News of an uprising on the northern border spread like embers carried by the wind. Several minor clans, seizing the opportunity amid the impending conflict with the Xiongnu, had taken up arms, emboldened by the perceived weakness within the ranks of the Qin Empire. Tension hung in the air of the military camp, where General Xu Tian walked with a determined stride among the billowing banners, his furrowed brow a storm in the making.
Meixin, draped in a plain robe with her hair tied high in a simple jade hairpin, observed the military deployment from afar. She knew her presence was unwelcome to many, but none made it clearer than Xu Tian.
—You shouldn't be here,— he snapped, his voice cutting as he caught sight of her near the strategy pavilion. —Women belong in the palace, not the battlefield.
General Wei, who had overheard from a nearby position, stepped forward with a calm yet firm expression.
—She is no ordinary woman, Xu Tian. Her mind has been sharper than many blades I've wielded. If we stand here now, it is also thanks to her deductions.
Xu Tian looked away with disdain, arms crossed. To him, military honor should not be tainted by what he viewed as weakness.
The opportunity to prove otherwise came swiftly, when the scattered remnants of the fallen Yan Kingdom launched an unexpected offensive, threatening to crush the western flank of the camp. Maps lay spread across the table, but options were few. Officers all spoke at once, chasing solutions that didn't exist.
It was then that Meixin, without raising her voice, pointed to a vulnerable point in the terrain.
—If they circle the hill from the east at nightfall with a small but agile division, they can trap the enemy between the river and the slope. They won't be able to advance or retreat.
Xu Tian scoffed with contempt.
—And now we're taking advice from a woman? This is absurd!
But General Wei remained unmoved. He locked eyes with Tian, voice resolute.
—I've seen enough to know when a strategy deserves to be heard. I'll take full responsibility if we fail.
Against all odds, Meixin's plan was set in motion.
Night fell like a heavy cloak over the land, damp and cold air seeping into the folds of the soldiers' cloaks. The sky, blanketed in dark clouds, let through only the faintest sliver of a pale moon. Mist began to rise from the nearby river, cloaking the hill in a ghostly silhouette. The silence before battle was thick, taut — like a bowstring stretched before release.
The Qin soldiers, clad in blackened iron armor and low-visored helmets, moved carefully through the trees. Some covered their faces with dark cloths to blend into the shadows. General Wei led the way, sword at his hip, his commander's cloak fluttering in the night wind. Meixin watched from a raised vantage point, wrapped in an ash-colored cloak faintly embroidered with silver-threaded dragons. Her hair was braided tightly down her back, and her eyes shone with focus beneath the flickering light of a distant torch.
Then, at the exact moment the rebels began their advance through the narrow pass between the hill and river, the Qin trumpets blared among the trees. Troops emerged from both flanks. The chaos was immediate: hooves pounding the wet earth, swords drawn with whistling arcs, and the cries of enemies caught in the trap.
—Seal the pass!— Wei roared, his voice slicing through the air as he charged down the hill on horseback, spear raised high.
The insurgents were utterly stunned. They couldn't move forward. They couldn't retreat. Their formation collapsed into utter disarray.
From her height, Meixin pressed her lips together, hands folded within her sleeves, unblinking.
But the heart of the battlefield is merciless.
Amid the fray, Ta Shu, sword in hand, carved his way through enemies and allies alike. His armor was dented from clashing weapons and stained with mud. But his dark, intense eyes remained locked on a single figure — Meixin, who had descended to coordinate the wounded scouts.
And then he saw it.
An enemy rider, driven by desperation, emerged from the confusion. His helmet and bloodstained armor glinted under the firelight. The sword he raised flashed once. He charged straight at her.
—Meixin!— Shu screamed, the cry tearing from his throat.
She turned slightly, startled — no time to react.
Ta Shu leapt without thinking, his body colliding with the attacker in a brutal crash. There was a sickening thud, a deep cut — and then… silence. The blade had passed not through Meixin, but through his side, slashing deep beneath his ribs. His breath fractured into a gasp, and he collapsed to his knees in the mud.
Blood poured freely, soaking into the ground as though the earth itself drank his sacrifice. His hand trembled, trying to steady himself, but the pain overwhelmed him. He fell to his side with a muffled groan, half-lidded eyes fixed on her silhouette.
Meixin did not move.
Her lips parted slightly, but she said nothing. She did not run to him, nor fall to her knees like any ordinary woman might. She simply stared, her expression as impenetrable as carved stone, before turning away toward the fighting and issuing a precise order to a nearby officer.
Still conscious, Ta Shu saw her walk away between the soldiers — as if nothing had happened.
And in that moment, he knew his punishment had only just begun.
When the battle subsided, it was General Wei who rushed to Ta Shu, lifted him with effort, and ordered his transport to the medical tents.
Inside, he looked at him gravely.
—Don't expect her to forgive you so easily,— he said, wiping blood from his hands. —You can't change the past. The best thing you can do… is leave.
In pain, Ta Shu replied in a low, stern voice.
—If you seek redemption, you'll have to earn it. By bearing your guilt — not running from it.
Days later, an imperial emissary arrived at the camp to reward General Wei for the unexpected victory. Amid the formalities and bows, Wei stepped forward and declared in a clear voice:
—The victory was not mine, Your Excellency. It was thanks to the strategy of Miss Wen Meixin, without whom we would have fallen to the rebels.
The emissary frowned in surprise, his gaze falling on Meixin standing at the rear of the formation. He walked up to her, studying her in silence before speaking.
—You are a woman of rare talent. From this day forward, you shall be recognized as a Court Advisor of Wisdom.
Murmurs rippled through the soldiers. Xu Tian, from his place, couldn't help but fix his eyes on Meixin. What had once been scorn slowly — yet unmistakably — began to turn into respect. For the first time, he dipped his head slightly as he passed her.
He said nothing. But Meixin, with her shrewd and serene gaze, knew that gesture said more than a thousand words.