If everyone dies with a number of unspeakable secrets, then He Xiu's secret is Song Zhaozhi.
Just that one name could answer for every sin the world bears.
He fears neither harsh interrogation nor punishment. Even if they were to skin and dismember him, this seemingly carefree barbarian from the steppe would still crack jokes and laugh at the instruments of torture.
But the moment Song Zhaozhi becomes his accomplice, the moment she has to suffer even a fraction of a hardship, this man who seemed impossible to handle suddenly changes his tune. He panics, even wagging his tail and begging you for mercy.
The Battle of Leshan ends in defeat, and the borderlands fall. In the Central Plains, nine households out of ten are left empty, and the nation stands on the verge of collapse.
The capital secretly dispatches envoys to negotiate peace. The Khanate scorns the dignity of the Great Shang, brazenly demands a royal heir as a hostage, and insists that palace treasures be sent as tribute, along with six million bolts of silk and silver taels every year to the Great Jin.
The envoy repeats the message:
"...His Majesty of the Kerey Khanate is benevolent and kind. He has agreed to accept the women of the family of Song Bingyou, the general who died defending the nation, to comfort the army."
The court is deaf to reason, and the aristocracy is shameless. They order Song Zhaozhi to powder her face and paint herself up, dressed as a spectacle to be presented to the enemy.
The man standing before tens of thousands of imposing soldiers looks down from the city gate and lets out a sneer. His expression is just like the black crow on the battle flag, riding the wind.
He is heartless, but his subordinates are furious, eager to shoot Song Zhaozhi through the throat and tear out her heart.
"That's the only daughter of Song Bingyou, who injured His Highness at Leshan!"
"Her eyes are loathsome, her blood is filthy. Let the daughter pay for her father's crimes!"
The wind whips up.
The golden shaman's earring on the man flashes in the dusk. He draws his bow, the sharp arrowhead aimed at her from afar.
The woman, who has kept her head bowed, her expression unreadable, suddenly looks up.
Her gaze passes countless hostile faces and cuts through ranks of spears and horses, meeting his eyes at the exact moment they open.
[A delicate, calculating Central Plains lady seeking revenge x a broad-backed, foul-mouthed steppe man who is the ultimate lovesick puppy]
Reading notes:
1. A true enemies-to-lovers story: "He's head over heels, she's pretending." You can feel sorry for the male lead, but don't let that sympathy become an excuse to attack the heroine.
2. The setting is fictional. Please don't read it through a historical lens.
Theme: Driven to the brink of death, one can still survive. No matter what, there is always hope
