Chapter Four: Conquering the World (V)

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V. Warriors in Golden Armor

In 482 BC, King Fuchai of Wu marched north to vie for dominance, leading his armies to a covenant with Duke Ding of Jin at Huangchi, leaving Crown Prince You to oversee the kingdom.

Seasons shifted swiftly, spring melting into summer as if in the blink of an eye. At last, Goujian could restrain himself no longer. Seizing the chance while the king was away and the realm left unguarded, he raised his banners and invaded Wu.

In the Drunken Moon Pavilion, Xiangbao was quietly practicing her calligraphy as always. Her handwriting had become beautiful, as lovely as Shi Lian’s. The palace was hushed; even the passing maids and attendants kept their heads bowed and footsteps light, as if fearful of rousing monsters slumbering beneath the earth.

Everyone felt the threat looming.

Fuchai—what of him? What would he do when news of Wu’s invasion reached him at Huangchi?

Crown Prince You was no longer the child who once sobbed in Xiangbao’s arms.

And there was Wei Qin—the one-armed general in red, famed among Wu’s women—now battling desperately to defend the city.

The war between Wu and Yue had come, inevitable at last.

Xiangbao could no longer sleep. Every time she closed her eyes, she seemed to hear the clash of weapons outside the palace gates, and see, amid the flames of that fateful night, Yun Ji’s twisted, mad visage as she shrieked, “Why are you still alive? Why are you still alive?!”

Those words, like a curse, were branded upon Xiangbao’s heart, haunting her still.

“Madam.” Ziru entered, bearing a bowl of medicine.

Xiangbao set down her brush and turned to her. “Why is it you? Where’s Xile?”

“Madam…” Ziru hesitated. “Are you deliberately keeping your distance from me?”

“Since when?” Xiangbao smiled.

“What?”

“Was it all planned from the start, when you were demoted to a servant?” Xiangbao’s smile was tinged with bitterness. “Did the king place you by my side because he didn’t trust me?”

Ziru bit her lip. “You…”

“What did the king promise you for lowering yourself to servitude? To let you reside in the Drunken Moon Pavilion if you succeeded?” Xiangbao shook her head. “I knew the day I returned from the Guawa Palace—you were already mistress of this pavilion.”

“I’m sorry, madam…” Ziru’s eyes reddened, as if she might cry.

“It’s nothing. As I’ve always said, you never truly harmed me.” Xiangbao offered a faint smile.

The Yue army split into two forces, advancing irresistibly. Crown Prince You led his troops to meet them at Hongshui.

“Scentmistress is no longer afraid of thunder, nor has she had nightmares in quite some time,” she’d said to Xiangbao before departing.

“Bad news, madam! The Yue army has begun their assault!” Just after lunch, Ziru rushed into Xiangbao’s chamber, pale as a ghost.

“What? So soon?” Xiangbao was alarmed. “Who’s leading them?”

“They say it’s General Cangwu, the black-faced one.”

A’fu?

Xiangbao pressed a hand to her forehead, her headache intensifying. No wonder the attack came now—this could not be Goujian’s idea. It must be A’fu, eager to rescue her.

Abandoning her brush, Xiangbao dashed out.

“Madam, the city is under siege—where are you going?” Xile grabbed her anxiously.

“General Cangwu is an old friend. I’m going to see him.”

Xile released her. “Please… take care.”

“I will.”

Xiangbao ran through the palace, passing the now-desolate chambers where Huamei, Linglong, Yun Ji, and other women had once lived.

She saddled a horse and galloped toward the city gates.

Inside Gusu, desolation reigned. Doors and windows were tightly shut; the entire city seemed a necropolis. Along her path, wounded soldiers were carried past, each face etched with exhaustion. At the gate, the head of Wu Zixu, dried by the wind, stared with hollow eyes, making Xiangbao’s scalp prickle. The loyal and unyielding Wu Prime Minister’s prophecy had come true—if he knew this in the afterlife, would he weep or laugh?

“Sister?” It was Wei Qin’s voice.

Turning, Xiangbao saw his grim expression.

“Why aren’t you safe in the palace? What are you doing here?”

“Si… Crown Prince You—where is he?” Concerned for Scentmistress, Xiangbao asked.

Wei Qin said nothing more, simply took her hand and led her into the defensive tower.

“Did General Cangwu not attack the city?” Xiangbao inquired.

“It seems someone stopped him.”

She nodded.

Books and scrolls filled with military strategy lay across the table. Scentmistress, head buried in them, had fallen asleep from exhaustion. Behind him hung an ancient zither—its body dark red, exuding an air of rustic elegance.

His brows, faintly heroic, were slightly furrowed. In his features, he resembled Fuchai deeply. Though his sleep was restless, there were no nightmares now.

Someone approached and whispered to Wei Qin, who glanced at Xiangbao before leaving.

Left alone, Xiangbao quietly watched Scentmistress sleep. Since childhood, he had admired his father, imitating him in all things, yet his own nature was gentle—perhaps more like his ill-fated mother, the lonely woman within the deep palace…

“Mother?” His lashes fluttered, and Scentmistress opened his eyes, surprised to see her.

Xiangbao came to herself and smiled. “You’re awake?”

“Yes. Why aren’t you in the palace?” His first words mirrored Wei Qin’s.

“It was stifling. I came out for air,” Xiangbao casually excused herself.

Scentmistress said nothing further, returning to his scrolls.

“You bring your zither to war?” She approached, fingers gently brushing its strings, smiling.

“That’s the only thing she left me. She brought it to the palace herself,” Scentmistress replied, subdued.

Xiangbao knew “she” meant his mother, Lady Meisi. “Your mother must have loved you very much.” As she caressed the zither, it was as if she touched that lonely woman’s fingers.

“Yes.” Scentmistress lowered his head. “So much she wanted to take me with her in death.”

Xiangbao started.

“That stormy night, when her body was wracked by poison, she clutched my throat with her hands,” he said, gently stroking his neck. “She said, leaving me alone in that palace of monsters, she couldn’t bear it. She wanted to take me with her.”

Xiangbao frowned. So, in his nightmares, when he screamed ‘don’t kill me,’ it was not some stranger but his mother who haunted him.

What must drive a woman to such desperation, to wish to die with her own child?

“Forget it.” Heart aching, she patted his shoulder, which towered over hers.

“Ever since that night three years ago, when mother held me as I slept, I haven’t had a nightmare since.” He smiled at Xiangbao.

He had never spoken of this before. After so many years, even the deepest wounds must heal.

“The Yue army is attacking again!” The thunderous cries of battle rang out.

“To arms!”

“Report—south gate has fallen!”

“Report—west gate has fallen!”

“Report—east gate has fallen!”

“The Yue soldiers have entered the city…”

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Each report sent Xiangbao’s heart into chaos. Fuchai had left with his elite troops; those remaining were so easily crushed?

Scentmistress drew his sword and left.

Xiangbao stood atop the city wall, gazing down at the inferno—battle cries resounded as the Yue army poured in, General Cangwu at the fore.

“Xiangbao!” He looked up, eyes brightening. “I’ve come to rescue you!”

Seeing him, Xiangbao was about to speak when a shock seized her.

Suddenly, all four city gates closed. Atop the walls, golden-armored warriors appeared. Under the blazing sun, their armor shone with a dazzling brilliance.

“Kill!” A golden-armored youth appeared on the wall. His golden helmet concealed his face, his armor protecting his body, but the voice was unmistakably Scentmistress’s.

His sword gleamed in the sun. Xiangbao squinted—was this the Scentmistress she knew? The one who called her mother? The one who vowed to protect her?

At his command, a thousand arrows flew.

A’fu was stunned, trying desperately to withdraw, but all gates were blocked—there was nowhere to run or hide.

This was a trap to lure the enemy. No wonder Fuchai dared attend the alliance. Scentmistress had trained all this time to command this golden-armored corps? Allowing Goujian to return to Yue was but a test—if he was loyal, there would be peace for a time; if he attacked, this would be his fate…

Xiangbao watched, helpless, as the Yue generals perished, the stench of blood thick in the air. A’fu, blood-soaked, fought his way to the wall.

Wei Qin’s expression hardened and he shielded Xiangbao with his sword. He recognized the general—this was the boy who once chopped firewood for her at Liujunzui!

Xiangbao, standing behind Wei Qin, saw her old friend—now drenched in blood—and was speechless.

“Xiangbao… Xiangbao! Come with me! I’ve come to rescue you!” A’fu, his face covered in blood, cut down countless Wu soldiers as he charged toward Xiangbao.

She stared at his bloodstained hands, suddenly recalling the delicious steamed cake at Liujunzui. Gently pushing Wei Qin aside, she stepped forward. “A’fu…”

Seeing her so close, A’fu’s eyes lit up as he reached for her.

But midway, his hand froze—A’fu’s eyes went wide as a golden arrow pierced his chest.

Xiangbao looked up. Across the wall, Scentmistress, clad in gold, held a curved bow, the string bare. The golden arrow was buried in A’fu’s chest.

As A’fu fell backward, Xiangbao finally grasped his bloodied hand, covered with calluses from years of chopping wood.

“Xiang… Xiangbao…” He gripped her tightly. “If only… if only you’d always been the little Xiangbao at Liujunzui… how wonderful that would be…”

He smiled, blood filling his mouth.

“Yes, I’ve thought so too.” Holding his hand, Xiangbao knelt beside him, her head bowed in helpless grief.

“You said then… A’fu couldn’t save you. I thought… if I became General Cangwu, I could… I could… take you away…” His body shuddered, blood frothing from his lips.

Xiangbao bit her lip, suddenly remembering Qiu Xue.

A’fu gazed at her, eyes full of sorrow.

She lowered her head, pressing her face to his bloodied chest. “A’fu, thank you for coming to take me away…”

His grip tightened, then fell slack. Xiangbao believed more than ever what Wu Zixu had said—she truly was a bringer of disaster.

The sounds of battle faded. Wei Qin bent to help Xiangbao to her feet. Her gaze was empty as she stared at the wall of blinding gold.

“Wei Qin…” she whispered.

“Yes? What is it?” He looked at her, worried.

“I… I really am a bringer of disaster.” Her voice was as faint as a gnat’s.

Wei Qin said nothing, just held her tighter.

The Yue army was utterly defeated.

Back at the palace, it was lively again—everyone praising the valor of the crown prince. Under Ziru and Xile’s anxious eyes, Xiangbao returned to her rooms and lay on her couch.

She had tried so hard to protect Scentmistress, forgetting that he was no ordinary child. He was born in the palace, raised in the palace, the son of Fuchai, crown prince of Wu…

The night was dark.

Lying in bed, Xiangbao could not sleep. Visions of Shi Lian and A’fu, drenched in blood, haunted her, wrenching her heart. She clutched her chest, sweat beading on her brow.

Suddenly, she looked up. A shadow stood at the foot of her bed.

“Who’s there?”

“Sister, it’s me.” She moved the palace lantern and saw the face—it was the Yue woman.

That word “sister” made her skin crawl.

“Yue was defeated,” the woman said softly.

“Yes. It was unexpected,” Xiangbao replied coolly.

“That fool Cangwu and all his troops were lost…” The Yue woman ground her teeth. “Had I known that idiot was coming for you, I would have killed him myself.”

“Respect the dead, miss. Mind your tongue.”

“Fan’s troops are still outside the city—they haven’t withdrawn.” The Yue woman smiled slyly.

“Who are you, really?”

She laughed. “No harm telling you. I am Goujian’s sister. I was raised by my master and never returned to Yue.”

Xiangbao was startled—she’d suspected the woman’s background was mysterious, but hadn’t guessed she was Goujian’s sister, a Yue princess.

“If you die, Wei Qin would be devastated, wouldn’t he?” the woman suddenly said.

Xiangbao was silent.

“Wei Qin would surely hate me.” The Yue woman bit her lip, her face pale. “But if you die at another’s hand, he can’t blame me.”

With that, she turned and left.

As Xiangbao watched her go, cold sweat broke out on her palms.

Because Xiangbao had ignored Scentmistress when she returned, he came early the next morning to beg forgiveness.

“Mother…” Scentmistress tugged at her sleeve, his voice full of grievance. Despite his height, his wounded look made him seem like a child. Xiangbao just sipped her tea, not meeting his gaze.

“Mother, I was only afraid that black-faced general would hurt you…” Seeing her ignore him, Scentmistress pleaded anxiously.

Xiangbao finally looked up. Before her stood a gentle, handsome youth in flowing robes. She could not imagine this harmless boy, behind a golden helmet, as a killer.

“Mother…” Scentmistress looked so aggrieved.

Their standoff was interrupted by commotion outside.

“Bad news! Rioters have stormed the palace!”

Chaos erupted.

Frowning, Xiangbao had barely risen when several fierce men burst in.

“Which one is Xi Shi?” they bellowed, scanning the room.

“Who are you, to dare invade the palace?” Scentmistress demanded angrily.

“Hmph, we are nameless soldiers of Wu! We risk our lives for this kingdom, yet you shelter the scourge who caused Wu Zixu’s death! The people’s wrath cannot be appeased!”

“Insolent traitors!” Scentmistress drew his sword in fury.

“Brat, tired of living? I’ll kill you!” One of the men charged.

Xiangbao realized immediately these were not Wu men—no native would dare insult the crown prince. Remembering the Yue woman’s words, she understood—this was all a setup! Looking up, she saw Scentmistress being driven back.

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“Scentmistress, they’re not Wu men—kill them!” Xiangbao shouted.

“My armor… Mother, my armor…” Scentmistress cried as he retreated.

Xiangbao was stunned—at a time like this, he wanted his armor? Was he showing off?

“Mother… I can’t kill… Scentmistress can’t kill… Father… my armor…” Scentmistress’s voice choked with panic.

A chill ran through Xiangbao—was the Scentmistress who shot A’fu on the wall the same as this one now?

She moved to help him but felt a sword pressed coldly to her back. Turning, she saw the Yue woman.

So it was her plan all along.

“To kill you would be far less interesting than using you to lure Fuchai back,” she sneered.

“Where is Xi Shi, the scourge?” The noise outside grew louder.

The Yue woman smiled, leaning close. “The ones outside are real rioters. I spread some rumors—Wu Zixu died because of you, Wu will fall because of you. You’re a hero of Yue, you know…”

Xiangbao glared, teeth clenched. The Yue woman shoved her out.

“Where is Xi Shi?” The enraged mob burst in.

Shoved and jostled out of the Drunken Moon Pavilion, Xiangbao’s heart ached. Shi Lian, there was no escaping what I must bear.

“Set fire to the palace.” The Yue woman’s cold voice rang out.

Xiangbao froze, her blood turning to ice.

“Yue woman! It’s me you want! Let Scentmistress go!” Xiangbao turned, eyes red, and screamed.

“Yue woman! Let Scentmistress go!”

“Shi Lian died because of you, Cangwu died because of you, now the Wu crown prince will die because of you… I want you to know you are a true bringer of disaster.” Though distant, the Yue woman’s words reached Xiangbao’s ears with chilling clarity.

Flames roared through the Drunken Moon Pavilion…

“Mother… Mother… Father… Scentmistress can’t kill… Mother… armor…” Scentmistress’s agonized cries seemed to pierce Xiangbao’s eardrums.

“Scentmistress! Scentmistress!” Xiangbao struggled to rush inside, but the mob held her back. She could only watch as the flames, fanned by the wind, swallowed his voice.

“Mother…”

Xiangbao’s heart was numb with pain.

As she struggled, someone seized her roughly. “You scourge, don’t think of running!”

“Let me go, let me go… My son is inside… Scentmistress… Scentmistress…” Xiangbao fought wildly, her arm wrenched from its socket.

“Let me go… Scentmistress…”

She couldn’t break free…

That child, the one who called her mother, who comforted her in her darkest hours… He was inside… burning, calling for her, calling mother…

“Scourge! You scourge!” someone cursed viciously in her ear.

Xiangbao, like a puppet without a soul, was dragged from the palace by the mob.

Smoke billowed above the Drunken Moon Pavilion…

That lonely figure by the pond, legs drawn up, splashing barefoot in the water, tossing pebbles…

He’d asked her to teach him to skip stones…

He called her mother, said he would protect her, that no one would ever hurt her again…

He feared thunder, had nightmares, smacked his lips in sleep, called for his mother…

The child who called her mother…

Eyes hollow, Xiangbao was tied up and hoisted high atop the city wall—where once Shi Lian had hung. Indeed, what she had to bear, no one else could.

“Scourge… scourge…” Chaos buzzed in her ears—all kinds of eyes stared: greedy, lustful, hateful, scornful…

Suddenly, she felt so tired.

Would death bring relief?

A flash of red seared her vision—Xiangbao stared blankly at the familiar figure.

Wei Qin…

His face was shadowed, sword in his lone hand, like a demon from hell.

“Lord Sima?” A guard recognized him and hurried over. “This scourge—”

Before he finished, blood sprayed—the guard was beheaded in a single stroke.

Panic swept the crowd.

Wei Qin, eyes wild with fury, hacked down all in his path.

The city gate became a scene of carnage.

It was a hell she had brought.

Through the haze, Xiangbao remembered a spring afternoon in her youth, when she first met Wei Qin on the street—a scruffy old man spat at her and called her a scourge.

Was it fate?

“Stop!” Suddenly, a sword was at Xiangbao’s throat.

Wei Qin’s bloodshot eyes fixed on the man. Frightened, the man’s hand trembled, drawing a thin line of blood on her neck.

“If you harm her, your whole clan will be wiped out,” Wei Qin’s voice was icy, as if from the depths of hell.

The man swallowed, steadying his hand. “You… if you step closer, I’ll kill her…”

Wei Qin stood, sword in hand, eyes chilling, unmoving.

“Haha… Ha… You’re afraid… Afraid I’ll kill her…” The man laughed maniacally.

Emboldened, the mob closed in, as if they would tear Wei Qin apart.

Xiangbao knew—Wei Qin wouldn’t fight back while that blade threatened her. Tilting her head, she moved toward the knife—the man panicked and pulled back, but her neck now bore a second cut.

Wei Qin’s eyes widened, threatening to bleed tears, his sword hand shaking.

“You… you’re mad!” the man shouted.

“Wei Qin, listen to me.” Xiangbao’s voice was hoarse and ragged. “If you don’t fight back, I’ll die before your eyes—do you believe me?”

He looked up at her. The crowd, poised to attack, hesitated.

Left hanging, Xiangbao’s limbs felt numb, her body no longer her own.

Ah… now she understood—her fate was to be strangled to death.

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