Chapter 9: The Hunter’s Snare

 

Captain He rested briefly, then pushed forward through several more forests. She glanced up at the sun to confirm her direction before pressing on. Soon, the faint gurgle of water reached her ears — she had followed the river downstream.

After half a day of walking, exhaustion and thirst weighed heavily on her. She found a clear, open bend of the river and bent down to drink. The sun had climbed past noon when she drew a bamboo tube from her bosom and prepared a fire stick. Just as she was about to ignite the fuse to release a signal flare, a sudden gust of wind swept behind her.

Pain seared across her waist — before she could react, she was hurled into the river. The icy water choked her mouth and nose, stunning her senses. She struggled to surface, gasping — only to see Li Yi standing calmly at the riverbank, watching her with a faint smile.

“Captain He,” Li Yi called lightly, “we meet again. What a coincidence.”

He whistled, and from the forest emerged the white horse — Xiaobai. The moment it saw her flailing in the river, it neighed eagerly.

“Traitor!” she shouted furiously.

Xiaobai, oblivious to her anger, tossed its mane and trotted to Li Yi’s side, nuzzling him affectionately.

“Silly creature,” she muttered bitterly.

The horse seemed to think she was playing in the water, nudging Li Yi’s hand as if urging him to join her. Li Yi patted its neck and smiled.

“Your firework tube’s soaked through,” he teased. “Think you can still summon your master’s men with that?”

Her long lashes dripped with water, framing eyes that gleamed like wet gems. She looked both pitiful and fierce as she spat out, “Bastard!”

Li Yi chuckled. “I know how to repay kindness and hatred both. You kicked me into a well last time, remember? Yet I didn’t curse you then.”

The kitten-like glare she shot him could have cut glass. She flung away the drenched bamboo tube and swam hard toward shore. But just when she was a few feet away, she sputtered, choked, and suddenly sank. Her limbs thrashed; she surfaced briefly before the current dragged her farther away.

“Stop pretending,” Li Yi called with a laugh. “Have you forgotten? We met in the water. You’re a fine swimmer — I know that.”

But she didn’t respond. Her movements grew sluggish; her legs cramped, and she was carried toward the river’s center. The current swallowed her whole until only white foam remained.

Half amused, half alarmed, Li Yi frowned. He stepped to the river’s edge, scanning the current. The water rushed eastward, crystal clear, forming small whirlpools — no sign of her at all.

He sighed and called out, “Hey, little liar! You can’t fool me. I’m leaving — really leaving.” He tugged on Xiaobai’s reins and took a few steps.

But the horse neighed anxiously, refused to move, then bolted toward the river, splashing at the edge. Li Yi held tight to the reins, halting it.

With another sigh, he tied the reins to a branch and looked out over the swirling water. “You really got me this time,” he muttered, and dove in.

The current was fierce and cold as knives. Visibility was poor, but Li Yi searched beneath the surface, lungs burning. No sign of her. He surfaced for air, realizing seconds might mean the difference between life and death, then dove again.

Finally, he spotted her — drifting like pale waterweed, her body limp and still. He rushed toward her, seized her shoulders, and hauled her upward. She was unconscious. Clutching her tightly, he broke the surface and swam for shore.

He laid her face-down on a large rock and pressed her back to expel the water, anxiety rising when little came out. Turning her over, he checked her pulse — just as her eyelashes fluttered.

“Oh no—” he began.

She suddenly opened her eyes, smiling sweetly — and several fine needles shot from between her lips. Li Yi staggered, caught off guard, and fell.

Captain He stood up, fury burning in her gaze. She jabbed him with another dose of anesthetic, snarling, “You called me a liar and kicked me into the river!” Then she kicked his knee several times in anger. “If I don’t make you take a dip today, my name isn’t Captain He!”

Her anger subsided slightly when she saw Xiaobai’s reins tied neatly to a branch. “At least you have some conscience,” she muttered. She untied them and mounted the horse.

Xiaobai neighed happily, rearing before galloping away. But after a few strides, she glanced back — Li Yi lay motionless among the grass, blood glinting faintly on his body.

She hesitated, then pulled the reins and turned back. Sighing, she pulled the knife from his body, gathered branches and leaves, and piled them over him until he blended into the thicket.

“You did save me,” she murmured, “so I’ll return the favor. Let this keep the pursuers from finding you.”

Mounting again, she rode away without looking back.

After everything, her clothes were drenched. She wrung them dry as best she could, but lighting a fire was too dangerous. Though Li Yi was gone, her fireworks were ruined, leaving her without a signal. Fortunately, she could still navigate by sun and terrain, marking trees as she went.

She journeyed until dusk, when the forest darkened and a chill wind rose. Distant beasts roared; an owl shrieked — a lonely, haunting sound.

She sought a safe spot to rest and build a fire, but a sudden snap broke the silence. Xiaobai’s hoof had stepped on a vine. It recoiled — and a stone tied to it swung up, smashing a wasp’s nest from a nearby tree.

A swarm of wasps erupted, buzzing furiously. Captain He’s eyes widened — a trap. She ripped open her coat, waving it to fend them off while shouting, “Xiaobai, go!”

The horse bolted forward — but the ground gave way beneath its hooves. A deep pit yawned open. Fortunately, Xiaobai’s reflexes were swift; though its front legs were caught, it brayed in defiance. Captain He hurled her coat upward, snagging a low branch, and dangled half-hanging from the pit’s edge.

Tugging hard on the reins, she cried out, “Xiaobai!”

The horse heaved and broke free. She landed safely beside him and couldn’t help laughing breathlessly. “Good job, Little White!”

Just then, a wasp landed sharply on her right wrist and stung deep. The venom burned instantly, numbing her fingers. She clenched her jaw, refusing to cry out, but her hand could no longer grip the coat. The moment she let go, she plunged headfirst into the pit below.

She tried to twist midair, but the sharpened stakes at the bottom still grazed her legs, slicing through flesh. The pain was fierce, but she bit her lip, refusing to scream.

Looking up, she realized the trap was too deep — the steep walls made escape impossible. Little White hovered near the edge, peering anxiously down at her.

“Xiaobai! Go!” she shouted hoarsely. “Don’t stay here — go find someone, anyone, to save me!”

The horse neighed, stamping in agitation, but at last turned and disappeared into the forest shadows.

Captain He rolled up her trouser leg to inspect the wound. It was long and deep, blood streaming freely — a sight that would have made a lesser person faint. She tore off a strip of her shirt and wrapped it tightly around the wound, grimacing as she tied the knot. Then she took out her dagger, hacking away some of the wooden spikes to make space.

By the time she finished, the forest had sunk into night. Her firestick was soaked; she couldn’t light a flame. Curling up in a corner of the pit, she tried to keep warm, but the wind howled through the trees, stirring the pine branches with a rustling whisper. Somewhere far off, an owl cried — eerie and forlorn.

Even for someone as brave as her, the cold gnawed at her bones, and hunger hollowed her out. Her eyelids drooped, her mind drifting between sleep and wakefulness.

Then — a low roar split the silence. A beast. Close.

Her eyes flew open. Above her, she could only see a scattering of stars. Everything else was pitch-black. The thought crept in — if no one came by dawn, she might not survive the cold.

And then — a light.

A faint, flickering glow appeared above the pit. After hours of darkness, the firelight stung her eyes, making them water. She covered her face with her sleeve until she could see clearly.

Li Yi stood above her, holding a torch. He leaned forward, lowering the flame to see her better.

She sneered, voice laced with disdain. “General Pei, are you here to kick me while I’m down?”

Li Yi smiled lazily. “You’re not in a well this time, so how can I kick you when you’re down?”

Her suspicion deepened. “Such a trap in the depths of the forest — so well hidden and cruel — General Pei must have planned it carefully. It’s even better than that well.”

He chuckled softly. “Then you wrong me. This trap isn’t mine.”

He paused, then pulled something from behind him — a roasted rabbit leg. The golden-brown skin gleamed in the torchlight, fat dripping and sizzling. He waved it teasingly. “Want some?”

The smell hit her — smoky, savory, mouthwatering. But pride flared stronger than hunger, and she turned her head sharply away.

He bit into the rabbit leg, chewing contentedly. “The anesthetic on your needles was too strong. I slept half the night. When I woke, the horse was gone, and so were you. I tracked you for two hours before I found this pit.” He grinned. “Looks like Heaven has eyes — you fell right into a hunter’s trap.”

She glared. “I knew it — only someone as vicious as you could’ve done this.”

He laughed, unbothered. “Captain, you give me too much credit. This is a bear trap — see the smooth walls and the depth? It’s meant to catch beasts, not soldiers. Takes days to dig something like this. Hunters use it because bears love honey — they hang beehives nearby to lure them.” His gaze glinted. “Seems the hunter didn’t catch a bear this time, but a little liar instead.”

Her glare could have set him aflame.

Still holding the rabbit leg, he said, “Captain He, how about a deal? I share this rabbit, and you take me to meet your master. We’ll split your military rations fifty-fifty.”

She refused to look at him.

He chewed another mouthful and continued, “You haven’t eaten in a whole day and night, have you? This rabbit’s fat — see how the oil drips? My roasting skills are worth tasting.”

At last, she lifted her gaze and smiled faintly. “Fine. Since you want to talk, show some sincerity first. Rescue me, and I’ll take you to meet my lord. If he agrees, you’ll get your half.”

He grinned. “You little liar. Trying to trick me again? How many bamboo tubes do you still have hidden? And how many more poison needles?”

Her lips curved. “Afraid, are you? Then don’t save me. Leave me here to die. When my master finds out, he’ll hunt you to the ends of the earth — and you won’t see a single grain of military ration.”

Li Yi tilted his head, pretending to consider. Then he smiled. “All right then — I’ll come down and keep you company.”

Before she could react, he jumped.

He landed lightly beside her, steady as a hawk, torch in one hand and rabbit leg in the other.

“You idiot!” she snapped. “You could’ve pulled me out from above, but now we’re both trapped. How do we get out?”

He wedged the torch between two spikes, lighting the cramped space with a warm flicker. “Thanks to you, I’ve been in a well and a river. Seems fate insists we stay together.” He bent closer — the space was small, and their faces nearly touched. She could smell the roasted rabbit and feel his breath against her cheek.

He chuckled low. “Since you’ve fallen into the trap, how could I not join you? Live and die together, Captain.”

Her eyes flashed like polished obsidian. “Frivolous playboy.”

He grinned wider. “That’s twice you’ve scolded me today. I was going to give you two rabbit legs, but now you get none.” He took another exaggerated bite, grease glistening on his lips.

She clenched her fists. Exhausted, frozen, and starving, she forced herself to stay composed. She would not beg.

Watching her stubborn expression, Li Yi felt a mix of irritation and amusement. Finally, he tore off a piece of the rabbit and handed it to her. She turned away — so he shoved it into her hand.

“Don’t worry,” he said softly. “No poison this time. You did cover me with grass after you stabbed me — so I’ll call it even.”

She hesitated, then took a bite. Hunger defeated pride.

“How is it?” he asked after a while. “Not bad, right?”

She nodded reluctantly, then asked, “Now, tell me — how are we getting out?”

He smirked, tearing another strip of meat. “And how do you know I can get us out?”

She sighed. “Because I’ve learned something about you — you never do anything without a plan. You wouldn’t jump down unless you knew you could climb out.”

He laughed quietly. “You think too highly of me. I’m not leaving tonight.”

Her eyes widened.

He explained, “It’s pitch dark, and there are worse beasts than bears out there. Even with your snake-repelling powder, you can’t scare away a tiger. Better we stay here till dawn.”

She frowned. “How do you know I have that powder?”

He smiled knowingly. “You’re sharp, Captain — but not sharp enough.”

Then, lazily, he added, “Tomorrow morning, I’ll take you hostage and march straight to your master’s camp. Maybe we can trade you for supplies.”

She laughed in disbelief. “Such shamelessness — and you say it so casually!”

But before she could finish, he raised a finger to his lips. “Shh. Someone’s coming.”

He grabbed a handful of dirt and smothered the torchlight.

She scoffed under her breath, “You said it yourself — wild beasts roam these woods. What people could possibly—”

Before she could finish, his hand clamped over her mouth.

A flash of silver — she’d tried to prick him with another hidden needle, but he dodged, and it struck the dirt wall instead.

He held her still, whispering against her ear, “Don’t move.”

Rustling noises came from above — faint, then louder.

Moments later, dozens of torches blazed to life at the pit’s edge.

Bows were drawn. Arrowheads gleamed coldly in the torchlight — countless, dense, all aimed straight at them.

Here’s the enhanced version with improved tone, pacing, and vivid atmosphere — keeping every event intact while giving it the tone of a masterfully written historical web novel. The dialogue flows more naturally, the tension builds smoothly, and emotional shifts are sharper without losing authenticity.

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Title:

The Revelation at Mingdai Stronghold

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Meta Description (155 characters):

Captured by bandits, Captain He spins a daring lie—only for Li Yi’s true identity to explode under torchlight, shattering every illusion between them.

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Enhanced Passage:

Captain He thought for a moment. Could these be Guo Zhi’s pursuers? But the arrows scattered on the ground were rough and crude—far from the precision of trained soldiers. Before she could think further, a coarse, raspy voice boomed from above the trap, echoing through the night.

“Ha! No wonder there was noise in the woods—it’s a pair of strays! Pull them up and drag them back to the village for Grandpa!”

A flicker of torchlight revealed the truth—bandits. Dozens of them, maybe hundreds, shouting and waving their weapons in the dark. The forest was thick, the night disorienting. Even if she and Li Yi managed to escape, they’d surely run into beasts or worse. Survival meant biding time, not rushing into hopeless resistance.

Hooks dropped down, and the two surrendered without struggle. Rough hands tied their wrists and ankles with cowhide ropes, binding them back to back. Like sacks of grain, they were slung over horses and carried through the forest, the bandits’ laughter echoing through the trees.

The mountain stronghold loomed ahead—Mingdai Mountain, home to the infamous Mingdai bandits. Their leader, a broad-shouldered man with a voice like gravel, swaggered into the pinewood hall and shouted,
“Brother! Come and see! The noise in the forest tonight was worth it—look what I caught!”

Inside, his “brother,” Huang Youyi, a burly man with a scraggly beard, sat shirtless by the brazier, gnawing roasted taro. He wiped the ash from his mouth and squinted as two figures were thrown onto the dirt floor. Dozens of torches illuminated the room; the bandits crowded around, howling with excitement.

Zhang Youren, the first man, puffed out his chest. “Boss! Look at their leather boots—they’re not peasants. These two are fat sheep!”

Another bandit, Qian Youdao, leaned in with a grin. The flickering light danced across Li Yi’s calm face—unflinching, unreadable. Captain He, disguised as a man, had grime on her cheeks, but her pale neck and the spark in her eyes betrayed her.

“This one’s no man,” Qian Youdao laughed. “A woman disguised! And a beauty at that! Boss, you’re still single—why not make her your wife?”

Zhang Youren snorted. “You idiot! If they’re rich enough for leather boots, we should ransom them! A hundred strings of cash—no, a thousand! When we’re rich, we’ll all buy wives!”

“Marry her!” barked Qian Youdao.
“Ransom her!” Zhang shot back.

Their bickering echoed through the hall until Huang Youyi slammed his knife into the table. “Enough! Who’s the boss here?”

“In unison,” they shouted, “You are, Big Brother!”

Satisfied, Huang squatted in front of Captain He, his knife glinting near her throat. “Speak. Who are you?”

Captain He stayed composed, her voice steady and low. “I am the concubine of the emperor’s grandson, Li Yi.”

Li Yi froze. Her words struck like lightning. He tried to glance back, but the ropes bound him tight. What on earth was she doing?

Gasps rippled through the bandits. The title “Emperor’s Grandson” crashed over them like thunder.

Captain He continued smoothly, her tone sweet as flowing jade. “My husband, Li Yi, is the Emperor’s grandson—the Marshal of Zhenxi, Governor of the Western Territories, commander of hundreds of thousands. He now resides in Wangzhou City. If you release me, he will reward you handsomely.”

Li Yi’s heart twisted—shock gave way to bitter amusement, then reluctant admiration. This woman… she remembers my titles better than I do. He quickly understood her ploy. With her quick wit, she could convince the bandits to take her to Wangzhou, where—if he truly were there—she’d have him pay her ransom without ever revealing the deceit.

He exhaled slowly. Clever. Dangerous. A woman like this must never be underestimated.

Huang Youyi wavered, torn between awe and suspicion. Finally, he turned to Li Yi, knife poised. “You—tell me. Who is she?”

Li Yi met his gaze and spoke evenly. “She is indeed the Emperor’s grandson’s concubine. I am her escort, ordered to accompany her to Wangzhou.”

That sealed it.

Qian Youdao whooped. “Brother! You’ll marry an imperial concubine yet!”
Zhang Youren growled back, “Idiot! We’ll ransom her for silver!”
“Marry her!”
“Ransom her!”

“Enough!” Huang thundered again. “Who’s the boss?”
“Big Brother!” they chorused.

At last, Huang nodded, but his eyes narrowed. “Don’t think you can trick me. I heard that rebel Sun Jing stormed the palace, killed the emperor, and wiped out his bloodline. They say not a single prince or grandson survived! Do you take me for a fool?”

Li Yi kept his tone earnest. “My lord, I speak truth. The emperor’s grandson lives—in Wangzhou. Send a man to inquire, and you’ll know.”

Huang hesitated, when Zhang Youren tugged his sleeve. “Brother, didn’t Second Brother Zhao once serve in the Zhenxi Army? Let’s ask him to confirm!”

Qian Youdao waved it off. “He’s ill—don’t disturb him!”
“Call him!” Zhang barked.
“Don’t!”
“Call him!”
“Don’t!”

Finally, Huang roared, “Bring Second Brother Zhao!”

Moments later, two men emerged supporting a one-armed veteran. His face was weathered, his hair graying, but his eyes were sharp. He stormed into the hall and barked, “Who dares pretend to be of the Zhenxi Army?!”

Li Yi turned at the voice—and froze. The man’s gaze locked on him, and shock spread across his face. Suddenly, the veteran broke free from his attendants, rushing forward with tears in his eyes.

“Shiqilang! It’s you—it’s really you!”

He threw his arm around Li Yi in trembling joy. “Five years! Five years since I left the army… You’ve grown, you rascal! Shiqilang—do you remember me? Zhao Youde!”

The hall fell silent.

At the name Shiqilang, Captain He’s heart stopped. The word crashed over her like thunder. Everyone in the Dingsheng Army knew that name—the secret title of the Emperor’s grandson, long hidden within the Zhenxi ranks.

It all made sense now. The cunning, the courage, the way he always turned defeat into victory—of course.

He wasn’t Pei Yuan. He was Li Yi.

She was overcome with regret and conflicting emotions. The secret reports in the army had always claimed that the young emperor’s grandson was a prodigy—exceptional in warfare and unmatched in strategy. She had dismissed it as mere flattery from the Zhenxi Army, using the Pei family’s achievements to heap praise upon him, paving the way for the young heir to rule in the future. Yet now, she realized it had been another deception—one that had completely misled her.

Zhao Youde had retired from the Zhenxi Army five years ago. Back then, Li Yi was still concealing his true identity within the ranks, so Zhao had no idea he was the emperor’s grandson and casually called him a “little bastard.”

She recalled the many times she had crossed swords and wits with this man—each encounter a narrow victory, or sometimes no true victory at all, only a fleeting upper hand. So it had been him all along. He truly was the one who had once trapped and annihilated tens of thousands of Yu Liao troops. A deep sense of regret filled her—so it was Li Yi after all. No wonder he was so exceptional. With his status, he had hidden behind the name Pei Yuanzhi.

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