Unfilial
Chu Yiran regained consciousness amidst a series of jolts.
The first sensation was excruciating pain, as if my entire body was falling apart, especially the wound in my abdomen, which felt like it had been repeatedly branded with a hot iron. Every jolt brought on excruciating agony. My throat was parched, and my eyelids felt as heavy as lead.
He struggled to lift a sliver of his eyelid, and the dim light revealed the familiar wood grain of the carriage roof.
"Ah Ran? You're awake?"
A hoarse, urgent voice rang in his ears, filled with unbelievable surprise. Chu Yiran turned his head with difficulty, meeting a pair of bloodshot eyes. Su Jing's face was inches away, his once handsome features now haggard, with dark stubble on his chin and cracked lips, only his eyes still shining brightly.
"Water..." Chu Yiran's voice was weak.
Su Jing immediately grabbed the water pouch, carefully lifted his head, and fed him water little by little.
"Where...is this?" Chu Yiran regained some consciousness.
"Ah Ran, don't worry, we're on our way home... You were unconscious for four whole days!" Su Jing's voice trembled with lingering fear. "Your high fever kept recurring, I..." He paused, his voice choked, "I was so scared of you..."
Chu Yiran's consciousness was shrouded in a thick fog; fragments of images flashed through his mind: swirling yellow sand, deafening battle cries, excruciating pain piercing his abdomen, and the figure standing in front of him—
Chu Yiran frowned and asked with difficulty, "Where... is my father?"
A hint of panic flashed in Su Jing's eyes, but she quickly reassured him, "Aran, you should get some rest."
Chu Yiran opened his mouth, but something seemed to block his throat. The next second, darkness swallowed him up again.
——
Chu Yiran's consciousness kept rising and falling. In his daze, he could no longer distinguish between dreams and reality. Many scenes flashed through his mind like a revolving lantern. Each brief moment of clarity was accompanied by a burning dryness in his throat and the excruciating pain of his wounds being torn apart. The bumpy carriage seemed endless, dragging him back into the abyss of unconsciousness time and time again.
He didn't know how much time had passed, but when he finally managed to open his eyes again, what came into view was no longer the swaying roof of the carriage, but the simple wooden beams of the inn's guest room. The air was filled with a strong smell of medicine.
"Thank goodness, Imperial Preceptor, you've finally woken up!" The military doctor standing by breathed a sigh of relief and quickly stepped forward to check his pulse.
Chu Yiran rolled his dry eyes and saw Su Jing sitting on a low stool by the bed, his eyes shadowed by deep shadows and his face exhausted, clearly having been watching over him for a long time. Seeing him awake, Su Jing's eyes lit up, and he immediately came over.
Chu Yiran's voice was hoarse, and her mind was still foggy: "We...we've arrived in Yanjing?"
“We’re still at a post station on the outskirts of Beijing,” Su Jing’s voice was equally hoarse, carrying a cautious reassurance, “Your injuries are too severe to withstand any more travel. We’ll rest here for a few days before returning to Beijing.”
Chu Yiran seemed to remember something, and frowned as she asked, "Where is my father?"
Su Jing's body visibly stiffened, and his gaze instinctively averted: "General Chu... he's injured and needs to rest. We'll meet again in a few days when you're feeling better..."
Before he could finish speaking, Chu Yiran, with a sudden burst of strength, struggled to get up: "I'll go see him!"
"Ah Ran, don't move!" Su Jing hurriedly pressed him down. "Your injuries haven't healed yet. The bumpy ride these past few days has caused your wounds to tear open repeatedly—"
Before he could finish speaking, Chu Yiran interrupted impatiently, "I need to see my father! Where is he?"
His eyes were fixed on Su Jing, his gaze as sharp as an ice-cold knife.
Su Jing felt exposed under his gaze. His lips moved a few times, but finally, as if all his strength had been drained, he lowered his eyes dejectedly and said in a hoarse voice, "...General Chu... died in battle."
These few words exploded in Chu Yiran's ears like a thunderclap!
He stood there, stunned, his pupils contracting sharply, seemingly unable to comprehend the meaning of those words. Several seconds later, an overwhelming grief, like a belated tsunami, suddenly engulfed him.
"No...impossible...absolutely impossible! My father was a master of martial arts, a god of war! He fought on the battlefield for over thirty years without incident, and you're telling me he died in battle? I don't believe it! I don't believe it—" he muttered to himself, then, as if grasping at the last straw, he grabbed Su Jing's collar and asked hoarsely, "Where is his body? Where is my father's body?! I must see him!"
Su Jing remained silent for a long time before finally speaking with difficulty, each word like a slow, agonizing torture: "Pile of bones... the sandstorm was too fierce... we... we searched for a long time... but couldn't find them..."
Could not find it...
No trace of the body remains...
These four words were like the sharpest blade, completely shattering Chu Yiran's mind.
After a brief silence, Chu Yiran completely broke down—
"Ah—!!!" He let out a beast-like wail, tears mixed with despair streaming down his face. "It's all my fault! It's all my fault! Father did it to save me! He did it all to save me!!!" He pounded the bed frame frantically, his wounds reopening and blood quickly staining his clothes.
"Ah Ran! It's not your fault! It's not!" Su Jing tried to hold him down, her voice choked with emotion. "It's my fault! It's all my fault! Calm down, your injuries haven't healed yet—"
"Your fault? Of course it's your fault!" Chu Yiran suddenly looked up, his bloodshot eyes filled with frantic resentment, shooting straight at Su Jing. "Su Jing! Didn't I tell you?! Don't go! Don't chase after them! Why wouldn't you listen?! Why did you insist on doing it your own way?! If it weren't for you... if it weren't for you insisting on fighting this battle, how could my father have died?! How could he possibly have died?!"
His accusations came down like hailstones, every word dripping with blood and tears.
Su Jing's face turned deathly pale, unable to refute, only repeating, "It's my fault...it's all my fault...A-Ran, please, don't do this, your injuries..."
"Get out—!" Chu Yiran roared with all her might, grabbing the medicine bowl she could reach and smashing it on the ground, shards and medicine splattering everywhere. "Get out! I don't want to see you! Get out!!"
He was so emotional that blood gushed from his wound, his face turned ashen, and his body trembled violently with grief, as if it were about to shatter at any moment.
Seeing him like this, Su Jing felt a pang of heartache, but dared not provoke him any further. He staggered back two steps, his lips trembling, "Fine, fine! I'll go! Don't hurt yourself..."
He glanced deeply at Chu Yiran, who was almost driven to madness, closed his eyes in pain, turned around, and slowly moved out of the room, gently closing the door behind him.
Half a month later, the setting sun was like blood, illuminating the official road leading to Yanjing.
The army marched slowly and silently, weary. The 230,000-strong force that had set out with fluttering banners and gleaming armor had returned with less than 80,000 wounded soldiers, their morale as low as the early winter weather—bleak and hopeless. The loss of 30,000 elite troops was like a gaping, bloody hole, etched into the hearts of every soldier and etched into the eyes of every onlooker along the way.
Along both sides of the road, onlookers whispered and pointed. At first, it was just silent observation, but as the procession moved deeper, the murmurs grew louder, eventually becoming an undeniable clamor.
"Look... only a few people have come back..."
"What a tragedy! I heard more than 30,000 died! They were all fine young men!"
"I told you this war couldn't be fought! Is the northern desert a safe place?"
"I heard the Imperial Advisor cast a very auspicious divination? That's truly deadly!"
"Bah! That brat from the Chu family is no better! He's always playing tricks on His Majesty, making him dizzy and confused!"
...
Chu Yiran sat in the swaying carriage, every word of discussion outside lashing at his heart like a whip. His face was pale, and the wound in his abdomen still throbbed faintly. He and Su Jing shared the carriage, but the two did not exchange a single word.
Amidst a chorus of curses such as "The Imperial Advisor is ruining the country" and "His Majesty is muddleheaded," Chu Yiran slowly raised his hand and lifted the carriage curtain.
"Ah Ran, don't listen..." Su Jing subconsciously tried to stop him, reaching out to block him.
Chu Yiran didn't even turn around, but merely turned his head to cast a chilling glance. There was no hatred, no anger in that gaze, only a desolate stillness, yet it froze Su Jing's hand in mid-air, all the words stuck in his throat.
Just then, the voices of several men dressed as scholars came over with remarkable clarity—
"...But the most tragic figure was General Chu. He was loyal and brave throughout his life, yet his body was never recovered..."
"Shh! Keep your voice down! But it's true, it's a real pity about General Chu... raising such an unfilial son! I heard he was the one who encouraged His Majesty to venture deep into the northern desert!"
The other person lowered their voice, but it was still loud enough for those nearby to hear: "Alas, don't even mention it. It's a misfortune for the family to have such a troublesome son! Even Princess Anning couldn't bear it... she hanged herself. It's truly pitiful and lamentable!"
"Clang—!"
Chu Yiran was struck as if by lightning; his whole body jolted violently, and he flung open the car door.
Like a wounded beast, he staggered toward the people who were talking, his abdominal wound throbbing with intense pain, but he did not stop.
"What...what did you just say?!" He grabbed the speaker by the collar, his eyes bloodshot and bulging with rage. "Say it again! What happened to my mother?!"
The man was so frightened by his seemingly insane appearance that he trembled all over, his face turned deathly pale, and he couldn't utter a single word.
"Tell me!!!" Chu Yiran shook him frantically, her voice trembling with anguish, "What happened to my mother?!"
The surrounding crowd gathered, and just then, a disheveled old woman suddenly rushed out, crying and throwing herself at Chu Yiran, pounding on him with her withered hands—
"Where's my son! Why hasn't my son come back! They say my son died in battle! It's all because of you people fighting such a pointless war—"
The old woman's wailing was like a fuse that lit up the fuse, and more people gathered around. The cries and curses overwhelmed Chu Yiran, who was staggering on the ground.
"Stop them! Anyone who causes trouble again will be killed without exception!"
Su Jing's roar, filled with shock and rage, tore through the chaotic air, and the accompanying soldiers immediately stepped forward to subdue the enraged civilians.
Freed from his restraints, Chu Yiran muttered to himself before stumbling and running wildly toward the Zhenyuan Marquis's residence. He seemed oblivious to the excruciating pain of his wounds and the urgent calls from Su Jing behind him. Like an arrow released from a bow, he had only one thought in his mind—to go home!
When he finally staggered to the end of that familiar, majestic street and looked up, all that remained was blinding white.
The vermilion gates of the Zhenyuan Marquis's residence were tightly shut, and above the lintels and under the eaves, stark white lanterns and white banners hung prominently. The cold wind howled, swirling the white cloths as if silently proclaiming sorrow.
Chu Yiran's legs went weak, and he could no longer support his body weight. He knelt heavily on the bluestone slab in front of the Marquis's mansion with a "thump".
"Ah Ran—!" Su Jing caught up quickly and saw him kneeling on the ground, looking lost and dejected. Her heart ached, and she hurriedly went forward to help him up.
Chu Yiran suddenly raised his head, staring at Su Jing and saying, word by word, "Su Jing, didn't you tell me that the news of my father's death in battle was kept tightly under wraps?" He almost roared as he questioned, "Then why did my mother know? Why?!"
Su Jing was stung by the deep-seated hatred in his eyes and took a half step back, her face drained of color: "I don't know who leaked the information..."
Chu Yiran was exhausted. He stopped looking at Su Jing and didn't want to hear any more weak explanations. He simply used his last bit of strength to crawl step by step on his knees toward the gate of the Marquis's mansion, which was covered with white banners.
His forehead pressed against the cold, icy stone steps, his body trembling violently from sobbing: "Father... Mother... Your son is unfilial!"
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