Cui Xun said contemptuously, “Fine, let’s have the martial contest. But remember, if you lose, don’t cry and run home to your Tsenpo.”

Cui Xun’s response was a retort to the merchant’s earlier taunt, “Don’t cry and run back to your mother when you lose.” Hearing this, Ah’man gained more insight into his character. It seemed this lotus-like, beautiful youth was not one to forgive and forget—he held grudges.

The merchant nearly spat blood again in anger. He shouted: “Tibetan men excel at horsemanship. How could I lose to you?”

It seemed the martial contest would test horsemanship skills.

The merchant pointed to the wild geese in the sky and said: “See those? Whoever can shoot down a wild goose while riding on horseback will be the winner!”

“Very well,” Cui Xun smirked, immediately accepting.

The commoners below the platform spontaneously cleared a wide path. The Tibetan merchant went first. He cracked his whip, and his horse galloped forward. He drew his bow, nocked an arrow, aimed at a wild goose flying overhead, and released. The arrow shot out like a meteor, hitting the goose squarely in the body. The merchant pulled on the reins and snorted at Cui Xun: “Your turn, boy!”

The merchant dismounted and tossed his bow to Cui Xun, who didn’t catch it. The bow fell to the ground. The merchant was stunned, then laughed heartily: “Scared?”

Cui Xun said, “Your bow is inadequate.”

He glanced at the merchant’s horse: “Your horse is inadequate, too.”

The merchant was stunned, then flushed with anger: “This bow is our Tibetan horn bow, most light and sturdy. How dare you say it’s inadequate? And our Tibetan horses, robust, are countless times better than your Central Plains horses!”

Cui Xun couldn’t be bothered to argue. He called out: “Cao Wu!”

“Here!” Cao Wu excitedly patted Cui Xun’s white horse, which carried the iron-framed bow and galloped toward Cui Xun. When it reached him, it showed its intelligence by stopping. Cui Xun stroked the white horse’s head and smiled: “Whether Central Plains bows and horses are better, or Tibetan ones are better, one test will tell.”

Holding the iron-framed bow, Cui Xun mounted his horse. Today, he wasn’t wearing armor but was dressed like Cao Wu and the others in a white narrow-sleeved round-collared robe with a blue-black headscarf. Even in such simple attire, he exuded a natural elegance and style. Holding the iron-framed bow, he laughed loudly. The vigor and spirit of youth made the young women in the market blush as they watched.

The white horse sped forward like wind and lightning. Cui Xun held the bow in his right hand and took a fletched arrow from his quiver with his left. He drew the bowstring, nocked the arrow, and as a flock of wild geese flew overhead, he narrowed his eyes, fully drew the bow, and released. With a “whoosh,” the arrow left the string, whistling through the air, shooting directly at the geese. It accurately pierced through a goose’s body and fell to the ground.

The commoner who picked up the goose exclaimed: “There are two geese!”

One arrow had shot through two geese—clearly, Cui Xun had won.

The Tibetan merchant was dumbfounded. Cui Xun asked nonchalantly: “Well?”

The Zhou commoners also shouted: “Five hundred taels of gold! Five hundred taels of gold!”

The Tibetan merchant came to his senses and said: “It doesn’t count! It doesn’t count!”

Cao Wu grew angry: “How can you go back on your word?”

The Tibetan merchant said to Cui Xun, “Hitting two geese was just your luck! Let’s have another contest!”

“Oh? How shall we compete?”

The Tibetan merchant looked at the qingke barley wine that his caravan was transporting: “Like this, we each drink a jar of wine. If you can still shoot down two geese after drinking, I’ll admit defeat!”

After drinking a jar of this qingke wine, one would be so drunk they could barely function, let alone shoot down two geese—even one would be difficult. This was the merchant’s plan. But Cui Xun agreed without hesitation: “Good! Don’t go back on your word again!”

The merchant first opened a jar of Qingke wine and gulped it down. He had a good tolerance for alcohol, showing no signs of drunkenness after emptying the jar. After mounting his horse, he easily shot down a wild goose. The merchant pulled on the reins and said to Cui Xun: “Your turn.”

Ah’man felt concerned and asked Cao Wu: “How is Brother Wangshu’s alcohol tolerance? Will he get drunk after just one drink?”

Cao Wu was also worried: “Seventeen’s tolerance is pretty good, but we’ve never tested his archery after drinking… Alas, these Tibetan dogs are so cunning!”

While everyone was worried, Cui Xun removed the seal from the qingke wine jar. A strong aroma of alcohol mixed with a faint scent of barley wafted out. Cui Xun raised an eyebrow: “Good wine.”

The merchant said proudly: “Of course! This is our most famous Tibetan wine, not inferior to your Central Plains wine!”

Cui Xun took a gulp, then set down the jar. He wiped the corner of his mouth and smiled: “Tibet has good wine, and so does the Central Plains. The people of both regions could benefit through trade. Tibetan people could drink Central Plains wine, and Central Plains people could enjoy Tibetan wine. It’s a pity that some people, for their selfish interests, plunge the common people into the fires of war. How sad! How hateful!”

The Tibetan merchant was momentarily stunned. Cui Xun said no more but tilted back his neck and drank the entire jar. Under the clear sky, where the clouds were as fiery as the sunset, the white-robed youth with half-closed eyes had a mischievous smile playing at the corners of his eyes and brows. With his long neck tilted back, he gulped down the jar of wine with indescribable grace. When the Qingke wine was finished, he tossed the empty jar aside, and it shattered into pieces.

Cui Xun laughed loudly a couple of times, then whistled. The white horse carrying the iron-framed bow galloped over. He mounted with a leap, picked up the iron-framed bow, took out a fletched arrow, narrowed his eyes, and drew the bow to a full moon shape. The fletched arrow whistled through the air, and once again, two wild geese were pierced by the arrow and fell to the ground.

The onlookers cheered loudly, while the Tibetan merchant stood open-mouthed in shock. Cui Xun pulled on the reins and asked with a slight drunkenness: “Well?”

The Tibetan merchant had lost fair and square. He asked: “Your skills are impressive. May I know your name?”

“My name?” Cui Xun, the alcohol taking effect, had cheeks as red as the sunset clouds: “I am but a small soldier from Qingzhou.”

“A small soldier with such skills?”

Cui Xun looked at him with a half-smile: “In Qingzhou, there are hundreds of thousands of Han people. In the Great Zhou, there were tens of millions. People like me in the Great Zhou are like a drop in the ocean. As long as the people remain, and the mountains and rivers endure, even ‘two-legged sheep’ can drive away the barbarians!”

The Tibetan merchant’s attendants only understood the last words, “barbarians,” and were so angry they were about to rush forward. The merchant raised his hand to stop them. After a moment of silence, he nodded: “Thank you. I have learned a lesson.”

With that, he had his people hand over the five hundred taels of gold. Cui Xun didn’t even glance at it and let Cao Wu and the others carry it away to distribute among the poor. He mounted his horse and leisurely rode back toward the military camp in the sunset.

Later, Cao Wu and the others learned that this Tibetan merchant was Chizzan, the second son of the Tibetan Tsenpo. Tibet had been paying tribute and maintaining good trade relations with the Great Zhou since their defeat ten years ago. But Prince Chizzan was quite unwilling to accept this. Arrogant and conceited, he had wanted to use this opportunity to assess Qingzhou’s strength. He hadn’t expected to be defeated by Cui Xun. After this incident, he realized there were greater heights beyond his reach and more capable people than himself. A fifteen-year-old youth could possess such skills, let alone the entire Great Zhou.

From then on, Prince Chizzan shed his arrogance and never dared to violate the Great Zhou again for the rest of his life.

However, Cao Wu and the others didn’t know any of this at the time. The group rode their horses at full speed, finally returning to the Tianwei Army camp. After a hasty wash, they quickly went to rest to avoid missing the next day’s roll call.

The next day, however, a problem arose.

Before the fifth watch, Ah’man was preparing to find her brother. She was scheduled to depart with Madam Zhao and the others after noon to return to Chang’an, so she wanted to talk with her brother. But when she reached her brother’s room, she found the wooden door wide open, and her brother and Cao Wu seemed to be arguing about something.

Ah’man approached and heard her brother scolding Cao Wu: “Why didn’t you stop Seventeen when he was drinking? Letting him get so drunk?”

Cao Wu hung his head but seemed quite defiant. He muttered: “Who told that Tibetan dog to be so arrogant…”

“Still stubborn! Then you’re responsible for waking Seventeen up!”

Seeing the argument heating up, Ah’man quickly called out sweetly: “Brother, what’s going on?”

Cao Wu saw her as if seeing a savior: “Sister Ah’man, you’ve come at the perfect time. Who knew that yesterday’s Qingke wine would have such a strong aftereffect? Seventeen hasn’t sobered up yet and refuses to get up. Roll call is coming soon, and if he misses it, he’ll face military punishment. What should we do?”

Ah’man was extremely surprised. Refuses to get up? How could these four words be associated with Cui Xun?

In the dozens of days Ah’man had been here, Cui Xun had never once missed roll call. Sometimes Cao Wu would complain about how early the fifth watch roll call was, but Cui Xun never complained. How could such a disciplined person… sleep in?

Ah’man peeked secretly through the wooden door and saw Cui Xun wrapped in a cotton quilt, sleeping soundly on a simple bed. Perhaps because he was still drunk, his cheeks were as red as peach blossoms, the redness contrasting with his jade-white skin, making his features even more enchanting. Ah’man was momentarily mesmerized.

It was Cao Wu’s voice that brought her back to her senses: “Sister Ah’man, why don’t you go wake Seventeen up?”

Sheng Yunting was nearly exasperated: “If you can’t wake Seventeen, how could my sister wake him?”

After speaking, Sheng Yunting strode to Cui Xun’s bedside and pushed him: “Seventeen, get up quickly! General Guo is about to call the roll!”

Cui Xun was stirred awake by his push. He slightly opened his eyes, still bleary with drunkenness. He looked at Sheng Yunting, then closed his eyes and went back to sleep.

Sheng Yunting was caught between laughter and tears: “Seventeen, get up quickly! Missing roll call will result in twenty military lashes!”

But Cui Xun seemed quite displeased at Sheng Yunting for disturbing his sleep. He simply pulled the quilt over his head, turned to face the wall, and ignored Sheng Yunting completely. He was acting just like an ordinary fifteen-year-old boy, throwing tantrums, being moody, and showing some childish behavior.

Ah’man had never seen Cui Xun like this and was completely dumbfounded. Sheng Yunting and Cao Wu, however, seemed quite used to it. Seeing that he couldn’t wake Cui Xun, Sheng Yunting sighed: “Fine, Seventeen, sleep if you want to.”

Cao Wu interjected: “But what about roll call?”

“We’ll just tell General Guo that Seventeen spotted a suspicious Tibetan merchant caravan in the market yesterday, went to track them, and hasn’t returned yet.”

“Will that… work?”

“It will. That’s the plan.”

Sheng Yunting also left a message for Ah’man: “Ah’man, take care of Seventeen for a bit,” and then he and Cao Wu hurried off to roll call.

After Sheng Yunting and Cao Wu left, Ah’man didn’t know how to take care of Cui Xun, or rather, Cui Xun didn’t need her care at all. He was sleeping soundly with the quilt over him. Ah’man couldn’t even see his face. She pressed her lips together, observing Cui Xun, who had completely covered himself, and couldn’t help but smile slightly. Her brother had said that once you got to know Cui Xun, you’d realize he wasn’t that cold, and sometimes, he was quite adorable. At the time, she thought her brother was joking, but now she discovered that perhaps it was true…

Cui Xun slept until almost noon. He made no sound while sleeping, making Ah’man wonder if he had smothered himself. She sat cross-legged on the ground, bored, flipping through the military books on the table. These books must have been what Cui Xun was reading, as he had written annotations and his insights in them. His handwriting was very beautiful—was this style called “running cursive”? Cui Xun’s writing was free and fluid, with an imposing momentum. However, Ah’man didn’t know many characters and couldn’t understand much.

When she noticed that Cui Xun was about to wake up, Ah’man suddenly felt shy. She quickly stood up and hurriedly left the room. But after lingering outside for a while, she was reluctant to leave. While she was hesitating, her brother and Cao Wu returned. Her brother was holding a flatbread. When he saw her, he asked: “Ah’man, is Seventeen awake?”

“I think so…”

Sheng Yunting nodded: “Ah’man, you’re leaving soon, right? Let me first bring this flatbread to Seventeen. He hasn’t eaten all morning and must be hungry. I’ll come find you afterward.”

“Alright.” Ah’man couldn’t help but ask: “Will Brother Wangshu be in trouble for missing roll call?”

“No worries, Cao Wu and I covered for him.”

After saying this, Sheng Yunting and Cao Wu entered the room. Ah’man heard the three of them exchange a few words inside. Before she could make out what they were saying, she suddenly saw a commanding figure in armor walking toward them with large strides.

Ah’man was stunned. The man saw her, stopped, examined her, and said: “You’re Yunting’s sister, Ah’man, right?”

“Yes…”

The man smiled: “I am Guo Qinwei, the commander of the Tianwei Army.”

Guo Qinwei? Upon hearing this, Ah’man instinctively prepared to bow, but Guo Qinwei stopped her: “No need for formalities. In the Tianwei Army, we’re all like family.”

Guo Qinwei then asked Ah’man: “Where’s your brother?”

Ah’man pointed to the room: “Inside.”

Guo Qinwei nodded. He directly pushed open the half-closed wooden door and walked in. As he entered, the voices inside suddenly fell silent. Ah’man was initially confused, then immediately understood: her brother and Cao Wu had lied to Guo Qinwei, saying that Cui Xun had gone to track the Tibetan merchants. Now that Guo Qinwei had entered, wouldn’t the lie be exposed?

Ah’man frustratedly knocked on her head. Why hadn’t she thought of this earlier?

If she had, she would never have let Guo Qinwei enter.

She quickly went to the window and looked inside. Sure enough, she saw the three of them kneeling on the ground, heads hung low, not daring to breathe a word.

Guo Qinwei looked furious: “And to think I was worried about Seventeen and specially came to instruct you two to find him, only to discover you’ve conspired to deceive me!”

Cui Xun had sobered up and was quite embarrassed: “General Guo, it was my fault for oversleeping and missing roll call. Please punish me according to military law.”

Sheng Yunting hurriedly interjected: “General Guo, it was I who lied. If someone must be punished, punish me.”

Cao Wu added, “General Guo, this has nothing to do with them. If it weren’t for me insisting on taking Seventeen to the market yesterday, he wouldn’t have drunk too much. Those twenty lashes should be mine!”

Guo Qinwei laughed in anger: “It seems the lashes in my Tianwei Army aren’t severe enough if you’re all fighting to receive them. Don’t fight—none of you will escape!”

Hearing this, Ah’man’s heart was in her throat. Without thinking, she pushed open the door, rushed inside, and said: “General Guo, please don’t punish my brother. There’s a reason for all this.”

Ah’man, like beans pouring from a bamboo tube, quickly and concisely explained the whole situation. Guo Qinwei’s expression finally softened a bit: “So, Seventeen missed roll call because he got drunk after competing with a Tibetan merchant?”

Ah’man nodded eagerly: “Yes, please don’t punish them.”

Cui Xun, probably recalling his childish behavior of refusing to get up in the morning, was so embarrassed that he seemed to wish he could dig a hole to hide in: “General Guo, military orders are like mountains. Missing roll call is missing roll call, regardless of the reason. Please punish me. I have no complaints about the twenty lashes.”

Ah’man’s heart raced, and just as she was about to say something, Guo Qinwei shouted at Cui Xun: “Silence! Who are you to make decisions here?”

Cui Xun was stunned, then lowered his head in shame. Guo Qinwei continued to berate him: “Are your bones harder than others? Eager to receive lashes?”

Hearing this, Cao Wu said happily: “General Guo, does this mean you’re letting us off?”

Guo Qinwei gave him a fierce glare, and Cao Wu immediately hung his head, not daring to say another word. The room became so quiet that one could hear a pin drop. After a long while, Guo Qinwei coughed: “Fine, you have brought honor to the Great Zhou. Today, I’ll let the three of you off.”

Cao Wu and Sheng Yunting were overjoyed: “Thank you, General Guo.”

Cui Xun still felt ashamed about missing roll call. Seeing this, Guo Qinwei said: “However, while the twenty lashes can be waived, you three conspired to deceive me, which is truly detestable. You should still receive some form of punishment. Let’s say you’ll take seven nights of duty.”

They already had to take turns on night duty, so this punishment was practically negligible. But for Cui Xun, it somewhat eased his guilt. He cupped his hands in respect: “Thank you, General Guo.”

Guo Qinwei snorted and appeared expressionless. But as he reached the door to leave, he turned back and said to Cui Xun, “Shooting down two geese isn’t much of a feat. Come to the training field this afternoon, and I’ll teach you how to shoot three geese with one arrow.”

Cui Xun’s mouth finally curved into a slight smile, and he said sincerely: “Thank you, General Guo!”

In the afternoon, Cui Xun and Cao Wu went to the training field, while Sheng Yunting went to send off Ah’man. By the ancient road, where willows swayed, Sheng Yunting was very reluctant to see his sister leave. He stuffed all his military pay into Ah’man’s hands: “Take all this to add to your dowry.”

Ah’man laughed: “I don’t even have a marriage arrangement yet. Why do I need a dowry? Brother, you keep it.”

Sheng Yunting shook his head: “I have food and lodging here and don’t need money. You take it.”

Ah’man couldn’t persuade him and had to accept it. Sheng Yunting sighed again: “It’s a pity that during your visit, I couldn’t find you a good match.”

Hearing this, Ah’man secretly touched the lotus hairpin hidden in her sleeve. A strange courage suddenly welled up in her heart. She began, stammering: “Brother, actually, during this visit, I did find someone I want to marry…”

Sheng Yunting was delighted: “Who?”

Ah’man’s cheeks turned crimson, but she couldn’t bring herself to say the name. Sheng Yunting looked at her suspiciously. Being observant, he recalled Ah’man’s recent behavior, and his expression suddenly changed drastically: “You don’t want to marry… Seventeen, do you?”

Ah’man didn’t deny it. She bit her lip: “Brother…”

“No!” Sheng Yunting refused outright: “His family background is too good. We’re not a match.”

Ah’man grew anxious: “If I can’t be his wife, can’t I be his concubine? Brother, I like Seventeen. I want to marry him!”

Sheng Yunting became furious: “If you’re still my sister, Sheng Yunting’s sister, don’t ever say that again! Listen to me. Though our Sheng family is poor, our daughters do not become concubines!”

Ah’man was stunned, and her eyes immediately reddened. Though Sheng Yunting somewhat regretted his harsh words, he still said firmly: “Ah’man, one may be poor in possessions but must not be short in ambition. You can like someone, but you can’t throw away your self-respect for the one you like, willingly becoming someone’s concubine. You must first respect yourself before others will respect you. Otherwise, your feelings will only touch you and no one else. Do you understand?”

Ah’man seemed to comprehend yet not fully understand. Sheng Yunting said: “Go now. In the future, you’ll understand my words.”

Ah’man bit her lip and nodded. She clutched her bundle, climbed onto the cart, and the cart moved forward. She lifted the curtain and looked back, seeing that her brother was still standing there, watching her, unwilling to leave. Ah’man’s nose stung with emotion. She leaned out and shouted: “Brother, I’ll remember your words.”

“Brother, I will respect and love myself! Don’t worry!”

With the girl’s earnest calls echoing, the cart’s wheels slowly carried her away from Qingzhou.

Later, as Ah’man grew older, she increasingly understood her brother’s words from that time.

One must first respect oneself before others will respect you.

She would no longer be willing to become a concubine just because she liked a man.

She was no longer willing to be anyone’s concubine.

However, that lotus hairpin was still carefully kept under her pillow, treasured.

Later still came Luoyan Ridge.

Her brother died, Cao Wu died, and that spirited youth, Cui Wangshu, transformed from the pure, unattainable moonlight in her heart to mud that everyone despised. After countless nights of bitter weeping, she threw that lotus hairpin into a pond, where it sank into the mud, never to be found again.