Chapter 15: Slender Plum
The Hulan army surrounded the capital of Shuo Province like an iron bucket, leaving no gap for escape. The only lifeline—the River Pass—had thawed after an explosion and warmer weather.
Inside the city, gloom hung heavy over the common folk, pressing down like storm clouds above a crumbling wall.
Liang Province once held the best river crossing. Now that it had returned to Great Liang, and with the River Pass thawed, crossing meant certain death for the Hu Qi. Xia Qing Sheng, guarding Liang, had deployed naval forces to cut them off completely.
Yu Province, however, remained in Hu Qi hands. If they broke through Shuo’s capital, they would gain reinforcements and easily cross the river.
For Dan, this was intolerable.
From the day the Hulan army arrived, artillery thundered without cease. Smoke stained the skies; the wounded flowed endlessly from the city walls.
Fortunately, Duan Xu had prepared well—stockpiling grain, arrows, logs, stones, and tung oil when the Taibai army first assembled. Each Dan assault crashed against rainstorms of arrows, burning wood, and stone. Terrain became their shield; Taibai soldiers stood their ground.
Life within the walls carried on. Black smoke and screams became routine, so the people tentatively prepared for the New Year.
After all, no matter how grim the times, the New Year was the world’s most sacred occasion.
Chen Ying, holding a stone jar, scattered lime powder at the door.
“Sister Xiao Xiao, should we buy firecrackers?”
He Simu rubbed her temples. “More firecrackers? Haven’t you heard enough artillery?”
Watching his crooked lime circle, she asked, “What are you doing?”
Chen Ying puffed out his chest proudly. “During New Year, you set off firecrackers, paste fu characters, and draw circles with lime! Evil spirits fear firecrackers, door gods, the color red—and lime powder too!”
He Simu tilted her head. “And who came up with this ingenious logic?”
She helped him sprinkle powder anyway. Ghosts who could devour door gods made of sugar, who felt nothing at the sound of artillery—how would lime frighten them?
Duan Xu had grown busier by the day. He Simu often watched invisibly—always the same scene: no rest, no sleep, only strategy and war. She wondered, What exactly does he want?
Victory? The siege broken? A return to court with honors? None of it seemed to fit. And if his wish touched human affairs, her ghostly rules forbade her.
“Who wants what?” Chen Ying asked.
“Your General Brother. What do you think his heart’s desire might be?” she teased.
Chen Ying raised eight fingers. “To eat eight pancakes every meal!”
“…”
“All with meat filling.”
“That sounds like your wish.”
“No, no! I can only eat three. But General Brother’s amazing—he can eat eight!”
She chuckled softly, patting his head. “Such a practical child.”
But Chen Ying’s eyes lit with mischief. “Sister Xiao Xiao, you like General Brother, don’t you? You said so before—you fell in l-love at first sight!”
He Simu smiled kindly. “Yes, yes. Heaven-made, earth-arranged. Truly one-of-a-kind.”
Suddenly, the air shifted. Duan Xu stood at the courtyard gate with Lin Jun beside him, dressed simply, smiling like a neighbor.
“My funeral?” he asked lightly.
He Simu held her jar without flinching. “When did the General arrive?”
“Just now. Right around ‘a match made in heaven.’ Though it seems you’ve arranged to send me underground as well.”
“I only fear hardships for my beloved General,” she replied smoothly.
He grinned. “Then when the siege is lifted, will you play for me?”
“Sorry. My tune is only for the dead.”
His gaze shifted to the ground. Chen Ying gasped—without realizing, He Simu’s lime powder had formed a delicate plum blossom, branches sharp and blossoms poised to bloom.
“Sister Xiao Xiao, you can paint too!”
“Lime is useless,” she said softly, “but perhaps an elegant spirit would hesitate to step over beauty.”
Lin Jun quickly bowed. “Masterful. Like a painter of decades.”
She had, in truth, practiced for centuries.
Soon, she followed Duan Xu onto the city walls. Outside, the Hu Qi encampment stretched dark and endless, twenty thousand eyes watching like beasts waiting to strike. Inside, townsfolk strung red paper for the New Year, blissfully unaware.
“I’m reminded of Zhuangzi’s tale,” He Simu murmured. “Two kingdoms on a snail’s horns waged war, leaving tens of thousands dead.”
Duan Xu glanced at her, smiling. “Human life is brief and pitifully small, isn’t it?”
Yet his smile glowed—bright, unyielding.
“Why smile so much?” she asked.
“It’s my nature.”
At the walls, insults drifted up from the Hu Qi camp:
“Duan Shunxi, pretty boy! Afraid to fight? Come down so we can crack your skull!”
Laughter roared below.
He Simu’s eyes narrowed. “They’re mocking you.”
“Pretty boy?” Duan Xu placed a hand on his heart with a laugh. “That’s just praising my looks.”
For once, even He Simu clapped her hands in admiration. “General, truly broad-minded.”
Previous/Next