The wind howled menacingly through the Xiongnu camp tents, carrying with it the pungent scent of tanned leather, the bitter tang of wild herbs, and the thick smoke of damp firewood. It was the evening of the fifth day of infiltration, and the sky blazed with a deep orange that reflected off the worn canvas of the tents. Beneath this fiery shroud, Meixin walked with measured steps through the center of the camp. Disguised as a healer, she wore a modest cotton tunic dyed in earthy tones that blended with the dust around her, and a long skirt down to her ankles that barely revealed her small, worn leather boots. Her rope belt, from which hung a basket made of aged wood, carried bandages, ointments, and herb-filled vials—each item prepared to soothe someone's pain, though that night her mission was of a very different nature.
Beside her, like a silent shadow, walked Ta Shu. Clad in a dull, patched fur coat, the dirty cloth covering part of his face barely concealed the determination in his dark eyes. Every step he took was calculated and precise, and the way he watched the movements of the sentries—with a blink or a slight tightening of his jaw—betrayed an unrelenting vigilance that spoke of personal sacrifice. He seemed like a mute assistant, but each of his gestures was filled with unshakable commitment.
As they moved deeper into the camp, a growing murmur began to swell. That evening, a group of allied merchants had arrived from the east. Among them, a tall man with a calm face and hair tied in a short braid adorned with green jade beads walked with deliberate care, as if searching for something—or someone—in particular. His bright, alert eyes scanned those present until they landed on Ta Shu, and he stopped in his tracks.
_Brother...?_ the man murmured, his deep voice blending with the whispering wind.
Ta Shu lifted his gaze slightly; in that instant, his eyes widened for a few seconds, and although his face remained a mask of calm, a subtle clench of his jaw betrayed his discomfort.
_Mu Rong..._he whispered, barely audible, as if afraid his words might pierce the veil of secrecy.
Meixin, who had overheard the exchange, remained calm and kept walking without saying a word. A few steps ahead, she stopped before a Xiongnu woman who had approached her complaining of back pain. In a sweet but firm voice, pretending to ignore the unusual encounter, Meixin bent down to treat her, eyes scanning the surroundings, ever watchful.
After completing her tasks and moving away from the camp's bustling center, Meixin, still carrying the basket in her arms, cast a glance over her shoulder.
_Who was that man?_ she asked quietly, without fully turning her head.
Ta Shu replied slowly, his voice low and barely audible above the camp's crackling sounds:
_An old acquaintance.
No further questions were asked. The tension between them faded, though the air remained heavy with secrets.
Hours later, as night had fully claimed the camp and darkness reigned, Meixin and Ta Shu crept cautiously behind the command tents. Shadows played along the aged leather and the taut ropes stretched across the posts. They moved like ghosts—avoiding lit fires, noisy footsteps, and the watchful eyes of the sentries. With stealth, they slipped into the tribal chief's tent—a structure of thick, coarse canvas. Inside, on a low wooden table polished by time, lay strategic maps. These scrolls displayed routes marked in red ink, troop positions, supply reserves, and key mountain passes.
With steady, determined hands, Meixin rolled up the maps while Ta Shu guarded the entrance with unwavering focus. But as they prepared to leave, a sharp, sudden noise halted them: a Xiongnu guard, wild-eyed and unsteady, stood before them. Confusion turned quickly into alarm, and with a shrill voice, the guard shouted:
_Intruders!
Chaos erupted immediately. Instinctively, Ta Shu shoved the guard hard—the impact echoed in the tent as the man fell heavily to the ground, unconscious. Wasting no time, Meixin bolted toward the rear exit as alarms and shouts spread across the camp. Torches flared in bursts of light, and warriors armed with swords and spears gathered to answer the call.
This way!_ shouted Ta Shu, grabbing her hand and leading her westward, toward the rugged hills bordering the settlement.
Together, they climbed a rocky slope under the pale glow of a merciful moon. The uneven, treacherous terrain turned each step into a struggle for balance. Behind them, the shouts and thunderous pursuit grew louder, an ominous echo in the night.
_They're heading for the mountains! Cut them off!_ rang metallic cries that mixed with the wind's whistle.
Breathless, Meixin's face was streaked with exertion. She turned to Ta Shu:
_We can't go on like this_ she murmured, desperation tinged with forced calm.
_They'll catch us_ he replied, voice ragged from fatigue. _We have to jump.
At his words, Meixin looked at him in disbelief. The wind whipped at their faces, and the distant rumble of Xiongnu war drums made the ground tremble beneath their feet.
_That's insane_ she said, doubt sharp in her voice.
_Trust me_ Ta Shu replied—and in that moment, with no masks and no walls between them, their eyes met. With hearts pounding in unison, they shared a look heavy with meaning—a connection that transcended betrayal and secrecy. That night, amid danger and chaos, truth was revealed: loyalty and the will to survive could unite two souls even in the darkest of moments.
Together, they made a silent decision. They positioned themselves at the cliff's edge, where the rock plunged abruptly into a raging river far below. Without another word, they leapt.
As they fell—in an instant that felt eternal—a flood of memories surged through Meixin and Ta Shu's minds, blending with the relentless roar of wind and water.