Pain was the first sensation they felt. The impact of the freezing water struck them like a whip. The current dragged them between rocks and foam, battering their bodies against submerged branches, stones, and roots. But it was precisely a tangled web of branches at the riverbank, like arms reaching from fate itself, that stopped their fall and spared them from being swept into certain death.
Meixin surfaced with difficulty, coughing water, her face covered in mud and leaves. She gasped, trembling, her hair plastered to her face. Beside her, Ta Shu barely breathed. His body lay across the broken branches, a thick splinter had lodged deeply into his side, stained with blood.
They were alive. By a miracle, but alive.
Memories flooded them like a storm: the men who pursued them, arrows grazing their skin, the chasm that opened before them... and then, darkness. Meixin struggled to sit up, her breath ragged. Ta Shu groaned as he tried to move. Upon seeing the wound, she immediately knelt beside him.
—Don't speak —she whispered, cutting away the blood-soaked fabric with her nails. The splinter jutted cruelly, as if wanting to cling to the flesh. She took a deep breath, knelt on the ground, and without warning, yanked it out.
Ta Shu roared in pain, his body tightening like a bowstring. She didn't hesitate, covering the wound with a cloth soaked in a hastily prepared ointment, then wrapping it with a bandage made from her own tunic.
—Do you think they're still following us? —he asked in a hoarse voice, his face still contorted with agony.
—Yes. And if not them, it will be someone else. This wasn't a coincidence —Meixin answered, her tone as firm as the edge of a sword—. Someone betrayed us. An infiltrator.
Ta Shu's eyes darkened.
—Mu Rong...
The name was a whisper that brought suspicion and unresolved silences. But even that betrayal seemed to be part of a larger plot.
—There's someone more powerful behind it all —Meixin affirmed—. Someone who isn't afraid to get their hands dirty.
Their gazes met briefly, laden with distrust, with old wounds still aching… but also with something else: a silent understanding, born from exhaustion, from shared danger, and from the need to survive.
That day, without words or explicit agreements, they made a truce.
Not for forgiveness, nor for affection. Only for what still lay ahead.
In the distant court, Prince Ling Bao smiled triumphantly as he unfolded the scroll sealed with the symbol of Mu Rong. His eyes sparkled as he read the letter.
—So they've fallen off the cliff... —he muttered, leaning back in his chair—. What a pity. So brave… so useless.
The laugh that followed echoed like a poisonous echo between the jade pillars.
Days later, after a silent and painful march, Meixin and Ta Shu managed to reach a little-used path. To avoid suspicion, they disguised themselves as peasants: tattered clothes, empty baskets, and the tired gait of one who carries the weight of the world on their shoulders.
It was on a wooded hill that they spotted a cabin, old but sturdy. An elderly couple welcomed them without asking questions, as if they had been waiting for them for a long time. The man's eyes gleamed with kindness, and the woman's smile was as warm as freshly baked bread.
—You can stay the night —she said—. It's dangerous to walk around here with open wounds and a weary heart.
They offered them rice, warm water, and a bed. One bed. No complaints, no excuses. Meixin lay with her back to the edge, and Ta Shu, his body sore, lay beside her. The silence was broken only by the shared rhythm of their breathing.
He looked at her for a long time in the dim light. Her face, serene yet firm, seemed chiseled by years of distance. Without thinking, he reached out and gently stroked her hair.
He didn't say anything. He didn't need to.
At dawn, Meixin rose in silence. She walked toward the door, and when she opened it, she saw the elderly couple sitting with their backs to each other, laughing as they shared a bowl of tea.
Ta Shu approached silently and whispered in her ear:
—That... could have been us.
She didn't respond. She didn't even look at him. She just slowly moved away, like someone afraid to be caught by a shadow.
The elderly woman, with a smile that seemed eternal, called them over:
—Come. Breakfast is ready.
They sat at the table. The air smelled of rice soup and freshly lit firewood. The elderly couple proudly shared their story:
—We have a son. He lives far away, already married... but he always comes back. He is our greatest pride. We raised a good man.
The old man's eyes gleamed as he spoke.
—And you... do you plan to have children?
Meixin didn't hesitate for a moment.
—No.
Ta Shu lowered his gaze. Silence settled between them like an uncomfortable guest.
The elderly couple exchanged looks, surprised, but didn't insist. When it was time to say goodbye, the old man took Ta Shu's hand.
—It's clear that you love your wife. Don't stop showing her. Sometimes, forgiveness comes after much insistence... but it comes.
Ta Shu nodded without words. In his mind, a single thought consumed him:
"My sins are unforgivable."
Meanwhile, the elderly woman walked with Meixin to the entrance. She took her hands tenderly.
—My husband and I... we've been together for many years because we learned to forgive each other. We learned to forget.
Meixin smiled sweetly, but her thoughts were darker.
"There are things that cannot be forgotten."
Before they left, the elderly couple took their hands and placed them one over the other with a solemn gesture. Ta Shu gently squeezed Meixin's fingers, and together they walked away down the forest path.
He smiled.
She didn't.
When she thought they were far enough from the old couple's view, Meixin abruptly released his hand. Her steps grew faster. Stronger. As if the warmth of that touch burned more than the hatred.
And Ta Shu, once again, understood that the path to her would not be easy. But still... he would follow it.
The day was shrouded in thick fog when Meixin and Ta Shu arrived before Generals Wei and Xu. The cold morning breeze made their clothes cling to their skin as they advanced toward the camp, their faces marked by the fatigue of the previous days.
Generals Wei and Xu stood, observing a detailed map of the Qin Empire, while two soldiers remained alert at the entrance. Meixin stepped forward and, without waiting any longer, began to recount what had happened.
—General Wei, General Xu —Meixin said in a firm but weary voice—, we have witnessed a betrayal within the very ranks of Emperor Qin. Someone powerful has allied with the Xiongnu.
Wei, a man with a stern face and a gray beard, frowned upon hearing her words. His black plate armor reflected the faint light coming through the slits in the tent.
—An spy overheard us —added Ta Shu, who had remained silent until then. His deep voice was filled with indignation—. But this is not just the work of one man. There is something much larger behind it.
The generals exchanged a glance. The tension in the tent was palpable, as if the very air were foretelling what was to come.
Meanwhile, a messenger set off toward the capital, carrying with him the crucial information.