Chapter 7
As the night deepened, Li He heard the sounds in the tent grow quieter. The wind whistled through the curtains, and he could see the shadows of the flames quietly casting a faint glow. He gradually began to feel a sense of peace, yet it seemed it wasn't the kind of peace they should be. The comfort of victory was immediate, and the joy they spoke about until midnight was even more profound. Survival no longer seemed a luxury, but a practical possibility. As long as they kept fighting, and kept winning, most problems seemed solvable.
Li He understood this peace, and his constant focus shifted from survival to victory. Living that way was peaceful. Continuing to win, they would one day feast on wine and meat. Their fate rested on the swords in their hands. Even if they were covered in blood, it was the only way to victory. As long as they survived, they would enjoy the rewards of victory, or rather, the rewards of being alive.
He was filled with a wave of doubts he couldn't fathom. He didn't know where this peace came from. He still longed for a vague home, a home with nothing but him and a river that flowed forever. But he was still some distance away from it. Would winning the war completely resolve it all? He didn't know, but they all tacitly accepted it: hunger would be alleviated, marriage would be resolved, and corvée labor would be solved.
Li He continued to ponder. Being uneducated was indeed a disadvantage. He didn't know how military merit was calculated, nor did he know how far they were from Yumen Pass. He didn't know how long it would take to reach the future he envisioned. The arrow wound in his shoulder began to hurt intensely, perhaps from the cold wind. He leaned sideways, resting his shoulder against the side closest to the tent.
The pain interrupted his thoughts, which were already unable to come up with anything. He stood up and looked around. The only light was coming from the tent.
It was the beginning of winter, but the nights in Longxi were strangely quiet. The wind made a familiar sound, and a thin crescent moon shrouded the thick clouds. Li He sat down again and saw the other night watchman nodding his head, drowsy. He couldn't sleep anyway; the slightest movement sent a wave of pain through his shoulders. He unwrapped the bundle of herbs, neatly folded it, and wrapped it up again, marking it as polishing time.
Li He let himself go in the glimmer of light, gazing at the long-lasting weeds chasing the north wind. Whether it was joy or peace, he decided not to dwell on the things he couldn't fathom. At least it felt real, a reality that would influence his future and his dreams. He figured he'd have time for a long sleep, and a sweet dream.
Li He swapped shifts with the others and returned to the tent. The flames were low, and the sky was just beginning to break. He found an open space at the edge of the tent, laid down on his side, closed his eyes, and rested his free hand on his shoulder, welcoming the sleep that followed his long, exhausting sleep. His chaotic thoughts faded, and he began to savor this brief, inexplicable peace.
He'd grown accustomed to the pain in his shoulders, and a deep sleep washed over him. The sounds of people getting up for the night were scattered, and Li He drifted off into a peaceful sleep. It was a bizarre dream. He dreamed of a city shot with arrows, a mighty river rushing from the north, and everyone he'd ever met, all interwoven into a web of familiarity. It embraced him, yet also seemed to trap him. The bitter fragrance of herbs lingered faintly, and he dreamed of the dry summer in Longxi. Dead fish lay dormant in the nearly dry water, golden wheat drooped, and the high-pitched call of a trumpet began to rise.
The steam from the vegetable water filled the tent as Li He awoke from a brief slumber. He hadn't forgotten the events of his dream, but the logic that connected them all was lost. He couldn't comprehend this peacefulness, yet he accepted it. In his dream, the river still surged eastward, the city towered and hushed. Everyone he'd ever met was there, moving from one side to the other, back and forth, never lying down.
The food returned to the usual marching standards: wild vegetables were cooked until mush, and the chipped bowl was filled with water. Li He didn't move his shoulder, slowly drinking from the bowl with one hand. After a night, the pain in his shoulder wound had subsided. Today, they would continue eastward. After another hundred miles, they would turn back and walk all the way to Yumen Pass.
Jiang Er limped over, bowl in hand. "Brother, can you lend a hand for a moment? One has an injured arm and the other has an injured leg. Let's help each other walk." Li He nodded and continued to drink the remaining half bowl of soup. The firewood had been buried in the sand and the tent was about to be packed up. He finished the soup and divided the herbs with Jiang Er again, helping each other apply the medicine. The linen was running low, so Li He only cut a very short piece today. He then used a small piece of hemp rope from the armor straps to wrap around the wound on his shoulder and tie it tightly. He stood up and used his good hand to help Jiang Er catch up with the team.
Today's clouds were much thicker than yesterday's, and the gloomy sky fueled a fierce wind. As they marched, the weeds were bent, broken rocks were everywhere, and the gravel was a blinding sight. Li He and Jiang Er fell to the back of the line. The wounded soldiers further back, most of them with severe broken arms, were barely able to keep up. They usually kept silent during the day, marching for dozens of miles at a time. A whole morning passed without encountering any more barbarians. Occasionally, they would spot discarded armor or a dead body lying on the ground, while black crows feasted nearby, occasionally emitting hoarse cries.
Today's walk was still silent, but Li He felt a sense of peace between them. They felt their pace was much faster than usual, and the swords hanging at their waists jingled as they walked. They began to long for the next battle, to escape this vast, deserted wasteland, and to long for something to break this sometimes disorienting silence.
They also longed for the next victory. Winning a battle would bring them one step closer to military merit. While their morale had not yet declined, they should continue to be encouraged by another victory. Back at Yumen Pass, swords needed blood to cleanse the congealed blood, and armor needed the next intense exercise and puncture.
But after a full day of traveling, they found nothing. They simply continued their journey in silence. As the sun set, they rebuilt their makeshift tents and rekindled their fire. The dry grass and branches in this desolate landscape were few, and the flames seemed smaller. Fortunately, the impact of their victory kept them entertained, and they continued to chat. This evening was more lively, as they began to discuss family matters, stories about their wives, their worthless sons, and their constant conflicts with their neighbors.
Li He once again found a secluded spot, away from their conversation. He had little to say, and being suddenly asked about something in the crowd would result in a sudden silence and everyone's attention. Jiang Er was still greeting people in the center of the group. Li He could hear his voice, recounting his childhood when his family ran a business with the Hu people, the strange things he'd seen, and the decline of his family. He talked about his sister, accepted their teasing, and repeatedly emphasized his commitment to finding her a good husband.
Li He wiped his sword with the grass he'd gathered, leaving pools of blood scattered across it. Withered grass and dirt replaced the dark stains, masking the unpleasant odor. He repeated this task over and over again, while their lively conversation continued. Some talked about their perpetually cracked fields, some about their chickens and ducks, and some about the aging tree at the village's edge, placing bets on whether it would survive this harsh winter.
Li He mentally recounted the story of his home river. The creek naturally froze over in winter, its thickness depending on the depth of the annual snowfall. When the ice wasn't thick enough, he could knock a hole and wait for the fish to bite. This was a rare treat each year, and now that he was alone, he had no particular concerns about the fish; a single, small fish was enough to fill his stomach. But a thicker ice wouldn't matter; the water level would rise significantly in the spring, making it easier to survive the summer, and the creek wouldn't dry up in Longxi's dry summers.
It wasn't his turn to be on duty tonight. Li He saw Jiang Er leaving and patted his shoulder as he approached him. Hoping for a peaceful night, he removed his armor and lay down. The pain in his shoulder had turned dull, and any movement only intensified the pain, which meant that as long as he remained in that position, he could get a good night's sleep.
The noise inside the tent gradually faded, and Li He closed his eyes. The wind blew even harder tonight, and the already feeble fire seemed about to be snuffed out. Wind blew in through the cracks in the curtains, bringing with it the chill of a Longxi winter. He reached out to wrap his armor around his torso, covering his wound. He could hear the night watchmen moving around to keep warm.
It was a dreamless night, yet the wind's whimpering continued. Li He maintained the same posture, protecting the wound on his shoulder, and in the darkness, he continued to hear the ballads of the north. It was a lofty sentiment that not even the wind could dispel, yet it was also a sorrowful note that grew in the night. It stirred their longing, a voice that seemed out of place in the lingering tranquility.
The sound was vague, as if coming from a distant hilltop. They couldn't discern its source, nor the specific words, but only the familiar melody lingered in their ears. Li He listened to this sound and continued to sleep. Or perhaps there wasn't any such sound at all, the distant sound cut off only by the fierce north wind, a mere product of tranquility, a return to the deep night before.
But they all knew that they were familiar with such tunes, tunes from the north, tunes from Longxi, singing about the biting wind of the north, the sorrow and boiling blood of the north.
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