Chapter 33: The Turks
The undulating dunes stretched out like the gentle rise and fall of a woman’s chest, breathing softly beneath the briny wind. Grey-green camelthorn cast long shadows across the ground. Li Wei stared far into the distance, his expression calm as still water, yet there was a subtle crease between his brows. She didn’t understand, and asked again, “Da-ye?”
At the edge of sight, where the yellow sands met the azure sky, a faint black speck flickered out from behind a cloud, then quickly vanished again into the grey-white mass.
Li Wei turned back, eyes scanning the length of the caravan. The docile packhorses trailed along for several li, buzzing flies and bees thick in the air. The merchants, catching their breath in the cooling breeze, were beginning to chat idly in small clusters, their spirits just starting to lift.
Li Wei reined in beside her again, his voice taut. “There may be trouble ahead.”
Chun Tian’s heart fluttered when she saw his hand rest instinctively on the arrows at his hip. She opened her mouth to ask, but before she could speak, a piercing shriek split the sky.
She looked up.
A single black dot shot from the clouds above, descending rapidly, closer and faster with every second. Then, with a sudden flash of wings–it was a falcon. The great bird wheeled in the air, shrieking again as it dove toward the caravan. Everyone turned to watch, a growing unease knotting in their chests. But before the hawk could be clearly seen, it flared its wings, gave one more high cry, and soared away into the heavens.
Li Wei’s frown deepened. “We need to move fast. Thirty li west is Lengquan Post. We need to reach the city before anything happens.”
A stir spread through the crowd.
At the front, an Arel tribesman in a white cap and red cheeks spurred his horse forward, raising his arm and shouting in his native tongue. The mood of the group shifted, light conversation turning quickly to panic. People snapped their whips, urging camels and mules into motion. In the high carts, women and children stopped their chatter, whispering questions about what was happening. No one answered.
The wheels thundered forward, but they had only just rolled on a short distance when a single arrow shot from the sky. From behind the right-hand dunes came a burst of hoofbeats, the sand kicking up in billowing clouds. Over the ridge surged a line of tall horses, each mounted by stocky, broad-shouldered riders. Their allegiances were yet unclear. One of the guards nearby opened his mouth to call out, but in the blink of an eye, a grey-fletched arrow whistled through the air with a metallic zheng, striking him square in the chest and driving him from his horse, dead before he hit the ground.
Those closest saw it all and scattered in panic.
“Bandits–horse bandits!”
“Run! Run!”
Chun Tian heard Mishinian galloping ahead, shouting over the chaos: “Leave the wagons! Ride! Ride!”
The pack animals stampeded, dust flying under the whip. Ahead, the camel train surged forward in a frenzy. The guards fanned out along both flanks, faces grim, weapons drawn, barking orders for everyone to hurry.
At the ornate red carriage, Duoge was frantically lashing the horses. A small side table tipped, its golden goblet and half-finished wine sloshed onto the rugs. Kang Duolu, who had been dozing with eyes shut, startled awake at the din outside.
“Mishinian, what’s going on?” he called sharply.
A guard riding alongside shouted back, “Sabao, we’re under attack, horse bandits! Mishinian says to flee toward Lengquan Post!”
Kang Dolu rose at once, snapping the shutter open, his face turning grim as he peered outside. On the distant ridge, a mass of horsemen had appeared, dark and menacing against the sky. Lined up across the dune’s crest, they now raised their blades and let out a harsh chorus of cries, spurring their horses into a fierce charge down the slope.
He had traveled the Western Regions for decades–seen much, lived through countless brushes with death. Even now, jolting violently in the swaying carriage, his voice remained calm as he commanded:
“Duoge. Steady. Keep the carriage moving.”
Podianlu had just lifted the curtain to peek out when she saw a hail of arrows rain down from the ridge. Screams erupted, someone was struck and dropped to the ground, fate unknown. Her courage collapsed, her face drained of all color as she shrank back into the carriage. “Master, th-the bandits…”
Li Wei’s riding whip snapped across Chun Tian’s horse. The horse cried out in pain and charged forward. Chun Tian gripped the reins tightly, her heart pounding so violently it felt ready to burst from her chest. She hadn’t forgotten the nightmare of Red Cliff Ravine–the vicious, bloodthirsty bandits. Panic seized her as she turned to look at Li Wei. He stayed close at her side, and upon catching her terrified eyes, said in a steady voice, “Don’t be afraid. Hold the reins tight. Ride for the post station.”
The guards urged the traders and animals into a chaotic sprint. The camel caravan was in a frenzy, everyone was scrambling to escape.
“Hyah!” The bandits had reached the rear of the column. Leading them was a foreigner with fierce eyes, gold rings braided into his long hair, wielding a great sabre. The blade gleamed like snow as he swung it viciously toward the fleeing merchants.
A Sogdian merchant at the front turned ghastly pale, nearly collapsing from fear. A nearby guard whipped his horse forward, forcing him onward before intercepting the sabre with a clash of steel. Clang! The sound rang out.
“They’re Turks!” someone in the crowd shouted. “It’s the Turks!”
Screams and wails tore through the swirling yellow dust of the camel train. Li Wei led Chun Tian forward through the turmoil. She caught a glimpse of a high-cheekboned Turk with almond-shaped eyes, raising his long blade high, then cleaving a man down in one swing. Blood sprayed across her vision. The man’s head rolled to the ground. Her mind went blank from the shock; her stomach heaved with nausea.
The Turks were at least a hundred strong. Beyond looting the livestock and supplies, they cut down travelers seemingly for sport. There was no pattern, no target–just bloodlust. Whoever they saw, they struck down, becoming excited. Screams, blood, chaos, they even killed women and children without hesitation.
Outmatched and outnumbered, the caravan guards dared not engage in direct battle. Instead, they prioritized protecting Sabao Kang Dolu and the wealthier merchants, urging them to flee.
Mishinian had cut down several Turks while guarding a few Sogdian traders, but now even he could no longer cover the high carriages carrying defenseless women and children.
A short, stocky Turk gave a cruel grin as he swung his blade toward the women and children huddled in the high carriage. The unarmed women clutched their children, shrinking into the corners in trembling terror. One strong-built woman, overcome with fear, let out a sharp scream and tried to flee, leaping down from the carriage. The Turk barked something guttural and raised his saber high, preparing to strike.
Clang! A sharp metallic sound rang out, the sabre was knocked aside by a sudden flying arrow. At the side of the high carriage, a grey-clad man with clear features launched himself from horseback, blade flashing as he sprang atop the carriage and swung his saber down at the Turk.
“Mishinian! Take my sister and go, I’ll cover the rear!”
“Da-ye!”
“Go!” Mishinian snapped the reins. Seeing Chun Tian turning back repeatedly to look at Li Wei, he barked at her, “We move now!”
She gritted her teeth, spurred her horse forward, and galloped far ahead, following Mishinian and the scattered merchants in the direction of Lengquan Post.
Lengquan Post was one of the larger stations along the route, manned by a garrison and stationed commandants. Recently, a tribute envoy from Gaochang had also taken residence there, soldiers and guards were numerous. The Turks would not dare storm the city. If they reached it in time, they might alert the troops and send reinforcements.
Screams and cries filled the air, buried under harsh, guttural laughter she couldn’t understand. Chun Tian’s heart pounded violently in her chest as she leaned forward and urged her horse into a full gallop.
Up ahead, dusk had fallen. The setting sun hung like a massive golden disc at the horizon, casting a blood-red glow across the wilderness–a bleak, solemn light.
Kang Dolu and several of the merchants, seeing how dire the situation had become, had grabbed only their most precious valuables and fled under the protection of the guards. Mules and horses scattered, kicking up thick clouds of dust.
Halfway through, amid the chaos, a child fell off a mule. He curled into the dusty ground, trembling and wailing, his voice hoarse as he cried out to the retreating figures: “Papa! Mama!”
The boy scrambled to his feet and chased desperately after the fleeing crowd, crying out hoarsely, “Don’t leave me! Don’t leave me, Papa, Mama–!”
But everyone was fending for themselves, who had time to stop for a stranger’s child?
The boy wiped at his tears, turned back in terror to the chaos behind, where the Turkic blades had descended upon the caravan, and just then, he spotted Mishinian charging past with the others. His eyes lit up, and he bolted toward Chun Tian’s horse, arms outstretched, shouting at the top of his lungs, “Jiejie! Jiejie, take me with you!”
Startled on horseback, Chun Tian had no time to react. She leaned low, gripping the reins with one hand while stretching the other out to catch him. The horse galloped at full speed, her fingers brushed only the edge of his sleeve, and the next moment, they missed. Her mount surged several paces ahead.
Twisting around in the saddle, she caught one last glimpse of the child collapsing into the dust behind, wailing, “Papa, Mama, save me!”
The evening wind howled. She rode hard, following Mishinian and the others in the panicked flight. Yet something seized her heart. Gritting her teeth, she pulled the reins hard and whipped the horse around.
Mishinian saw her wheel about and immediately raised his whip to intercept her, his face ashen. “Girl! Don’t go back!”
“Hurry, they’re coming!” cried the merchants in alarm. “Mishinian! The Turks are closing in!”
But Chun Tian spurred her horse straight back toward the child, reaching with all her strength and shouting, “Grab on! Hold tight!”
The seven or eight year old boy’s eyes lit with sudden hope. He scrambled from the dirt, stumbling into her path. Like a fish snapping at bait, he locked both arms around her outstretched hand with all his might. Chun Tian used every ounce of her strength to hoist him up, settling him in front of her in the saddle. She let out a breath of relief, just as she prepared to gallop away again.
Charging straight toward her was a Turkic rider. He had been slaughtering at random, but the moment he laid eyes on Chun Tian, a sharp gleam flickered across his gaze. His face twisted with malice, and after letting out a few low, mocking chuckles, he muttered something in a foreign tongue and raised his blade, speeding toward her.
Chun Tian was terrified, so terrified that she could see the watery gleam rippling along the blade’s surface, reflecting her own panic-stricken eyes.
It was too late to turn her horse.
With every ounce of strength she had ever possessed in her life, she lashed her whip forward. Spurring the horse with the sharp tips of her boots, she charged directly at the Turk’s blade. The horse shrieked and bolted in pain, springing forward like a streak of lightning. The two riders got closer and in that split second, just as the blade was about to come down, Chun Tian ducked low, pressing her body tight against the horse’s back and hurtled beneath the swinging weapon.
The Turk had not expected such a move. He hesitated, stunned that this young girl had slipped past under his blade. Perhaps amused, he leveled his blade at her again, snarling something under his breath as he whipped his horse to pursue.
Chun Tian’s heart pounded like a war drum. With the child clinging to her, she raced forward as fast as she could. The seconds dragged unbearably long. The wind cut her face like knives, and the sand kicked up around her, tearing at her wind hood. It fluttered violently behind her like wings, she felt as though she were flying, riding onwards.
“Arrows! Arrows! Arrows!” The boy clutched her shoulder, shrieking, his fingers digging into her skin. “Jiejie, he’s shooting arrows!”
The whistle of an arrow sliced through the wind!
The child screamed. Chun Tian was soaked in cold sweat. She heard the sharp rush of air, and out of the corner of her eye, caught the blur of an iron arrow grazing past her ear.
They were like lambs to the slaughter, and the hunter behind them was toying with his prey, loosing arrow after arrow leisurely as she fled.
She didn’t know how long she had galloped, only that her mount had just crested a high ridge. Just then, Chun Tian saw ahead a tangled stretch of deep ravines crisscrossing one another, littered with jagged rocks and withered grass. She shut her eyes and wrapped both arms tightly around the child. Then, in one desperate move, she hurled herself from the saddle.
They tumbled into a dry gully. This gully had once been a riverbed, but the waters had dried up decades ago. Only broken reeds now grew in chaotic clumps along the floor. Thankfully, the ground was loose with soft soil. Though scraped and bruised, she and the boy survived the fall. Chun Tian’s head throbbed from hitting a stone, the buzzing in her skull nearly deafening, but she didn’t dare stop. She dragged the child with her, crawling into a dense patch of withered grass. They curled up in a corner, holding their breath, hidden from view.
The Turkic soldier, seeing the pair fall from the horse into a maze of dry riverbeds, tangled wood and scattered stones, cursed under his breath. The terrain was too uneven, the gullies too twisted and undulating, tracking them down would be a waste of time. He lost interest and rode off.
Chun Tian clutched the child in her arms, not daring to move. All around them was deathly stillness; even the wind seemed to have vanished. She didn’t know how long had passed when finally, the little boy in her arms trembled and whispered, “Jiejie… there’s no one here.”
Carefully, the two of them parted the dried grasses, climbing up in a trembling manner. Night had fallen completely. The crescent moon hung low in the sky, casting pale light over the silent, undulating hills.
Chun Tian’s expression was blank. Their horse was long gone. The child next to her, she now recognized as Zhao Daneng, the same boy who had cried for meat earlier that day.
She tried to stand but found her legs too weak; they crumpled beneath her. Beside her, the boy scrambled to his feet, face crumpled with tears. “Jiejie… what do we do now?”
The sky was dark, and the land empty in every direction. She had no way of knowing where Lengquan Post lay. Hills stretched out in identical, repeating patterns; even the path they’d come by was lost to memory. The cold night wind howled across the open land, carrying with it strange, jumbled sounds, cries, moans, roars, like beasts calling from afar. Chun Tian shivered. Under the faint moonlight, she climbed back up the ridge from where she had fallen, brushed the dirt from her hands, and said resolutely, “We go west. To Lengquan Post.”
“Jiejie, which way is west?” the boy whimpered. “Where did we come from? Where’s the caravan?”
She looked up at the sky, trying to spot the stars. Her heart wasn’t fully confident, but she gripped the child’s hand and pointed in a direction. “The Big Dipper is north. That way is west. We go west.”
The two of them began trudging over one hill after another, the crescent moon slowly climbing higher until it hung directly overhead. Yet no matter how far they walked, the barren land seemed endless. The boy sobbed quietly as he walked, wiping his face again and again.
At one point, he began to cry aloud, but Chun Tian quickly snapped, “Don’t cry. If you cry, wolves will hear and come.”
The child stiffened and clung tightly to her hand. After a pause, he sniffled and said, “Jiejie… if you hadn’t saved me, those bad men wouldn’t have chased you. You… you’d be safe at the post by now. It’s all my fault. I just… I just wanted my papa and mama…”
“Jie-jie… my papa said wolves eat mules. If they’re hungry, they’ll eat people too. I’m scared they’ll eat me…”
What a noisy little brat.
Chun Tian’s head throbbed faintly. The wind was cold, and dirt clung to her damp hair, itching where it stuck to her brow. She forced herself to stay calm and comforted the child with a gentler voice: “Don’t be afraid. Let’s head to Lengquan Post and take a look. Maybe your papa and mama are already there waiting for you. Or maybe they’re out looking for you too. If we hurry, we might catch up soon.”
There were no paths in the wilderness. The cold wind howled endlessly. She wore only a thin outer layer, and the chill was creeping deep into her bones. Chun Tian began to suspect that she had chosen the wrong direction. That she would die here, in this barren expanse. Time and again, she stopped to scan the terrain and sky, checking the stars and sparse vegetation to confirm their heading. Her anxiety grew with each uncertain step, trying to find something to prove that her direction was right.
Just as her panic was rising, Daneng suddenly pointed ahead: “Chun Tian- jie-jie, there’s something on the ground over there!”
The two of them hurried forward. Scattered across the sand were scraps of cloth. A little further, they found horse and mule prints, along with some broken wooden crates, items clearly left behind by the fleeing caravan. The pair, one big, one small, looked at each other, smiling.
“Someone passed through here. We’re on the right track.”
Following the trail of hoofprints, they pressed on for about another hour. At first, the flicker of light at the horizon seemed like nothing more than stars. But as they drew closer, the light danced like flames. Excitement quickened their steps, surely this meant the post was just ahead. The ball of light became bigger and bigger and Chun Tian guessed that the light in front should be Lengquan Post. They quickened their pace.
Daneng clambered up the tallest dune, shielding his eyes from the wind, and called down hesitantly: “Jie-jie…”
There, in the distance, Lengquan Post rose against the night: its high earthen walls lit by a line of blazing flames. The glow painted the sky in a strange, ominous violet.
The fire burned, fierce and silent beneath the empty heavens. The two stood frozen atop the hill, too stunned to speak. They didn’t know what to do next.
Lengquan Post was on fire.
TN: Hi everyone!! I hope you guys had a great holiday season and Happy New Year! I’m sorry to have been on hiatus the last couple of weeks, I ended up deciding to take a good rest 🙂 I hope the holidays were just as restful for all of you!
Announcement: We have set up a kofi and patreon account! If you would like to support us or get early access to advance chapters to my current works (TMD and Spring Tree North fo teh Wei River), those options are available for you (in support us page)! I have just added a patreon tier for Transmigrating to the Ming Dynasty’s Imperial Examinations in which patreons can have access to a google document with ALL of my advanced translated chapters for the novel. Since I am a grad student, there should usually be at least 10 advance chapters in the document at a time, but depending on my schedules, there may be fewer or more. I’m currently extremely busy, but I have translated out some new chapters for you all! But, I will still post each week with the same schedule. Thanks!
Twin Dragons Translations 