Winter passed and spring arrived, yet Ashina Wuduo still hadn’t obtained the submission she desired.
Her temperament grew increasingly volatile, and her methods became more brutal. She tortured both Cui Xun’s body and spirit, yet she also employed the finest physicians and used the most effective medicines—she wouldn’t allow Cui Xun to die. Her obsession with Cui Xun was known throughout the royal court. Everyone understood that whoever could help Princess Wuduo tame her lotus slave would receive countless honors and riches, elevating them to the heights of power.
Jin Ni was the first to devise a scheme. Having fled to the Turks many years ago, despite his empty title as Left Wise King, he had gained nothing substantial. Nidu Khagan never fully trusted him. If he wanted more power, he needed to curry favor with Nidu Khagan’s most beloved daughter, Ashina Wuduo.
He said to Ashina Wuduo, “Actually, Cui Xun doesn’t want to die.”
“Oh? How did you determine that?”
“Dying is easy. If someone truly wishes to die, there are many ways to achieve it—starvation, biting off one’s tongue, slitting one’s wrists—all would suffice. But Cui Xun hasn’t attempted any of these. Therefore, he harbors no desire for death.”
Ashina Wuduo asked suspiciously: “If he doesn’t wish to die, why won’t he submit to me? Why endure so much unnecessary suffering?”
“Perhaps he still hopes to escape back to the Great Zhou. If he surrendered to the Turks, upon returning to the Great Zhou, he would be charged with treason and beheaded. If he still wishes to return, he cannot surrender,” Jin Ni instigated. “But if the Princess extinguishes his hope, he will have no choice but to submit.”
“How do I extinguish his hope?”
“Send people among the captured Zhou civilians to spread rumors of his surrender to the Turks. Then release these civilians to let them spread these rumors throughout the Great Zhou.”
Ashina Wuduo considered this thoughtfully. Jin Ni continued: “Does the Princess know of Li Ling from the Han Dynasty?”
“Yes, he was a formidable warrior, but he couldn’t defeat the Xiongnu Chanyu. After being captured, he surrendered to the Xiongnu and even married a Xiongnu princess.”
Jin Ni nodded: “Some say Li Ling’s surrender was feigned—he intended to escape back to Han when the opportunity arose. However, later, Han prisoners spread a rumor that Li Ling was helping the Turks train their army. The Han Emperor was enraged and executed Li Ling’s mother and wife. His false surrender became a true one. Li Ling remained with the Xiongnu for the rest of his life and never returned.”
“You mean that by spreading rumors, we can ensure that Cui Xun, like Li Ling, will never be able to return?”
Jin Ni explained: “The Han people have a concept called ‘dying for honor’—using death to preserve one’s integrity. Whether Li Ling’s surrender was genuine or feigned, he did surrender. Everyone in the Han Dynasty, from officials to commoners, cursed him. The scholars of Longxi considered him a disgrace. The criticism hasn’t ceased even after hundreds of years. In contrast, Su Wu tended sheep for nineteen years without surrendering to the Xiongnu. When he returned, he was welcomed by crowds lining the streets and became a national hero. Cui Xun harbors the aspiration to be like Su Wu.”
Ashina Wuduo suddenly understood. She smiled and said, “He wants to be Su Wu, but I won’t allow it. I’ll ruin his reputation! I’ll ensure that no matter how vast the world is, he’ll have nowhere to go except to the Turks!”
Ashina Wuduo followed through on her word. The rumors spread back to the prosperous city of Chang’an, and Cui Xun’s reputation was thoroughly tarnished. Meanwhile, he continued to endure in the desert sands, suffering under Ashina Wuduo’s brutal torture. He didn’t know that while he was gritting his teeth through lash after merciless lash, he had already become a disgrace to the Boling Cui clan and the entire Tianwei Army.
To Ashina Wuduo’s disappointment, even after cutting off Cui Xun’s path of return, he still refused to submit to her.
Ashina Wuduo couldn’t understand. What was he still hoping for? Was he still anticipating a return to the Great Zhou? Everyone had abandoned him. Everyone viewed him as a cowardly general who surrendered to save his own life. Everyone condemned him. Under such circumstances, he still longed to return to the Great Zhou.
She pondered endlessly but couldn’t comprehend. Despite trying every method, she still couldn’t make him submit. Sometimes she truly couldn’t understand Cui Xun. Wasn’t he a son of the Boling Cui clan? Wasn’t he raised in pearls and jade, nurtured in silks and brocades? Why were his bones harder than those of Turkic men who grew up on horseback? But since she couldn’t understand him, she decided not to try. She only knew that her interest in him hadn’t diminished with time—it had only grown stronger.
Another year, another snowy night.
In the Khan’s tent, another boisterous banquet was being held. Ashina Jia and her father, and her brothers left the tent in a drunken state, but Ashina Jia’s footsteps involuntarily halted.
Her eyes were fixed on Cui Xun, who lay prostrate on the ground, covered in wounds and laden with heavy shackles on his hands and feet.
Cui Xun seemed to be unconscious. He lay motionless on the ground, his back crisscrossed with countless whip marks. A chain was attached to his ankle shackles, winding to a stone pillar. The Turkic soldier guarding him stepped on the chain, grinding it with his toe and pulling slightly, causing Cui Xun’s shackles to sway gently. At even this slight movement, Cui Xun’s fingers suddenly clutched the ground, his fingertips digging deep into the soil—he had been jolted awake from unconsciousness by the pain.
Li Ying couldn’t help but look at “Ashina Jia” beside her. Ashina Jia said compassionately, “Last month, he found an opportunity to escape from the royal court, but Jin Ni’s night owls tracked him down. He was brought back to Sister Wuduo like this. Sister Wuduo gave him hundreds of lashes and then used shackles with embedded iron spikes, driving them into his hands and feet. Now it’s extremely difficult for him to take even a single step.”
Shackles with embedded iron spikes… driven into his hands and feet… Li Ying finally understood the origin of the bone-deep scars on Cui Xun’s wrists. She also understood why Cui Xun couldn’t even draw his old bow. Such brutal torture was enough to destroy all his health, let alone his archery skills that he had once been so proud of.
The manifestation of obsession, Ashina Jia, wore an expression of compassion, and the real Ashina Jia, who had just left the tent, also had a compassionate look. She gazed at Cui Xun, reluctant to move. Her brother glanced at the barely breathing Cui Xun and said, “I don’t understand why Wuduo treasures such a thing.”
Standing beside Ashina Jia was her father, Ashina Sutai. Sutai was powerfully built, his countenance even more somber than Nidu Khagan’s. He snorted: “This ‘thing’ has more backbone than you.”
Ashina Jia’s brother fell awkwardly silent. Sutai looked at the immobile Ashina Jia and warned: “One Wuduo gone mad in the Ashina family is enough. There shouldn’t be a second.”
Ashina Jia was extremely afraid of her father. She lowered her head and mumbled: “There isn’t…”
Sutai snorted again. He walked slowly to Cui Xun, then narrowed his eyes and ground his toe against the shackles on Cui Xun’s hands. The iron spikes embedded in his hands immediately scraped against Cui Xun’s wrist bones. Cold sweat poured from Cui Xun, and his eyes, previously dulled by torture, regained a trace of clarity. Sutai crouched down and asked: “Awake?”
Cui Xun didn’t answer him. Sutai chuckled softly, then slid something out from his sleeve and silently passed it to Cui Xun’s hand.
He stood up nonchalantly and said to Ashina Jia and the others: “Let’s go.”
Li Ying couldn’t see clearly, so she asked Ashina Jia: “What did your father give to Cui Xun?”
Ashina Jia replied softly: “It was a fire starter and a blade that can cut through iron like mud.”
Third watch of the night.
The sounds of revelry in the Khan’s tent had ceased, replaced by intermittent snoring. Presumably, Nidu Khagan and the others had fallen into a drunken slumber. The guards who should have been watching the tent had disappeared somewhere. Outside the tent, only Cui Xun remained, lying on the freezing ground. His face was exceptionally pale from the intense pain, his forehead covered in fine beads of sweat. Breathing shallowly, he sawed at the shackles restraining him, one stroke after another, with the blade in his hand.
After a while, the shackles finally fell off, but the inner ring of iron spikes remained driven into the bones of his wrists. The spikes were dense, numbering a full twenty. Cui Xun rose with difficulty and sat weakly against the stone pillar. He tore off a piece of his blood-stained garment, balled it up, and stuffed it into his mouth. Then, biting down on the cloth, enduring the agony, he forcibly pulled the iron spikes from the bones of his wrists.
The moment the spikes were extracted, his body convulsed violently from the pain. Large beads of sweat rolled down his forehead, and the cloth in his mouth was nearly bitten through. Crimson blood slowly trickled from the corner of his lips. His vision went completely black from the pain. He took a couple of labored breaths, then lowered his eyes and, enduring the pain, continued to saw at the shackles on his other wrist.
Next came the shackles on his ankles. The crimson blood flowing from his lips increased. When the last iron spike was pulled from his ankle bone, Cui Xun spat out the cloth that had been soaked with fresh blood. He stood up shakily. His ankles bore dozens of bloody puncture wounds, and each step caused excruciating pain, but he continued to stagger forward. The fire starter in his hand, trembling, touched the felt of the tent.
Felt is highly flammable, and soon fierce flames engulfed the entire tent. The fire blazed to the sky, illuminating the entire night. From within the tent came panicked cries and pleas for help. Cui Xun’s eyes held an expression terrifyingly devoid of emotion. He pressed his lips together, turned around with a limp, and headed to the stone pillar where a swift horse had been prepared. Using all his strength, he climbed onto the horse’s back. The steed galloped away, carrying him toward an unknown destination.
Ashina Jia explained to Li Ying: “Father Khan had long intended to usurp my uncle’s position. I don’t know when he made a deal with Cui Xun. I only know that night, Uncle Nidu was burned to death, Sister Wuduo was badly burned, and the royal court was thrown into chaos. No one paid attention to the whereabouts of a captive. That’s how he successfully escaped back to the Great Zhou.”
Li Ying murmured, “He killed the Turkic Khagan. He should have returned to the Great Zhou as a hero, but…”
But what awaited him were shackles and a prison cart.
Amid the angry curses of the Great Zhou people, he was escorted to Chang’an and subjected to a year of brutal torture at the Dali Temple. In prison, he repeatedly explained that he had never surrendered to the Turks, but not a single person believed him.
Even after his release from the Dali Temple, he remained the coward condemned by everyone in the world. Still, not a single person believed him.
He was like someone dragged into the realm of evil spirits by countless hands, falling into murky darkness, unable to see even a glimmer of light. Since he couldn’t climb out of this realm of evil spirits, he might as well become a completely conscienceless villain. In the endless abyss, he would sink completely.