Ancient Tea Tree Slope in Chenyu Valley
The morning mist had not yet lifted from the ancient tea tree slope in Chenyu Valley before it was churned into murkiness by a thick, cloying stench of blood. Armored soldiers led by Yuan Shang, son of Yuan Shao, surrounded the slope like a tidal wave. Their battle flags fluttered loudly in the cool breeze, and the cold glint of blades and spears pierced through the gaps between the tea trees, locking firmly onto the two blood-soaked figures on the hill—the Traveler Aether and Yun Jin.
Aether's white cape was thoroughly soaked in blood. Dark red stains trickled down the folds of the fabric, blooming into dark patches on the bluestone beneath his feet. A deep, bone-grazing gash sliced across his left arm, blood welling ceaselessly from the torn flesh, dripping from his fingertips to the ground. Every clench of his sword hilt tore at the wound, sending searing pain jolting through his body like an electric current. Yet he stood firmly before Yun Jin, his right hand gripping his one-handed sword as steady as a rock. Though his arm trembled slightly from exhaustion, his eyes remained sharp as a hawk's, fixed unwaveringly on Yuan Shang ahead.
Yun Jin's condition was no better. Her opera robe, once exquisite silk embroidered with intricate patterns, was torn in several places. The exposed arms and calves were covered in scrapes and gashes, a trace of blood lingering at the corner of her mouth. She had taken a full blow from a spear shaft to shield Aether's back moments ago; now a dull, crushing pain gnawed at her chest, each breath stabbing like needles. But she did not flinch. Leaning her spear against the ground to prop up her wavering frame, she pressed one hand tightly to the wound at her waist, where blood seeped through her fingers, dyeing her once-vivid robe a deep brown.
"Give up," Yuan Shang said from atop his steed, looking down at them with impatient arrogance. "Two mere mortals, trying to stop a chariot with a mantis's arm? Surrender, and you may yet be allowed to die intact."
Aether gritted his teeth. Sweat mixed with blood stung his eyes. He spoke not a word, but answered with action—planting his foot firmly, he lunged forward like an arrow, his one-handed sword slicing through the air toward the armored soldier before Yuan Shang. Yun Jin followed at once, her spear flicking, its tip blooming into cold starlight to guard Aether's flank. Having fought side by side for years, they shared an unspoken bond. Despite their grievous wounds, their offense and defense remained perfectly in sync. Sword light and spear shadows wove a fragile yet unyielding barrier, repelling wave after wave of oncoming assaults.
The sounds of slaughter, clashing steel, and snapping tea tree branches echoed across the slope. Aether could feel his strength fading rapidly, the pain from his wounds sharpening, his vision growing blurry. He saw Yun Jin's face turning paler, her grip on the spear trembling. His heart tightened; he spun around abruptly and took a blade aimed at her shoulder square in his back. A clear clang rang out. The blade struck his back, sending a sweet, metallic taste surging up his throat, nearly making him cough up blood.
"Aether!" Yun Jin cried out, her eyes instantly filling with tears. She thrust her spear backward to repel the enemy and hurried to steady his swaying body. "How are you?"
"I'm fine…" Aether panted, his voice hoarse. "Hold on…"
Just then, rapid hoofbeats came from below the slope. A soldier resembling a personal guard galloped to Yuan Shang, dismounted, and whispered hurriedly in his ear, his face flustered. Yuan Shang's expression changed drastically, his arrogance replaced by shock and panic. He shot a glance into the distance, then looked back at Aether and Yun Jin locked in combat, his gaze complicated.
"Retreat!" After a moment, Yuan Shang ground his teeth and waved his hand sharply, his voice carrying a faint, unnoticeable tremor.
"General?" His guards stared in confusion.
"I said retreat!" Yuan Shang's voice rose abruptly, commanding and unarguable. "Now! Immediately!"
Though bewildered, the soldiers obeyed the military order, sheathing their weapons and withdrawing swiftly. In an instant, the noisy ancient tea tree slope fell silent, leaving only Aether and Yun Jin, along with a scene of devastation and the sharp, acrid smell of blood.
Only after Yuan Shang's retreating figure vanished around the mountain bend did Aether's tense body go limp. He staggered, nearly collapsing. Yun Jin quickly steadied him. Their eyes met, and both saw in each other the relief of surviving a near-death ordeal, as well as unmistakable exhaustion and pain.
"Why… did they leave?" Yun Jin's voice still trembled. She helped Aether sit slowly on the ground, then leaned wearily against an ancient tea tree herself.
Aether shook his head. He had no answer, his entire focus consumed by his wounds. He looked down at his bleeding left arm, about to find something to bandage it, when Yun Jin reached out and pressed her still-intact sleeve to the gash. Her touch was gentle, careful and tender, the warmth of her palm seeping through the fabric, chasing away some of the chill brought by the pain.
"Don't move," Yun Jin whispered, cold sweat sliding down her cheek. "Let me hold it for you first."
Aether looked at her pale, focused profile, his heart warming. He reached out as well, gently pressing his hand over the wound at her waist. His palm was large enough to cover it completely; even though his own hand was bleeding, he kept his grip steady.
The two leaned against each other, Yun Jin resting her head on Aether's shoulder, Aether's cheek pressed against the top of her head. Each other's warmth seeped through their bloodstained clothes. Every breath hurt, yet it also carried the peace of having found each other again. They said nothing, simply savoring each other's presence, pressing close to shield one another's gruesome wounds, as if this alone could fend off the agony of their bodies and the terror left by the harrowing battle.
The leaves of the ancient tea trees rustled softly in the wind. Sunlight filtered through the branches, falling upon their overlapping hands and the dark red bloodstains, carrying a warmth bordering on solemn tragedy. Distant birdcalls grew clearer, as if announcing the end of the crisis. Their embracing figures stood on the devastated slope, the most resilient and tender sight of all.