Chapter 1#
The Hostage Prince#
Thwack—
The arrowhead grazed He Lanfeng’s ear and embedded itself in the wooden post.
As the blindfold fell, He Lanfeng opened his eyes. Not far away, several mounted youths were laughing so hard they doubled over.
The one in the lead wore a wolf-pelt hat, his outer robe tied at the waist. A Xu Lv leather belt, strung with multiple loops of golden beads and jade pendants, clinked softly.
“Submit or not?!” the youth shouted. “I am the greatest archer on the Chǐwǎng Plains! If you submit, kneel and call me Great King!”
He Lanfeng was bound to the post, his limbs tightly secured with water-soaked cowhide ropes, rendering him immobile. Blood trickled from his ear, rolling down his neck, collarbone, and chest. But he gritted his teeth, his gaze fierce and cold, and spat, “Pah!”
The youth’s eyes widened in fury. He raised his bow again, aiming at He Lanfeng. A new arrow was nocked—its head gilded, gleaming brilliantly in the sunlight.
“Hundar, that’s a Golden Harvest Arrow…” one youth warned. “If your father finds out…”
Hundar punched the speaker and raised his bow again. “Listen well! This in my hand is a Golden Harvest Arrow, bestowed upon my father by the Heavenly Sovereign of the Northern Rong! I ask again—submit or not?!”
The tip of the Golden Harvest Arrow was engraved with a golden sparrow in flight, its beak sharp, faintly glinting with a sinister green.
He Lanfeng remembered: this arrow’s shaft was hollow, filled with deadly poison—a lethal weapon for taking lives.
“…If you want me to kneel, you have to untie me first,” He Lanfeng said loudly. “With me tied up like this, even if I wanted to kneel, I couldn’t.”
Hundar exclaimed excitedly, “So you are submitting to me?”
He Lanfeng nodded.
Hundar’s face flushed red. “No, I don’t believe you. Call me Great King first.”
He Lanfeng’s expression was blank. “Great King Hundar.”
Hundar raised his bow and shouted in triumph with his followers, then waved for his attendant, Duzhe, to untie the ropes.
Duzhe, still nursing a swollen cheek from being punched earlier, timidly approached to loosen the bonds. The cowhide ropes had dried and were extremely tight, leaving angry red welts on He Lanfeng’s wrists and ankles.
Duzhe pulled out a small knife and cut the rope on He Lanfeng’s right wrist. Suddenly, a hum sounded by his ear, and he was sent flying sideways. The knife was snatched from his hand by He Lanfeng.
“Returning the item to its rightful owner!” He Lanfeng gripped the knife, a triumphant look on his face, and in an instant, sliced through the remaining ropes. He rolled to his feet and drove his fist into the chest of the fallen Duzhe.
The Golden Harvest Arrow whistled through the air, accompanied by Hundar’s furious roar. Duzhe screamed in terror. He Lanfeng quickly hugged the boy’s shoulders and rolled aside. The arrow clanged into the earth right where Duzhe’s leg had been moments before.
Duzhe’s face was ashen. “You terrible shot! Are you trying to kill me?!”
Hundar looked slightly embarrassed. “I was trying to save you—don’t let the Han-born run away!”
He Lanfeng’s long arm shot out, seized the Golden Harvest Arrow, and bolted.
The Chǐwǎng Plains were blanketed in fresh snow, stretching vast and white. The Kùdúlín Mountains to the north and the Yīnglóng Mountains to the south stood like two colossal silver-white barriers, framing the plains between them.
He Lanfeng became a rapidly moving ink dot, pursued by several galloping horses, their shouts echoing. The plump, setting sun nestled among the mountain peaks, dyeing the snowy expanse a warm red.
A whip cracked through the air. He Lanfeng couldn’t dodge in time and was lashed fiercely across the back. He stumbled into the snow but still clutched the Golden Harvest Arrow.
The youths dismounted, restraining He Lanfeng and flipping him over. Lying on the cold snow, the pain in his back gradually numbed; he only struggled and gasped for air.
Hundar was so angry his eyebrows nearly flew off his forehead. He pried He Lanfeng’s fingers open and snatched back the Golden Harvest Arrow.
“Han-born, don’t you know how dirty your hands are?!” Hundar pressed his knee against He Lanfeng’s chest and punched him. “How dare you touch my Golden Harvest Arrow!”
He Lanfeng had been tied to the post in the sun all day and was very weak. His back was still bleeding, and Hundar’s blows left him dizzy and utterly powerless to fight back.
Not far behind was a stream. Hundar grabbed He Lanfeng by the hair and slammed his head against the bank. The back of He Lanfeng’s head buzzed. As he landed, he cracked the thin layer of ice on the stream, and the freezing water soaked half his head, bringing him sharply to his senses.
Hundar held the Golden Harvest Arrow aloft in one hand while pressing down on He Lanfeng’s forehead with the other. The arrow emitted a soft sound; the sparrow’s beak on the tip split open a thin slit, a faint greenish liquid glistening within.
“Your Han mother was blind—how did she birth a pair of wolf eyes like yours?” Hundar sneered. “Today, Hundar shall see which is more powerful—your wolf eyes or the Heavenly Sovereign’s Golden Harvest Arrow!” With that, he thrust the arrow toward He Lanfeng’s eye.
He Lanfeng roared and fought with all his might, but the arrow tip pressed relentlessly downward, about to pierce his eye—
Clang! Another metallic sound.
Hundar was instantly thrown off He Lanfeng, clutching his left hand to his right, crying out in pain. The Golden Harvest Arrow spun through the air and plunged into the icy stream, sinking immediately.
It had been struck by a wooden arrow that hit the Golden Harvest Arrow’s tip, violently deflecting the precious alloy projectile. The residual force even dislocated Hundar’s right wrist. After its precise strike, the wooden arrow embedded itself deep in the ground, its fletching still trembling faintly.
Downstream of the icy stream, a caravan was winding its way. A woman clad in Rong armor was lowering the longbow in her hand. Her gaze was calm yet tinged with anger as she looked at He Lanfeng, then back at the wailing Hundar.
Beside her stood a youth of similar age to He Lanfeng—thin, frail, dressed in the manner of a Grand Yǔ Han. He was wrapped snugly in a snow-white fox-fur cloak, its hood pulled low over his head, revealing only a fine, pale face. His eyes, like black pearls, gazed from afar at He Lanfeng.
Amid a world of white, a striking face.
He Lanfeng picked up the Golden Harvest Arrow. The poison had already diffused into the water, completely diluted, with faint trails of green drifting downstream.
A burly Northern Rong man strode from the caravan, glanced at the arrow in He Lanfeng’s hand, then saw Hundar still kneeling on the ground howling. He flew into a rage. “Hundar!!!”
This was the caravan escorting the Grand Yǔ hostage prince, Jin Yue, to the Northern Rong capital. They happened to be resting at the foot of the slope. The hostage’s escort general, Bai Ni, saw a youth being humiliated and immediately intervened. As it turned out, Hundar was the son of General Hǔ, commander of the Northern Rong guard.
He Lanfeng sat cross-legged in the carriage, lifting the curtain to look out. Hundar knelt before General Hǔ, shoulders trembling, as the general brandished the Golden Harvest Arrow, looking fierce enough to stab a few holes in him.
“How dare you!” General Hǔ roared. “How dare you touch my Golden Harvest Arrow!”
Hundar wailed.
He Lanfeng couldn’t help but burst into laughter, which immediately pulled at the wounds on his ear and back, making him wince and shrink his neck in pain. His outer clothes had been stripped away by Hundar and the others; he wore only white underdrawers and red tiger-hide boots. His upper body was bare, revealing lean, handsome muscles, but a bloody whip mark marred his back. Unlike Hundar and his companions in their finery, He Lanfeng wore only a rough, hand-woven belt, with a small knife dangling from it.
Jin Yue studied He Lanfeng and said softly, “Your back is bleeding.”
Bai Ni had already found wound medicine. She said to He Lanfeng, “Lie down.”
He Lanfeng didn’t want to show weakness before a stranger and turned his head stubbornly. “It doesn’t hurt. I don’t want this weird medicine…”
Before he finished, Bai Ni pressed down his shoulder and applied the medicine without argument.
Her hands were strong, and He Lanfeng trembled in pain. He couldn’t break free and refused to show weakness in front of Jin Yue, so he simply clenched his jaw and endured in silence.
Jin Yue held a hand warmer, gazing at He Lanfeng’s contorted face. After a long moment, he seemed to sigh, his voice carrying a maturity beyond his years.
“Where are we now?” he asked softly.
“Within the territory of the Yètái tribe,” Bai Ni replied. “Yètái is the southernmost tribe of the Northern Rong. We’re still half a month’s journey from the Northern Capital.”
The carriage fell silent. He Lanfeng glanced sideways, stealing a look at Jin Yue.
Jin Yue lifted a corner of the window curtain with his finger, quietly gazing outside. Under the vault of heaven and earth, light snow fluttered. The dark pupils reflected the swirling snowflakes. After a moment, he turned to He Lanfeng and asked, “Where are your clothes? Aren’t you cold?”
He Lanfeng’s ears warmed slightly. As if only now realizing his state of undress was improper, he ignored the question and snapped gruffly, “Are you done? I’m leaving.”
Bai Ni chuckled. “Go on then.”
Seeing He Lanfeng’s stubborn, fierce expression, Jin Yue stopped asking questions. He removed the fox-fur cloak and held it out to He Lanfeng.
“The Northern lands are bitterly cold,” he said gently. “With bare arms, how will you get home? Put it on—stay warm for as long as you can.”
The cloak was pure white and smooth, but He Lanfeng didn’t take it.
Jin Yue was earnest. “If you don’t like it, I have a bear-pelt mantle as well.”
Bai Ni objected. “Young Master, the Northern Rong capital is far too cold.”
“Once we reach the Northern Capital, I won’t be able to move freely anyway. I’ll just be confined to a room all day,” Jin Yue insisted. “He needs it more than I do.”
He Lanfeng suddenly snatched the cloak and leaped from the carriage. Without a word of thanks or farewell, by the time Bai Ni lifted the curtain, he had already run far away.
General Hǔ bellowed, ordering Hundar and the others to escort He Lanfeng home. The group of youths shouted and rode off on their horses. The wind carried faint sounds of He Lanfeng and Hundar exchanging insults.
“…Are all Northern Rong people so difficult to deal with?” Jin Yue whispered.
Bai Ni took a bear-pelt mantle and draped it over him, smoothing his hair. “I actually found that Northern Rong boy rather stubbornly amusing. I hear Northerners speak bluntly and aren’t good at hiding their feelings—why was he so awkward?”
Jin Yue laughed for a while, then spoke with a distant look. “I heard people in the palace say that once you become a hostage, you’ll die in the Northern Rong and never return.”
Bai Ni: “Who said that? I’d cut out his tongue.”
Jin Yue looked up at her, seeking reassurance. “Will Father really come to get me?”
Bai Ni replied gently, “When has General Zhōngzhāo ever lied to you? Currently, the Jīnqiāng are invading. The General is leading troops in battle, serving the country with valor. After victory and reporting his successes, he will come for you immediately.”
Jin Yue had heard his father mention that the Northern Rong and Jīnqiāng were like two tigers eyeing them, and the Grand Yǔ was weak and precarious. He could only nod silently.
Bai Ni reminded him, “Your every word and action reflect upon Grand Yǔ’s reputation. If you’re homesick, tell me, but don’t cry again.”
Jin Yue straightened, his hands tucked in his sleeves, and said in a low voice, “Rest assured, General. Jin Yue understands.”
His features were refined and handsome; when silent, he resembled an exquisitely crafted jade or porcelain figurine. But his nose was straight, his long brows sharp as blades, and his gaze held not a trace of softness.
Seeing him thus, Bai Ni felt a twinge of sympathy. Like a magician, she produced a paper packet from her chest. “I still have some lion candy Mother sent. Would you like some?”
Jin Yue, after all, was only fifteen or sixteen, and his face lit up. “Are there any candied cherries left?”
Bai Ni opened the packet, revealing small lion-shaped candies. “The candied cherries were finished five days ago. These lion candies are made with milk and cream cheese, a tribute from Chuānzhōg. Mother had great difficulty obtaining them.”
Jin Yue shared the candy with her. “Mother’s candied cherries must have some special honey—they’re the best in all the world.”
The carriage was warm. Jin Yue forgot the jostling journey and the snow growing heavier outside. Even the unnamed Northern Rong youth was forgotten as he happily chatted with Bai Ni about his mother’s various culinary skills.
At that moment in the Northern Rong capital, the heavy goose-feather snow had stopped. Inside and outside the stone city, all was quiet and still, with few voices. Only atop a tall tower in the center of the royal city did the eternal flame still burn.
The Shèlì Lángjūn, a messenger officer, galloped through the city gates, displaying a golden token. It carried urgent military intelligence from the border. Instantly, several plumes of blue smoke rose along the capital’s main avenue. The various checkpoints, upon seeing the blue smoke, knew military orders were being transmitted and cleared the way.
A young general in Northern Rong silver armor followed closely behind the Shèlì Lángjūn, riding into the city like the wind.
In the council hall, a minister was reporting to the Northern Rong Heavenly Sovereign about the Grand Yǔ hostage: “The hostage has entered Yètái territory and is now being escorted by General Hǔ.”
“What kind of child is he?” the Heavenly Sovereign asked. “Does he resemble Jin Mingzhào?”
The minister chuckled involuntarily. “The boy is slight in build, with a scholar’s air—nothing at all like his father, Jin Mingzhào.”
The Heavenly Sovereign laughed heartily, his eyes gleaming with cold light. “In the Yǔ Dynasty, it might take hundreds of years to produce a war god like Jin Mingzhào!”
Just then, someone reported that a military dispatch had arrived. The young general strode into the hall and presented the letter tablet. The Heavenly Sovereign opened it, and his expression changed immediately. After a long moment of stunned silence, he let out a deep sigh.
“Jin Mingzhào…” he murmured low, “has fallen in battle.”
A heartbeat of needle-dropping silence, then the hall erupted in commotion.
Grand Yǔ’s General Zhōngzhāo, Jin Mingzhào, was the most formidable general since the founding of the Yǔ Dynasty. He had commanded the Northwestern Border Garrison for over twenty years, never suffering a single defeat, and had consistently kept the Jīnqiāng forces firmly outside the Grand Yǔ’s northwestern border at White Sparrow Pass.
Years earlier, when the Northern Rong army saw an opportunity to move, the Yǔ Emperor had urgently transferred Jin Mingzhào from the northwest to command the Northern Border Garrison. The Northern Rong had suffered dearly at the hands of this General Zhōngzhāo. Few among Northern Rong officials and generals had ever met Jin Mingzhào, but everyone knew his name. This news of his death was sudden and shocking.
“How did he die?” the Heavenly Sovereign, recovering his composure, asked the young general.
“Jin Mingzhào died at White Sparrow Pass,” the general answered, his head bowed low. “A fatal sword thrust pierced his left chest, killing him instantly. All eight thousand of his Mǎngyún Cavalry perished; the Northwestern Border Garrison suffered nearly ten thousand casualties. White Sparrow Pass is about to fall.”
A look of regret crossed the Heavenly Sovereign’s brow. After a long silence, he asked, “What is your name?”
The young general quickly replied, “Yètái, Hèlán Jīnyīng!”
The Heavenly Sovereign said calmly, “With Jin Mingzhào dead, the Grand Yǔ no longer has anyone the Northern Rong fears. The Píngzhōu Alliance need not be honored, and that hostage need not be kept. Hèlán Jīnyīng, return to Yètái and handle this.”
Author’s Note:
Xu Lv leather: Wild horsehide, a material usable only by the upper classes.
Red tiger-hide: Wild mule-hide, a material commonly used by ordinary families.
Reminder: The background settings of this novel are inspired by Northern Song Dynasty geography and history, with extensive elements of alternate history, fiction, amalgamation, and deliberate absurdity.