The Winds and Clouds of the Desert

The yellow sands had finally erased the traces of footsteps left behind, along with the twin furrows carved by the wheels, gradually consigning Huang Beishuang's caravan to the winds, as if foreshadowing the path’s end—an expanse of boundless desolation and despair. So be it, no evidence shall remain to prove that she once traversed such a road. Her star-like eyes flickered briefly, the gleam retreating behind her jeweled veil, her lips curling slightly, as though she might burst into wild laughter.

Her name was Huang Beishuang, a girl who lived in the wind. For as long as she could remember, there had been at least three hundred scattered tribes lost in the vast sea of yellow sand, but no more than five of them had ever managed to establish a regime or an army. The rest, including her own Enanqi tribe, had been reduced to slave nations, eternally oppressed by any ruling people they encountered. They offered up their hard-earned grain, even if it left them starving and cold; they gave their meticulously prepared garments, though it rendered them defenseless against the harsh desert; and they even surrendered their cherished sons and daughters, despite the heartbreak it caused.

For what? Merely for a fleeting moment of peace, to catch their breath in this vast world where the wild sands danced. Among the slave nations, four tribes—the Enanqi, Zhiken, Zhenqu, and Nakuo—stood out for their numbers and influence, though they, too, were bitterly opposed to one another, often clashing over land, camels, and horses. Yet the outcomes of these conflicts were not theirs to decide but were dictated by the ruling nations they served. These dominant nations were five in number—Yunpei, Guhe, Mizan, Tiandu, and Masui—each aggressive and expansionist in nature. Of these, Yunpei was the most powerful and, naturally, the most tyrannical. It controlled nearly half of the desert's oases and water sources, having flourished for over four hundred years under the rule of thirty-five kings and two queens. Its well-ordered policies, aside from its imperial ambitions, made it a place sought after by dignitaries and scholars alike.

And yet, the bitter truth remained: the wealth of one nation was built upon the poverty of hundreds.

"Ai!" Huang Beishuang sat in her jolting carriage, the sudden bump bringing her thoughts back to the present. She smiled wryly to herself, as if reminded of something. "Duo Zai, sing me a song, will you?" she said, lifting the curtain and addressing the elderly woman walking alongside.

The old woman turned to look at Huang Beishuang, her eyes dimming slightly with a sigh. "Na Xiu, don’t listen to such things anymore. I know you're still hurting, but you are a Na Xiu. Do not let yourself fall into despair."

The old woman’s teeth were nearly all gone, and though her speech was somewhat slurred, it remained rhythmic and forceful, as if she were chanting an ancient incantation. Once the tribe's priestess, her name was Duo Zai. She had borne five sons and three daughters, but four of her sons had been tortured to death in the slave markets, and two of her daughters had been given away for the amusement of nobles at banquets. Now, she had only one son and one daughter left, along with a frail body, skin stretched over brittle bones. Her toothless mouth and tear-filled, deep-set eyes always shimmered with sorrow.

Huang Beishuang, leaning out of the window, gently brushed a strand of white hair from Duo Zai’s forehead. "Why did you insist on coming with me as my bridal attendant? Don't you realize this is a one-way journey from which we shall never return?"

Duo Zai did not answer, her hunched back moving steadily as she walked, lips blackened and cracked by the wind, her face lined with wrinkles filled with dust. She was used to it, perhaps, and simply kept her gaze fixed ahead, trudging on.

Amid the whistling winds and drifting sands, a fragile yet resonant song floated into the air, accompanying the Enanqi wedding caravan as it wound over dune after dune, its melancholy echoes reaching deep into the heart:

Does my husband return tonight?

The stars tonight are like water, the sands like ash,

The wife in her warm tent, tear after tear falling.

Does my son return tonight?

The moon tonight is like a bow, the wind like a bell,

The mother in her warm tent, cries echo in the void.

Heavenly gods! Earthly ghosts!

Tonight, Yunpei’s wine flows freely;

Tonight, Guhe’s daughters dance;

Tonight, Mizan mourns the past;

Tonight, Tiandu ventures afar;

Tonight, Masui’s riches pile high!

Heavenly gods! Earthly ghosts!

May my husband return tonight, may my son come back home;

This kindness I shall repay, this debt I shall return.

When I bear my daughter, when I raise her well,

I’ll send her to the heavens, and find a brief peace amid the storms.

This is a prayer song passed down through the Enanqi tribe, sung by a woman who prays for the safe return of her husband and son, hoping they will be spared the cruelty of nobles and invaders. Though she remains in the warmth of her tent, her heart is filled with despair and sorrow. Fearing that the power struggles and plundering in the desert will claim the lives of her loved ones, she pleads to the gods and spirits, asking only for the safety of her family. Should they return unharmed, she vows to send her daughter, once born, to the nobles or even to their enemies, anywhere that would secure a brief moment of peace, thus repaying her debt to the heavens and the earth.

Drawing the curtains closed, Huang Beishuang shut her eyes and listened, her hand clutching a cloth pouch that held soil from her homeland, soil she had taken with her before leaving the Enanqi tribe. She smiled to herself.

Her brother had been born to inherit the position of their father and become the next Erxiu; her younger brother had come into the world to fight for camels, women, wool, and furs, to serve as Erxiu’s right-hand man. But she? She was born as the Na Xiu, destined to be a sacrificial offering to the gods and spirits on behalf of the Enanqi tribe.

She didn’t want to cry. This was fate, her fate. She tightened her grip on the pouch, letting herself sink into the song.

Heavenly gods! Earthly ghosts!

May my husband return tonight, may my son come home;

This kindness I shall repay, this debt I shall return.

When I bear my daughter, when I raise her well,

I’ll send her to the heavens, and find a brief peace amid the storms.

This world, so tangled in chaos and change, is sometimes forged by the wheel of karma, and at other times shaped by the hands of fate. Whatever the cause, there is always an endless web of heartache and unspeakable longing.

Love, after all, often appears in the most unexpected moments…

Farewells, too, arrive in the most heart-wrenching times…

And deep regrets, those remain long after the pain has carved its mark.

But for now, Huang Beishuang understood little of these things. She was only eighteen, her hair yet unbound, the cinnabar on her forehead still fresh. All she knew was the duty of sacrifice for her people, the warmth of her homeland’s fragrant winds and tents. There was too much she did not know—too many important things. How long could she remain so resolute? After all, she was only eighteen.

"Half a bag of water left, Feita," came a deep male voice, low and filled with regret, carried by the drifting yellow sands.

"Don’t push yourself, I’m fine," replied the man with a soft laugh. He slowly scooped away the sand piled in front of him, perhaps the remnants of a storm, his own body covered in dust, though he seemed to pay no mind. His focus remained on uncovering the mound before him. Finally, the shape of a white horse emerged, so parched it was on the brink of death, its head half-buried in the sand, its limbs trembling uncontrollably.

"Ah!" The man sighed in helplessness, bringing the water pouch to the horse’s mouth, as if speaking to an old friend, "Feita, you’re as stubborn as a mule! Drink the water, you fool!"

As though understanding his words, the horse's eyes fluttered open, casting its gaze upon its master for a fleeting moment, before closing again, falling into a deep, final stillness. Its limbs trembled no more.

"Feita?"

The man quickly placed his hand near the horse’s nose and felt the faintest breath, furrowing his brow. It wasn’t dead yet, but it was close. He stroked the horse’s mane, his heart heavy with sorrow.

"Is it… dead?"

A soft voice, warm and gentle, suddenly drifted toward him. He looked up, seeing a camel caravan adorned in red wedding decorations, a procession of perhaps a hundred and fifty people. He had heard them approaching earlier but had paid no mind, focused on his dying horse. Yet, here they were, drawing closer.

The young woman speaking sat in the carriage, gently lifting the beaded veil that draped over her forehead. Her features were delicate, refined, and serene, radiating a quiet yet captivating grace. Her expression held a hint of curiosity. "Not yet, but soon. It’s been too long since it had water," he replied coldly.

"Then why are you sitting here?" It was Huang Beishuang who spoke. From afar, she had seen the lone figure, cloaked in black, sitting motionless as the wind whipped his cape, burying him under the shifting sands. She had thought, perhaps, that he was waiting for death, or that life had already slipped away from him. Only upon approaching did she realize that he was standing vigil over a horse.

"Feita still breathes," he answered absently, without turning his head.

Huang Beishuang’s heart stirred at his words. She wasted no time. "Duo Zai, ask Guo'er to bring ten bags of water. Let’s see if we can save the horse."

Duo Zai hobbled around to the back of the carriage, and after a long struggle, returned, teetering under the weight of the water bags. She placed them beside the white horse and then respectfully stepped back.

The man, Feita’s owner, appeared slightly taken aback. "Do you realize, young lady, that in the desert, ten bags of water are more precious than a thousand bags of gold?"

Huang Beishuang smiled faintly and let her jeweled veil fall back into place. "I have dozens of horses, yet I have never named a single one. They are merely my servants. But you have only this one, and you are willing to stand by it until the very end. For that alone, I am willing to give ten bags of water—five to save Feita, and five for you. May you both travel safely. We must be on our way."

Without lingering further, Huang Beishuang knew that the longer they stayed in the dust and sand, the more perilous it would become. Having helped where she could, there was no reason to delay. The group continued on their journey.

Behind her, she heard the horse's owner call out, his voice rough but resolute. "I am Qinyun. I will repay your kindness, young lady."

Huang Beishuang smiled to herself as she sat back in her carriage, contemplating Qinyun's words. When would he repay her? They were unlikely to cross paths again. As long as the horse survived, that would be enough. If not, the loss of ten bags of life-saving water would be truly regrettable.

Qinyun—so profound, yet his name carried an air of noble strength. She wondered from which tribe this wandering soul had strayed, lost in the boundless desert.

She shook her head, casting the thought aside. In seven days, after the sun had risen and set seven times, they would reach Yunpei. Huang Beishuang couldn’t help but smile bitterly. Yunpei—the place where her spirit would fade, where her incense would burn out. As the Enanqi tribe’s offering of peace and loyalty, she had been sent as a bride to Yunpei. Yet not a single soldier had been sent to escort her. She and her entourage were left to traverse the desert on their own. Along the way, they would need to guard against bandits and human traffickers—one seeking blood and plunder, the other seeking lives to sell.

Indeed, life in the vast desert was unbearably harsh for the people of such impoverished tribes.

As the sky outside darkened and the sunset bathed the clouds in a crimson glow, the beauty of the scene seemed almost unnaturally still. Huang Beishuang leaned against the window frame, and suddenly, her mother’s parting words came to mind.

“My child, once you marry into Yunpei, you will be neither wife nor subject. You will be the art that Zhan collects, the symbol of our peace. You embody our loyalty, carrying with you our hopes. My child, even if happiness eludes you, never forget the yellow sands of our Enanqi homeland!”

On that day, her mother had wept bitterly, her tears flowing freely as she sent her daughter away. Even after the carriage had started its journey, she stood for a long time, calling out in a choked voice, “My child!”

The Enanqi tribe, which had formed its identity a century ago, survived through livestock farming and was renowned for its singing and dancing. With only around seven thousand people, their political survival often relied on marriages of alliance. Yet who wouldn’t lament, who wouldn’t mourn, knowing that more than three hundred Enanqi girls had perished in foreign lands, used and discarded, their bones often lost to the wind?

Na Xiu—what is a Na Xiu? In the tribe, the highest position is held by the Erxiu, who leads the people. Next is the Na Xiu, a woman born of noble blood and exceptional beauty, chosen to represent the tribe's loyalty by marrying the highest nobility of the ruling nations.

Of course, not every girl sent for marriage is a Na Xiu, and not every marriage involves Yunpei. However, the more politically significant the union, the greater the danger Huang Beishuang faced on this journey of alliance.

Who might she encounter? It was impossible to know.

This desert hides within it burning desires and wickedness, madness and plunder. It harbors greed and despair...

"Duo Zai, are you hungry? We’ve traveled so far. Come up and sit with me for a while," Huang Beishuang’s voice was filled with concern for the elderly woman, who hobbled along, enduring the scorching sun and biting winds, faithfully keeping pace with the younger bridal entourage. They had one hundred and twenty-four guards, twenty-four maidservants, and alongside the Na Xiu and her attendant, a total of one hundred and fifty people. Having left their homeland, it was unlikely they would ever return. By Enanqi standards, this was considered a grand bridal procession. Yet among them, only Duo Zai had weathered more than seventy springs and autumns.

“Mama is not hungry. Is Na Xiu hungry?” Duo Zai peered into the carriage with a worried glance.

“Come up, Duo Zai!” Huang Beishuang gently patted her frail shoulder.

“Mama cannot join you.”

“If you won’t come up, then sing for me, Duo Zai! Sing the song of the praying woman, sing until Na Xiu’s heart aches no more!”

“…”

Only Duo Zai knew the truth—this innocent young girl would often cry in silence, lamenting her fate when no one was watching. Despite hearing all the wisdom of the world and receiving all the blessings sent her way, she still bore the weight of the destiny imposed upon her, quietly and alone. Though Duo Zai had children of her own, none compared to this one—so strong yet so kind, so lonely yet so sorrowful, so innocent yet so clever. Duo Zai sighed softly, then with some effort, climbed into the carriage. Though her figure was frail, it radiated a deep tenderness.

Seeing this, Huang Beishuang couldn’t help but smile. In the past, even before her mother, she had never used her own suffering as a reason to seek affection.

In the past, she never sought affection.

"Duo Zai, in this world, there is no one I love more than you—not my father or mother, not my brothers or sisters." Huang Beishuang held Duo Zai’s hand to her chest, gently brushing the dust from her hair.

Duo Zai’s heart warmed, her eyes glistening briefly before she blinked the tears away, squeezing Huang Beishuang’s hand. "Na Xiu, Mama believes in you, and you must believe in Mama too. Everything in life has an end—there is sorrow, but also joy; poverty, but also prosperity. When the end comes, you will either find sweetness after bitterness or lose all reason to live. But Mama knows this: you will find sweetness after the bitterness passes."

Huang Beishuang smiled at Duo Zai. "Duo Zai, I know your heart holds endless wisdom. Without you by my side, I would have long since lost my courage."

After a pause, she gently tucked a stray lock of Duo Zai’s hair back into place and asked, "Tell me, why did you choose to be my bridal attendant?"

Hearing this, Duo Zai lowered her gaze in resignation. "Mama is old, of no use anymore. At home, I’m nothing but a burden. My sons and daughters have their own families now. In these chaotic times, it's hard enough for them to stay alive, let alone care for an old woman like me. It’s enough that I managed to raise them. What more could I ask for? The only thing I can’t let go of is you, the Na Xiu I nursed when you were but a child. I’ve lived long enough, I’m not afraid of death, but I’ll hold on until my final breath, just to stay with you till the very end—like your white horse, Feita. Na Xiu, do you feel the same?"

As Duo Zai spoke, Huang Beishuang had already begun to cry, years of sorrow and pent-up grief finally spilling over. It was as if in this world, Duo Zai was her only true family. "Don’t worry, Mama. Na Xiu will wait until the bitterness passes, and sweetness returns."

Duo Zai wiped away Huang Beishuang’s tears, her heart filled with boundless tenderness.

"Mama has one more truth to tell you, Na Xiu. You must listen as though you’ve never heard it. If you understand, act as if you don’t. Do you understand?"

Huang Beishuang nodded, resting in Duo Zai’s embrace, basking in a mother’s warmth.

"Everything has an end—there is sorrow, but also joy; poverty, but also wealth. Only the heavens and earth have no end, time has no end, desire has no end, wisdom has no end... Na Xiu, did you hear?"

Already half-asleep, Huang Beishuang smiled as if lulled by a lullaby, mumbling in response, "Mmm… I’ll act as though I didn’t understand, Duo Zai."

At her words, Duo Zai couldn’t help but smile. Gazing at the young girl, adorned in her splendid bridal gown, her beauty and innocence were on full display. And yet, she remained so calm and composed. What a clever girl she was.

Fate seemed all the more intent on leading her down a path of trials and tribulations.

The desert night was even more terrifying. The overwhelming darkness made it impossible to focus one’s gaze, and it was said that many a lone traveler had lost their mind and perished because of it.

The tired clinking of camel bells echoed through the air. Huang Beishuang glanced at the darkening sky, realizing they could go no further. She ordered the caravan to halt and had the guards light a campfire. One hundred and fifty people huddled behind a large, thorn-covered hill to rest.

Many of the young guards dared not look too far into the distance, staying close to their companions in a vain attempt to summon courage. The darkness around them was too thick, making it easy to imagine monsters lurking within.

"Guo’er, bring me a wooden pole and a strip of white cloth."

Huang Beishuang’s voice was clear and steady, showing no sign of fear despite the eerie atmosphere. She had been watching the sky and the patterns in the sand for some time, silently pondering. The weather seemed strange; caution was necessary. A sandstorm or quicksand could spell the end for them all.

Guo'er raised her head with a hint of impatience. "Duo Zai, you go get it! Na Xiu wants the wooden pole and white cloth!"

Startled by the command, Duo Zai quickly rose and rummaged through the carriage to find the items. Her dry, withered hands brought the pole and cloth forward, and Huang Beishuang frowned slightly. It wasn’t the first time this had happened—when she'd asked Guo’er and the others to fetch water for the white horse, it was Duo Zai who had done it instead.

"Bind the white cloth to the pole, then plant it on the hilltop over there. It’s more visible and will serve as a wind marker," Huang Beishuang said, not taking the items herself but directing Guo'er.

But Guo'er had already turned away, waving dismissively. "Let Mama Duo Zai handle it!" she said before lying back down to sleep.

Duo Zai, holding the pole and cloth, turned to head toward the hill, but before she could take a step, Huang Beishuang grabbed her arm. A sudden shout, louder and fiercer than the howling wind, erupted from her.

"Everyone, get up!"

The entire camp was startled awake, scrambling to their feet, Guo’er included.

Huang Beishuang’s cold gaze swept across the twenty-four maidservants standing to her left, then she handed the pole and cloth to a guard, instructing him to place the wind marker atop the hill. She turned back to Duo Zai. "How long has this been happening?"

Duo Zai tugged gently on Huang Beishuang's sleeve, knowing what she was about to ask—how long they had been mistreating her. But Huang Beishuang shook her off sharply. "How long have you been bullying Duo Zai? Who started it?"

The twenty-four maidservants, faces pale with fear, dared not speak.

"I will only ask this once!" Huang Beishuang cracked the whip from the camel's side, the sharp sound cutting through the air like a blade.

"From… from the moment the bridal caravan set out, it was Guo’er who led the way!" A maid in yellow finally blurted out, unable to bear the tension any longer.

Huang Beishuang turned her gaze to Guo’er. "Is that true?"

All the others nodded in agreement.

"Everyone, except Guo'er, sit down. If you're truly tired and need rest, you may continue sleeping."

Though Huang Beishuang had spoken calmly, no one dared to close their eyes. They all sat down quietly, but sleep was the furthest thing from their minds. Back in Enanqi, Huang Beishuang had been a formidable huntress, known for her skills in traversing the desert sands. She had provided for many families in the tribe, and as the Na Xiu, her status was revered.

Guo’er, on the verge of tears, was both terrified and resentful, unwilling to accept being betrayed by her companions. After all, she wasn’t the only one who had mistreated Duo Zai. Clutching her robes tightly, she cowered before Huang Beishuang.

Snap! Snap! The sound of the whip cracked twice, and Guo'er was struck to the ground, finally succumbing to her humiliation and bursting into loud sobs.

"Woo... It was the tribe mother who said so. We were chosen as backup brides for the marriage alliance because Erxiu feared that if Sister failed to please the king of Zhan, one of us might take her place. Even though it’s unlikely that we could succeed where she might not, they’re still hoping for a miracle."

Guo'er wept as she spoke, pouring out her grievances all at once, clearly harboring her own pain.

"Sister is noble, and even in this marriage of alliance, she carries her dignity. Everything is as it should be. But what are we? We’re nothing but slaves of slaves! Before Sister’s marriage, she simply bid farewell to those around her and set off gracefully. But what about us? Our suffering is no less. Before we were sent away for marriage, we had to learn how to serve men, how to please them in ways you can’t even imagine, reduced to the lowest of the low."

“Sister, we didn’t really bully Mama Duo Zai. We just wanted to experience what it feels like to have someone serve us before we reach Yunpei! We’ve done nothing wrong, even the tribe mother said it was fine!”

Crack!

Before she could finish her words, another lash from Huang Beishuang’s whip landed on her, this time with no mercy. Guo’er fell silent, not daring to utter another word.

Huang Beishuang let out a cold snort and lifted Duo Zai’s frail hand high for all to see. "Look at this hand—it's nearly a century old, a hand that raised six sons and two daughters. And now, all that’s left is this fragile body, accompanying us on a journey from which there is no return. Her children did not keep her, not even to say goodbye."

The crowd listened, feeling a lump rise in their throats, casting sympathetic glances toward Duo Zai.

Duo Zai looked at Huang Beishuang, her heart filled with a mix of emotions. She hadn’t expected her to notice such things.

But Huang Beishuang’s authority remained undiminished, even in the face of this poignant moment. She continued, "You are young women enduring for the sake of your people, walking this path with me, armed with the wisdom of using your bodies as a means of survival. You’ve suffered excruciating pain, both physically and emotionally, and yet, none of you have deserted. In seven more days, after seven more sunrises and sunsets, we will arrive. Will you desert then?"

All twenty-four women shook their heads.

But Huang Beishuang did not smile. She lashed Guo’er once more.

"Is this how a daughter of the desert, a woman who endures hardship for her people, gives in to temptation—by bullying an old woman to vent her frustrations? You wanted to know what it felt like to be served? When Duo Zai, with her frail body, complied with your commands, did you not fear the heavens’ wrath?"

With two more swift strikes of the whip, Huang Beishuang tossed it aside.

"In these seven days, if any of you want to leave, you are free to do so. That goes for the guards as well. If you can forget that you are children of the Enanqi, Na Xiu will not stand in your way. But after seven days, those who remain will enter Yunpei with me, and from then on, life and death will be left to the heavens."

Silence fell over the group. Even after Huang Beishuang and Duo Zai had returned to the carriage, no one moved for a long time.

The campfire continued to burn brightly, and the white wind marker on the hill danced wildly in the wind. One by one, people began to fall asleep, though a few guards remained on watch.

The wind was still cold, but no longer as bone-chilling. The darkness remained as terrifying as ever, yet somehow it no longer felt as if monsters were lurking within it. The moon hung in the sky, veiled by a thin layer of clouds, casting a gentle light over the land. Though it left no shadows, it quietly soothed more than a hundred restless hearts.

For within the wind dwells the Na Xiu of Enanqi.

Sleep now, for after tonight, there will still be seven more sunrises.

In the carriage, Huang Beishuang had fallen asleep by the window, while Duo Zai covered her with her bridal silk blanket.

"Na Xiu, you’re not really asleep, are you? Mama knows you’re only pretending. You’ve been watching the wind marker on the hill all this time." Duo Zai’s voice still carried the solemn weight of a priestess at a sacrificial ceremony.

Yet Huang Beishuang didn’t open her eyes, nor did she reply.

The moonlight fell on her face, casting an ethereal, dreamlike glow.

Finally, Duo Zai fell silent, turning her head to sleep. A patch of her pillow was damp with tears.

After a while, her breathing became even. She was old and easily fatigued; surely, she had fallen asleep by now.

With a soft sigh, Huang Beishuang opened her eyes, staring fixedly at the wind marker atop the hill.

In the stillness, the moonlight remained the same, her face unchanged, but the wind had grown gentler, soothing the quiet solitude of the dream-laden night.

By dawn, only a few charred logs remained in the fire pit. All one hundred and fifty people stood ready to depart, not a single one missing.

The desert’s day and night are always as different as heaven and earth. It seems as though it has long forgotten the bone-chilling winds that sweep through before dawn, leaving only an arrogant sun perched high in the sky, mercilessly scorching the very flesh and blood they were born with.

Yet, no one complained; they had long grown accustomed to the agony that grinds bone to ash.

But what they didn’t know was that another danger was already closing in.

“Well, well! This time, the prey looks promising!”

The speaker was a burly man dressed in a sand-colored coat, armed with a sword, gun, and saber at his waist. His rugged face was framed by sharp brows and piercing eyes, and his voice carried an unmistakable thrill. As he spoke, he snapped his fingers toward the group behind him.

Looking out over the scene, it was clear that this wasn’t just a small band of men. Heads began to rise from behind the sand dunes—hundreds of them—forming a dark mass of at least a thousand bandits. They must have been tracking Huang Beishuang’s caravan for days, waiting patiently until now, when the caravan was deep inside their trap.

It was obvious who they were: a band of desert thieves, with the speaker clearly their leader. Dressed in garments the color of the sands, they had hidden themselves behind the earth, lying in wait for the perfect moment to strike.

"Brothers, the women down there—take what you want and sell the rest. As for the men, kill them if they resist!" The young leader’s authority was evident; his command stirred a restless energy among the men.

"Charge!" He drew the curved blade from his waist, leading the charge with a savage grin, his followers howling like vultures that had just found their prey. Many of them screamed wildly as they rushed forward, resembling frenzied scavengers in a feeding frenzy.

“Gods! It’s bandits! Protect Na Xiu!” The guards, who had been busy packing up, were the first to react. They hurriedly grabbed their bows and formed a protective ring around Huang Beishuang’s carriage and the twenty or so maidservants.

Arrows were aimed at the charging bandits, but none faltered in their advance. Armed with large blades, they pressed on relentlessly, falling only when struck in a vital spot. Those who made it to the front lines slashed wildly with their weapons, the clash of steel ringing out, mingling with the sickening sound of blades tearing through flesh. Agonized screams pierced the air as bodies began to fall.

Huang Beishuang sat inside the carriage, her face filled with worry. She hesitantly lifted the curtain to glance outside, and despair settled deep within her eyes. The bandits numbered in the thousands, while her guards barely exceeded a hundred. Worse still, many of the servants and guards were already abandoning them, fleeing into the desert.

Those who remained fought desperately, unwilling to fall even as their bodies were battered and bloodied. But the odds were overwhelmingly against them.

Huang Beishuang furrowed her brows, her mind in turmoil. Throughout the journey, she had been meticulously vigilant, paying close attention to the winds and weather, fearing that the slightest misstep could bury all one hundred and fifty of them in the desert, leaving her people in grief. She had guarded against the heavens, but not against man; against the land, but not against fate.

With that thought, she resolutely stepped out of the carriage, standing on the front platform with a calm determination, her voice steady and clear.

"Stop! Lay down your weapons. There is no need for further resistance."

The remaining guards immediately lowered their arms and gathered around her. Those who had not gathered were either dead or had fled.

"We are a bridal entourage, part of the Enanqi tribe, passing through this land with no intention of becoming water in your cups or food on your plates. We are willing to offer up all the gold, jewels, wine, and provisions on this caravan. All we ask is for a path to survival. When the tides of fortune change, we will not forget this favor."

Though her voice was soft, it carried distinctly to every ear.

The bandits, it seemed, had never encountered such a fearless woman before. They looked at one another in astonishment, unsure of what to do, before turning their eyes in unison toward their leader.

The leader’s curved blade still dripped with fresh blood. He stood in the center, staring at Huang Beishuang in silence for a long while, before suddenly bursting into laughter. It was a loud, wild, and arrogant laugh that echoed endlessly.

"Haha! Truly, the world is vast and full of wonders! In over ten years of robbing and pillaging, I’ve never seen a piece of prey step forward and negotiate terms!" He sneered mid-sentence, adding with a mocking tone, "Damn, you've got guts!"

Huang Beishuang pressed her lips together, her face betraying no emotion.

"Little sister, let me make something clear. The moment you surrendered, you ceased to be anyone of importance. You became my property. So don’t talk to me about bargaining with what’s already mine!"

As he spoke, the excitement of bloodshed still glinted in his eyes, sending a wave of fear through Huang Beishuang's heart.

"But I’ll admit, stepping out of that carriage with your dignity intact, even after seeing the blood and carnage, you’re the first!" He stepped closer, eyeing her appraisingly. "And what a fine specimen you are. From the looks of it, you’re probably destined to be some plaything in a great nation, aren’t you? Haha! How about I save them the trouble and enjoy you myself?" He finished with a lewd laugh, prompting the gang of bandits to join in with raucous jeers and catcalls.

At that moment, Duo Zai rushed out from the carriage, positioning herself beside Huang Beishuang, partially shielding her as she shouted fiercely.

"Masters! Masters! We did not leave our homeland to seek wealth and glory. The carriages we ride and the gifts we bring to the king have drained ten years' worth of savings from the Enanqi tribe. These jewels are like thorns piercing our flesh, blades carved from our very bones! And now, we are willing to give it all up!"

"But what we cannot abandon is the desolate land that gave us life, nor can we forsake the parents and children we left behind in our homeland. At this very moment, they work with trembling hearts, anxiously awaiting our arrival. Should we fail to reach the palace of Yunpei on time, what awaits them... will be a baptism of blood and fire. That would be the calamity of more than seven thousand innocent lives! Masters, we are not pleading for our own lives, but for fear that we will not fulfill this sorrowful duty!"

Duo Zai’s voice quivered with passion, her disheveled hair flying wildly in the wind like a crone with serpents upon her head. Her toothless mouth opened and closed like a dark cavern, and her trembling voice carried an ancient and ominous weight, striking fear into all who listened.

The scene was eerie and surreal, and the bandits fell silent.

"Duo Zai, stand aside!" Huang Beishuang commanded. "Though your words may have softened a thousand hearts hardened by cruelty, there is still one who remains cold as ice, who sees us as nothing more than ants!"

With that, Huang Beishuang leapt down from the carriage, standing before the guards, her hand pointing in furious defiance at the bandit leader.

"Why do you still laugh? Why do you still grip your blade so tightly? Were you not born of parents? Do you have no children to whom you owe a duty of care? Who are you, to have no sense of compassion? Are you man, or are you monster?"

The leader gazed at Huang Beishuang for a long moment, his rugged face betraying no emotion. Then, with a cold smirk, he shed his earlier mocking tone and spoke with deadly calm.

"You two, the old and the young, certainly have a way with words. You’ve left my men speechless with your tricks."

He strode slowly toward the center of the encirclement, and in that instant, the air seemed heavy with the weight of impending doom.

Clang! The curved blade sank into the ground.

"This blade was gifted by my father. I killed my father."

Clang! A treasured sword followed into the earth.

"This sword was hidden by my mother. I killed my mother."

Clang! A long spear was driven into the soil.

"This spear was forged by my wife. I killed my wife."

The midday sun blazed overhead as his words fell like hellfire upon Huang Beishuang and her entourage, shaking them to the core. In that moment, they were gripped by the stark realization that death was inevitable.

The leader turned and bellowed to his men, "Brothers! Where are your parents?"

"Born, but never raised!" the crowd roared in response.

"Brothers! Where are your wives and children?"

"Some are gone, some have fled!" they shouted once more.

With each call and response, any lingering traces of mercy in the bandits’ hearts evaporated. Their blood surged, ready for violence.

The leader, standing at the center, was visibly pleased. He suddenly pointed at Huang Beishuang and her people.

"Look over there! If you want wealth, take it! If you want a wife, claim her! If you want nothing, then kill to your heart’s content!"

"Oooh!" With excited cries, the bandits raised their blades and charged forward with savage abandon.

The leader turned back, his cold eyes meeting the desperate gaze of Huang Beishuang.

"I am Ruowen. I belong to no tribe. The heavens have long since cast me out, and the world no longer holds any ties for me."

There was little resistance. Of the one hundred or so Enanqi people, all were either brutally slaughtered or taken captive. Rough ropes bound their feet, linking them together, as they were herded westward like cattle.

The vast desert stretched endlessly, the northern winds howling, sweeping away the scattered footprints and the battered hearts of those trudging forward. Heads bowed in exhaustion, no one dared to make a wish upon the heavens, for the sky held no mercy; no one bothered to pray to the earth, for it had no love for its children.

Huang Beishuang supported Duo Zai as they walked at the front of the captive column. Ruowen led them in silence, while his men, clearly pleased with their haul, followed closely behind, two of them already animatedly discussing the division of their spoils.

"Boss, can I have those two beauties in yellow at the back later?" A scrawny man with a large scar on his forehead was growing impatient, casting lewd glances at his prize.

"Wolfhead, are you serious? Two at once?" scoffed a burly man with a thick beard, clearly mocking him. "Didn’t your tool get bit in half last year? Can it still even work?"

"Shut your mouth, Wild Fox! You always want the same as me. This time, I won’t let you have it!"

"Haha, well, we’ll see about that! When we get back to the camp, we’ll fight it out as usual—the winner gets first pick! But I have to admit, this batch of girls is truly a feast for the eyes. Almost don’t want to sell them off."

"Agreed. The ones in yellow and green... they really make your heart itch!"

"Who exactly are they for, anyway, that we need to bring them in such style?"

"Ah, now that you mention it, that old woman said something about Yunpei. Looks like they’re meant to be a gift for the Zhan King!"

"Damn, being a king must be quite the life! One pair of hands wouldn’t be enough for him!"

"Hahaha, right? Well, let’s just help him enjoy them ourselves!"

"I’ve heard that Zhan King is a man who never shares. No matter the reason, it seems this Enanqi tribe is done for. Without Yunpei’s backing, they’ll be wiped out by the next disaster. Thousands of them will die for sure!"

"Not our problem. In this world, fate is fickle. As the leader says, for one to live, another must die—that’s just how it is."

"Exactly!"

Listening to their conversation, Huang Beishuang felt a bitter amusement. She had known all along—she was but a speck of dust among the multitudes, a life meant to be extinguished for the survival of others. Such was the will of heaven.

"The best is mine. The rest, you can divide however you like."

Ruowen’s voice, breaking his long silence, carried its usual casual authority. Wolfhead and Wild Fox exchanged a glance, both of them instinctively shifting their gaze toward Huang Beishuang in her crimson bridal gown.

The best woman, they thought.

The finest woman stood before them—unruffled, in the bloom of youth, breathtakingly beautiful—yet her presence struck fear deep into their hearts.

Amid the chaos of their pillaging, none dared lay a hand on her. In the end, they merely bound her at the head of the captive column, a symbol of their greatest prize.

Whoever she was, wherever she came from, no one—no one but her—had ever dared to point a finger at the leader’s face and question him with such defiance.

As Ruowen and his men marched farther into the distance with their spoils, a figure appeared on the golden sand dunes—a black cloak billowing in the wind, the fabric snapping sharply against the air.

"Feita, isn’t this quite the twist of fate?"

It was none other than Qinyun. He pulled his cloak over his face to shield himself from the dust, obscuring his expression, leaving only his deep, inscrutable eyes fixed on the retreating figures.

"Haha!" His laughter was low, resonating like distant thunder. He turned swiftly, leaping onto his horse. "Let’s go! Time to repay those ten bags of water."

Feita reared up, its powerful front legs kicking into the air before it charged northward at full gallop.

O spirited Feita,

Do you know,

That what you chase,

Is a love for the ages,

What you pursue,

Is an ancient vow,

What you race toward,

Is a battle of passion in a world torn asunder!

The heavens know,

The earth knows,

But you, Feita, do not...