Volume One: Flames at the Border Chapter Sixty-Three: The Brow Drawing

Next, He Yu threw two more arrows, but this time he used too much force, missing the mouth of the pot entirely. Seeing his lack of skill, everyone began to tease him.

One person said, “Even Sect Master He can falter. Since husband and wife are one, why not let Lady Chen come down and throw one for him?”

He Yu, mature beyond his years, had already drawn attention earlier. Though the comment was made in jest, there was no hint of disrespect in the speaker’s tone. He Yu glanced over, and saw Qingyun looking back at him, her face eager and excited.

“Qingyun doesn’t know if she can throw arrows into the pot, but she should be better than me,” He Yu thought.

He Yu had only one arrow left. He waved to Qingyun, saying, “Such kindness cannot be refused. Wife, please throw this last one for me.”

Qingyun smiled as she stepped forward, took the arrow from her husband’s hand, held her breath, and aimed carefully. Everyone craned their necks, intent on watching the spectacle, and silence fell.

Whoosh—

Qingyun’s arm flicked, and the arrow left her hand.

Snap—

The arrow entered the pot and bounced out, flying back toward Qingyun. She raised her right hand, caught it, and sent it out again.

Snap—

The arrow entered the pot a second time, bounced out once more, and flew back toward Qingyun. She caught it again and threw it out.

Snap—snap—snap—

Three more consecutive sounds rang out. The arrow finally stayed in the pot, no longer bouncing out.

“Ah! A valiant arrow!”

“Incredible skill, truly incredible!”

He Yu knew that when an arrow enters the pot and bounces out, then is thrown back in, it is called a “valiant arrow”—a rare feat, nearly impossible to achieve. Qingyun managed five consecutive valiant arrows in one throw, a feat that defied belief.

While everyone was marveling, Yuan Hui emerged from the crowd, stood with his back to the pot and said, “Please step aside, everyone, and watch me throw.”

He had already hit seven arrows in a row earlier; now, with one arrow left, he tossed it casually. The arrow traced a graceful arc and landed steadily in the pot.

“Ah, a throw from behind! Tonight is truly extraordinary.”

“A marvel! Astonishing to behold!”

He Yu thought, “Throwing with one’s back to the target is like throwing blindfolded; the difficulty is obvious. Yuan Hui hitting eight in a row is indeed miraculous.”

When the final scores were tallied, Yuan Hui ranked first and won a pair of golden goblets. Lu Yi came in second, winning a pair of silver goblets. Because He Yu had left only one arrow for Qingyun, she ranked third and won a pair of bronze goblets. Qingyun, who had spent the evening anxious, was finally able to show her skill and was overjoyed.

With the game finished, the banquet dispersed.

As everyone exchanged farewells and departed, He Yu took Qingyun’s hand and walked out of the hall. Looking up, he saw the bright moon overhead; it was already midnight.

Tuoba Yan escorted the guests to the door. Seeing He Yu and Chen Qingyun walking side by side, she felt an inexplicable sense of loss. She thought of her own devotion to her elder brother’s grand ambitions—now twenty-four years old, still alone. She stood beneath the corridor, feeling somewhat adrift.

“Your Highness,” Linghu Xiao stepped out from the shadows behind a pillar and said, “According to our scouts, the Yan army exited Yanmen Pass and then halted. It’s been ten days now, and the reason is unclear.”

“Oh, Steward Linghu. Yes, I already know about this. We’ll discuss it in the main tent tomorrow; I’ll hear everyone’s opinions,” Tuoba Yan replied with a nod.

Pingcheng, now known as Datong, was one of China’s three major cool capitals. Though it was early summer, the evening breeze was still brisk.

Linghu Xiao noticed her somber mood and wanted to offer comfort, but didn’t know where to begin. Instead, he reminded her, “Your Highness, it’s late. You should rest; there’s much to do tomorrow.”

Linghu Xiao was born a household slave. He had fought on the battlefield, suffering injuries that left him childless. He watched Tuoba Yan grow up; though master and servant, their bond was like father and daughter. Tuoba Yan was a posthumous child and never knew her father, so she held Linghu Xiao in high esteem.

“Sigh.” Tuoba Yan responded, about to go inside, but then stopped and asked, “Steward Linghu, what do you think of He Yu?”

Linghu Xiao thought for a moment and said, “He may be young, but he is deeply shrewd. As a friend, he’s like wings to a tiger; as an enemy, he’s very hard to deal with.”

“Oh? Is he really so formidable?”

“In my view, he’s no less clever than Wang Jinglue of old, and I hear he’s skilled in martial arts. In the battle at Xiemaling, he reportedly slew over thirty armored cavalrymen single-handedly.”

Wang Jinglue, also known as Wang Meng, assisted Fu Jian in achieving greatness and was the most outstanding strategist of the past century.

“Oh? Are you exaggerating, Steward Linghu? Can He Yu really be compared to Wang Meng?” Tuoba Yan shook her head, skeptical.

“Well, I only heard it from others, never witnessed it myself. But just now, at the banquet, his demeanor and bearing were in no way inferior to the scions of noble families,” Linghu Xiao explained.

“Oh, I’ll meet him in due course.” Tuoba Yan signaled Linghu Xiao to withdraw and turned to enter the house.

He Yu and Chen Qingyun returned to their lodgings, where a servant brought tea and withdrew.

The couple sat facing each other, drinking tea.

He Yu played with the bronze goblet he had just won, thinking, “This thing has an ancient charm. If I brought it to the modern day, it would be a top-tier artifact.”

“Wife, where did you learn your skill at pitch-pot? You’re so amazing, and I had no idea,” He Yu asked.

Chen Qingyun had not yet come down from the excitement of earlier. She’d been feeling constrained lately, but today was her happiest. She replied cheerfully, “I learned from my brother. He’s clever and good with his hands, and can make all sorts of fun things.”

As she spoke, she drew a leather pouch from her waistband beneath her skirt, revealing a small, exquisitely crafted crossbow—her personal defense weapon, called the Ruyi Crossbow.

He Yu took the crossbow, examined it carefully, and said, “I didn’t expect Brother Chen Jing to have craftsmanship like Lu Ban. This Ruyi Crossbow is ingeniously designed; it’s perfect for your protection.”

Thinking about defense, another matter came to mind. He removed his outer garment and untied the snake-scale soft armor he wore underneath, handing it to Qingyun. “This armor will be yours from now on.”

He Yu was far-sighted; in this unfamiliar place, if anything happened, it would be a challenge to escape quickly. He was much stronger in martial arts than Qingyun, and could take care of himself.

Qingyun, seeing her husband’s thoughtfulness, felt a surge of warmth. She realized all her past efforts were worthwhile, but felt sorry for He Yu and insisted he keep the armor.

Qingyun said, “It’s better for you to wear it, husband. You’re someone destined for great deeds, so you must be careful. I’m just a woman; no one would trouble me.”

“Wear it. Be obedient.” He Yu pulled her into his arms and teased, “Or do you want your husband to put it on you himself?”

Qingyun had no choice but to change into the soft armor. As they were married, there was no need for propriety. He Yu watched Qingyun take off her outer garment, unable to avert his gaze. Overcome by desire, he pulled her close and kissed her.

Qingyun’s face bloomed like a peach blossom, her cheeks ablaze. Though she felt that engaging in intimacy during her brother’s mourning period was against propriety, she loved her husband deeply and couldn’t restrain herself. Besides, they were in a foreign land, with no acquaintances around; the constraints of etiquette were much weaker.

He Yu, coming from the modern era, was unburdened by such traditions. He only hesitated because of Deng’er’s recent passing; he didn’t want to forget her so quickly. Yet, as days passed, he gradually accepted that Deng’er, though wonderful, was gone forever. If she were alive, she would surely wish to see harmony between him and Qingyun. So tonight, he resolved to stop holding back his feelings. Words of others meant nothing; he would live as he pleased and let those accursed traditions go to hell.

...

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After a night of passionate love, Qingyun awoke in the morning, still shy and unable to meet her husband’s eyes directly. He Yu chuckled, took her delicate hand, and said, “Wife, your face is like a peach blossom this morning—you don’t even need rouge.”

Qingyun scolded, “You’re so improper, husband, always making fun of me.”

“How am I making fun?” He Yu pulled Qingyun onto his lap, picked up an eyebrow pencil, and began to carefully draw her brows. Qingyun, delighted, closed her eyes and dared not look at him.

After breakfast, Tuoba Yan sent someone to invite the couple to the main tent for a council. Though called a tent, it was still indoors.

He Yu and Qingyun arrived last. Counting, apart from Tuoba Yan’s own troops, there were nine other contingents present for the alliance. Altogether, there were over ten thousand cavalry and another ten thousand infantry—more than twenty thousand in total.

Those present had all met the night before, so there was no need for formalities. After a few greetings, everyone took their seats. He Yu and Qingyun had come alone, without troops, so they sat at the back.

Today’s council was different from yesterday’s banquet—the atmosphere was heavy, with the tension of looming battle. As expected, Tuoba Yan opened, saying, “Gentlemen, according to our scouts, after Murong Lin exited Yanmen Pass, he did not rush to attack Pingcheng, but instead stationed his troops and remained idle. Why is this? I invite your counsel.”

The assembled were all regional powers, many veterans of countless battles, well-versed in military affairs.

Thus, as soon as Tuoba Yan posed the question, someone speculated, “Murong Lin’s delay may be to await reinforcements. If two forces join and attack Pingcheng together, it will be troublesome.”

The Yan army originally had forty thousand elite cavalry. With the allied castle gentry, their total force exceeded sixty thousand—three times the defenders of Pingcheng. If more troops were added, the defenders would be vastly outnumbered; Pingcheng would be hard to hold.

Yuan Hui stood and disagreed. “The Yan invaders split their forces. The crown prince, Murong Bao, leads eighty thousand elite cavalry, claiming two hundred thousand, and is currently confronting the Wei king across the Yellow River. This is their main force, aimed at the Wei capital Shengle. The other force, originally led by Murong Kai, is now commanded by Murong Lin due to Murong Kai’s reported death, according to Sect Master He. Their target is Pingcheng. Though the Yan invaders are numerous, they would not abandon their main objective by sending reinforcements from Murong Bao. So, the idea that Murong Lin is waiting for reinforcements is unlikely.”

He was used to being the first to speak, asserting his presence, but his analysis was logical.

“If that’s so, why is Murong Lin stationing his troops and not advancing? Does his sixty thousand troops not need to eat?” Lu Yi pressed.

“These men seem carefree and cultured, but when it comes to war, they can reason incisively,” He Yu thought as he listened.

A Wei general stood and said, “If Murong Lin’s only goal is to tie us down and prevent Pingcheng from sending aid to the Wei king, it’s not worth it—he has sixty thousand men against our twenty thousand. Using sixty thousand to hold back twenty thousand is foolish. So, I boldly guess that Murong Lin’s force is a feint; the main force may have secretly gone to reinforce Murong Bao. We should investigate quickly and send urgent word to the Wei king.”