startling awake Jiang Zhilan. But besides that initial noise, there was nothing. After listening for a while, only the faint sounds of the guards getting up to get ready to depart again reached his ears. The covered carriage jolted forward, resuming its journey. In his daze, Jiang Zhilan found that something was different. Compared to the occasional noises from the day before, the guards escorting the carriage were dead silent, almost as if ghosts were leading the carriage. Goosebumps broke out on his flesh and Jiang Zhilan quickly shook the thoughts away. Ghosts or not...he still needed to break this rope first.
Weak from exertion and the lack of food and drink, Jiang Zhilan could barely raise his arms. The small abrasions on his hands had healed overnight from the support of the phoenix mark on his back, however the wounds on his wrists had barely scabbed before they were torn open again with his movements. On his fair skin, bruises bloomed, their purpling a hideous growth of flowers. Jiang Zhilan licked his dry lips, swallowing hard. He closed his eyes, persisting in his actions, knowing that this time, if he stopped, there was no way he could continue.
After an unknown amount of time, the rope had frayed halfway, allowing him to tug them far enough apart to pull his hands away. The abrupt motions brought tears to his eyes. After several days stuck in the same position, his shoulder protested at being realigned. He groaned softly, rotating his shoulders in increments.
The carriage jolted, throwing him against its wooden walls and eliciting a pitiful whine from his throat. Jiang Zhilan curled up, holding his side and gritting his teeth against the pain. Outside, missed by Jiang Zhilan, the first signs of human activity appeared in the form of a muffled apology.
Tucking the hair out of his face, the king reached for a conspicuous corner of broken wood. He dug his tender and swollen fingers into the gap, ignoring the multitude of splinters that cut into his skin. The plank groaned lowly but the jarring noise of the carriage's wheels on the rough ground covered up the sound. Although old and rotted, the wood wasn't easy to break, and it took a great deal of effort to split. When a piece finally fell away into his hand, Jiang Zhilan lost his balance, tumbling backwards, his back slamming into the ground.
"Ugh!" Jiang Zhilan felt a sense of helplessness. He didn't get up, merely laying down right where he was. The rough road caused his head to jolt against the wood with every bump but he ignored it, too tired to sit up. He hugged the piece of broken wood, closing his eyes and chasing a peace that seemed much too far fetched.