Beauty, Power and Intrigue Chapter 10

Song Chuyi did not elaborate further, merely speaking in the Zhao dialect, “The general may catch a chill.”

In that age, speech varied from place to place even within five miles, and with numerous large and small states standing side by side, there were countless dialects and pronunciations. What Song Chuyi spoke was the language of the Handan region.

Handan was the capital of Zhao, and her words put several of the soldiers somewhat at ease. After all, she looked young, and her command of the Zhao tongue was so fluent that she was most likely a native of Zhao.

“What shall we do, then?” One of the soldiers appeared anxious.

In that era, even a common cold could easily prove fatal, and all the more so here in these desolate mountains. Should a fever set in, the man would most likely end up buried in this very place.

“I can save him, but you must all swear an oath not to take the lives of either of us.” Song Chuyi had to secure a guarantee before she could relax even slightly. For in this world, where human lives were as worthless as weeds, her and Zhao Yilou’s survival hung on a mere gesture from these soldiers. They were fleeing, and to keep their trail hidden, it would be all too easy for them to simply kill the two off.

And indeed, as soon as Song Chuyi said this, the men hesitated for a moment before dropping to one knee and raising their hands in unison to swear to heaven.

The night rain grew heavier and heavier, and the temperature plummeted, so that the breath of winter could already be keenly felt. Deeper into the night, hailstones began to mix in with the downpour.

All the dried grass had been seized by the soldiers to keep their general warm. Zhao Yilou and Song Chuyi huddled by the fire, yet their lips were still purple with cold, and they wished they could crawl right into the flames.

Fortunately, Zhao Yilou had stored up quite a bit of firewood, so the fire never went out; otherwise, they would surely have frozen to death.

“Hey – the general seems to be running a fever,” one of the soldiers said urgently.

Song Chuyi truly wished she could pretend not to have heard, but her life was in others’ hands, and she had no choice but to submit. So she dragged her stiff, frozen legs over to where the general lay and reached out to feel his forehead.

As if soothed by the cool touch, the general let out a faint groan and leaned closer to her hand.

“Pack the straw tight and make sure he doesn’t catch any more chill,” Song Chuyi said, and then had Zhao Yilou bring out some ephedra and boil it in an earthen pot.

Seeing them busy removing their armor to cover the general, Song Chuyi pulled Zhao Yilou a little farther away and whispered in the Qi dialect, “Even after he drinks this medicine, his cold may not necessarily get better. In a while, take the chance to say you’re going to relieve yourself and gather our things. As soon as dawn breaks, we’ll find an opportunity to flee.”

Zhao Yilou had seen Song Chuyi handle everything with ease – not only did she understand military formations and speak the Qi tongue, but she also spoke Zhao – and he trusted her completely. So when Song Chuyi said they should flee, he agreed without the slightest hesitation.

The two returned to the fire. Song Chuyi asked the soldiers for some cloth, soaked it in rainwater, wrung it out slightly, and placed it on the general’s forehead.

When the ephedra decoction was ready and had cooled a little, she handed it to the soldiers and told them to feed it to the general.

Following Song Chuyi’s instructions, Zhao Yilou went into the woods at one point, twisted some weeds into rope, tied up all the food they had hidden, and left it in place. That way, when they made their escape, they could simply grab it as they passed by.

Before long, the sky began to lighten at the horizon, and the rain subsided somewhat. Yet the temperature grew even colder, and the biting air cut at their skin like a knife.

To Song Chuyi’s relief, the general’s fever had gone down a little, and he had regained consciousness. This did not guarantee her safety, but at least for now she was secure – for they still needed her to continue treating the general.

As the saying goes, fortune and misfortune dwell under the same roof. Safe though she was, the soldiers kept such close watch over Song Chuyi that they hardly let her out of their sight, even following her when she went to relieve herself. The escape plan was rapidly crumbling into nothing.

Around noon, two of the soldiers headed up the mountain to check for pursuers and also to look for something to eat.

Ever since waking, the general had been leaning against the rock wall, his eyes lowered, lips tightly pressed, jaw clenched, motionless as a carved statue. He only moved when someone brought him his medicine, taking the bowl and draining it in one go.

Song Chuyi thought to herself: Could he be reflecting on why he was such a useless commander, having lost the battle despite outnumbering the enemy two to one?

Watching the general’s imposing build and handsome features, Song Chuyi inwardly clicked her tongue – truly, “you can’t judge a book by its cover.” What good were good looks when he was still nothing but a blundering fool? Outside, the rain gradually ceased, but the men sent to find food had not yet returned. Song Chuyi was so tired she could barely keep her eyes open, and she gazed longingly at the dried grass beneath the general. Her face, however, was largely hidden by her hair, so no one could read her thoughts.

The general noticed her gaze and tilted his head slightly, saying in a hoarse voice, “Come here.”

Song Chuyi shuffled over, automatically crouching down on the dried grass and burying her feet in it, before asking respectfully, “What is your command, General?”

“Do you have a name?” The general looked down at her movements. Unlike the stern seriousness of his earlier brooding, there seemed to be a hint of amusement in his eyes.

Busy warming her feet, Song Chuyi did not notice, and in any case, one of low status was not to meet the eyes of the powerful. After a rapid consideration, she decided she ought to win over this blundering general, and so answered truthfully, “Song Chuyi, style name Huaijin.”

“You have a style name as well?” The general was somewhat surprised, but soon recovered his composure and nodded. “An excellent style name.”

He paused, then asked, “Do you know who I am?”

Only then did Song Chuyi quickly glance up at his expression before answering honestly, “A general of Zhao.”

“Gongsun Gu,” said the general.

Song Chuyi knew that “Gongsun” was not his surname but his shi – indicating that he was a descendant of the ducal house.

She held back again and again, but in the end could not restrain herself, and asked, “In yesterday’s battle, were you the commanding general, General Gongsun?”

It was not a bad thing to display learning. This was an age where human lives were as worthless as weeds, but anyone, no matter who, would show a little more leniency toward the educated. Unless absolutely necessary, no one would casually put a learned person to death.

“Did you see it?” Gongsun Gu fixed his gaze on her, as if trying to see through her hair to make out her features.

“Yes, and that is precisely why I find it quite puzzling that you, General, should have ended up in such a plight.” After this brief exchange, Song Chuyi had come to think that Gongsun Gu was probably not an ignorant fool, and so her curiosity about Zhao’s disastrous defeat only grew.

“I am but a reckless man, framed by petty men.” Gongsun Gu sighed, then turned his gaze to Song Chuyi, smoothly shifting the topic. “You seem rather young. May I ask which state you are from, and how you came to be in such a situation, Master Huaijin?”

When Gongsun Gu addressed her as “Master,” it was largely out of gratitude and a show of courtesy – not necessarily an acknowledgment that her learning truly warranted the title. Song Chuyi was fully aware of this. She did not take it to heart, but in an instant, her mind raced through many possible interpretations of Gongsun Gu’s answer.

“I am but a reckless man” – these words clearly carried a note of self-reproach and self-abandonment, as well as an implication that he had merely led the troops into battle rather than being the mastermind behind the campaign; “framed by petty men” – most likely someone had deliberately set a trap, intending to use this defeat to eliminate him.

“The myriad things of the world are in constant, boundless change – not commanded by any will, yet ever abiding by nature. I am here to comprehend the Way.” Song Chuyi casually fabricated an excuse in reply to Gongsun Gu’s question.

Yet even such a casual fabrication was not something just anyone could deliver with such profound reasoning. It was only then that Gongsun Gu truly began to take her seriously. “So you are a master of the Daoist school – I have been remiss in my respect.”

Gongsun Gu paused, then turned to the few soldiers and said, “You men, go and stand guard ten meters ahead.”

The four soldiers acknowledged the order and withdrew to a distance of ten meters.

Gongsun Gu sat upright on his heels and cupped his hands toward Song Chuyi. “Master Huaijin, are you versed in strategy?”

The Daoist school was also known as the School of Virtue. Its teachings advocated a return to simplicity, quietude and non-action, conformity to nature, and the valuing of gentleness – laying great stress on individual cultivation, while advocating non-interference in governance. Thus, Daoist scholars rarely produced strategists. However, those of broad learning often saw matters differently from ordinary men, and that was why Gongsun Gu humbly sought Song Chuyi’s counsel.

Song Chuyi did not answer his question directly, but cut straight to the heart of the matter. “Does Zhao have no place for you?”

A surge of joy rose in Gongsun Gu’s heart, and he quickly replied, “Exactly so. In your opinion, Master, should I return to Zhao or seek refuge in another state?”