The Orchid Farmer's Sacrifice

by Fred Yu

  “I don’t know.” He was mesmerized by her long hair glistening under the moonlight, her tall nose and pale skin. For a moment he forgot where he was and the danger he was in.

  “She’s bleeding!” the girl said, rushing to the older woman. There was already a pool of blood where Iron Spider lay on the ground.

  The footsteps of hundreds were still far away. Feng broke from his trance and yanked the wheelbarrow back onto its wheels, now damaged from being overturned so many times. He placed Iron Spider back in and faced the town behind him. It was far away.

  The girl could not get back to her home and hide before encountering the soldiers. What would they do to a beautiful girl all alone in a desolate field at night? Feng picked her up and placed her in the wheelbarrow. “We need to run.”

  “Where are you taking me?” the girl asked. “I want to go home.”

  At the edge of the town, the armored men were charging down the main road, their hands on the hilts of their sabers. They were closing in.

  “My basket,” the girl said. “There are herbs in there.”

  Feng grabbed the covered basket from the ground and handed it to her. He pushed the wheelbarrow as hard as he could and in a moment built enough momentum to travel at a full run. They reached the edge of the forest before the footsteps behind him grew any louder.

  The soldiers, despite their heavy armor, were gaining ground. It would not be any easier for Feng to hide in the forest. The tracks from the wheelbarrow would be convenient to follow, and if Feng carried the old woman on his back, the trail of blood would lead the soldiers directly to him.

  He thought about leaving her behind. He could hold to his original plan to capture one or two soldiers for information and improve his chances of finding his sister before sunrise.

  What if Du did poison him and this cult elder really had saved his life?

  Feng pushed into the forest. He couldn’t leave her. She was wrong about Du, but he couldn’t leave her to die.

  Beyond the forest in another few hours to the east, they would reach Lake Dragonfly. He needed to remain hidden when his father’s army arrived, and he could not bring the two women, much less the pursuing soldiers, to the lake.

  As the paving disappeared, rocks and protruding roots overtook the road. Feng slowed to a jog, fighting to maneuver the two wheels while avoiding drastic movements that could aggravate Iron Spider’s wounds.

  The farm girl crushed a handful of leaves, mixed them with powdered herbs, and applied the mixture to the old woman’s hip.

  “Can you stop the bleeding?” Feng asked.

  She didn’t answer. Feng gazed at her lovely face while she smeared the herbal mixture on the wound. The old woman twitched in pain.

  Feng realized he had no right to bring this helpless girl with him and expose her to so much danger, known and unknown. But he didn’t know where he could leave her.

  “What’s your name?” he asked.

  “Ming,” she said. She bandaged the old woman with a strip of cloth she tore from her own dress.

  “Where are you from?” Feng asked. “You don’t look Chinese.”

  “Does that make me a lesser person?”

  “Of course not.” Feng quickly changed the subject. “The town we left isn’t safe anymore. Is that where you live?”

  She turned to him, her large eyes sparkling with life, and she nodded.

  “Is there another town or village nearby where you can go?”

  She shook her head.

  The sounds of many footsteps pounding the dry earth behind them meant the imperial soldiers were catching up. It wouldn’t matter how hard he ran. Fighting against so many imperial soldiers, all armed to the teeth, would be suicidal.

  The piercing thought of Du betraying him again resurfaced. What if it’s true? Du led him to the little town where the imperial soldiers found him. It was he who had wanted to stop at the inn, and it was he who had ordered the liquor, even though he knew more than ever they needed to be sober and alert.

  If Du was conspiring with the enemy, then they knew where Feng was headed. An ambush would be waiting for him.

  In the distance an old temple, abandoned for years, loomed before them. It was large, perhaps even extravagant some years ago, with fine carvings on its broken doors and intricate Buddhist motifs below the roof.

  Once they reached the temple, Feng yanked the wheelbarrow and brought it to a halt. Perhaps unloading his burden to deal with his enemies alone would be a better approach. He could not bring harm to two women, even if one of them was a criminal.

  Iron Spider lifted herself on one elbow. “You’re thinking of hiding in there?”

  “We can’t outrun them,” Feng said. “We also can’t defend a single room with broken doors. I’ll hide you and Ming inside, and I’ll keep running with the wheelbarrow. They’ll follow my tracks, and the two of you will be safe.”

  Iron Spider laughed. “And how far can you run with an empty wheelbarrow before they catch up to you?”

  “I’ll scatter them first. It’ll give me a chance to capture one of them for questioning.”

  “Very confident for a boy with horrible martial arts skills.”

  Feng lifted her off the wheelbarrow, noticed her bleeding had stopped, and turned to the farm girl with a smile. She smiled back, so sweet he almost stumbled.

  “There’s no need to run, young man,” Iron Spider said. “We can deal with them together.”

  Feng lowered the old woman behind the stone Buddha statue. Ming stood outside the door, afraid to enter.

  “If you can lure them all in at once, I can deal with the rest,” Iron Spider said.

  “How?”

  “I have poison powder. Once it explodes, everyone will fall unconscious. I’m immune to poison, so I’ll be the only one awake. I’ll take my time and slit their throats one by one.”

  “I’ll also be unconscious, then,” Feng said. “And with the enemy dead, you won’t need me anymore.”

  “Stop yelping like a neutered dog! I saved your life and got myself into this mess.”

  Suddenly, Feng remembered where he had seen her before. The little cottage where Ding died—the old woman alone in that cottage—surfaced in his mind. She looked exactly the same except in different clothing.

  “He died in my arms,” Feng said. “You were there, and you didn’t even try to help, you witch.”

  “I already told you this morning. He was a waste of time.”

  “Why were you in that cottage?”

  “I live there. I’ve been living there since yesterday.”

  Something crossed his mind, a flash of a thought that suddenly made sense to him. “I wondered why I didn’t fall unconscious as my uncle intended. Why didn’t the drug work on me?”

  Iron Spider laughed. “Now you realize I saved you twice already. I slipped the antidote into your water. Your uncle’s liquor reeked of cheap poison, and I couldn’t resist.”

  Feng was running out of time. Ming stood by the door, peering in, looking for him. “I’ll take the chance today,” he said. “You’re a woman of honor, aren’t you?”

  “I won’t slit your throat tonight, I promise.”

  Feng managed a laugh. “You’re a criminal lowlife who can’t tell the difference between a snake and a civilian. I need you to promise Ming won’t be harmed.”

  Iron Spider glanced at Ming with a mischievous grin. “It’s a deal.”

  Feng motioned for Ming to come in. “You’ll be safe. Hide behind the statue and don’t come out until I tell you. Auntie here will throw some smoke, and you’ll fall asleep. When you wake up, you’ll be free to go home.”

  She stepped into the temple. “Really?”

  Feng reached out and took her hand, drawing her behind the Buddha. “Don’t be scared. I’ll do my best to protect you. You’ll be safe.”

  “You promise?”

  His heart skipped a beat. That moment, if he were to die staring at those sparkling eyes, he would have no regre
ts.

  Outside, the sounds of many footsteps became louder.

  “I promise,” he said.

  “Prove you mean it.”

  The footsteps outside were no longer distant, and there was little time left. Feng touched the messenger pass in his pocket. “My father gave me this,” he said, handing it to Ming. “He told me that anyone who carries this magical tiger will be able to do anything they set their mind to. I want you to hold this and hide back there. You can’t make a sound.”

  She took the plate and held it in her palm. “I don’t even know who you are.”

  “I’m Feng. I’m not a criminal. These soldiers made a mistake coming after us.”

  “Why would they make a mistake?”

  “Maybe they think I have this treasure they want. But I don’t have it.”

  Ming pointed to the Venom Sect elder. “Is she a criminal?”

  “She’s my friend. She saved my life, and she promised to save yours.”

  Ming nodded and crawled behind the statue.

  The footsteps outside grew louder, then stopped altogether. There was some light shuffling, and low voices whispered to each other, but no one moved outside. Feng glanced once at Iron Spider before heading to the door. “They’ve surrounded the temple, but they’re waiting,” he said. “Why would they all rush in at once if they suspect a trap?”

  “My poison smoke will cripple everyone. Don’t worry.”

  “The wind is strong outside,” Feng continued. “And you have no idea how far back they’re standing. What if you miss a few and they wait outside in the dark until you reveal yourself? It would take only one or two to hold his breath and rush in to kill you.”

  “You underestimate the Venom Sect.”

  “If you succeed,” Feng continued, “don’t kill them all. Give me one survivor to question.”

  The old woman laughed. “One survivor. What an amateur.”

  Feng took another step toward the door, unsure why he trusted Iron Spider. Perhaps because he really didn’t have a choice. Or was it because he wanted Ming to have a chance?

  Something landed in front of him, and a burst of smoke engulfed him. He swayed for a second and fell over.

  Chapter 4

  Feng opened his eyes to a beautiful face hovering over him.

  “Ming,” he said, straining to find his voice. “I was dreaming about you.”

  She turned away, blushing. “Why?”

  Feng regained his senses and climbed to his feet, patting the dust from his sleeves. A single candle lit the abandoned temple. The area of worship, a large room extending to the broken temple doors, was covered with dead soldiers. Their blood formed free-flowing patterns on the temple tiles from the deep gashes sliced through their throats. The outside looked the same. Bodies were everywhere. On Feng’s left Iron Spider lay by herself, asleep, her breath even and strong.

  “How is she?”

  “She lost a lot of blood. She was asleep when I woke up. But I checked her pulse, and she seemed fine.”

  “Did she leave any survivors?”

  “Is that all you care about?” Ming asked. “What are you going to do to the soldiers she spared?”

  “Question them, of course.” Feng realized he might have said something wrong. “My sister’s been captured. They may know where she is. They’ll kill her by sunrise if they don’t get what they want.”

  “What do they want?”

  “Some treasure.”

  “Some treasure? Isn’t your sister’s life more important?”

  “It is to me.” His voice broke. He stepped out the open door and lifted his face to the dark heavens. “The moon’s gone. How long before sunrise?”

  “Not much,” Iron Spider said. The old woman was already standing.

  “You’re—”

  “I can walk,” she said with a laugh. She strolled over to a body in the middle of the floor and kicked him. The soldier released a yelp and writhed, pulling on the ropes restraining his wrists, then fell silent. She kicked him again and he grunted, bearing the pain.

  “I promised to save you a scumbag,” she said, her voice strong and good-humored. “Don’t be too nice, Commander Mu.”

  “What did you say?”

  Iron Spider laughed. “Doesn’t the pike unit answer to you, commander?”

  She knew who he was, but there was no time to find out why. Feng crouched next to the imperial soldier. “What’s your name?”

  The soldier turned his face.

  “Your entire regiment’s dead,” Feng continued. “I can help you. I can get you to a safe place with food and medicine.”

  He didn’t respond. Feng was aware the early haze of dawn was upon them. The streaks of light orange in the sky reminded him he was running out of time, that his sister would be killed at sunrise. Without a second thought he grabbed the soldier by the throat, crushing his airway. The soldier twisted, choking and wheezing for air, his face turning red. His lips were dark before Feng released him.

  “Where are the archers?” Feng shouted.

  The soldier shook his head between gasps and said, “I don’t know any archers.”

  Feng reached for his throat again. Iron Spider tapped his elbow. “Let me show you how it’s done.”

  She gave his arm a slight shove and forced him back. She took off one of the soldier’s boots, peeled off his sock, and rolled up his trousers. She had a porcelain jar in her hand, which she held up for him to see. She then drew a small knife, leaned down, and slashed a small wound through his ankle. She made sure Feng was watching, uncorked the porcelain bottle, and poured a few drops onto the wound.

  The rancid smell of burnt flesh rose from his ankle, and white foam formed on his skin, revealing raw muscle and cartilage. The foam chewed through the tendons on his foot and expanded to the calf. Feng’s jaw dropped in horror.

  The soldier screamed. The liquid Iron Spider poured on his foot had already eaten into his flesh, revealing the bone, and the searing pain—coupled with the realization of what was happening—finally reached him.

  “What are you doing to me? No! No!”

  Iron Spider waited. His screams grew higher in pitch, more intense in urgency.

  Eventually his cries weakened to a light whimper. The bones in his ankle were fully exposed, dripping with a strange foaming liquid, the skin around the wound darkened and peeling.

  “What have you done?” he moaned. “Help me . . .”

  “Are you ready to talk?”

  “Yes! Yes! I am.”

  She laughed. “Too late. You missed your chance.” She grabbed his face, pinned it against the floor, and held the porcelain bottle over his mouth.

  “No! No! What are you doing? What are you doing?”

  “You didn’t cooperate right away.”

  “I’ll cooperate! I’ll cooperate!”

  “Too late!” She poured the liquid into his open mouth, and for a small moment he screamed until they were reduced to choked gurgles.

  Feng was dizzy. The smell, the sight of melting flesh, the horror on the man’s face, his cries for help—he wanted answers, but not like this.

  Iron Spider held the bottle before him. “The other one outside heard everything,” she said. “He’s ready for you.”

  Feng glanced around to look for Ming, hoping she had run away from the sight. He noticed her crouching behind the big Buddha. “I can’t do it,” he said to Iron Spider.

  “You can do it to your sister’s corpse, then.”

  Feng was shaking. Never had he seen anything so horrible. Even with his sister’s life at stake, he could not torture a man like that.

  But he was running out of time. Feng grabbed the porcelain bottle. “Let me borrow this. I’ll bring it back.”

  He stood by the doorway and scanned for the surviving soldier. All were dead except one man lying gagged and bound among the slaughtered.

  Feng crouched next to him, the porcelain bottle in plain view. He pulled the man’s gag and unplugged the cork,
his face blank, his eyes narrowed, and he held the spout of the jar over the man’s face.

  “No!” the soldier begged.

  “Give me a good reason not to.”

  “I’ll tell you. Everything I know. I’ll tell you.”

  Feng kept the mouth of the jar over him. “You’re soldiers from where?”

  “Hebei province.”

  “Don’t lie to me!” Feng’s voice thundered. He began to tilt the jar.

  “No! I’m not lying! I’m not lying!”

  “Hebei is in the middle of the empire. There are no enemies there. Who would station an army there?”

  “No—trained!” he sputtered. “I’m from further south. I was recruited to join the imperial army, and we were trained there!”

  “In secret?”

  The soldier nodded.

  “Who commands this army?” Feng asked.

  “Zeng Xi. The Great Prodigy Zeng Xi.”

  Feng’s eyes bulged. “General Lo’s Great Prodigy? You lie to me one more time, and—”

  “No! I’m not lying!”

  “Zeng Xi is second in command to General Lo! He would never attack—”

  “General Lo is dead!” the soldier said. “He went to Mongolia, and the Silencer used him for fertilizer!”

  Feng pulled away, shaking his head. It was impossible. Zeng Xi was next in line to become a Tiger General. He would command an army of fifty thousand and bear the tremendous burden of defending the border against the Khitans. Why would newly trained imperial soldiers fall under his command? One Tiger General could not possibly attack another.

  Feng turned back to the soldier. “And you expect me to believe this? Zeng Xi attacking another Tiger General?”

  “Zeng Xi works for the Judge.”

  “The Judge?”

  “We only know he’s called the Judge,” the soldier said. “He’s our supreme commander.”

  “Who is he?” Feng asked.

  “I’ve never seen him before. But he’s all-powerful. He controls everything in the empire already. Even the emperor does whatever he says.”

  Feng withdrew. Even the emperor answered to this man, and Feng hadn’t heard of him. The concept was both ridiculous and impossible. He plugged the cork back into the bottle. “And the archers?”