Chapter 8 — Chinh The Muu

The son shouted, "I just learned some really good martial arts moves... I'll win against you." He said: "Okay... okay, I'm better than you." He was being spun around like a pinwheel by the two of them. I looked at him and looked tired, but his mouth was always smiling and couldn't close his mouth. I suddenly remembered the Lunar New Year when I was fourteen years old, the whole street was lit up with flower lights so bright that the whole night sky lit up, rabbit lights, lotus lights, military lanterns, one by one passing overhead, I followed my mother and sisters out to see the lights, but fell to the back of the team, no one held my hand. The rebels stormed in from Dong Street. First there was a scream from afar, then the sound of horse hooves, then the crowd of people was like a beehive being broken and exploded. I was swept forward by the flow of people, an embroidered shoe fell from my foot, the backs of my mother and sisters shook in the crowd and disappeared. I was pressed close to the wall, my back was pressed against the cold brick, I saw the whole street running away in chaos, the firelight illuminated half the street. A hand reached out from the side and grabbed my arm. A man with a bloody face pulled me from the corner of the wall, the blade of the knife was placed across my neck, a cold line, his arms strangled me very tightly, so tight that I could barely breathe, all over him was the smell of blood, mixed with the smell of sweat and the smell of metal.

“Don't move.”

I don't move, not because I don't want to move, but because my legs are so soft I can't move. The rebel army was surrounded at the beginning of the street, the archers of the soldiers had drawn their bows, their armor reflected the cold fire, the leading general was riding a horse, his helmet pressed down on his eyebrows, his face could not be seen clearly.

“Let us out of the city.” The man restraining me shouted loudly, “otherwise this girl—”

Before he finished speaking, a young man walked out from beside the general. He was about fifteen or sixteen years old, dressed in a black suit, with a sword on his waist that was longer than his arm. The firelight shone on his face. His eyebrows and eyes still carried the characteristic sharpness of a teenager, like a blade just pulled out of its sheath. His hair was tied high. There were a few tangled strands of hair blown by the wind on his forehead. He didn't raise his hand to fix it, just standing there casually, his chin slightly raised.

“What kind of bravery does it take to bully a little girl?”

His voice was not loud, but the whole street heard it. He raised his chin, and the corners of his lips even carried a bit of an arrogant smile.

“I changed her.”

The deputy general behind him shouted loudly to stop him: "Your Highness! No way—" He threw the sword down again, the sword fell on the green stone floor with a clear metallic sound, then he raised his hands, walked towards this direction, step by step, neither fast nor slow, the firelight shone on the smile on his face, but that smile did not reach the bottom of his eyes. The man controlling my hand trembled, the blade of the knife rubbed against my neck, creating a shallow, painful blood mark, but I did not dare to make a sound. The teenager stopped three steps away.

“Change or not?”

His voice was very calm, like he was asking about a very normal thing. The rebels pushed me away and pulled him. I was pushed to the ground, my knees hit the blue stone floor, my palms were scratched, I stood up on my hands, turned my head to look at him, he was strangled by that bloody man, the blade was pressed against his throat, he didn't look at me, he looked at his father, nodded slightly. Behind the chaos I don't remember clearly anymore, I only remember the lights of the sword, the blood, the screams of killing, and a dull sound from my chest when someone rushed to pin me to the ground, the archer's arrow flew over my head, the "whooshing" sound was like a rain of falling iron, he pressed me under his body, one hand covering the back of my head, the other hand against the ground, covering the whole person in his body. An arrow stabbed into the ground right next to us, the arrow's tail still vibrating. His blood dripped down my face. One drop, another drop. I raised my head and saw a gash on his neck, from behind his ear to his collarbone, his skin was exposed, blood flowed down his neck, dyeing his black suit collar red. There was no expression on his face, his lips were tightly pursed, his eyebrows were slightly furrowed, as if he was enduring something.

“Don't move.” He said.

That was the second sentence he said to me, the first sentence was "I will trade you", the second sentence was "don't move". Then reinforcements arrived, the rebels were destroyed, he turned away from me, lying on his back on the ground, his chest heaving violently, the military doctor ran up and pressed his neck tightly, blood flowed from between his fingers, dyeing the military doctor's hands red. From beginning to end he never made a sound, just gritted his teeth, his facial muscles tensed. As he was being carried away, passing me, the stretcher stopped for a moment and he tilted his head to look at me. His face was covered in blood and dirt, but his eyes were very bright.

“Little girl,” his voice was a bit hoarse, the corners of his lips pulled up a bit, as if smiling, “next time you look at the lights, stand closer, don't get lost.”

Then he was carried away.