Sanctuary

She, a rhapsodist lamenting the ravages of war. He, a veteran commander weary of the ceaseless conflict. A chance encounter in the forest brings respite to them both.

The forest was serene in early evening. The breeze had stilled, the songbirds silenced. His horse settled into an easy walk, treading along with an almost reverent dignity. They rode away from the practice field, away from the war councils, away from the past clamor of battle. Deeper into the heart of nature, where there was only respite and renewal.

Notes sounded faintly from further down the trail. At first Cao Ren thought them to be a product of his mind, an imagined melody to suit the solace of the wildwood. The music drew closer, and he recognized it as the plaintive strum of a harp.

The path opened into a clearing where a hut lay in overgrown ruin beside a small pond ringed with reeds. Cai Wenji perched on a low stone wall, head bowed and instrument held close to her lithe body. Her robes were blue and flowing, her hair unbound in a rich cascade. The late sun touched her gentle features and dappled the water in flashes of gold.

Ren had watched Wenji perform at banquets along with other women of the court. Her rhythm was steady, her notes well blended into the rest. Yet she always gave a sense of playing to her own beat. Some of her compatriots would angle for front and center, favoring the audience with subtle smiles and alluring glances. Wenji invariably sat to one side, eyes aloof within her masked expression. Her fingers were skilled, but her heart lay elsewhere. Here, in this solitude, where Ren's breath caught in his throat as he truly saw her for the first time.

He dismounted and tethered his horse, composing himself for a proper introduction.

The underfoot crunch of grass startled Cai Wenji into stopping. A burly man stepped forth, taking a bow at clearing's edge.

"Lady Cai. I am Cao Ren, cousin to our lord. I don't believe we've been formally introduced."

She gave a nod. "The pleasure is mine."

Wenji had heard Ren's name spoken favorably, but never matched it to her passing glimpses of his calm and stoic face. She knew of him as a decorated commander, also empowered by his familial affiliation. Yet he rode in simply trimmed attire, introducing himself by name rather than title. He also stood at his distance without intruding into her sanctuary. Requesting an audience rather than demanding one - an unexpected gesture from a ranked general of this militant kingdom. But a welcome surprise nonetheless, and Wenji motioned for him to join her.

She resumed playing. He sat nearby to listen.

Wenji would have tensed up in the presence of some other man, felt his gaze upon her the whole time. Flinched at the odd note here and there, otherwise ignored when performing for herself alone. Ren only looked off into the trees, closing his eyes as if to provide a sense of privacy. Her own soon wandered away from her instrument. His profile was strong, his beard soft, his posture relaxing out of its initial formality. His presence was striking, but more a comfort than an intimidation.

When the song finished, Wenji still felt compelled to apologize for her errors. "That was rough."

"That was relaxing." Ren looked over the abandoned farmstead. "Much like this place."

"Indeed. It inspires me." Flowers sprung up around the field, and vines bloomed white and orange over a broken wall. Healing wilderness, splendid in its reclamation of ruin.

"I can understand that. As a boy, I preferred the forests to the academy hall. I imagine that your music seeks its freedom as well."

"It does, yes. It also seeks a history to tell." Wenji refrained from mentioning her own, which was long since over and well beyond any benefit of pity. A secret part of her still ached for the grandeur of old Luoyang, for the home from which the tribal Xiongnu had abducted her, for her father's library where she had learned the art of calligraphy. Again and again she continued to practice, transcribing his lost works from her recollections. Etching the memories into others' records so that she might let go of their weight in her heart.

"Sometimes I wonder what happened here."

Ren took a moment's pause before speaking. "Do you wish to know?"

Wenji nodded. The past was to be acknowledged, unpleasant as it might be.

"Long ago, we captured this territory from an old rival. We evacuated the citizens and burned their farms behind us. Without crops to pillage, the enemy was forced to retreat."

"And what of this farmer?"

"Most likely, he was moved to an agricultural settlement."

"Or his bones lie buried in this earth."

"Perhaps they do." Ren took a breath, a barely perceptible sigh. "War is harsh, and often ruthless. War demands its sacrifice. I won't attempt to excuse that."

Wenji sat without speaking, not having expected him to.

"But it is not the true aim of our conquest. We are forced to destroy, but we seek to rebuild. For that, we need resources. Unity."

"The entire land under Cao Cao's banner."

"Only if it is necessary." A long pause. "Truly, I wish it weren't."

Wenji accepted Ren's words as honest. He spoke with the regret of obligation rather than the pride of triumph. His eyes were distant, as if the fires of war still burned bright before him. Clearly Ren had found no joy in the conflagration, which was far more than she could say for the Xiongnu chieftain who had forced her into marriage. He had incessantly squabbled with other leaders, driven by the rush of plunder and domination. In the talk she caught wind of at banquets, Wenji had heard no plan. No vision. No concern for the long term, much less the greater good.

"But it is, and so you ride to battle."

"So I do. And I ride here to remind myself that it will end."

Wenji smiled. "I hope I have given you another reason as well."

"May I take that as a future invitation?"

"That was my hope."

A flush touched Ren's face. "You honor me, my lady."

"As before, the pleasure is mine."