When Chief Tan began to speak, he was silenced by a raised hand of the lieutenant, whose gaze raked over Qiu Ru. “You are quite the beauty. But our men do not need wives.”
The hiss from the crowd was loud even as Qiu Ru flushed bright red at the insult.
“We are here to find soldiers. And you are, what? Body Cleansing one? Women are no use to us as soldiers until at least Body Cleansing four!”
Still flushed, Qiu Ru moved to speak, but her mother had managed to make her way over to the impertinent girl and gripped her arm. With a yank of her hand, the mother pulled Qiu Ru back. For a time, the lieutenant looked over the group, seeing that no one else was liable to interrupt, before he looked at Chief Tan.
“Tan Fu, Qiu Lee, Long Mao. Join the others,” Chief Tan said softly.
Everyone knew why he had chosen the three, of course. Their families had been gifted with more than three surviving sons. Even now, their parents would have a single son left to work the farm, turn the earth. A good thing. Better than the families that were left without any. If you didn’t consider the fact that now, three of their sons were fighting a war that none of them ever wanted.
“Good,” the lieutenant said as his gaze slid over the new conscripts.
Wu Ying looked to the side as well, offering Fa Hui a tight smile as he saw his big friend look sallow and scared.
“Conscripts, return to your homes and collect your belongings. You will not be back for many months. Bring what you need. We will march in fifteen minutes. Gather at first bell,” the lieutenant said.
The students stared at one another, looking at the few members of the class that were left, then at the other children. Wu Ying sighed and clapped Fa Hui on the shoulder, giving the giant a slight shove to send him toward his family. As if the motion was a signal, the group broke apart, the teenagers faces fixed as they moved to say their final goodbyes.
Chapter 2
“Papa. Mama,” Wu Ying greeted his parents as they all arrived at their small house, having traversed through the field.
“Do not pack. I will go in your stead,” his father cut in.
Wu Ying stared at his father, Long Yu Hi, as he stomped into the house. Wu Ying could see the limp in his father’s steps even when he was trying to hide it, a result of his enrollment in the army over a decade ago.
“Ah Hi, don’t be foolish.” Long Fa Rong, Wu Ying’s mother, echoed her words by pulling on Yu Hi’s arm, stopping him. She met his eyes, putting subtle pressure on his arm. “Do you wish to lose even more face when they tell you no?”
“But…”
“Our son is smart and brave. He even has progressed to the second level of Body Cleansing,” Fa Rong said.
But for all her brave words, Wu Ying could see the tears in her eyes, and his stomach clenched tightly with suppressed emotions. He offered her a slight smile in thanks before he turned to his father and bowed. “Papa. Please.”
“You… you idiot. If you’re going to go, remember what we taught you. Remember to practice every day,” Yu Hi said gruffly. “Go. The seeds won’t plant themselves. And the lieutenant will not wait.”
“Yes, Papa,” Wu Ying said, bobbing his head before hurrying to the curtain that marked his room.
He pulled it aside and quickly packed, taking the couple of changes of clothing, the single other pair of cloth shoes, and a small, softcover copy of the Yellow Emperor’s Cultivation Manual. This was Wu Ying’s personal copy, which he had industriously copied from the main copy in the text room, using a mixture of paper scavenged from his father’s medicine and tea packages. The manual had his own notes on cultivation, notes that he used to guide his development. Next, he picked up the sword manual that contained, in cryptic terms, the steps of the Long family sword style. It was bare of much information, the details scrubbed of all but the names, a simple reminder for Wu Ying if he ever forgot. As for the details—those could only be passed down in person.
In minutes, Wu Ying was ready and, with some twine, quickly tied his belongings together. As he stepped out of his alcove, he found his mother had prepared a package of easy-to-eat foodstuff for him to take. With a twisted smile, he took it with thanks. Just before he stepped away, his mother hugged him tightly to her bosom.
Standing still and stiff at first, Wu Ying eventually relaxed and hugged her back, burying his face into his shorter mother’s hair. For a moment, he reveled in the human contact. It was rare for them to touch, so this brief contact was something he intended to savor.
“Don’t forget to burn a joss stick for your ancestors. Then go. Don’t be late. And if you can, let us know how you’re doing,” Fa Rong said.
“I will. Goodbye, Mama,” Wu Ying said and bowed to her one last time.
Wu Ying moved quickly to the small altar set inside the house and retrieved the joss sticks before lighting three and paying obeisance to the group. It did not take long before he was done, placing the joss sticks in the urn. Once he exited, Wu Ying looked around and found his father’s back. It was in the fields once again, bent as always over the rice plants. Wu Ying’s lips pursed, then he shook his head. That was his father’s way—to show little emotion, to offer only the barest encouragement, and to expect the best of him. With a sigh, Wu Ying turned aside and jogged toward the village, knowing that if he did not, he would likely be late.
For all the heartache and pain in leaving, for all the likely danger they were about to encounter, Wu Ying found himself looking forward to the day. If nothing else, he would have a chance to see the world beyond their tiny village. And who knows, he might even win some glory for their family. It had happened before.
The trip out from the village was the conscripts’ first taste of being under military rule. Immediately, the students were lined up and marched along the muddy roads, each of them forced to move in lockstep. Luckily, not only were they all cultivators, they had been taught some martial arts at an early age, ensuring that the group was fit and healthy. As such, the only concern was learning to move in unison in the weird lockstep march that the sergeant required of them.
Achieving an approximation of the march was something the disciplined students could achieve, but an approximation was insufficient for the sergeant’s requirements. As such, the sergeant constantly harassed them, using a willow switch to strike at legs, arms, and backs until the group moved to his liking.
In time, the group made its way to the next village, hours away, where a similar scene as in their village repeated itself. Unfortunately, the village chief did not have as good a relationship with his own villagers. Rather than finding a justifiable or fair method of splitting the burden, the chief favored his underlings heavily, sending more than one family into tears. Yet in the face of the overwhelming strength of the army personnel and the chief’s own personal cultivation strength, none dared to object.
“This… why would he do that?” Fa Hui said to Wu Ying.
“Why wouldn’t he?” Wu Ying replied softly.
“He’s weakening his village. Those farmers, they won’t have anyone to take over their lands if their sons die,” Fa Hui replied.
“Yes. And perhaps he’ll take them over. Or give them to his friends,” Wu Ying said, nodding toward the side where a group of villagers smirked.
“That…” Fa Hui fell silent.
Two of the biggest issues for farmers were the matters of labor and inheritance. If you were lucky enough to have most of your children survive the diseases and injuries of childhood before they achieved some level of cultivation, you then had an additional helper working your land. But when said children grew up, if you had more than a few, you faced the problem of inheritance. A plot of land could only sustain so many mouths. And no son wanted to live with his father or brother forever.
“It’s still wrong.”