Night lay black as ink, and cold winds sent dust swirling through the streets and alleys. Liu Xuan rode his electric scooter through streets flashing with neon, several food-delivery orders rattling in the basket. He frowned at the time on his phone: 23:47. One last delivery, and he could go home.
But just as he crossed an intersection, an out-of-control car shot out from a side street. Its blinding headlights lit up his stunned face. The crash of metal tore through the night as his scooter went flying, and Liu Xuan’s consciousness plunged into endless darkness.
When he opened his eyes, his head throbbed, and the heavy stench of blood filled his nostrils. He was lying on a rough bed, dressed in coarse hemp cloth. Around him were mottled earthen walls, and an oil lamp flickered in the corner, casting indistinct shadows.
Hurried footsteps sounded outside the door, accompanied by low, anxious voices. “Our lord still hasn’t woken... If we don’t decide soon, Yuan Shu’s army will breach the city.”
Liu Xuan struggled to sit up. His head felt as if it had been struck with a hammer, and his vision was blurred. He looked down at himself: a dark robe with subtle embroidery at the cuffs. Though stained with blood, it was clearly made of fine fabric. He frowned. These weren’t his clothes.
Someone pushed open the door, and an armored soldier hurried over and dropped to one knee. “My lord, you’re finally awake! Yuan Shu’s army has reached the city gates. We’re short on provisions, and the soldiers are all waiting for your orders!”
Liu Xuan opened his mouth. His throat was dry, and his voice hoarse. “I... I...”
The soldier furrowed his brow, then quickly lowered his head again. “My lord may have injured his head. I’ll go fetch the physician at once.”
