Volume II, Big Summer Dynasty, Chapter 43: One Day
Mourning Day, April 19th, 466 years ago, is an unforgettable day. In Yanbei Town, the king who endured in the Royal Park, Yan Xun, stood starkly at its core. At the door, the souls of Yan's family, slain by the sword, lingered. They will never rest after death. In front of the Golden Palace, on the Jiujing platform, they were subjected to the punishment of Shen Jin Gong, their ashes scattered for nine days straight.
From that day, the Yanbei lion flag of North China fell into a long silence. As aristocrats competed to carve up Yanbei's land, in the northwest grassy fields, a grand celebration was held. The Jade Rong of 11 tribes gathered, presided over by their king, Na Yan Ming, to celebrate the decline of the Yanbei lion family, the survival of Yan Cheng, and the emperor's ruthless benevolence towards his enemies. They honored the great enemy Rong Tian Fukuzawa, believing that no one could resist the blade of a grassland man.
In a remote, narrow room with a broken door, the cold wind cried. Snow covered the roof, offering no warmth. A dilapidated bed, blackened and dirty, filled the room with the stench of decay.
Outside, soldiers stood guard. Inside, the air smelled of burnt flesh. A young boy, his complexion pale, lay feverish, his dry lips exposing white teeth. His brows furrowed, and cold sweat dripped from his soaked hair.
Bang! An eight-year-old child struggled to move a chair and dropped it heavily to the ground. She looked around, saw the chair in a pile of scattered firewood, inhaled deeply, wiped her sweat, and lit a torch. The firewood crackled, warming the room. Carefully, she boiled a bowl of water. As she climbed into the cold bed, she lifted the boy's head and whispered, "Yan Xun, wake up, drink some water."
The boy heard her but didn't respond. The child frowned, picked up a rough bowl with chopsticks, and knocked on Yan Xun's teeth, forcing the water into his mouth.
"Keke," a cough echoed through the room as Yan Xun's chest heaved. He coughed violently, spitting out the water. Chu Qiao saw a trace of blood in it. Her heart sank as she tightened her lips, wiped her nose, and prepared more water.
"Yan Xun?" Night had fallen, and the room grew colder. The child covered the boy with large quilts. She wore only a thin coat, shrinking beside Yan Xun like a small animal. Holding a white bowl, she said softly, "I made rice water into porridge. Please, get up and drink a little."
Yan Xun remained silent, his face pale as paper under the moonlight. Chu Qiao knew he was awake but refused to open his eyes.
Chu Qiao sighed, put down the bowl, and sat down, leaning against the wall. Snow fell outside, the moonlight casting shadows of pale trees through the windows. In a low voice, she murmured, "Yan Xun, I'm a slave, powerless and alone. My family is gone. They were killed—some beheaded, some allocated, some tortured. The world should be fair, even for slaves. I didn't understand why wolves eat rabbits and why rabbits can't resist, but now I know. The rabbit is Yan Xun. I'm small, but I'm patient. The Zhuge family owes me, and I'll live to see them pay for what they did. Even in death, I won't rest until I do."
Yan Xun's eyelashes trembled. The cold wind outside blew against the window with a mournful sound.
The child's voice dropped even lower. "Yan Xun, remember what your mother said before she died? She told you to live well, even if it meant dying later. Your body carries too many expectations. Too many eyes are watching you. Can you bear to let them down? Can you die now and let those who killed your parents live on?"
Her voice grew hoarse, like a knife scraping across ice. "Yan Xun, you have to live, even if it's like a dog. You must live to complete everything, to reclaim what's yours. No one else will do this for you—you can only rely on yourself."
Heavy breathing filled the room. The child stood, holding the bowl in front of Yan Xun's face. His eyes, bright and burning with strength, slowly opened.
"Yan Xun, live. Kill them!"
A spark lit in Yan Xun's eyes—hatred and destruction mixed with a relentless will. He nodded slightly, like a man trapped in a nightmare, whispering, "Live. Kill them."
Outside, the wind howled. Two young children stood in a broken house, tightly clenching their fists.
Years later, when the grown Yan Xun recalled that night, fear still lingered. He didn't know if, had his heart softened or had he ignored the stubborn little slave, he might not have survived. If not for that child helping him, if not for their bond that night, would everything have disappeared like water vapor? Would he have been crushed by the disaster that befell his family, left only with sadness, loneliness, and despair?
But the world doesn't work that way. That night, two children swore an oath in the ice and snow.
"Live, even like a dog, but live well."
The long night passed, and before dawn, a messenger from Sheng Jin Palace arrived. Whether it was because of uneven spoils or fragile alliances, under pressure from other imperial forces, Yan Xun was spared. He was named the rightful heir to Yanbei but was only allowed to take his place after his twentieth year. Until then, Yanbei was governed by the Golden Palace and Shen Jin Palace in rotation. Yan Xun was to stay with the royal family, under imperial care, until he came of age.
Before that, there would be eight long years. And then another eight.
On April 21st, Yan Xun moved from the royal residence into Sheng Jin Palace, the most solemn place in the Xia Dynasty. The wind howled, and the snow swirled. Standing on the magnificent Zijin Square in his Yanbei sable coat, Yan Xun gazed at Jiujia and Zijinmen, where the empire of the northwest lay. There was once his home, his land, and his loved ones. Now they were gone, but he believed they watched him from the sky, waiting for him to return and claim Yanbei, to avenge He Tong Shan.
That day, the empire's army, exhausted after four months of chaos, decisively blamed the Yanbei riots on forgotten doors of slaughter. The Xia Dynasty sent its barbed army once again, using thunderous means to maintain its dignity. Yet years later, historians would note that this moment marked the beginning of the dynasty's downfall. From that moment, the seeds of its destruction were sown in blood and fire.
"I thought this life would never end, like the eternal winds of the Yanbei plateau or the unyielding snows of Longji Mountain. But I was wrong. My eyes were veiled by gold. I couldn't see the hidden ambition that swallowed the world, the slaughter of millions, the terrifying trickery. Now, I'll enter the golden cage with my father's, mother's, and sisters' blood on my hands, but I swear to the skies of Yanbei, I'll return one day."
The boy turned away, took the child's hand, and entered the palace. The door closed behind them, swallowing the light. Only the sharp eyes of the eagle above could see the two figures standing tall in the palace shadows.
One day, they would blaze a trail together, breaking through the doors of the empire.
God believes there will be such a day.
AC Afterthoughts
This chapter serves as a poignant introduction to the harrowing journey of Yan Xun and Chu Qiao, two young characters burdened by tragedy yet fueled by an unbreakable resolve. The juxtaposition of their innocence with the overwhelming violence and cruelty of their world sets the tone for a tale of survival, revenge, and the relentless pursuit of justice.
Yan Xun's transformation begins here. His family's brutal execution, his own near-death experience, and the quiet, desperate care of Chu Qiao mark the birth of a character who will stop at nothing to reclaim what was lost. The imagery of their cold, broken surroundings mirrors the emotional state of the characters: fragile, broken, yet determined to endure.
The character of Chu Qiao, though only a child, is portrayed with remarkable strength and maturity. Her speech to Yan Xun is a pivotal moment—it's not just a plea for him to live but a declaration of her own mission for vengeance. She refuses to be crushed by the cruelty of the world, instead choosing to survive and ensure that those responsible for her suffering are held accountable. Her understanding of the world is bleak, but her determination to change it adds layers to her character, suggesting that her role will be as vital to the future as Yan Xun's.
There's a powerful theme of "living despite everything" that resonates throughout the chapter. Yan Xun is urged to live, even if it's in the most degrading and painful circumstances, because only through survival can he one day rise to defeat his enemies. This theme reflects a deep belief in perseverance—no matter how terrible life becomes, as long as there is life, there is hope for retribution and justice.
The narrative's pacing is slow, intentionally drawing the reader into the cold, oppressive atmosphere and the characters' psychological state. We can almost feel the cold winds and the weight of despair hanging in the air. However, amid the sorrow, the chapter plants the seeds of a much larger story, one where vengeance, justice, and rebellion are bound to intertwine.
The final moments, where Yan Xun decides to live, signify the turning point for both characters. Their oath, "Live, even like a dog, but live well," is a promise to themselves and the world that they will return, stronger and more dangerous than before. The imagery of the towering palace walls closing behind them, and the eagle watching from above, foreshadows the greatness they will one day achieve, despite their current vulnerability.
In sum, this chapter lays the emotional and narrative groundwork for the epic saga to come. It is a stark reminder of the harshness of their world, but also a hopeful testament to the power of human resilience in the face of overwhelming odds. Yan Xun and Chu Qiao's shared journey will no doubt be shaped by the events of this night, and their struggle for survival and revenge will only intensify from here.