Volume One: Flames at the Frontier Chapter Twenty-One: Promotion

In the midst of joy and sorrow, Deng’er’s mind was unsettled. She heated water, bathed He Yu, and dressed him in clean clothes. Physician Dai, acting under the master’s orders, extracted the feathered arrow from He Yu’s wound and applied healing salve.

He Yu suffered no grave injuries, only severe exhaustion, and soon drifted into slumber. In his dreams, he sensed many people peering at him through the curtain—Chen Qingyun, Li Ling, Li Jun...

He did not know how long he slept. When he finally awoke, the window was dim, suggesting dawn had not yet arrived. Deng’er, still fully clothed, lay at his bedside.

“Brother, you’re awake.”

“Yes, Deng’er. What hour is it now? How long have I slept?”

“You’ve slept a whole day and night.”

“Oh. Help me up.”

Deng’er assisted He Yu in dressing and rising from bed. After walking a few steps in the room, He Yu still felt weak and sore—a natural reaction after such exertion. He began practicing the Taiping Internal Sutra’s breathing technique, guiding his true energy through his body. At first, it met resistance, but soon it flowed like a mighty river, surging within him, and his vigor returned at once.

The skills from the Taiping Internal Sutra were indeed miraculous. Without such fortune, even ten He Yus would have perished.

Deng’er brought him supper, saying, “Brother, while you slept, many came to see you. All said that without your rescue, the master would never have returned.”

He Yu asked about Chen Jing. “The master was struck by an arrow. How is he now?”

“The master is suffering from a high fever, but his life is not in danger.” After a pause, Deng’er’s eyes reddened. “Brother, you frightened me terribly. We have enough money now. Tomorrow, speak to the steward and resign from this post.”

To her, his safety mattered above all. Perhaps it was because she was born into a military household and had lost all her male kin in battle; Deng’er had never approved of He Yu’s path as a soldier.

“The battle at Xiemaling cost Chen Family Fort four centurions and five squad leaders—a crippling loss. They need every able man. To resign now would be against duty, and not in keeping with He Yu’s character.”

He Yu pondered for a long while before responding, “Deng’er, now is not the time to withdraw. But I promise you, I will not take risks so lightly again.”

Deng’er understood his nature and the current situation; Chen Family Fort truly depended on He Yu. She hesitated, then fell silent.

“Come, Deng’er.”

He Yu drew Deng’er into his arms, kissing her gently on the brow. Her long lashes trembled in the lamplight, and a tear slid down.

Though Deng’er and He Yu were betrothed, they had never consummated their union. She was naturally shy; each time He Yu showed affection, she would shrink away, which amused him. Yet, after this brush with death, Deng’er seemed transformed, no longer refusing his closeness.

Deng’er had tended to He Yu for a day and night, never closing her eyes. Exhausted, she slipped off her outer garment and fell into deep sleep at his side.

He Yu gazed at her beautiful face and porcelain skin, his eyes filled with tenderness and respect. He reached out to tuck the quilt around her.

In the pitch darkness, there was nothing to do but sleep. He Yu closed his eyes, hoping for rest; but having slept so long, sleep eluded him. Scenes of the bloody battle at Xiemaling replayed in his mind like a film.

“In modern dramas, a man can fight a hundred opponents, but in reality, with cold steel, even facing three is difficult. Surviving this time owed much to the Blood Spirit Pearl, the keen blade of the Giant Que Sword, the fine warhorse—all favorable factors.”

“In desperate struggle, strength and skill matter, but so does the quality of arms and armor. Though I gained power from the Blood Spirit Pearl, without a suitable weapon, breaking enemy armor remained arduous.”

“In ancient times, civilians could own swords, but possession of armor was a capital crime, deemed rebellion. In this way, armor posed a far greater threat to the court than swords. Tianxiong Fortress lost many experts in this battle, but its two thousand heavy cavalry remained unscathed. Should they seek vengeance, our five hundred lightly armored horsemen would be hard pressed to withstand them.”

This thought left He Yu anxious, though he tried to reassure himself—Chen Family Fort had withstood Tianxiong Fortress for decades, and surely had its own ways of facing powerful foes.

The battle at Xiemaling was small in scale but unusually fierce, and Chen Family Fort clearly prevailed. The final toll: nine skilled fighters lost, the master nearly slain. Tianxiong Fortress lost over thirty men, with many more wounded. Most of their losses were due to He Yu’s actions.

He Yu’s fame spread swiftly. In just a few days, tales of his deeds had multiplied and grown ever more fantastical: some called him the reincarnation of Xiang Ji, others said he was Ran Min reborn, still others claimed he single-handedly slew three hundred cavalrymen at Xiemaling, wielding sword and spear.

At first, He Yu tried to explain, but hearing the stories so often, he could only smile.

All four centurions of Chen Family Fort fell at Xiemaling. The highest merit was in saving the master; He Yu’s heroic rescue earned him immediate promotion to South Gate Centurion—an unprecedented rise.

The centurions held high status in the fort, and the South Gate Centurion was foremost among them, reflecting how much Chen Family Fort valued He Yu.

He Yu, though young, was fully qualified by merit and talent for the role. Apart from the mild displeasure of Li Jun and his brother, the rest welcomed the change.

Deng’er, however, was not as happy as expected. The memory of the fierce battle still haunted her. Though He Yu’s new rank brought greater respect, it also meant greater danger. For her, a peaceful life together was worth more than any honor.

With his new post, He Yu commanded over a hundred men, busy with endless duties, and their wedding feast was postponed yet again.

Deng’er, though, had changed. No longer shy, she shared He Yu’s bed nightly, tender and affectionate, embracing her role as wife. She dropped the old form of address, calling him “husband” instead of “brother.” Though the wedding had not yet been held, they were husband and wife in all but ceremony. Everyone in the fort knew of their betrothal, so there was no gossip, which eased Deng’er’s mind.

After a long day, He Yu would return home to Deng’er’s gentle presence, and his fatigue would melt away.

As a centurion, He Yu now enjoyed high salary and privileges. On his third day as South Gate Centurion, he received an invitation from Master Chen Jing to move with Deng’er into the inner fort.

They were given a three-chambered courtyard, planted with plum trees, hence called “Plum Pavilion.” The setting was refined, spacious compared to the Lin family’s old home. Deng’er was freed from slave status and no longer served in the fort, dedicating herself to He Yu’s care.

According to tradition, the fort would assign four servants to He Yu’s household, but he politely refused. Deng’er disliked sharing her husband, even with servants. He Yu, being from the modern world, also preferred privacy. With only two in the household, there was little work, and Deng’er could manage it all.

Deng’er had been a servant, and now suddenly became mistress of the house—a change she found hard to adjust to. All these sweeping transformations had come within the few months since the new year.

Spring’s chill lingered; gentle night rain fell. Deng’er, wrapped in thin gauze, nestled in He Yu’s arms and asked dreamily, “A man of your standing, young and already a centurion, will surely take many concubines someday. I come from humble origins—when I grow old and lose my beauty, will you still care for me as you do now?”

He Yu laughed, seeing that Deng’er had developed new anxieties. Her worried look made her even more endearing.

“Silly Deng’er, where are your thoughts? I’m older than you—when you’re old, so will I be. I want no one else, will marry no one else. In this life, only you. When I’m a white-bearded old man, I’ll love only Deng’er.”

He Yu gently pinched her delicate nose, miming a long beard, making her laugh and burrow into his arms.

“If that happens, everyone will say I, Lin Deng’er, am jealous,” she murmured softly.

He Yu hadn’t considered this. In those days, if a wealthy man didn’t take concubines, his wife was labeled a jealous woman. He Yu, with modern ideas of monogamy, had never yearned for multiple wives. Yet, this meant Deng’er’s reputation might suffer—a dilemma he couldn’t easily answer.

But Deng’er answered for him: “I’m not afraid of you taking concubines, husband. I’d welcome more people to care for you. I just worry you’ll forget me for new wives, and not love me anymore.”

“How could that be? Of all the women in the world, Deng’er is the most beautiful. How could I not love you?” He Yu repeated the phrase he’d said ten thousand times before. Deng’er giggled, seeming much relieved.

As South Gate Centurion, He Yu was now a leader, responsible for decisions, no longer needing to handle routine duties like guard posts and patrols. From laborer to leader, from being managed to managing others, he quickly adapted to his role.

After the battle at Xiemaling, Tianxiong Fortress nursed its wounds, while Chen Family Fort kept vigilant against revenge.

Chen Jing was ill for ten days, gradually recovering. During his sickness, he sent word: the South Gate was Chen Family Fort’s main entrance, not to be taken lightly. Since He Yu was newly appointed and inexperienced, Li Jun was to assist him.

Li Jun had once been He Yu’s superior, but within half a month, their ranks were nearly equal. The change felt awkward to both, so they avoided meeting alone.

One evening, as He Yu left the council hall, he heard someone call behind him, “Centurion He, wait—there is something I wish to discuss with you.”