Chapter Thirty-Seven: The Little Princess of the Jiang Dynasty

“Eunuch Lin…”

Huaize had never imagined that in this lifetime he would have the chance to see his own countrymen again, much less his benefactor, Eunuch Lin.

“Your Highness the Crown Prince,”

There was a depth of emotion in Eunuch Lin’s eyes; before Huaize, he looked as though he were seeing his own child.

Eunuch Lin, whose original name was Lin Shu, had accompanied Huaize since he was a year old—his first teacher, and also the companion of his childhood.

“My king, please allow your servant to—”

King Jiang stopped Lin Shu, granting tacit approval for the proper etiquette between subject and sovereign.

“Your servant greets Your Highness the Crown Prince. It has been a long time.”

“I thought you had already passed away. Why are you here in Jiang, serving those who destroyed us…?”

Lin Shu had taught him to write real characters, to discern right from wrong in the world. He could not believe that the man before him was the same teacher whose lips once recited stories and lessons! His teacher had always been loyal to Ziliao!

“Your Highness, the Ziliao totem is unique. I am Lin Shu.”

“No! I don’t believe you! You’re an imposter! You’re all lying to me!”

Huaize pointed at everyone present. “Ha… You’re all deceiving me. Don’t worry, I won’t be fooled!”

“King Jiang, please allow me to reveal the truth of those years.” Lin Shu placed his right hand over his heart, the spot closest to his chest.

King Jiang gave silent consent to all that was to follow—the truth about how Ziliao fell, the facts so strangely twisted.

—

“My king, Jiang and our Ziliao have signed an agreement. If we attack their border now…”

“Outrageous! Who is king here—you or I? I order thirty thousand elite troops to press against Jiang tomorrow. They’ve just finished warring with Yuehuo; they won’t have the strength to muster more soldiers!”

“But, my king…”

“My mind is made up!”

The King of Ziliao gave Lin Shu no chance to advise him, issuing the military command on the spot.

Lin Shu could not understand. King Jiang had always been friendly with Ziliao, even sharing advanced skills and technology. The people of Jiang warmly welcomed Ziliao’s folk, and the two neighboring states could have prospered together.

But the King of Ziliao did not see things that way. He always felt that King Jiang held something back. Ziliao was a small nation, but if he could take King Jiang’s head, then the one who sat upon this vast land would be he, the King of Ziliao, and the world itself would bear the name Ziliao!

To gain an advantage, Ziliao’s forces marched the next day against Jiang.

At the time, Jiang was recuperating—recent wars had drained their forces, and every soldier was exhausted in body and spirit. Still, they fought with all their might to defend their homeland.

But on the very day Ziliao’s forces left for war, the neighboring state of Cang launched a surprise attack on Ziliao itself. They burned, looted, and plundered, abusing women and children. Ziliao was plunged into fire and water, its messengers all slaughtered. In a single day, Ziliao became a dead city.

A city without soldiers was nothing more than a lamb for slaughter in the eyes of other nations. All the small states wanted a share of the spoils.

Indeed, they extended their claws to the palace and the shattered remains of Ziliao’s land.

To escape the massacre, Lin Shu fled with the four-year-old Huaize, hiding wherever they could, eating wild roots and berries, living in the wind and rain. As a scholar, Lin Shu sometimes managed to catch a field mouse or frog, but always gave it to Huaize.

Fortunately, knowledge was something a scholar never lacked. He could keep Huaize away from most poisonous plants. Once or twice, when they suffered diarrhea or vomiting, Lin Shu could endure it, but Huaize could not. Many times, the child nearly died. Yet the ordeals made him stronger—no longer afraid of wind or sun. The pampered little prince became the wild child the peasants spoke of.

They had pretended to be beggars on the street, famine-stricken vagrants, slept in cattle sheds and pigsties, crawled through people’s legs and dog holes—doing anything just to survive.

One day, they finally managed to beg enough to buy two chicken legs. That was when they heard the news: Ziliao’s army and Jiang had both fallen, and Ziliao was besieged. Tears streamed down Lin Shu’s face; he never imagined that he and the prince would be Ziliao’s only survivors.

He never told Huaize the truth, for that was his father—how could he say, “Your Highness, your father is gone. All we can do is run and hide. As long as we live, there’s hope.”

Until one day, with enemies in front and pursuers behind, Lin Shu realized escape was no longer possible.

He hid Huaize beneath wild grass and branches. “Young Master, stay silent. Promise me, you must live on. Live for me, and for the people of Ziliao…”

Huaize watched the retreating figure, never knowing that this might be their last farewell.

Eunuch Lin’s words brought memories flooding back, of nightmares that still haunted him.

Outside, the thunder of hooves, shouts, and the clash of swords lingered in Huaize’s mind.

When the outside finally quieted down, Huaize emerged. There were bodies everywhere. The small child picked his way among the corpses, suddenly tripping over something hard. He recognized the character on it—Lin Shu had taught him: Jiang.

Starving, he fainted in the forest. When he awoke, a hunter had taken him in. The hunter, childless and unable to pass on his skills, reluctantly let Huaize become his heir.

Weak from malnutrition, Huaize failed repeatedly and never gained the hunter’s approval. He only remembered growing up under the whip—his back, hands, chest, all crisscrossed with scars.

His once happy childhood was shrouded in gray.

At fifteen, he killed the ailing farmer himself and left without a backward glance.

He had become cold-blooded.

For fifteen years, he understood his homeland was gone. The totem on his neck reminded him every day to seek vengeance—against Jiang, whose name he’d read on that wooden plaque among the corpses.

He set out to learn everything about the world, striving to master knowledge and martial skills a hundred times harder than anyone else.

For thirteen years, he finally built his own power. He would raise men from Jiang to slaughter their own, to make them watch as family, brothers, friends killed one another.

He imagined their faces then—twisted in despair, more painful than any suffering he’d endured under the whip.

This was Huaize’s memory. “Lin Shu, is it true that the Jiang people took you away that day?”

Lin Shu nodded.

Yes, he had expected to die, but suddenly a troop arrived and drove off his pursuers. Not knowing the full situation, he didn’t tell them that a child was still hidden.

After some time recovering, he learned that these men were from Jiang.

The people of Jiang, remembering the Ziliao folk who had provided food during the wars, saw the tattoo on Lin Shu’s neck and chose to save him.

Perhaps, during the chaos, a soldier’s tag fell, becoming the key.

“Your Highness, the Jiang people are not as you believe them to be. They are kind, united. The true destroyer of our nation was Cang, now vanished from this world.”

Huaize was stunned, his face turning ashen. He understood at last that it had all been a tragic misunderstanding, and the sins he’d committed could never be repaid.

“King! Something’s wrong! There’s trouble outside the city!”

Hearing this, Jiang Jiu sensed disaster.

“Hand me your valuables!” Jiang Jiu rummaged Huaize’s person, and a jade pendant dropped to the ground. Jiang Jiu picked it up and, with a crack, shattered it.

With the obstruction gone, Xiao Jianjian could now see the entire imperial city, and even beyond its walls!

One glance, and Xiao Jianjian was shocked.

[Oh my! Master! There’s a huge crowd outside the city biting people!]