250 A Will To Live

When the army returned to the Imperial City, all the soldiers had their armor stained red with blood. Many of the injured were carried into the city, and not one among them had clothes free of mud and blood.

Sitting on a bench, An Sun gratefully took the canteen of water passed to him. He gulped so largely, trails of water fell along his moving throat. When he finished, he simply savored the cooling of his body, wetness playing on his lips for the first time in hours.

Looking around, all the men were being assisted by physicians. Clearly not enough to help everyone. With no other choice, An Sun chose to bandage his own wounds. They hadn't been severe anyhow, only minor scars and scratches.

Shedding away his armor and shirt, he grabbed a piece of cloth to wipe the dirt from his body. As he extended a hand out to reach for the wrapping, he hissed. He had stopped to catch his breath and ease the pain in his arm when he heard the scuff of boots on stone and came face-to-face with Jin Yue.

Her hair was black, not an ink or ashy color of common black, but a deep burnished auburn of red that shone in the evening sun. Even her eyes glowed bits of red within the iris. Slender she was, gaunt, taller than most soldiers, with full breasts and a narrow waist, and a heart-shaped face. Men's eyes that once found her did not quickly look away.

"Let me." She grabbed the bandages from the table. Her voice was cold with command.

"Thanks." An Sun shifted himself in his seat.

While Jin Yue wrapped the bandages around his shoulder, the man's gaze was scanning the other faces that came and left. When his eyes fixed on a certain person, his spine straightened.

Those sharp pair of emerald eyes peered through the crowd. She pressed her soft, rosy lips together, her figure moving past the group of men. To his disappointment, they had not once landed on him. Instead, they lit up on someone else. Bai Han and General Guo. Rin marched to the two men and began examining them from head to toe. When she saw they were fine, she offered to help clean their wounds.

"I see the way you look at my mistress." Jin Yue's dull voice sounded beside him.

An Sun's eyebrow raised. "Oh? And what way is that?"

"The same way that muscled fool looks at me." She said simply, rolling up the remaining cloth.

An Sun held back a smile and cleared his throat. "I guess I better work on that."

"That would be best. I wouldn't want rumors spreading about my mistress. I doubt you would either." Jin Yue said before walking away to help tend the wounded.

The corner of An Sun's lips twitched. He sighed and glanced in Rin's direction. She was meticulously bandaging her uncle's hand, her pale face etched with worry. So badly did he want to reach out and smoothen his thumb between her brows.

Recalling the last words he said to her before running off into battle, An Sun ran a hand over his face and groaned.

"Dumbass…" His deep voice muttered under his breath.

…

That night, the Emperor congratulated everyone warmly. They were to be fed a magnificent meal of honeyed lamb, fragrant with crushed mint, and served with small green figs. Their cups of wine were filled to the brim, served to them by female servants with sweet, lovely voices.

Every man drank, ate, and admired the beauties around them as if it was their last night. For some, it was. Until then, they celebrated the dead and ravished themselves with pleasant offerings.

"Look at all of them. Like pigs in a slaughterhouse." General Donghai said as if it left a bitter taste in his mouth. "I don't see why the Emperor thought to host this for everyone. It's just a waste."

"I don't see you complaining," Rin said behind her cup. She eyed the entire plate of lamb and meats he had already devoured.

"With good reason. I saved all your asses out there. I should be rewarded for my work." He proudly took a sip of his wine.

Everyone at the table held back the urge to laugh. No one dared to when faced with the scarred-faced man's vicious glare. Rin smiled faintly and lowered her gaze, quietly pushing the food about on her plate.

"Is something wrong with the food?" Her uncle's voice sounded beside her.

Rin shook her head. "I'm just worried about Ju."

After their army returned, another shocking news hit. Wei Jingyi approached her, a wounded falcon in his hands. It seemed after she sent him to watch over the battle, he was attacked by the An Clan's own falcon. Viciously at that.

Thankfully, his injuries were only minor, but still, to see the small bird hurt left a harsh pain in Rin's heart.

"I'm sure he's fine. But if you want, you can check on him. There's not much to do here anyways but eat and drink." General Guo said, a reassuring smile on his face.

Rin smiled and nodded. Slipping away from the others, she walked down the hall and into the shadows. Arriving in front of a door, she entered to see Wei Jingyi feeding Ju dried meats.

"How much have you fed him?" She frowned and walked to the falcon's side. His small face was covered in small scratches and upon closer inspection, a few bald spots on his wings.

"Don't worry. I didn't give him too much. I put a little medicine on them. Just enough to help ease his wounds." Wei Jingyi assured her.

Pursing her lips, Rin reached a hand out to softly stroke Ju's forehead. The falcon accepted her affection by leaning his face against her fingertips. She smiled.

"You should go and rest. I'll watch over him for the night." Rin sat on the bed, carefully placing Ju on her lap.

Wei Jingyi nodded his head and retreated out of the room. Left alone, she slid her finger along Ju's forehead and injured wings, soothing him to sleep. Feeling the line of his scars, she felt her stomach clench.

"I can't even protect you…" She whispered.

From outside, the shadow of a petal drifted onto the windowsill. Sighing, Rin leaned her head against the wall, eyes closed, a thin sliver of moonlight touching her cheek.

…

"Hey, Mingli! Where are you?" Yin Changpu kicked open the door, both hands holding two cups of wine.

Sitting at the edge of his bed, Fan Mingli looked up with a scowl. "Jeez, have you ever heard of knocking!" He quickly shut his notebook, setting it on the side.

"Don't be so harsh." Yin Changpu laughed and pulled out a chair. He leaned forward, passing him a cup. "Here, I brought you some wine."

"No thanks." Fan Mingli mumbled.

"Just a sip. Consider it a cheers for me." Yin Changpu pushed the cup forward. His voice was pleasant, well-modulated.

Fan Mingli's mouth twisted wryly, then he sighed in defeat. He cupped the beverage in his hands—it was still warm, freshly heated. The tension in his muscles ebbed a little. Staring down at his face in the dark, red wine, he saw only a slightly worn-out face.

"Um...You can have this back." He suddenly took out the old silver coin from his pocket.

Sipping his wine, Yin Changpu's eyebrows raised. He smiled and stretched his feet in front of him.

"There's no need. You can keep it." He waved his hand casually.

Fan Mingli looked up, shocked. "Is it not important to you?"

Yin Changpu laughed, almost affectionately. "It is. That's why I'm giving it to you."

"Wha—"

"Mingli." He was amused again, that slight smile. "As I said, it is in the better hands of someone hard-working. Hopefully, it will give you the confidence you deserve. I sure have enough of it."

Fan Mingli swallowed. As he looked down at the coin, he was conflicted with emotions he didn't understand. Regardless, his heart felt warm.

"From now on, I will…I will be confident." He said softly.

"Good." Yin Changpu extended his cup.

Offering a wide grin, Fan Mingli knocked his cup with the other man's. With a smile on both their faces, the men took a sip of their wine—an unspoken promise shared between the two.

"Tastes good." Fan Mingli licked his lips.

"Right? The emperor's really pampering us." Yin Changpu chuckled and took another sip.

Nodding his head, Fan Mingli raised the cup to his lips but froze. He coughed into his fist, violently. When he raised his hand, he stared in horrified disbelief, all color draining out of his face.

Blood flowed through his fingers and onto the wooden floor.

The cup in his hand fell with a clatter, red wine spilling beneath him.

Yin Changpu raised his head, eyes wide. "Mingli? Mingli!"

When he saw the young man falling to the floor, he rushed over, his chair knocking over in the process. In his arms, tears escaped Fan Mingli's eyes as he choked, gasping desperately. Panic loose and banging in his chest.

"Mingli, hang in there!" Yin Changpu gripping the young man's trembling hand. It was soaked in blood. "Stay with me! Someone will come to help!"

Clutching his chest, Fan Mingli's body wracked in spasms, a shock of tearing pain and a burning numbness in his belly. He couldn't even scream. His breaths were shallow gasps that felt like new wounds tearing.

Yin Changpu's mouth was moving, his eyes wide with panic and fear. He was calling for someone, he guessed. But already, the pain that once burned like a fire had faded away to an icy numbness.

Black filled the edges of his vision, and the only thing he could hear was his own raging heartbeat. His breath came in ragged, shallow gasps. Seconds passed as he lay there, then, he heard voices. People swarmed all over him, trying to help, he realized. They wanted to save him.

Please, he wanted to croak. Please save him. He wanted to live. He wanted...

But the words never had the chance to be spoken. His head dropped back against the ground, and his fragile, human heart beat one last time.