The early morning was as cold as a blade of obsidian rock. The camp slept beneath a sky speckled with stars, and the embers of the campfires, barely alive, flickered like dying fireflies in the gloom. The air, saturated with the scent of damp wood and dew, seemed to suspend time.
Inside one of the tents, Meixin adjusted the outfit she had prepared for her mission. Her linen tunic, dyed with mud and soot and mottled with stains that spoke of the harsh life of the north, hung simply over her figure. The hair she usually wore in an elegant style had been let down in coarse strands, tied into a low bun with hemp cords, erasing any trace of delicacy. Over her shoulders, a thick sheepskin cloak with worn edges shielded her from the icy wind, while her eyes, intense and resolute, caught the moonlight.
When she stepped outside, the air was thick with a tense calm. Wei and Xu Tian were already waiting by a pair of sturdy horses, whose hooves thudded softly against the packed earth. The torches and small fires scattered around cast orange flares that fought the darkness, throwing dancing shadows over the camp's tents.
They were not alone. Standing a few steps away with an unyielding posture was Ta Shu. Dressed in a dark gray deerskin coat, patched from years of wear, his face was partially hidden beneath a frayed hood and a rough wool scarf. Despite the disguise, his bearing was unmistakably that of a seasoned soldier; every movement was measured. And behind that stoic gaze lay a secret: Ta Shu watched her with the intensity of a man in love. His dark eyes softened whenever they rested on Meixin, revealing an affection that fought to rise to the surface.
As soon as Meixin stepped into the cold air and caught sight of Ta Shu—and especially that gaze that seemed to have known her forever—she froze. Her brow furrowed slightly, forming a fine line between her eyes, a mark of restrained irritation.
_What is he doing here?_ she asked, unable to hide the unease in her voice.
Wei stepped forward with a steady stride.
_He's coming with you.
_That's not necessary_ she replied sharply, her eyes briefly meeting Ta Shu's, where an unexpected warmth flickered._ This mission requires discretion. Going alone would be wiser.
Wei shook his head and replied in a firm tone:
_ If he doesn't go with you, then you don't go.
A frigid silence fell over the moment. Xu Tian looked down awkwardly, lips pressed tight, while Meixin shot him a hard glance from the corner of her eye. Finally, she turned to Ta Shu, who—though outwardly impassive—could not completely conceal the tenderness he felt for her.
_So it's an order?_ she asked in a low voice.
_It's a condition_ Wei corrected. _Your life is too valuable to risk without someone at your back.
Meixin closed her eyes for a moment, as if holding back a bitter exhale that nearly condensed in the freezing air. When she opened them, her voice held firm resolve as she murmured:
_Very well.
Without another word, she mounted the horse. Ta Shu, in a gesture of silent obedience and with his gaze still fixed on her, followed and took his place behind her with practiced movements.
During the journey, the landscape changed drastically. They crossed dry valleys where the sun cast shimmering rays over cracked earth and climbed hills tangled with shrubs twisted by the relentless wind, which seemed to sculpt every tree and stone. The sky grew steadily paler, a sign they were nearing the borderlands where the Xiongnu had set up their mobile camps.
Meixin's voice broke the silence only to issue clear and precise commands:
_We'll stop at the next hill. We'll change our route before entering the plain_ she ordered with authority, losing no detail in her tone.
Ta Shu simply nodded, never speaking a word. His eyes—sharp and constantly scanning the surroundings—remained alert to every sound and silhouette that might signal danger. And every glance he cast at Meixin was loaded with restrained longing.
That night, they camped beneath the shelter of tall stones that rose from the earth like petrified sentinels. Meixin lit a modest fire, just enough to keep the cold at bay without drawing attention. She sat upright, her head resting on her knees and her gaze fixed on the flickering flames. Ta Shu remained standing, spear in hand, his eyes anchored to the horizon. But in those moments, when the firelight cast golden glints across her face, he couldn't help but look at her—captivated by the quiet strength of her features, caught in a blend of admiration that seemed to melt the frost of dawn.
At last, on the third day, they reached the outskirts of the Xiongnu encampment. The land grew wild and unforgiving. Cone-shaped tents, covered in sun-bleached and windworn yak hides, rose scattered between wooden stakes and campfires that cast flickering bursts of light. The air was thick with the pungent scent of smoked meat, sweat, and dung—a harsh, primal fragrance that clung to everything. Burly warriors with braids adorned with carved bones, copper beads, and black feathers walked with firm strides and swords strapped to their waists, while women in heavy, earth-toned robes spun thread, cooked, or shared stories by the fire.
Cautiously, Meixin and Ta Shu entered the encampment. She introduced herself as "Ai-lan," a wandering healer from the west, modulating her accent and speech to blend in. Ta Shu played the role of her mute assistant, his enigmatic presence and the quiet sorrow etched into his face making the story that he had lost his tongue to illness believable. Their faces, dirtied just enough, and their tattered clothing helped them go unnoticed.
In the days that followed, Meixin immersed herself in the camp's daily rhythm. With skilled hands and a serene voice, she aided in births, treated fevers, and bandaged wounds, all while listening carefully to the whispers and confidences exchanged around the fires. One day, an elderly woman with bright eyes and deep wrinkles, as Meixin washed her feet, murmured:
_They say they'll strike the border through Raven's Pass.
Meixin, with measured calm, asked:
_When?
_In five nights. But don't go there, girl. You won't survive.
She merely gave a faint smile, one that didn't quite soften the steel in her gaze.
Meanwhile, Ta Shu remained ever close. Without a word, he moved among the crowd, carrying firewood, hauling water jars, and keeping watchful eyes on every corner of the camp. His silence was twofold: that of a steadfast guardian, and that of a man whose every sidelong glance betrayed a deep feeling for Meixin—one he didn't dare name. When their eyes met, even briefly, it was clear that he wasn't only shielding her from the Xiongnu, but from the lingering shadow of a painful past that threatened to consume her.
And so, over the course of those days, while they pretended to be strangers among the Xiongnu, the embers of pain, loyalty, and quiet understanding between them began to stir once more—a connection that reached beyond disguises and circumstances.