The Southern Bough - Chapter 4

That night, I walked through the pitch-black passageways of Zao’en Tower.

Faint candlelight cast ghostly shadows on the walls.

I knew that three years from now, Northern Yu’s old emperor would remember the general who had killed an enemy commander amid ten thousand soldiers with a single silver spear.

By then, it would be too late. The Southern Kingdom would refuse to release him.

After Northern Yu’s crown prince, Song Shao, took the throne, he would offer three cities and a withdrawal of twenty li to buy Shen Shijin’s freedom.

But by then, day after day of torture would have left Shen Shijin crippled. Someone in Zao’en Tower would have smashed his kneecaps.

The tower looked magnificent from the outside.

Deep within it lay a dungeon that never saw daylight.

Grief over his son’s death had blinded General Yao to everything else. He turned a blind eye to what Yao Huanyi did.

The cold inside was worse than the cold outdoors.

Once my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I raised my lantern.

A heavy smell of blood filled my nose in the black dungeon.

Through the iron bars, I saw the Northern Yu general I had heard so much about—Shen Shijin.

His back was to me, his hair unbound.

Chains had been driven through his shoulder blades. His injuries were so severe that he had to lean against the wall to hold himself up.

Despite the brutal torture, he seemed absurdly at ease for a prisoner. He was even humming a little tune I couldn’t quite make out.

Qiushu had told me about it.

To humiliate the general who had routed the Southern Kingdom on the battlefield, the guards had taken away a cat that was fond of him and threatened to boil it.

Only if Shen Shijin sang them a little song would they spare it.

Torture might fail to break a man. Mockery, humiliation, and abuse were another matter.

That was exactly what Yao Huanyi wanted.

Making a general of Northern Yu sing for a pack of guards was a profound humiliation.

Yet he hadn’t seemed angry at all. Laughing, he had said he’d heard a few lines from a lady friend at a pleasure house and never expected them to come in handy.

The humming stopped.

I lowered my head and silently pushed the food carrier through the bars, nudging it closer to him.

When I looked up again, the man had turned around without my noticing.

His gaze rested on me.

And at the sight of that blood-covered face, my heart gave a violent jolt.

Shen Shijin smiled, showing stark white teeth. “Mute? Or scared out of your wits?”

I said nothing.

He lifted the lid of the carrier. Inside were a steamed bun and a small dish of pickled vegetables.

“Fresh?”

He sounded amused. “Has your mistress changed her methods? Trying poison now?”

Before coming, I had thrown away the spoiled food and replaced it with the bun Qiushu had saved for me.

Shen Shijin naturally assumed no one would bring him perfectly edible food.

I did not talk to him further. I hurried out of Zao’en Tower.

As I recalled, a cat that had kept him company during his three years as a hostage had died a miserable death.

Before leaving the Southern Kingdom, he had even given it a lavish funeral.

That hardly sounded like a man prone to murderous violence.

For several days, I delivered food in Qiushu’s place.

From what I saw, this Northern Yu general was a very strange man.

Sometimes the black cat would slip past the guards and into the dungeon.

Shen Shijin always saved some of the freshest food for it.

He scratched beneath its chin, and it licked the wounds on his hand.

“I’ve got barely enough to eat, and I’m supposed to keep a fawning little lackey like you too?”

He laughed aloud in the dungeon.

He seemed quite unaware that a fallen tiger could be bullied by dogs.

I used some of my wages to buy a bottle of wound medicine from a guard at the estate.

But when I hid it beneath the food carrier and passed it to Shen Shijin, his eyes settled on the bottle, and he gave an amused smile.

Without warning, he seized my wrist.

I instinctively tried to pull free.

I hadn’t expected a badly injured man to have such strength.

Part of my sleeve tore away, and I shoved him back.

He clutched his chest theatrically, looking at my arm. “I thought all you Southern Kingdom girls were sweet and gentle.”

“My mother was from Northern Yu,” I said quietly after a moment.

That silenced him.

“Who do you belong to?”

The candle flame flickered. We looked at each other across its dim light.

He was the first to look away. “Never mind.”

I regarded him calmly. “I don’t belong to anyone. I’m A-Jing.”

He seemed to take little notice of the name.

“What would you like to eat tomorrow?” I asked.

Sitting on the ground with his legs stretched out in the darkness, he glanced sideways at me. “I get a choice?”

I considered it, then answered, “There’s only steamed bread.”

His clear, bright eyes curved slightly.

“…A-Jing? You’re interesting.”