Blackstone
The land in the three towns of Heshuo is as hard as frozen bones. The wind blowing on the face, carrying sand and gravel, is painful.
Song Yaoer supported her mother Chen as they walked among the group of escorting official slaves, their ankles still bore red marks from the shackles, and the coarse prison uniforms on their bodies had long lost their original color.
Chen's face was pale, and Song Yaoer was holding on to her body with all her strength. They were driven towards a border military town called "Black Stone Fort".
This will be the end of their slavery.
Blackstone Castle lived up to its name, with walls built of rough black stones and the air filled with a foul smell mixed with animal feces and sweat.
Song Yaoer and her mother were assigned to the most difficult and tiring laundry room, where they had to deal with freezing river water, heavy clothes, and the supervisor's rude scolding all day long.
Her fingers were swollen and white, her joints were painful, and her back felt like it would break at any time. Chen's body quickly collapsed, and her coughing sounded particularly miserable in the night.
Just when Song Yaoer was in despair, a team led by Zhou Jianjun appeared.
He was the leader of a squad stationed at Blackstone Castle. He was in his thirties, tall and strong, with a thick stubble that almost covered half of his face. His eyes were not as cloudy as those of other soldiers, but rather a bit dazed.
He always happened to pass by when Song Yaoer went to the river to fetch water or hang out clothes to dry.
At first he just watched from a distance, but later he would silently help her carry the heavy bucket, or when the supervisor scolded her too much, he would cough and glare at her.
As time went by, gossip gradually began to spread in the fort.
Song Yaoer was just wary and uneasy at first, but apart from occasionally helping out, Zhou Jianjun did not do anything more excessive, and there was no naked desire in his eyes.
Finally, one evening, Zhou Jianjun did not just pass by as usual. He walked straight to Song Yaoer who was struggling to wash a large basin of military uniforms.
"Miss Song."
Song Yaoer's heart skipped a beat and she raised her head alertly, but her hands did not stop moving. The water was very cold and her fingers turned red from the cold.
Zhou Jianjun rubbed his calloused hands together, as if he had made up his mind. He spoke quickly, as if afraid of being interrupted: "My name is Zhou Jianjun, and I'm the captain of the left team in the fort. I, I'm attracted to you!"
Song Yaoer's face turned pale instantly and her heart sank.
Is what is supposed to come still here?
"I know you are from Beijing and you are in trouble now." Zhou Jianjun seemed not to notice her pale face and continued to speak anxiously.
"I'm in my thirties and still haven't found a wife. I want to marry you and make you my wife!" His face flushed a little.
Song Yaoer was stunned. Marry her? Become his legal wife?
She looked at the unshaven, rugged man before her. They were official slaves, so how could they possibly get married? This was simply a fantasy.
"I went to see my superior, Captain Li, and he agreed! He said that as long as you agree, it can be done!" He took a breath, staring at Song Yaoer eagerly, "Also! I can find a way to get your mother out! So that she won't have to do this hard labor anymore!"
"My family lives in the small courtyard we were given in the fort. It's old and shabby, but it's habitable. From now on, the three of us will live together! I have a military salary. It's not much, but it will definitely keep you well fed and clothed."
Song Yaoer looked at her mother.
Chen also heard it. She stopped coughing, moved her lips a few times, and finally said nothing, just looked at her daughter sadly.
She looked at Zhou Jianjun again.
There was no intimacy on his face, only tension.
Those eyes, set against the rough stubble, actually showed a kind of clumsy sincerity.
Song Yaoer lowered her eyes and was silent for a long time, so long that Zhou Jianjun almost thought there was no hope, and sweat broke out on his forehead.
Finally, she raised her head: "Okay. I promise you."
Zhou Jianjun was stunned at first, but then a huge ecstasy washed over his rugged face. He rubbed his hands and grinned, "Good! Good! That's great! I'll take care of it right away. Don't worry! I, Zhou Jianjun, always keep my word!"
The wedding was hasty and simple.
Zhou Jianjun took out the meager salary he had saved for a long time, borrowed some money from a few brothers he was on good terms with, and set up three tables for a banquet.
There was no sedan chair, no phoenix corona, Song Yaoer just changed into a half-new red jacket and skirt made of coarse cloth that Zhou Jianjun had gritted his teeth to buy.
Zhou Jianjun also managed to bring Chen out of the laundry room, changed into cleaner clothes, and sat at the main table. Her face was still pale, but the deathly look in her eyes seemed to have faded a little.
The banquet was filled with the rough sounds of the soldiers playing finger-guessing games and noisy calls for drinking. The wine was low-quality Shaodaozi, and the dishes were simple stewed meat, pickled vegetables and millet rice.
Zhou Jianjun's face was flushed red and his tongue was a little tied, but his eyes were surprisingly bright and he kept looking at Song Yaoer who was sitting next to Chen.
Song Yaoer lowered her head and ate in small bites. There was deafening noise in her ears, but her heart was confused. She had become Zhou Jianjun's wife.
"Sister-in-law, come here, let me toast you! Brother Zhou is a real man, you will be right if you follow him!" A drunk soldier came over with a bowl.
Song Yaoer stood up in panic, at a loss.
Zhou Jianjun pushed the man away and yelled, reeking of alcohol: "Go away! Don't scare my wife!"
He staggered over to Song Yaoer and clumsily patted her shoulder. His voice was drunken but unusually serious: "Yaoer, this will be your home from now on! I...I will definitely treat you well! And treat our mother well!"
Song Yaoer looked at him and hummed softly.
The days began in the military fort with some bumps and bruises.
Zhou Jianjun really kept his promise. I don’t know what method he used, probably some money, to help Chen completely break away from being a government slave and live in this small courtyard with a legitimate reason.
Song Yaoer became Zhou Jianjun's wife and a member of the team leader's family.
The main theme of life became doing housework, taking care of the mother, and waiting for the husband to come home.
Zhou Jianjun's salary was low, and life was tight. A simple diet of millet rice, pickled cabbage, and the occasional stew with a bit of meat was the norm. Song Yaoer learned to be frugal and tried her best to make hot meals.
Zhou Jianjun was a rough man who didn't understand romance, but he had his own good qualities. When his salary came down, he would only keep a few copper coins for himself to buy some low-quality tobacco leaves, and give the rest to Song Yaoer.
Even if he was upset outside, he would never take it out on her or Chen when he got home. Knowing that she was afraid of the cold, she would go early in the winter to get the allocated low-quality charcoal. Although it produced a lot of smoke, it could always keep the earthen kang warm.
He was strong and never let her do the heavy work at home. Sometimes when he came back at night, he would take out an oil-paper bag from his arms, which might contain half a block of malt sugar bought in town, or a few wrinkled fruits. He would silently stuff it into Song Yaoer's pocket, and then squat at the door to smoke a pipe, the fire flickering in the darkness.
Song Yaoer's heart gradually settled down in the triviality and dullness of the day after day. At least, they were alive. Her mother no longer had to suffer.
This rough soldier, in his clumsy way, provided them with a shelter from the wind and rain. She began to get used to this home, the smell of the earthen kang, and the scent of Zhou Jianjun.
Sometimes, watching him eat with big mouthfuls and listening to him telling crude jokes about the camp, she would even vaguely think that maybe this was fate.
As autumn deepened, the wind in Heshuo became more and more biting. Zhou Jianjun returned home later and later, and the worry on his face grew more and more day by day.
That evening, he pushed open the creaking gate, his face as gloomy as the bottom of a pot.
Song Yaoer was simmering a pot of thin millet porridge by the stove. Noticing that he looked unhappy, she put down her spoon, wiped her hands on her apron, and asked, "What's wrong? Is things not going well in the camp today?"
He sighed heavily, his voice hoarse: "Successful? Successful bullshit!"
He scratched his hair irritably, "Yao'er, something's wrong, very wrong!"
"What's wrong?"
Zhou Jianjun gritted his teeth, "The food and fodder that should have arrived at the beginning of the month has been delayed again and again! Only a little bit arrived today, and it's not even enough to fill the gaps between our teeth!"
He spat bitterly, "Captain Li is terribly worried. It seems the higher-ups have forgotten about us! Military pay has been in arrears for almost two months."
Song Yaoer's heart sank as well. Without food and money, the army would be in chaos, and their lives would be even worse.
"There's also mobilization, which doesn't seem right!" Zhou Jianjun lowered his voice. "Brothers from the surrounding forts have quietly passed on the news that the higher-ups are constantly mobilizing troops! The supplies are dwindling, and there's no sign of reinforcements. Damn it!"
He punched the earthen wall next to him, causing the wall to fall off.
Song Yaoer's face turned pale.
"Are you saying that the imperial court no longer cares about us?"
"Do you care?" Zhou Jianjun laughed bitterly. "I think they wish we'd die here!"
"Then what should we do?" Her voice trembled a little.
Zhou Jianjun was silent for a long time, his eyes falling on Song Yaoer's face full of panic. He shouldn't have said these things to scare her.
"Don't be afraid, I'm not kidding you. I'm here! I'm the captain of the team, and I have dozens of brothers under my command! We have knives in our hands! As long as I'm still alive, I will protect you and your mother!" he said.
As the days slipped into early winter, the food reserves in the fort were running out.
There was no food to eat, and all the tree bark had been eaten, but the food and fodder from the court still had not arrived.
It was an exceptionally cold night. The north wind howled like ghosts and wolves, swirling outside the fortress wall, picking up snow foam and gravel on the ground, and whipping them against the earthen wall, making crackling sounds.
Song Yaoer and her mother squeezed on the earthen kang, covered with all the worn-out quilts in the house to keep out the cold, but they were still shivering from the cold.
Zhou Jianjun was on duty tonight and didn't come back. She always felt that there seemed to be something else mixed in the whistling wind.
Sudden!
A sharp sound pierced everyone's eardrum!
Qiang flute!
It is the Qiang flute of the Western Qiang people!
Almost at the same moment the Qiang flute sounded, the courtyard door was slammed open! Zhou Jianjun rushed in like a mad beast!
"Here they come! Quick! The Xiqiang dogs are coming! Get into the cellar!"
Outside, the sound was no longer the wind! Instead, it was the clatter of hooves. Flames ignited outside the fortress walls, spreading at an alarming speed, illuminating the pitch-black night sky in a blood-red glow!
The roar of killing shook the heavens! The piercing sound of weapons clashing, the screams of the dying...
"Hurry!" Zhou Jianjun pushed the still dazed Chen down roughly, then turned around and grabbed Song Yaoer's arm.
"Yao'er! Go down! Protect your mother!"
She looked up in horror, and with the help of the firelight coming in from outside the door, she saw that there was a deep cut on Zhou Jianjun's forehead, and blood was flowing down his cheek. His sword was unsheathed, and blood was dripping from the tip of the sword.
"Go in! Don't come out!" Zhou Jianjun took one last look at her, pushed her completely into the dark cellar entrance, and then turned around and covered her with the heavy wooden board!
"Jianjun!" Song Yaoer cried in the darkness, but the only response she got was the sounds of fighting and explosions outside the wooden board.
Dark, cold, suffocating.
Time was infinitely stretched in extreme fear, and every minute and every second was torture.
After an unknown amount of time, the noise outside gradually changed.
The deafening roar of bloodshed subsided, replaced by the unbridled laughter of the Western Qiang people, the clatter of looting and rummaging through boxes, the shrill cries of women, and the desperate wails...
Thick smoke began to seep in through the cracks in the cellar cover, choking them and causing them to cough violently and tears to stream. After what seemed like a century, the heavy cover above their heads was violently opened with a "clang"!
They looked up in horror, against the light, and saw a tall and burly figure standing at the entrance of the cellar. He was wearing leather armor decorated with animal skins, a felt hat on his head, and a scimitar in his hand that was still dripping with blood.
This is a Western Qiang officer.
He spoke in stiff Chinese with a thick foreign accent, and he shouted condescendingly, "Whoever's inside! Come out!"
Song Yaoer's whole body was stiff, and the huge fear made her almost unable to move. Chen was so scared that she collapsed to the ground.
The officer cursed something impatiently, reached out and grabbed Song Yaoer's arm, pulled her out roughly like a chicken, and threw her hard on the cold ground.
Song Yaoer cried out in pain and struggled to raise her head.
The small courtyard illuminated by the fire was already in ruins.
Their two adobe houses had completely collapsed, with thick smoke billowing from the burning beams. Corpses lay scattered across the yard—all soldiers from the fort! Some were unrecognizable, some were missing limbs, and their blood soaked the frozen ground.
Her eyes scanned wildly, her heart pounding in her chest, searching for that familiar figure with a hint of desperate hope...
Found it!
In the corner of the courtyard wall, the man who once stood in front of her like a mountain was now lying there quietly, without a sound.
"Build an army!"
A foot in heavy leather boots stepped hard on her back, pressing her to the ground. The cold blade, with a strong smell of blood, pressed against her jaw, forcing her to raise her head.
The one who stepped on her was the Western Qiang officer.
He leaned down and forced her to look into his eyes.
"See clearly, little girl?" He grinned, revealing his sharp white teeth, and said in a hoarse and unpleasant voice, "All the men in this town are dead."
He applied a little force with the tip of his knife, leaving a shallow blood mark on her fair skin, and his eyes swept over the mess and corpses on the ground.
"From now on," he grinned, "I have the final say here. You all belong to me!"
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