Chapter 10#

New Year (Corrections)#

Helan Feng returned to Yetai, and the first thing he did was go find Jin Yue.

Jin Yue and Ruan Buqi were both in his felt tent, with Zhuozhuo clinging to Ruan Buqi and chattering away. Ruan Buqi’s face was a deathly blue-white from the cold. Helan Feng glanced at her, then immediately looked toward Jin Yue.

Jin Yue sat in the corner of the tent, still cradling Helan Jinying’s sword. He looked even more wretched than Ruan Buqi—soaked through, and because he was sitting next to the brazier, water kept dripping from his long hair in icy rivulets. Helan Feng took off his hat, thought for a moment, then grabbed a cloth and tossed it to Jin Yue. But the moment he got close, something felt wrong. Jin Yue’s temperature was abnormal.

“You’re sick?” Helan Feng crouched in front of him and found ice and snow packed inside his clothes and shoes. “…You ran away again?”

Jin Yue didn’t answer. Helan Feng boldly reached out to feel his forehead—sure enough, it was scalding hot.

Helan Feng cleared out a small bed and made Jin Yue lie down. Zhuozhuo and Ruan Buqi fetched hot water to wipe his face. Jin Yue closed his eyes and faintly heard Helan Feng speaking in low tones to Zhuozhuo and Ruan Buqi.

Jin Yue recalled a conversation he’d had with Yue Lianlou before they parted ways.

At their parting, Jin Yue had told Yue Lianlou that Helan Jinying was trying to obtain a map of Liangjing from him through Helan Feng. The instant Helan Feng asked, he’d known something was amiss, so he had drawn a fake one overnight and given it to him.

The map was nearly indistinguishable from the real thing. He had shifted several streets from the east city to the west city, drawn the north and south gates so they didn’t connect, gotten the inner city’s eight gates correct, but made the street layout entirely wrong. The palace interior was particularly rearranged, swapping the positions and names of several key halls.

Unless one had the map of Liangjing memorized by heart, Helan Jinying would find it nearly impossible to tell real from fake.

Yue Lianlou: “I saw Helan Jinying in the Northern Capital. He’s not a simple man. Are you certain he doesn’t know whether the map is genuine?”

Jin Yue was taken aback. He wasn’t certain at all.

But with Yue Lianlou putting it that way, he naturally felt the fake map had many flaws, and immediately grew anxious.

“The most important thing is—if he’s going to get the map from you anyway, why treat you so well?” Yue Lianlou was puzzled by this point.

Jin Yue now felt that being a slave was humiliating and degrading, yet Beirong had torn up the Pingzhou Treaty and he’d still managed to keep his life—that was something quite incredible.

Their horses had run off, so Yue Lianlou had them ride the giant deer back to Yetai while he walked ahead to clear the path. Jin Yue asked him about the deer, and he laughed it off, saying it belonged to a friend. The Deer God was a deity of the Gaoxin people, and Jin Yue immediately grew suspicious again: “What exactly is your relationship with Helan Jinying?”

“The kind where we can’t stand the sight of each other. Don’t worry—this isn’t his deer. There are plenty of Gaoxin people in the Northern Capital,” Yue Lianlou said with a smile. “If the chance arises, I’ll introduce you to the deer’s owner.”

Helan Jinying was the most enigmatic person Jin Yue had encountered in Yetai, and meeting Yue Lianlou had done nothing to ease his mind. There were many things he didn’t dare think about, forcing himself to stay numb.

That night Jin Yue developed a high fever. Helan Feng sent the two girls to rest and stayed by Jin Yue’s side, occasionally feeling his forehead and sighing very softly.

Jin Yue lay in a daze on the small bed, all the things previously suppressed in his heart surging back up at once. He couldn’t sleep and didn’t dare cry, so he could only pull the blanket over his head whenever Helan Feng left, biting his finger and weeping quietly.

He absolutely had to return to Liangjing, and he had to find Bai Ni and his mother. His brother-in-law was a general of the Mangyun Cavalry, and his sister had accompanied him on campaign, living in Fenghu City all along—as long as Fenghu City didn’t fall, his sister would be fine. Yue Lianlou had said the entire clan was exiled north of the Liexing River, and that the boat capsized, but not everyone necessarily perished. He still needed to go to the Liexing River to search.

Most importantly, there was simply no way he could escape Yetai on his own. He needed to find Bai Ni, and the only person who could help was Helan Feng.

When he woke, the sky was half-light and the heavy snow had stopped. Jin Yue only knew that Helan Feng had made him drink a bowl of medicine in the middle of the night—he’d sweated profusely and the illness had mostly lifted. The felt tent was quite large, divided by screens into several spaces. The screens depicted landscapes of Dayu, their bone-and-wood frames old and not at all fashionable.

Jin Yue gazed quietly at the screen. The painting showed towering mountains and long rivers, a few birds in flight—it was utterly out of place in this time and this land. These must have been prepared by Helan Feng’s father for the blind musician, yet she could never have seen any of it.

Jin Yue felt a complex surge of emotions welling up in his chest that stung his eyes.

He got up and draped a fox fur over his shoulders. Ruan Buqi suddenly woke, and he hurriedly gestured for her to keep sleeping. The moment he stepped outside the tent, he saw Helan Feng riding toward him.

“Are you better?” Helan Feng dismounted the instant he saw Jin Yue.

“Better.” Jin Yue’s voice was hoarse. He was a little afraid Helan Feng might ask where he and Ruan Buqi had gone.

Helan Feng reached out to feel his forehead again—a quick touch, then pulling back. Confirming the fever had broken, he took the new wolf-pelt hat from his head and placed it on Jin Yue’s, then swung back on his horse, extending a hand to Jin Yue: “Get on.”

Jin Yue feigned hesitation: “I don’t know how to ride…”

“Don’t lie to me.” Helan Feng stared at him. “I know you can, and you ride very well.”

Jin Yue: “…”

He didn’t take Helan Feng’s hand. Pressing against the horse’s back, he vaulted up directly. Helan Feng grabbed his hands and wrapped them around his own waist, squeezed his legs against the horse’s flanks, and the animal surged forward.

The rising sun was right behind them. In the distance, the mountains and the edge of the snowy plain showed only half their forms. The sky blazed with rosy light, and the snow-covered peaks flashed with sharp brilliance. Their shadows and the horse’s shadow overlapped together, like a long sword pointed toward Chiwang Plain.

Jin Yue was wrapped in the fox fur, and Helan Feng’s body blocked the wind, so he felt no cold at all. He leaned closer to Helan Feng and caught a faint, almost undetectable scent of saltpeter.

Ahead lay a stretch of forest. Jin Yue couldn’t quite endure Helan Feng’s silence any longer and spoke up: “Does this horse have a name?”

“No,” Helan Feng said. “You give it one?”

Jin Yue was startled: “Me give it one?”

“Mm.” Helan Feng patted the horse’s neck. “Let it get to know you. If you ever want to run away, you can ride it. It absolutely won’t abandon you halfway like Hunda’er’s horse did.”

Jin Yue: “…”

He flushed with embarrassment, managing a few light coughs to suppress his discomfort. Helan Feng slowed the pace, and the horse carried them gently into the woods.

On the largest pine tree in the forest sat a small tent, exquisitely built and sturdy. Helan Feng told him to climb up, so he obediently climbed, a whirlwind of thoughts spinning through his mind—one moment thinking he should be gentle and submissive with this person to grow closer, the next unable to shake a thread of unease.

Inside the tent, besides soft felt and stacks of dry grass, there were dried fruits and jerky—hardly the trappings of danger. Jin Yue knelt politely, not daring to utter a word. Helan Feng looked at him: “You weren’t afraid when you snuck off with Ruan Buqi, but being with me scares you?”

Jin Yue had no choice but to ask: “What are we doing here?”

Helan Feng was still half-hanging on the ladder, his eyes gleaming in the tent’s small oil lamp.

“Celebrating the New Year.” He let go and dropped to the ground.

Jin Yue’s heart jolted, and he hurriedly leaned out to look.

Helan Feng unfastened a small bundle from the horse and pulled out a string of bright red firecrackers.

He dragged a few branches from the snow and built a small rack in the clearing outside the trees. The longest branch rested steadily on the frame, and he tied the firecrackers to the very top, then lit the fuse.

The lively crackle exploded across the quiet Chiwang Plain with startling suddenness—pop pop pop, crackling in a continuous string.

Helan Feng ran back to the tree, nimbly climbed the ladder, and hung there, turning to watch the firecrackers burn. The sound shook loose some snowflakes; he brushed them away and looked up at Jin Yue.

Jin Yue was staring blankly at the firecrackers bursting not far away. Muffled by the trees, the explosions sounded somewhat distant, the flashes of burning saltpeter filtering through the branches so that his eyes flickered between light and shadow.

“…Is it New Year’s Eve today?” he said dazedly. “I forgot.”

The Beirong people called New Year’s Eve “Sui Chu.” On that day, the Beirong Heavenly Sovereign would hold a Fire Worship Ceremony in the imperial city, presided over by the Grand Shaman of Beirong. Shamans of each tribe would also hold fire worship ceremonies at their tribal encampments. The Beirong people revered the Fire God, and it was one of the most important days of the year.

Because Beirong and Dayu followed different calendars, Sui Chu and New Year’s Eve were not actually the same day. Beirong’s Sui Chu fell before the Start of Spring, heralding the new year’s beginning, when the pastures and herders could choose a day to relocate—when the grass was green and the beasts were fat, a fine year of spring.

Jin Yue had been so busy preparing to escape with Ruan Buqi that he hadn’t thought of New Year’s Eve at all.

Helan Feng climbed into the tent, sat cross-legged, grabbed a handful of jerky, and watched the flashing light together with Jin Yue.

“When Mama was still alive, every New Year, Papa would buy firecrackers from Dayu merchants,” Helan Feng said. “After Mama was gone, we never set off firecrackers again. I went to see that man yesterday, and he actually still remembered that one family in the Yetai tribe bought firecrackers every year. But he had none left in stock—this small string was all he could give me.”

The firecrackers finished burning, scattering残red across the snowy ground. Morning light illuminated the mountains and Chiwang Plain. Cooking smoke rose from the encampment. All was silent.

Jin Yue’s eyes stung and burned; tears fell without his noticing. Realizing Helan Feng was looking at him, he hurriedly bowed his head and wiped the tears away: “Thank you.”

Helan Feng chewed the jerky at a leisurely pace, his posture relaxed: “No need.”

“Thank you for saving me—when Hunda’er and the others found me.” In a rush, Jin Yue poured out all the words he hadn’t said before, hadn’t been able to say. “I shouldn’t have said those things that day to hurt you. That was my fault. I’m sorry.”

Helan Feng met his gaze for a moment: “I’ve forgotten.” He placed the jerky into Jin Yue’s hand as he spoke. “And you’re right. I’m not Beirong.”

Jin Yue anxiously tried to explain, but Helan Feng waved his hand, stopping him.

“That map you drew—my brother burned it,” Helan Feng said. “He said it was a fake map, useless.”

Jin Yue’s heart plummeted. The words tumbled out before he could stop them: “How did he know?”

Helan Feng recalled his older brother’s words: “The Panlou building is in the wrong position. There’s nothing between it and the imperial palace—it has a direct line of sight to the Dayu royal city. Outside the Vermilion Bird Gate there should be a Minzhou Bridge, but you didn’t draw it.”

Jin Yue: “…”

Helan Feng licked his lips, a spark of lively amusement in his eyes. He seemed to know the next words would surely startle Jin Yue.

“It was General of Loyal Radiance Jin Mingzhao of Dayu who told him.”

Beirong had massed its troops at Dayu’s northern border approximately six years ago. At that time, the current Heavenly Sovereign Zhe Weng had not yet ascended the throne. The ailing old Heavenly Sovereign swore he would push the army to the Liexing River within Dayu’s borders—it was the last unfinished wish of his life.

The vast Beirong army, led by Zhe Weng, passed through Yetai. Having no horse and therefore unable to enlist, Helan Jinying took a position arranged by General Ying Hu as a laborer responsible for handling corpses.

The war had been difficult from the very start. The Beirong army was pinned relentlessly outside the northern border line, unable to advance a single step for a full half-month.

Dayu’s northernmost city of Pingzhou was already visible to the naked eye, yet they could not for the life of them break through the northern border defense.

The legend of “Jin Mingzhao” and the “General of Loyal Radiance” began quietly circulating among the Beirong army from that time on. The legends said he rode a two-headed giant horse, had six arms, wielded weapons with ease, could command wind and rain, and summon birds and beasts to his aid.

Otherwise, how could the divinely blessed Beirong army possibly fail to enter Dayu!—such words carried both defiance and pride.

Helan Jinying’s appearance, so utterly different from the Beirong people, earned him natural ostracism. Especially when he revealed his eyes, it invariably drew a cascade of shocked cries and curses. Everyone knew the Yetai general had taken in a Gaoxin man with wolf eyes. He worked silently, not wanting to cause trouble for the general.

The final battle erupted in autumn. The slaughter lasted from day into night, a huge moon hanging over Pingzhou and Chiwang Plain. Apart from the armies clashing head-on, small groups of Dayu soldiers kept pouring out from Pingzhou and along the border, moving like ghosts—elusive and unpredictable—slowly grinding away at the Beirong army’s strength and will.

When the Beirong army’s fighting spirit had crumbled and exhaustion had set in, a single arrow fired from within the Dayu ranks ended this three-month-long battle: it pierced the chest of Zhe Weng, who was fighting at the front lines.

The Beirong army retreated like a receding tide, having suffered enormous casualties. Shaking and trembling, they escorted Zhe Weng back to the Northern Capital. In their haste to withdraw, they left behind over a dozen corpse-handling slaves on the battlefield.

Helan Jinying was among them. Lying in a trench, he heard the Dayu army sweeping the battlefield drawing ever closer. He closed his eyes and played dead—but a hand patted his shoulder, and he was pulled forcibly to his feet.

“A Gaoxin man?” The one who discovered him alive was a middle-aged man. Full plate armor glinted with blinding silver in the moonlight, shoulder guards bristling with spikes rested on his shoulders, and even a face caked in dust couldn’t hide his natural excitement. “This is the first living Gaoxin man I’ve ever seen. Are you wounded?”

That was the first meeting between Helan Jinying and Jin Mingzhao.

Author’s Note:

Today let everyone have a taste of Beirong jerky—made from dried rabbit, beef, or mutton, available in plain or seasoned varieties.

Helan Feng’s family’s jerky has less moisture and is quite dry—chewing it is hard on the teeth and tongue, but the flavor is incredibly rich. Hunda’er’s family’s jerky, on the other hand, is made with superior ingredients and is perfect in taste, texture, and fragrance in every regard.

Jin Yue had eaten Hunda’er’s family’s jerky once and privately thought theirs was better… but this was something he would never dare say in front of Helan Feng.

(Those who’ve eaten Tibetan yak jerky can use that as a reference—that’s the flavor I’m imagining. Those who haven’t, give it a try! It’s really good.)