the question is half rhetorical and half pure curiosity. surely none
of them are foolish enough to exchange money or anything else
over his potential demise anymore. it’s a joke now, almost, that
they could take off his head and he would still come out breath-
ing. of course, everyone else attributes it to some form of luck –
and of course he will never bother to correct them, for the real
reason would surely prove too much for them to understand or
believe. it is in this way that he feels a strange kinship with
brother ping, for he is the only one who hides just as large a se-
cret – and one far more dangerous than tian’s.it is, strangely, for this reason that he lingers near hua ping so
often. he knows that, as death, he has very little ability to protect
any of them from what is to come – in fact, he is more likely the
harbringer of all of their dooms, in one way or another – but if
someone is to discover his brother’s secret, then the least he can
do is help ensure the ease of passing. ping does not deserve that
suffering, not for everything he ( she ) has already sacrificed.despite the smile, tian senses the melancholy in the air. his own
playful expression falters and he tilts his head as he looks at her
with questions in his eyes. surely he knows what happened ( how
could he not, as a victim himself? ) but he does not know exactly
how, considering how often he’s been unconscious in the recent
past. occasionally, his mortality overwhelms his senses, even if he
remains stronger than most.
❝ they haven’t told me anything, so you’ll have to.
I can’t stand being babied. ❞
—花木蘭—And isn’t that the strangest thing of all, Ping reflects.
He’s quickly learned that war is surreal, that things happen here
as in another realm, ungoverned by the usual rules. How else is
it that Ping, despite countless accidents, is alive and whole: wher-
eas someone like Tian falls (though never succumbs) to one injury
after another? How is it the men from Wu Zhong, always quick to
rub salt into each other’s wounds, have spared Tian? How else is
it that Ping, ostensibly the baby of the company, is the one who
has to tell him the truth?
He runs his tongue uselessly over dry lips.
“There’s not much to tell,” says Ping lightly. “It was all over before
I knew it. And they weren’t after the supply wagons.” His eyes meet
Tian’s then: though two privates shouldn’t discuss strategy, it’s like-
ly the scouts were tracking the movements of the Imperial troops.
And some of them got away.
Ping falters now, dropping his gaze to the packed earth. He’s telling
Tian the truth, but not all of it: and is that really any better than stay
-ing silent?
“Xuézhě is dead.”
