“What are you learning the sword for?”
“I’m a Cai, my name is Cai Yan …”
Li Jianhong’s brows furrow. “I have no interest in what your name is. All I’m asking is what you’re learning the sword for.”
“My older brother is an officer in the military. I’m worried that he may be in danger, and I want to learn something.”
Li Jianhong seems to remember something and turns to Duan Ling, “His older brother is the same Cai Wen from before who knocked on our door on that snowy day?”
Duan Ling nods, and so Li Jianhong says to Cai Yan, “We owe your older brother a favour; consider the favour returned. But you must bear in mind that no matter how much you manage to learn you must never use it against my son.”
“We’re good friends,” Duan Ling says.
“Stand behind him and follow along,” Li Jianhong says. “Grab a stick and use it as a sword for now.”
Cai Yan nods and moves to stand behind Duan Ling. Thereupon Li Jianhong simply pretends Cai Yan isn’t even there and teaches Duan Ling hands-on, the same way he did before. This time Duan Ling understands a bit more of it. Two hours pass before Li Jianhong disappears again much like last night.
Cai Yan nods at Duan Ling to show his gratitude, and Duan Ling smiles back, a bit embarrassed; after all, his father was far too rude to Cai Yan. Yet Cai Yan doesn’t seem to mind at all, instead, he asks Duan Ling, “What is this sword style of your dad’s called?”
Duan Ling says blankly, “I have no idea.”
Cai Yan looks as though he’s found a silver lining. “I’ll go find me a sword tomorrow as well. Let me see your sword.”
Duan Ling hands it to him. Cai Yan looks at it. The hilt is inlaid with many gemstones, and it’s obviously extremely valuable, but neither of the young men can tell what’s special about it. In the end, Cai Yan says, “Good sword.”
The war goes on day after day. It’s the first time Duan Ling has ever experienced a war first hand, and it’s a rather indescribable feeling. At first, everyone seems really anxious, but once the Mongol army starts to besiege the city, instead of becoming more panicked, everyone just gets used to it bit by bit, and Biyong College grows less and less strict with them. On the second day Cai Yan steals a ceremonial sword from the book pavilion, planning to make do with it for now, and waits for Li Jianhong at night alongside Duan Ling.
“It’s a sword style I came up with myself.”
When he’s asked what it’s called, Li Jianhong simply answers this way before pushing Duan Ling to train more.
For the first few days Duan Ling is often so sore that he can’t even lift his hand, and his shoulders ache in fits and starts. Li Jianhong would fully circulate his own qi then massage it for him a little. Strangely enough, the next day when Duan Ling wakes up he’ll realise that the pain is gone.
Li Jianhong always arrives hurriedly and leaves hurriedly, and with Cai Yan there next to them Duan Ling can’t come right out and ask what his father is busy with. But he’s gotten used to it as well; his standards are so lowered that he’s perfectly content as long as he can see Li Jianhong everyday. And just like that, a full month passes. The city of Shangjing goes through a series of changes, and though the young men who spend their days studying don’t really know what specifically happened, one can spot these changes from the many details of their lives.
For instance, at meal times they don’t get to eat until they’re full anymore. Each person can only take one bowl of food.
Lunch has been changed to a thin congee.
There’s no more meat at dinner, only leafy vegetables.
After a month under siege by the Mongol army, the city begins to face the danger of running out of food.
When Li Jianhong comes back he’ll bring a package of roast meat with him. He’ll toss it to Duan Ling and say, “Eat.”
Duan Ling will sit down and eat first, occasionally sharing a little of it with Cai Yan. Li Jianhong will wait, asking him what he learned at school that day and what books he’s studied, then once Duan Ling is finished eating Li Jianhong will teach him how to fight with his sword some more.
The hostilities grow more urgent by the day; the people inside Shangjing begin to grow anxious again. Today is the day that students are supposed to be taken home, and yet with the war raging on the dean has made up his mind not to let anyone leave. Everyone must continue to stay in Biyong College.
That’s because the city’s east, south, and west districts are plagued by stray arrows, while only the northern gate remains the safest. Even if the students’ guardians talk until they’re blue in the face, the dean will simply repeat the same thing over and over in his affable manner — I’m not going to let them go home no matter what you tell me.
At dusk, the first bout of autumn rain falls on Shangjing, and there is only thin congee even at dinner. Outside of the window lattice is a sea of people handing food through to those on the inside. It’s mostly flatbread with cured pork belly as filling, since even officials and the rich merchant homes have run out of meat. Meat is something their money can’t buy; all they have left is the rice and flour they regularly stockpile and air-dried cured pork belly.
Cai Yan and Duan Ling had some congee and ate a bit of salted vegetable. Bellies rumbling, they stand in the corridor peering outside, but Cai Wen doesn’t come.
Every time he hears hoofbeats Cai Yan will quickly walk out into the rain to stare through the window lattice, but when he realises it’s not Cai Wen he’ll have to move aside to let some other student take his spot. A few rounds of this and Cai Yan has gone from hope to disappointment, then he started getting angry.
“I’m going to sleep. Come wake me later when your dad’s here.”
Duan Ling wants to say something comforting to Cai Yan, but Cai Yan is morose and pale, lying down the moment he gets back to their room. Duan Ling takes a few more turns in front of the corridor, and by the time someone comes to the wall with a lantern calling out, “Cai Yan! Cai Yan!” An hour has gone by, and it’s gone fully dark outside.
Duan Ling runs over right away. “Wait! I’ll go tell him to get up right now.”
However, the man outside isn’t Cai Yan, but a soldier from the city guard patrol. “General Cai asked me to bring his little brother something to eat. Please pass it along to him. He won’t be able to come by tonight.”
Duan Ling takes the packet from him. There’s smoked meat inside, and the paper is stamped with the seal of the city guard, obviously rations Cai Wen saved for him. He can only go back to shake Cai Yan awake. “Cai Yan, your brother came by.”
Cai Yan has a fever, moaning as he’s called. Duan Ling checks his forehead right away.
“Where is he?” Cai Yan says weakly, “He’s still alive, right?”
“He’s fine. He wants you to eat more. Says he’ll come by to see you some other day.”
Cai Yan just barely manages a nod. It seems he feels it’s enough to know that Cai Wen is alive, and nothing else matters. A moment passes before he turns once more towards Duan Ling. “Does he have to leave the city to fight?”
Duan Ling has a finger over Cai Yan’s pulse, trying to diagnose his illness. He shakes his head. “I don’t know. I’ll go get some medicine for you in a bit. Just stay in bed for now.”
Duan Ling comes out of the back courtyard. The rain patters down endlessly; Shangjing is deathly quiet this evening.
Someone whistles at him from the outside, a melodious and pretty sound like a bird call, dragging on the tail of the note, rising to lift at its abrupt end.
Duan Ling laughs and hurries outside. In the back courtyard, a soldier quickly steps in, smilingly picks up Duan Ling by the waist, carrying him into the corridor.
Li Jianhong is in full armour today, magnificent in a combat robe woven with shiny plates, each glittering like dragon scales, and he’s wearing a qilin helm2 on his head, tied under his chin with red tassels. He sets the heavy meteoric iron sword casually on the ground, then turns back around to sit down next to Duan Ling, stretching his legs out in front of him.
“Wah —!”
“Shh …”
“What’s this?” Duan Ling first reaches out to feel his father’s armour, then curiously picks up his hand.
“These are gauntlets,” Li Jianhong explains, taking one off to show him. Duan Ling touches his helm and Li Jianhong says, “Don’t take that off, just look at it as is. It’s easy to take off and hard to put on.”
“What about these?” Duan Ling asks curiously.
“They’re boots, of course.” Li Jianhong laughs.
“Why are there iron spikes on them?” It’s the first time Duan Ling has ever examined a soldier’s armour close-up. The majestic sight of Li Jianhong wrapped in full armour has him practically toppling over with admiration.
“They’re spurs. They’re for stabbing the enemy’s horses during close-combat on horseback.”
“Are you going off to war? Can you still move around smoothly in heavy armour like this?”
Li Jianhong steps on the ground with his left foot and leaps into the air. He shows off a few moves wielding a long halberd before he sits back down on the floor cross-legged.
Li Jianhong produces a package wrapped in paper and hands it to Duan Ling. “Eat. No sword practice today.”
There’s roast meat inside the package, cut into neat slices. Duan Ling wolfs it down, feeding some of it to Li Jianhong. “The wine’s been had, we’ve eaten our fill of whatever delicacies we can. We’ve waited for a month and a half already. Today we’ll head out of the city to dispose of those barbarians.”
Duan Ling feels a bit worried. Li Jianhong pats his head and says to him seriously, “Dad taught you a month and a half worth of sword fighting, and it’s all for today. Do you remember all the moves?”
Duan Ling nods. “Am I going off to war with you? Let’s go!”
Li Jianhong drops his forehead into one hand, not even sure what to say. “Your Majesty, what are you thinking about? We’re not at a time where we need you to take the field personally yet!”
“We should do these things together! Do I get armour?”
Li Jianhong pokes Duan Ling with a finger. “I’m the one who has to leave the city tonight, not you. At an hour before midnight Yelü Dashi and I will split into two groups to raid the enemy’s camp and burn their provisions. Understood?”
“Then what do I do?” Duan Ling asks, uncomprehending.
Li Jianhong tells him solemnly, “Once I leave the city to raid their encampment, no one will be guarding this end. If anything goes wrong … even though the chance of something going wrong is very small, you mustn’t lower your guard. You have to keep your eyes and ears open.”
“And then?” Duan Ling nods.
“And then you’ll take this sword of Kublai Khan’s …”
“Where is it?”
Li Jianhong stares at Duan Ling speechlessly with an indescribable expression, and points at the sword at Duan Ling’s waist, his face semaphoring what am I supposed to do with you.
“Kublai Khan gave it to Ögedei, and your dad took it right out of Ögedei’s hands on the very first day. That is it.”
“Oh.” Duan Ling nods.
Li Jianhong adds, coaching him, “If anyone gives you trouble, then consider it — if you can cut them down then cut away, if you can’t cut them down then run and hide. Got it?”
“Will anything happen to Biyong College?”
“Probably not, but just in case, no matter what happens you mustn’t try to be brave. Dad can’t take you along on a camp raid. My son, you must make sure you stay alive. If you died, dad’s not going to live either.”
“Alright … alright.” Duan Ling understands now — though Li Jianhong is certain that he can drive off the enemy, he can’t be entirely sure whether the Mongolians won’t counterattack before they lose. He can’t stay by his son’s side to keep him safe, so he’s spent a month and a half teaching him a barely serviceable set of sword fighting skills mostly for the purpose of showing off. He can’t exactly overwhelm the enemy on the battlefield with it, but if it’s simply to draw his sword in the face of immediate danger and take advantage of the moment that the enemy underestimates him to get away with his life intact, it can manage that much.
Li Jinahong then goes over these countless times: what to do if the northern gate is lost and the Mongol army rushes into the city, what to do if there’s a fire, what to do if there are stray arrows, what to do if the catapult gets a rock in, what to do if the city wall collapses … he’s thought of every possibility and goes over each of them with Duan Ling until he’s made sure he’s memorised it all, and then he draws a map to plan out an escape route for him. Duan Ling has heard so much by the end that he nearly thinks the Mongolians have already fought their way to Biyong College’s gates, and all it’s going to take for them to come do drills with him is a single shouted command.
“What are the chances that they’ll fight their way in here?” Duan Ling asks nervously.
“Less than one in ten.” Li Jianhong tells him, “But even if there’s the tiniest possibility, you mustn’t treat it lightly.”
Duan Ling doesn’t even know what to say to him.
“If anything is to ever happen to you …” Li Jianhong begins.
“You’re not going to live either.”
Duan Ling was really moved the first time he heard it, but the repeated nagging has driven him completely numb.
“That’s right. That’s exactly it. Strike palms as vow — you must stay alive.”
Duan Ling and Li Jianhong strike their palms together. “Dad’s off to war. I’ll be back by dawn and take you home tomorrow.”
Duan Ling suddenly throws his arms around Li Jianhong’s neck. Li Jianhong smiles. “You’re thirteen already. Don’t stall now.”
Duan Ling lets go of Li Jianhong then, and Li Jianhong hurries out of the rear courtyard and gets on his horse. Duan Ling climbs onto the fence to drape himself over it, watching him. Li Jianhong is riding Wanlibenxiao, with a sword case tied to the back of his saddle. He sets the halberd on his back and says to Duan Ling, “Get down. Watch out that you don’t fall.”
“You be careful!” Duan Ling tells him.
Li Jianhong squeezes his legs over the horse’s flank then, and leans towards Duan Ling. Putting one leg up on the saddle to keep his balance, he gives Duan Ling a kiss on the forehead. Duan Ling too, gives Li Jianhong a kiss on the cheek, and at once Li Jianhong shakes the reins and shouts, “Gup!” And they gallop off like a gust of wind, disappearing at the end of the alley.
I do not monetise my hobby translations, but if you’d like to support my work generally or support my light novel habit, you can either buy me a coffee or commission me. This is also to note that if you see this message anywhere else than on tumblr, do come to my tumblr. It’s ad-free. ↩︎
A Qilin is an auspicious mythological beast, black, with horns on top of its head. The helm probably has twin horns. ↩︎
“What are you learning the sword for?”
“I’m a Cai, my name is Cai Yan …”
Li Jianhong’s brows furrow. “I have no interest in what your name is. All I’m asking is what you’re learning the sword for.”
“My older brother is an officer in the military. I’m worried that he may be in danger, and I want to learn something.”
Li Jianhong seems to remember something and turns to Duan Ling, “His older brother is the same Cai Wen from before who knocked on our door on that snowy day?”
Duan Ling nods, and so Li Jianhong says to Cai Yan, “We owe your older brother a favour; consider the favour returned. But you must bear in mind that no matter how much you manage to learn you must never use it against my son.”
“We’re good friends,” Duan Ling says.
“Stand behind him and follow along,” Li Jianhong says. “Grab a stick and use it as a sword for now.”
Cai Yan nods and moves to stand behind Duan Ling. Thereupon Li Jianhong simply pretends Cai Yan isn’t even there and teaches Duan Ling hands-on, the same way he did before. This time Duan Ling understands a bit more of it. Two hours pass before Li Jianhong disappears again much like last night.
Cai Yan nods at Duan Ling to show his gratitude, and Duan Ling smiles back, a bit embarrassed; after all, his father was far too rude to Cai Yan. Yet Cai Yan doesn’t seem to mind at all, instead, he asks Duan Ling, “What is this sword style of your dad’s called?”
Duan Ling says blankly, “I have no idea.”
Cai Yan looks as though he’s found a silver lining. “I’ll go find me a sword tomorrow as well. Let me see your sword.”
Duan Ling hands it to him. Cai Yan looks at it. The hilt is inlaid with many gemstones, and it’s obviously extremely valuable, but neither of the young men can tell what’s special about it. In the end, Cai Yan says, “Good sword.”
The war goes on day after day. It’s the first time Duan Ling has ever experienced a war first hand, and it’s a rather indescribable feeling. At first, everyone seems really anxious, but once the Mongol army starts to besiege the city, instead of becoming more panicked, everyone just gets used to it bit by bit, and Biyong College grows less and less strict with them. On the second day Cai Yan steals a ceremonial sword from the book pavilion, planning to make do with it for now, and waits for Li Jianhong at night alongside Duan Ling.
“It’s a sword style I came up with myself.”
When he’s asked what it’s called, Li Jianhong simply answers this way before pushing Duan Ling to train more.
For the first few days Duan Ling is often so sore that he can’t even lift his hand, and his shoulders ache in fits and starts. Li Jianhong would fully circulate his own qi then massage it for him a little. Strangely enough, the next day when Duan Ling wakes up he’ll realise that the pain is gone.
Li Jianhong always arrives hurriedly and leaves hurriedly, and with Cai Yan there next to them Duan Ling can’t come right out and ask what his father is busy with. But he’s gotten used to it as well; his standards are so lowered that he’s perfectly content as long as he can see Li Jianhong everyday. And just like that, a full month passes. The city of Shangjing goes through a series of changes, and though the young men who spend their days studying don’t really know what specifically happened, one can spot these changes from the many details of their lives.
For instance, at meal times they don’t get to eat until they’re full anymore. Each person can only take one bowl of food.
Lunch has been changed to a thin congee.
There’s no more meat at dinner, only leafy vegetables.
After a month under siege by the Mongol army, the city begins to face the danger of running out of food.
When Li Jianhong comes back he’ll bring a package of roast meat with him. He’ll toss it to Duan Ling and say, “Eat.”
Duan Ling will sit down and eat first, occasionally sharing a little of it with Cai Yan. Li Jianhong will wait, asking him what he learned at school that day and what books he’s studied, then once Duan Ling is finished eating Li Jianhong will teach him how to fight with his sword some more.
The hostilities grow more urgent by the day; the people inside Shangjing begin to grow anxious again. Today is the day that students are supposed to be taken home, and yet with the war raging on the dean has made up his mind not to let anyone leave. Everyone must continue to stay in Biyong College.
That’s because the city’s east, south, and west districts are plagued by stray arrows, while only the northern gate remains the safest. Even if the students’ guardians talk until they’re blue in the face, the dean will simply repeat the same thing over and over in his affable manner — I’m not going to let them go home no matter what you tell me.
At dusk, the first bout of autumn rain falls on Shangjing, and there is only thin congee even at dinner. Outside of the window lattice is a sea of people handing food through to those on the inside. It’s mostly flatbread with cured pork belly as filling, since even officials and the rich merchant homes have run out of meat. Meat is something their money can’t buy; all they have left is the rice and flour they regularly stockpile and air-dried cured pork belly.
Cai Yan and Duan Ling had some congee and ate a bit of salted vegetable. Bellies rumbling, they stand in the corridor peering outside, but Cai Wen doesn’t come.
Every time he hears hoofbeats Cai Yan will quickly walk out into the rain to stare through the window lattice, but when he realises it’s not Cai Wen he’ll have to move aside to let some other student take his spot. A few rounds of this and Cai Yan has gone from hope to disappointment, then he started getting angry.
“I’m going to sleep. Come wake me later when your dad’s here.”
Duan Ling wants to say something comforting to Cai Yan, but Cai Yan is morose and pale, lying down the moment he gets back to their room. Duan Ling takes a few more turns in front of the corridor, and by the time someone comes to the wall with a lantern calling out, “Cai Yan! Cai Yan!” An hour has gone by, and it’s gone fully dark outside.
Duan Ling runs over right away. “Wait! I’ll go tell him to get up right now.”
However, the man outside isn’t Cai Yan, but a soldier from the city guard patrol. “General Cai asked me to bring his little brother something to eat. Please pass it along to him. He won’t be able to come by tonight.”
Duan Ling takes the packet from him. There’s smoked meat inside, and the paper is stamped with the seal of the city guard, obviously rations Cai Wen saved for him. He can only go back to shake Cai Yan awake. “Cai Yan, your brother came by.”
Cai Yan has a fever, moaning as he’s called. Duan Ling checks his forehead right away.
“Where is he?” Cai Yan says weakly, “He’s still alive, right?”
“He’s fine. He wants you to eat more. Says he’ll come by to see you some other day.”
Cai Yan just barely manages a nod. It seems he feels it’s enough to know that Cai Wen is alive, and nothing else matters. A moment passes before he turns once more towards Duan Ling. “Does he have to leave the city to fight?”
Duan Ling has a finger over Cai Yan’s pulse, trying to diagnose his illness. He shakes his head. “I don’t know. I’ll go get some medicine for you in a bit. Just stay in bed for now.”
Duan Ling comes out of the back courtyard. The rain patters down endlessly; Shangjing is deathly quiet this evening.
Someone whistles at him from the outside, a melodious and pretty sound like a bird call, dragging on the tail of the note, rising to lift at its abrupt end.
Duan Ling laughs and hurries outside. In the back courtyard, a soldier quickly steps in, smilingly picks up Duan Ling by the waist, carrying him into the corridor.
Li Jianhong is in full armour today, magnificent in a combat robe woven with shiny plates, each glittering like dragon scales, and he’s wearing a qilin helm2 on his head, tied under his chin with red tassels. He sets the heavy meteoric iron sword casually on the ground, then turns back around to sit down next to Duan Ling, stretching his legs out in front of him.
“Wah —!”
“Shh …”
“What’s this?” Duan Ling first reaches out to feel his father’s armour, then curiously picks up his hand.
“These are gauntlets,” Li Jianhong explains, taking one off to show him. Duan Ling touches his helm and Li Jianhong says, “Don’t take that off, just look at it as is. It’s easy to take off and hard to put on.”
“What about these?” Duan Ling asks curiously.
“They’re boots, of course.” Li Jianhong laughs.
“Why are there iron spikes on them?” It’s the first time Duan Ling has ever examined a soldier’s armour close-up. The majestic sight of Li Jianhong wrapped in full armour has him practically toppling over with admiration.
“They’re spurs. They’re for stabbing the enemy’s horses during close-combat on horseback.”
“Are you going off to war? Can you still move around smoothly in heavy armour like this?”
Li Jianhong steps on the ground with his left foot and leaps into the air. He shows off a few moves wielding a long halberd before he sits back down on the floor cross-legged.
Li Jianhong produces a package wrapped in paper and hands it to Duan Ling. “Eat. No sword practice today.”
There’s roast meat inside the package, cut into neat slices. Duan Ling wolfs it down, feeding some of it to Li Jianhong. “The wine’s been had, we’ve eaten our fill of whatever delicacies we can. We’ve waited for a month and a half already. Today we’ll head out of the city to dispose of those barbarians.”
Duan Ling feels a bit worried. Li Jianhong pats his head and says to him seriously, “Dad taught you a month and a half worth of sword fighting, and it’s all for today. Do you remember all the moves?”
Duan Ling nods. “Am I going off to war with you? Let’s go!”
Li Jianhong drops his forehead into one hand, not even sure what to say. “Your Majesty, what are you thinking about? We’re not at a time where we need you to take the field personally yet!”
“We should do these things together! Do I get armour?”
Li Jianhong pokes Duan Ling with a finger. “I’m the one who has to leave the city tonight, not you. At an hour before midnight Yelü Dashi and I will split into two groups to raid the enemy’s camp and burn their provisions. Understood?”
“Then what do I do?” Duan Ling asks, uncomprehending.
Li Jianhong tells him solemnly, “Once I leave the city to raid their encampment, no one will be guarding this end. If anything goes wrong … even though the chance of something going wrong is very small, you mustn’t lower your guard. You have to keep your eyes and ears open.”
“And then?” Duan Ling nods.
“And then you’ll take this sword of Kublai Khan’s …”
“Where is it?”
Li Jianhong stares at Duan Ling speechlessly with an indescribable expression, and points at the sword at Duan Ling’s waist, his face semaphoring what am I supposed to do with you.
“Kublai Khan gave it to Ögedei, and your dad took it right out of Ögedei’s hands on the very first day. That is it.”
“Oh.” Duan Ling nods.
Li Jianhong adds, coaching him, “If anyone gives you trouble, then consider it — if you can cut them down then cut away, if you can’t cut them down then run and hide. Got it?”
“Will anything happen to Biyong College?”
“Probably not, but just in case, no matter what happens you mustn’t try to be brave. Dad can’t take you along on a camp raid. My son, you must make sure you stay alive. If you died, dad’s not going to live either.”
“Alright … alright.” Duan Ling understands now — though Li Jianhong is certain that he can drive off the enemy, he can’t be entirely sure whether the Mongolians won’t counterattack before they lose. He can’t stay by his son’s side to keep him safe, so he’s spent a month and a half teaching him a barely serviceable set of sword fighting skills mostly for the purpose of showing off. He can’t exactly overwhelm the enemy on the battlefield with it, but if it’s simply to draw his sword in the face of immediate danger and take advantage of the moment that the enemy underestimates him to get away with his life intact, it can manage that much.
Li Jinahong then goes over these countless times: what to do if the northern gate is lost and the Mongol army rushes into the city, what to do if there’s a fire, what to do if there are stray arrows, what to do if the catapult gets a rock in, what to do if the city wall collapses … he’s thought of every possibility and goes over each of them with Duan Ling until he’s made sure he’s memorised it all, and then he draws a map to plan out an escape route for him. Duan Ling has heard so much by the end that he nearly thinks the Mongolians have already fought their way to Biyong College’s gates, and all it’s going to take for them to come do drills with him is a single shouted command.
“What are the chances that they’ll fight their way in here?” Duan Ling asks nervously.
“Less than one in ten.” Li Jianhong tells him, “But even if there’s the tiniest possibility, you mustn’t treat it lightly.”
Duan Ling doesn’t even know what to say to him.
“If anything is to ever happen to you …” Li Jianhong begins.
“You’re not going to live either.”
Duan Ling was really moved the first time he heard it, but the repeated nagging has driven him completely numb.
“That’s right. That’s exactly it. Strike palms as vow — you must stay alive.”
Duan Ling and Li Jianhong strike their palms together. “Dad’s off to war. I’ll be back by dawn and take you home tomorrow.”
Duan Ling suddenly throws his arms around Li Jianhong’s neck. Li Jianhong smiles. “You’re thirteen already. Don’t stall now.”
Duan Ling lets go of Li Jianhong then, and Li Jianhong hurries out of the rear courtyard and gets on his horse. Duan Ling climbs onto the fence to drape himself over it, watching him. Li Jianhong is riding Wanlibenxiao, with a sword case tied to the back of his saddle. He sets the halberd on his back and says to Duan Ling, “Get down. Watch out that you don’t fall.”
“You be careful!” Duan Ling tells him.
Li Jianhong squeezes his legs over the horse’s flank then, and leans towards Duan Ling. Putting one leg up on the saddle to keep his balance, he gives Duan Ling a kiss on the forehead. Duan Ling too, gives Li Jianhong a kiss on the cheek, and at once Li Jianhong shakes the reins and shouts, “Gup!” And they gallop off like a gust of wind, disappearing at the end of the alley.
I do not monetise my hobby translations, but if you’d like to support my work generally or support my light novel habit, you can either buy me a coffee or commission me. This is also to note that if you see this message anywhere else than on tumblr, do come to my tumblr. It’s ad-free. ↩︎
A Qilin is an auspicious mythological beast, black, with horns on top of its head. The helm probably has twin horns. ↩︎
