The evening glow at dusk cast a thin gilding over rivers and hills, the forest gradually stilling as birds chased the deepening shadows. The ancient road was clean and bare, dust rising faintly as travelers cleared the way—the journey went smoothly the whole way, until Emperor Wu, Yang Zao, having gathered up his old blades, traveled swiftly all the way to the edge of Yanjing City before finally halting the imperial carriage and horses.
It wasn’t that those broken officials at the Ministry of Rites had made some fuss again, spouting some nonsense about the hour not yet being right and entry into the city being forbidden.
Rather, it was that ever since youth he had harbored great ambitions, secretly scheming in private—from raising an army at Shaoshang, through campaign after campaign, to ascending the throne as Emperor, and thereafter tangled in endless trivial matters—until today, having buried Tan Shize, Emperor Wu Yang Zao found himself heading back, and at the sight of the distant hills bathed in evening glow, his heart suddenly grew clear and light.
It was as if he had set something down, and from this moment drew a line between the past and now.
Yes—Tan Shize, who had campaigned together with him, was dead. From this point on, a new journey began.
What was past was past. From now on, it was up to him to see where he would drive this carriage called Liang.
Yong’an was the era name he had adopted upon changing the reign title, the symbol of Emperor Wu’s own age—henceforth each emperor would have one reign, one era name.
As for the name of the state, “Liang,” it came from the ancient prefecture of Duliang, where Emperor Wu’s ancestors had lived for generations. From this point forward, all under heaven belonged to the Liang dynasty.
His Majesty descended from the carriage and made his way slowly to the edge of the ancient river beside the old road. Seeing the clear water and the beautiful scenery all around, he had a low platform set up and three folding screens arranged, intending to watch the sunset and take his evening meal there.
His Majesty ate simply. After eating a little at his leisure, he looked around and asked Zhang Minwang: “Those few who are usually jumping around everywhere—why haven’t I seen any of them today?”
The ones His Majesty spoke of were the three children who had grown up at his side, raised in the same manner as the imperial princes: the youngest son of the founding earl Chang Mianshen, Chang Lianfang; the grandson of Grand Tutor Li Zhang, Li Jinggui; and the grandnephew of Empress Dowager Zheng, Zheng A’man.
Many children had been sent along in the early years, but afterward, for various reasons, many had left—war made death unavoidable—and now only these three remained.
Though outsiders spoke of the imperial family’s affairs as all sorts of mysterious and complicated, in truth, the relationship between His Majesty and his official mother, Empress Dowager Zheng, had always been good. This good relationship came from the fact that the Yang family had been reduced to a single scion in a thousand li of scorched earth—whether it was meant to be good or not, it had to be good regardless.
Lady Zheng herself had raised and nurtured the Emperor, and she was a formidable woman in her own right. After the Emperor raised his army, her natal family had given him full backing from behind the scenes. Grateful, the Emperor had taken several of Empress Dowager Zheng’s grandnephews in to be raised at his side.
Empress Dowager Zheng held her proper rank, and with the merit of having raised him, plus the fact that by ritual propriety she counted as the Emperor’s mother—this was how it came to be that when there was trouble within the palace, the Emperor’s birth mother, Lady Jiang, had taken the opportunity to leave the city and now lived in the hills outside Yanjing.
That old lady hadn’t wanted to make things difficult for her own son.
It had always been the Emperor’s practice to help raise the children of those close to him—in the shadows, this carried the implication of hostages in a mutual pact of support, but Yang Zao wasn’t a man of such dark calculation. The children had been sent by those close ministers of their own accord, and he had simply gone along with the current.
He truly raised them as his own sons.
Once each family had gradually come to understand his temperament and character, they naturally took their children back home.
Circumstances differed from family to family, and in the end, only A’man remained among the maternal relatives’ children—a handsome child who looked almost like a little girl, who loved most of all to scheme behind people’s backs and come up with cunning tricks, yet His Majesty found him endlessly entertaining.
There was also Li Jinggui, born into a family of great Confucian scholars, who nonetheless loved most of all to brawl with the imperial princes. In his early years, not knowing restraint, he’d drawn plenty of blood, and together with the princes, the lot of them would wail before His Majesty, each taking turns lodging complaints, demanding he render justice.
As for Chang Lianfang, he was an extreme war enthusiast, wanting to charge onto whatever battlefield there was, carrying his own head to present before His Majesty every day, showing off and currying favor.
In the end, they were all his own to raise—however he looked at it, he found them endlessly amusing. And so, having gone a whole day without seeing the children, His Majesty found himself thinking of them.
Things were different now from before—he could no longer, as in the past, casually call one of his actual sons to his side to dote on freely.
There was no help for it—he could only play with other families’ children for amusement instead.
Looking for them like this—this was a sign of a good mood.
Zhang Minwang smiled and came over to say quietly: “They slipped off early. They’re sulking with a few of the young lords—none of them came today.”
Hearing this, His Majesty laughed: “Children! Making a fuss over nothing, good one moment, bad the next! It’s not like the old days, when we were trapped together, you carrying me on your back, me carrying you, sleeping on a mountainside at night huddled together for warmth, holding each other’s stinking feet, calling each other ‘brother’ so sweetly. Never mind them—call them all in, I’ll let them see the old blades, let these little brats open their eyes a bit.”
His Majesty knew perfectly well, behind the scenes, whatever went on between these children—good or bad, fragrant or foul.
Those children from the Feng, Liu, and Yue families who had once left had gradually returned one by one. The little ones felt that, having grown up alongside the imperial princes, they ought to be closer to them still.
But now that the realm was newly settled, the rewards for the maternal relatives’ families had also been distributed, and their status had also been fixed. The second empress Consort Cao, who had borne three princesses, and the natal family of Consort Cao, Worthy Consort and mother of the ninth prince Xuan He; the natal family of Consort Liu, mother of the fifth prince; the natal family of Consort Feng, mother of the seventh prince—naturally, relying on their old ties, they wished to draw close once more to their own cousins.
The little ones felt some jealousy over this in their hearts. That morning they’d gone out together, seen the princes surrounded by such liveliness, and, feeling put out, they’d turned around and gone off with their fathers and brothers to the three families instead.
Anyone else who received an imperial summons to accompany the Emperor would have been overjoyed, and no less awed and reverent, fearing the slightest carelessness might offend His Majesty or cause some embarrassment.
But these few had the nerve to simply leave when they felt like it.
His Majesty knew they were just being willful and wasn’t angry in the least—he simply had someone sent to call them back at once, like an old father sharing something delicious with his children.
Before long, three young masters in informal dress, each with an unhappy expression, slowly made their way into the tent enclosure.
The one leading wore a golden coronet, a large red robe embroidered with flying fish in brocaded finery, a wide belt of white jade with flying fish patterns at the waist, colorful boots on his feet, a silver fish pouch hung at his waist, along with a few small trinkets—what looked like an exquisite fire-striker set with coral, and a small knife inlaid with tourmaline for cutting meat… A vivid, resplendent outfit that couldn’t hide his willow-like slender waist, his delicate brows and eyes, features refined to an extreme degree, like a girl dressed as a boy—this was Zheng A’man, doted upon by a household of women, the very heart and treasure of Empress Dowager Zheng.
Following close behind him, tall and straight in bearing, thick-browed and large-eyed, wearing a small golden coronet, dressed in a wide-sleeved robe of blue with peony patterns, a golden belt at his waist, a silver fish pouch and a small brocade leather pouch hung at his side as well—this one smiled the moment he stood still, showing a full row of neat white teeth, with two particularly large front teeth standing out, such that anyone with poor eyesight might mistake him for a rabbit spirit in human form.
The last one, naturally, was Chang Lianfang. He too had dressed handsomely today—changed from his funeral attire into clothes fit for an audience, though not so formal, wearing a narrow-sleeved dark robe embroidered with kirin as one might wear before a family elder, a small jade coronet on his head, thick white-soled martial boots, a silver fish pouch at his waist as well—but today he had in his arms an object, a five-catty silver-mouthed gourd flask of Yaozhou ware.
Don’t be fooled by their young-lord appearance—each of them, in fact, held genuine official rank, holding real military posts as well. These weren’t men relying merely on ancestral privilege; by seniority, each of them counted among the veterans. Were it not for their age, and for their fathers’ and elder brothers’ senior positions holding them back, they would have been promoted faster than anyone.
Privately, court officials had already remarked among themselves that, so long as these few didn’t get entangled in whatever troubles lay ahead, they were shaping up to be pillars of the court across three generations.
The children paid their proper respects earnestly, and after rising, His Majesty said to Chang Lianfang: “What’s that you’re holding?”
Chang Lianfang smiled and darted immediately to His Majesty’s side, opened the stopper of the gourd, and fanned the scent toward him with his palm, saying: “Smell it, smell it!”
His Majesty took a sniff and laughed: “You little rascal! Where’d you get such fine wine? This must be over twenty years old. Weren’t you off attending a funeral today? Whose wine cellar did you go rob?”
Chang Lianfang grinned but didn’t hand the gourd to His Majesty—instead he gave it to Zhang Minwang.
Things were different now from before. Back then, if they brought something delicious for His Majesty, he’d take it right up and eat it.
Now His Majesty had eunuchs to test for poison. What’s more, whatever His Majesty ate or used had to be arranged only after the imperial physicians took his pulse each day.
They couldn’t just offer things casually anymore.
Zhang Minwang took the gourd and praised: “Hm, I knew our Third Young Lord was a filial one, knowing His Majesty’s taste for this.”
Hearing this, Chang Lianfang laughed: “Of course!”
Having said this, he leaned on the low table before His Majesty to claim credit: “Your Majesty, you don’t know—today when I went, the rites arranged up front were so fussy. Lord Tan listened to some Daoist priest’s instructions, one moment telling us to stand on the left, the next saying the direction was wrong.
This one truly did admire the Second General’s character, and wanted to go pay proper respects. Hmph! But even the most respectful heart got worn down by that family. Afterward I thought again—today I’m accompanying Your Majesty on this trip… there’s no rule saying I have to go along with the ministers to the funeral! So I just left.”
That year at the Tongyan Mountain east ferry crossing, pursuers behind, no ferry ahead—that time His Majesty had been wounded, cut off from his personal guard, with only a dozen or so child soldiers at his side.
Who could have imagined that this group of teenage children, carrying and dragging him along, pursued and killed one by one along the way, would use their own shoulders to bear His Majesty across the river when they reached the crossing—swept away partway by the rushing current, until only three remained.
After returning, the Grand Marshal had formally set up an ancestral altar and adopted all the children as his own sons—whether alive or dead, they were all his children.
Now, the remains of these children were all to be given a place in the new imperial mausoleum grounds, reserved for them.
And so, Chang Lianfang and the other two called themselves “son” before His Majesty, while the actual imperial princes referred to themselves as “your subject son” instead.
These few children were clever—outside, before others, they always called themselves “subject” or “this humble general.” But once it was just the two, just the few of them alone with him, it was always “son,” though they never called him “father”—still addressing him as “His Majesty.”
Both sides were satisfied with this arrangement, and the imperial princes were satisfied with it too.
Hearing Chang Lianfang let his tongue slip, His Majesty tapped him on the forehead.
Chang Lianfang laughed: “Hey! My heart is more sincere than that family’s! Just the other day I knelt reciting scripture for General Tan for a whole hour…” He gestured vaguely behind him: “The two of them knelt together with me, over at Huguo Temple, and we even burned Buddhist scriptures we’d copied out by hand ourselves, to help the Great General pass on.”
His Majesty smiled, nodding with relief: “As it should be. Your sincerity will surely please Second General Tan’s spirit in heaven—he watched you all grow up too… ah, hardly any of the old ones are left now… if An’er and the others were still here, how much livelier, how much happier this would be.”
Seeing His Majesty grow sorrowful again, Zheng A’man kicked Chang Lianfang, who patted his own forehead and quickly pointed at the wine gourd, which hadn’t been taken away and was still held, smiling, in Zhang Minwang’s hands:
“Speaking of coincidences! With nothing better to do, I took some men around looking. Hey! You wouldn’t have guessed it—all around the three families’ district there used to be old wine shops, several century-old brands two or three hundred years old. Knowing you love this, I took men around searching for it, and it turned out to be your good fortune—there’s an old shop there, a family named Dai who’d just returned to their hometown. I had someone knock on their door and ask if they had any good wine—here, just a bit of dregs from the bottom of a jar, but I brought it all here for you.”
His Majesty grew pleased at this, asking: “You mean to say, common folk have already started returning to their hometowns?”
Zheng A’man came over to sit by His Majesty’s leg, nodding: “There are. Several of the old shops on the streets of Yanjing have already opened up for business. I went in to look, and there was nothing there at all! Just a bare-shelved shopkeeper standing there—I looked at him, he looked at me!”
His Majesty patted his leg, drew in a breath with relief, and said: “As long as there are some, that’s good! Where there’s one household, there’ll be a second…”
Seeing that he was about to bring up matters of court again, Li Jinggui quickly interjected: “Your Majesty, son hears you took the Tan family’s old blades away today?”
Standing to one side, Zhang Minwang burst out laughing when he heard this.
His Majesty pointed at them and snorted: “You little rascals—if I handled it so cleanly, where were you lot squatting the whole time?”
Chang Lianfang blinked: “Heh heh, we were off listening to stories with Sixth Immortal, hearing he’d missed out on Duonu and was beating his chest with regret over it. Besides! We had no summons, we hardly dared come over on our own! Your Majesty, what do the old blades look like?”
Hearing this question, His Majesty pictured the look of Chen Dasheng and the others for a moment. He’d meant to call them pitiable, but felt that would be a kind of disrespect after all. Thinking it over seriously in his heart, he introduced them solemnly instead:
“They look like blades. You lot have always run wild and lawless—from now on, when you meet them, even though their rank is lower than yours, and though the company they keep is different from yours, still, you must show them some respect… they are, after all, men of true and genuine merit. It’s only a pity that the Tan family has always governed its troops this way—sometimes, even knowing of it, I couldn’t very well interfere too much… these are men of iron resolve who’ve endured great suffering. There’s much good in them—you’ll come to see it slowly over time, and you ought to learn from it…”
Having said this, His Majesty suddenly began to laugh, a smile containing many meanings—like a mouse stealing oil, though that comparison would hardly be respectful, and yet it was exactly that sort of smile.
After all, the Long Blade Battalion was the soul of the Tan family—only with the Long Blade intact was the Tan family army truly whole.
Now that he’d lured these men away, that soul belonged to him instead.
Rather than putting these old blades to use charging into battle, His Majesty preferred in his heart to place these men somewhere visible, to take proper, thorough care of them—this would work wonders in winning over the hearts of the whole army.
Thinking of the shabby state of those men, His Majesty went on with a long string of instructions, telling them not to be disrespectful, not to turn up their noses at the smell, and so on.
Finally Zheng A’man threw a bit of a fit and muttered: “Your Majesty! Son has also come back from the battlefield!”
Well, only he could get away with throwing a tantrum like that so freely.
His Majesty laughed and shook his head, giving the order: “This unruly temper! Go call Zeng Anbang here, and bring those few blades too—see how their meal is going. If they’re full, call them over; if not, then… call them over anyway. Just don’t let them stuff themselves so much they hurt their stomachs.”
Zhang Minwang smiled and went off. Before long, the Left Vice Minister of War, Zeng Anbang, arrived first.
Left Vice Minister Zeng Anbang currently also oversaw the Imperial Bodyguard Corps.
The so-called Imperial Bodyguard Corps was directly managed by the Emperor himself, with the Ministry of War assisting, not counted among the five main armies—responsible only for guarding the Emperor and the palace, patrols, ceremonial functions, and the like.
In short, the troops kept up the Emperor’s own sleeve—also, across successive dynasties, the force the Emperor trusted most of all.
Like the Imperial Guard, the Golden Feathered Guard, and similar forces surrounding emperors throughout history—all such troops came from the Imperial Bodyguard.
At the same time, when the sons of meritorious military families grew up, the best place to first accumulate seniority was also the Imperial Bodyguard Corps.
After paying his respects to His Majesty, Right Vice Minister of War Zeng Anbang got up beaming, rubbing his hands together as he said: “Your Majesty—this, is this being given to our corps?”
Seeing his delight, the Emperor already knew how eagerly the men below must be scrambling for this, and teased him with a smile: “Don’t want it, then? I’ll give it to…”
Zeng Anbang hastily waved his hands and cupped his fists: “No, no! Your Majesty, this subject is overjoyed—those are Second Tan’s blades, who wouldn’t love them! This subject loves them to death. I promise you, just leave them in my hands, and within three years—no, two years! I’ll forge you a second Long Blade Battalion for certain!”
So this was indeed how these people thought.
His Majesty smiled, reached out to take the silver wine flask Zhang Minwang handed him, poured himself a cup with his own hand, drank it, and smacked his lips. He first nodded to Chang Lianfang and gave him a wink.
Seeing the child so pleased made him happy too.
After drinking two more cups at his leisure, His Majesty sighed: “You think too highly of this—unfortunately, there’ll never be old blades like these again!”
Zeng Anbang’s face showed confusion, and he was just about to ask, cupping his hands, when he heard His Majesty say leisurely: “Unless there’s a second man who rebels against me, unless there’s another former dynasty’s iron cavalry to sharpen your blades on for you… tsk… old blades like these can’t be easily had. Who knows how Tan Shouyi raised his sons—one turned out like this, the other like that. The good one died a good death… the rotten one… never mind, I won’t say more.”
Forget it, His Majesty didn’t want to say any more.
Zeng Anbang was stunned for only a moment before he understood, and understanding it, his heart grew solemn and heavy. He nodded gravely: “Indeed—there’ll never be old blades like these again.”
He cupped his hands to ask for instructions: “Yet this subject does not know how Your Majesty wishes them arranged. This subject is dull-witted, and fears that arranging them carelessly might delay Your Majesty’s great affairs.”
Hearing this, His Majesty smiled: “Hm, on the day they followed their Second General charging in through the south gate—let them stand watch at the south gate, then.”
“Yes!”
“As for… their positions, I’ll arrange that later myself. As for the men themselves, they must be distinguished from ordinary bodyguards.”
“This subject is dull-witted—how might I distinguish them?”
His Majesty stood and paced back and forth a few times on the ground, then finally made up his mind, sat back down on the low couch, and instructed: “The seven of them shall receive double the rations of a fifth-rank bodyguard. Your bodyguard office has courtyards too—pick a good one and have them live there together, and they mustn’t be separated…”
“Yes!”
“Also, there’s no need to treat them as too special—just don’t let them suffer any hardship. Impress upon the men below to show them respect at every turn, not to be careless with them, and make sure they’re given the best food, the best of everything. On duty days, don’t tire them out either—just have them stand in a row somewhere during the great court assemblies, that’s all.”
Now Zeng Anbang was thoroughly confused—was this training bodyguards, or raising pampered young masters?
He looked up and cupped his hands: “This… is this appropriate?”
His Majesty smiled helplessly: “Oh, you’d have me put them to work? Arranging duties for them carrying blades? Sending them out on patrol everywhere? Zeng Anbang! You stubborn fool! Think about it—how did Second Tan train his troops? What sort of men are these? What kind of blades are they?
Their heads are thicker than yours, they can’t even read, and they don’t know how to adapt to circumstances! Tomorrow, if some slight commotion arises—say, a few of those officials who’d rather die remonstrating, ah, you understand—there are quite a few hot-tempered ministers among the court officials who’ve caused no end of trouble, and, and those men from the Censorate too! By the time anyone’s even started jumping around, before I can even react, their blades will already be out, and by then, heh heh! You’d better be prepared to collect corpses at court every single day!!”
Not even whole corpses—sixteen pieces at the least.
At this, Zeng Anbang no longer found it pleasant. Thinking it over carefully, his face grew paler and paler, and he cautiously pleaded: “Your Majesty, if that’s how it is, this subject—this subject truly dares not accept them. Might it not be better to send them out to the camps outside the city, where they can be free and at ease?”
His Majesty cursed in frustration: “Zeng Anbang! You stubborn fool! Those are the Tan family’s old blades—of course they must be brought back here, properly oiled and their edges cared for! You just make sure to take good care of them, keep them polished and presentable, and station them right at my great south gate!
Right at the gate, understand? Those are the blades that wiped out eight thousand of Hongshun’s iron cavalry! The seven of them are worth ten thousand troops! Placing them at the south gate is to show all under heaven! To show those with treacherous intentions! To show any remnant enemies! My palace gate is the hardest gate under heaven! Let’s see who among them dares come test their blades!”
As His Majesty said this, his chest heaved violently. Having finished, pleased with himself once more, he drank another cup.
Zeng Anbang was thoroughly subdued now. He nodded and knelt again, saying: “Your Majesty, calm your anger. This subject understands now.”
His Majesty nodded: “Good, as long as you understand. Now go and do it—hm… make them the gentle sheath outside the blood sheath!”
What sort of nonsensical phrase was this now—Zeng Anbang was troubled to no end.
While he was still troubled by this, someone outside came to report that Chen Dasheng and the others had arrived.
Hearing this, His Majesty broke at once into a beaming smile and said repeatedly: “Good, good, good, bring them in, bring them in.”
Before long, a foul odor entered ahead of them, and Chen Dasheng and the others still wore that same foolish look.
There was no help for it—no amount of quick tidying could clean these men up. Besides, they were hungry too.
His Majesty was a good master—he’d already had them properly fed first, being practical about it.
Chen Dasheng and the others came in holding their stomachs. The kitchen had already brought them a great basin of mutton, half a basin of rice, and all sorts of pastries besides, to eat as they pleased.
Never having seen such extravagance before, they’d buried their faces in the food and were still eating even now.
The moment they entered the room, they knelt in reverent worship to their new master.
What a good man their new master was—so very good!
By the time they lifted their heads, Guan Si’er was heard to let out a belch.
The boy had never belched before in his life, and after doing so, covered his mouth in shock, twisting his face to look at his own leader. His leader had never eaten his fill before either, so how would he know what a belch even was.
Watching them like this, His Majesty smiled, both pleased with himself and satisfied, and asked: “Chen Dasheng! Have you all eaten your fill…”
Before His Majesty could finish speaking, someone beside him cried out in surprise: “Chen Dasheng?”
Chang Lianfang’s expression looked utterly genuine. He gave a shout, immediately walked over, and examined Chen Dasheng’s grimy face closely from all sides, then finally, voice trembling, asked: “Are you… Brother Stinkhead?”
Chen Dasheng blinked, pinched his own thigh, and holding back a swirl of emotions, looked at Chang Lianfang and murmured: “Little, little Flower? Little brother?”
Zheng A’man, sitting on the low couch, rolled with laughter—because of that nickname “Little Flower,” Chang Lianfang had gotten into countless fights with people over the years.
Everyone assumed Chang Lianfang would fly into a rage at once—even His Majesty leapt to his feet, fearing Chang Lianfang might throw a punch, or that blades might be drawn over there…
Instead, Chang Lianfang burst into tears: “Brother Stinkhead! Waah, Second Brother! It’s really you!!”
Chen Choutou nodded: “Yes, it’s me!”
He wasn’t much good at acting—his voice flat and stiff—while only Chang Lianfang performed with all his heart.
“But, aren’t you—aren’t you… Big Brother Meng told me you were doing fine? How did you end up like this? You, you, you actually joined the Long Blade Battalion? My, my father lied to me—I asked him to look into it before, and he said you were doing just fine, he never told me you’d, how did you end up in the Long Blade Battalion?
Just a few days ago I even saw A’Nai, oh, right, right, Brother Stinkhead, did the letter Sister-in-law asked my father to bring you ever reach you? Do you know that A’Nai found you a wife…”
Chang Lianfang, quite agitated, tried very hard to clear his own family’s name of any involvement in this whole old-blades affair. But His Majesty interrupted from above: “Flower, Flower, child! You—you two know each other?”
Chang Lianfang, not yet troubling himself over this form of address, turned around with tears streaming down his face, pointing very emotionally at Chen Dasheng: “Your Majesty, do you remember that matter I told you about once, about the new recruits’ camp?”
Having said this, he pulled open his clothes to reveal a scar, pointing at it: “Your subject told you—back then, there was another one who cried his way onto the battlefield just like me, and it was this Stinkhead here, oh, Brother Dasheng—back then he was still called Stinkhead. If Brother Dasheng hadn’t risked his own life to save me back then, dragging me away and running, there’d be no me here today.”
Zheng A’man stopped laughing, and, somewhat embarrassed, sat up and asked, a little abashed: “So it was him—he’s the one who saved you? We’d all forgotten. I’m sorry about that—why didn’t you say so earlier, if we’d known…”
If they’d known—if they’d known, it wouldn’t have mattered anyway. Second Tan’s blades—no one could have taken them away, not even the Emperor himself, not back then.
Chang Lianfang nodded: “Yes, he saved me. We were both so young then, the two of us crying with tears and snot streaming, wailing as we ran. I kept bleeding the whole time, so frightened my legs went weak—if Brother Quanzi hadn’t come and carried me on his back afterward, the two of us would have died right there.”
No one spoke at this point—everyone’s mind held the same thought. Look at that! Born the same year—one had become heaven’s own favored child, the other had become a tool for killing.
In their minds, they seemed to glimpse a scene from many years ago without meaning to—two thin, weak boys, hand in hand, crying as they fled the battlefield.
But now, one lived a life so splendid, while the other had become a blade that had forgotten it was ever still a person.
(There, I’ve fixed it!)