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The myriad stars in the night sky shine down on you. It’s a spectacle that countless writers and lovers have waxed poetic about — glitter sprinkled on a pitch-black, infinite canvas, or something like that. But instead, you can only wonder if the gods in heaven, if they even exist, are mocking you, for tonight is not the time for stargazing.
You and your comrades are huddled around a fire, passing around platefuls of food and drinking cupfuls of rice wine. To an outsider, it might seem that you’re all making merry, but this is no occasion for celebration. Rather, it’s a last hurrah for General Wan, who has been recalled on short notice to the Phoenix Light Palace on Her Majesty’s orders. He is to immediately set off on a treacherous journey from the Xi You border to the palace the next morning.
Although you’ve barely had enough time to properly prepare for the general’s send-off, tonight, the food and drinks are flowing — shows of appreciation from the locals for General Wan’s zealous commitment to their welfare. There’s more than enough to go of the general’s favorite stir-fried beef-and-scallion dish, and this time, you’ve all made sure he didn’t eat last. (Of course, the selfless man that he is, he still insisted on everyone taking their portions first.)
As you feast and drink in the general’s honor, swap stories, and crack jokes by the fire, you all enjoy a fleeting bit of happiness, albeit tinged with the bittersweet sorrow of parting. General Wan has been putting on his bravest face for everyone’s sake, but it’s plain as day that he is hurting, too.
“I don’t want to see any sad faces or crying tonight, understood? Let’s just make the most of our remaining time together, and have faith that we’ll see each other again.”
Those words still ring fresh to you. Who are you to disobey your superior’s orders? You know he wouldn’t want to see you upset, but it’s difficult for you to engage in any merrymaking tonight. You apologize to General Wan in your head for your failure to put on a smiling face for him.
All of a sudden, your melancholy is disrupted by General Wan, of all people. Addressing you, he asks, a look of fatherly concern all over his face, “Are you all right? I don’t think I’ve heard a single word from you all night. Please tell me you’ve at least eaten something.”
“Sir, I wish you didn’t have to go,” is all you can manage. Well, that was lame. What are you, a child?
“Neither do I,” he says with a deep, deep sigh. “But alas, duty calls.”
“My sister will be devastated,” you blurt out on impulse. You have no idea what came over you, but you hope that your sister will forgive you for being a coward and using her name like that. “She’s been in love with you ever since she laid eyes on you, that time you came into our village.”
How long you’ve carried a torch for the general, you no longer know. You don’t even remember how it started, but what most likely happened is that it just crept up on you.
The youngest and newest member of the platoon, you enlisted for the Xi You army two and a half years ago. A wide-eyed idealist who wanted to help make things right for the nation, you resolved to protect your widowed mother, and your younger siblings.
Back then, when you learned that you would be joining General Wan’s platoon, you were the envy of your peers.
“You couldn’t have asked for a better superior!” someone gushed.
A new recruit who was still in training said, “I hope I get as lucky as you!”
General Wan, after all, was the nation’s beloved Paragon of a Hundred Battles. His title wasn’t mere window-dressing, but one that was well-deserved: a tirelessly devoted military commander who was also a father to his men — a compassionate, charismatic leader who could never turn a blind eye to the suffering and corruption that engulfed Xi You. Who wouldn’t admire someone like that?
And so, as part of General Wan’s unit, you held the fort at Xi You’s border. Since then, you’ve learned that this is a thankless job, but you’ve endured the endless hours, the horrors of the battlefield, the soul-crushing stress and pressure, and the pay that’s barely enough to send back home by reminding yourself of your childhood dreams to change the world.
(Having General Wan’s hands-on approach to leadership, patriotic fervor, and words and gestures of encouragement also certainly helped keep you going.)
As the days blurred into months, then years, it suddenly hit you one day that your feelings for the general went beyond mere respect and admiration. To your mortification, you realized that your comrades might have picked up on your feelings long before you even did.
General Wan chuckles. His laugh is deep, rich, and rumbling — so full of life and mirth, despite the direness of the circumstances. You hope that this man will live to see better times, when he can laugh like that to his heart’s content. “My, my. What have I done to deserve her admiration?”
“Come now, Sir. Surely you have some idea of your popularity with the ladies,” you say.
“Not just the ladies,” one of your comrades pipes up. Ah. It’s Zhu Guo Wei, who could never keep his mouth shut. You glare daggers at him, hoping that General Wan doesn’t notice.
“Ahem. As I was saying, the ladies aren’t exactly subtle when it comes to their fawning,” you continue, resisting the urge to cough awkwardly — you know that that might give you away. “There are even women who wouldn’t hesitate to join the army for you.”
“Well,” the general says. “I’m sorry to break your dear sister’s heart, but she could do better than an old fool like me, who doesn’t have a single romantic bone in his body and is married to the job.”
“You’re not an old fool, Sir!” you insist empathically. “You’re clever, brave, honorable, and kind.” And beautiful, too, but you don’t want to give yourself away too much — you’re already worried about being too earnest for your own good. “Truth be told, you’re the kind of leader Xi You should have. People would lay down their lives to serve someone like you!”
“You flatter me, but be careful not to go around saying that — let’s try not to get ourselves executed for treason,” General Wan says wryly, then goes on, wincing. “But oh, heavens, I wouldn’t want anyone dying for my sake. That’d be too much of a cross for me to bear. It’s already bad enough that I’ll have to leave you all behind.”
Those words are met with a gaggle of impassioned voices:
“It’s not your fault, boss!”
“We’d never resent you for leaving!”
“Don’t beat yourself up like that; you’ve already done so much for us!”
General Wan usually knows what to say at any given moment, but this time, for once, he is at a loss for words.
Clenching a fist in frustration, you curse your powerlessness as a mere footsoldier — if only you could do something for your general somehow! Without thinking, you take off the charm around your neck: a coin with swords and inscriptions engraved on it. It’s small and inconspicuous enough to be worn under your armor and not serve as a hindrance.
“Here; take this, Sir,” you say, daring to press the charm into General Wan’s hand — it’s rough with callouses, no doubt from countless battles, but it’s warm. “It’s an amulet for victory and protection from evil.” Who even cares anymore if it’s a meaningless gesture? At least it’s better than nothing.
“Ah, I didn’t take you to be the superstitious type,” the general remarks, in a slightly distracted tone. Though he is surprised by what you just did, his fingers curl around the amulet.
“I’m not,” you reply. “But my mother is. The night before I left home to join the army, she made me wear this. I’ve never taken it off since then. I don’t know if I believe in amulets and talismans, but something tells me you’ll need this more than I do.”
His brows furrowed, General Wan holds the amulet up. Ostensibly, he’s observing the design, but an expression akin to guilt crosses his face.
“I appreciate the sentiment, but if this is a keepsake from your mother, I can’t take it,” he says, shaking his head. “You should hold on to whatever tangible reminders you have of your loved ones.”
“Not to worry, Sir. That’s not the only charm my mother gave me, honest! Like I said, she’s very superstitious, so she’s not one to take any chances. I still have more of those protection amulets. There’s one in my purse, see—” You take out your purse from your pocket to assure the general that it’s really nothing, to prove that he’s not taking away your last memory of your family. “And I can always string it up into a necklace to replace the one I just gave you.”
“But I…”
“Just take it, Sir. Please,” you say, with rising desperation in your voice.
Someone else backs you up. “Yeah, boss! Think of it as a parting gift. We didn’t want to burden you with unnecessary or overly bulky stuff, and we didn’t have much time, so all we got to send you off were essentials like food and supplies. When those run out, you’ll have that charm…”
“...to remember us by,” you finish your comrade’s sentence. “Yes, that’s right. Something to remember us all by.”
General Wan still looks as if he’s finding the right words to say.
“You have to live, Sir,” you insist. “Someone has to carry our hopes and dreams for us, in case we don’t make it out alive.”
“Don’t say ominous things like that,” the general chides. “We have to believe that we’ll all live.” You wonder whether he truly still clings to a naive hope like that — surely he’s been battle-weary enough to know better, right? — or if this is him, yet again, insisting on setting an example.
You wish you could tell him that he doesn’t have to put on a facade for everyone. You all know that the Paragon of a Hundred Battles, for all his greatness, is still human, after all.
General Wan sighs. “...but, well, when you put it that way, it would be rude of me to refuse. With this, it will be as if you are all watching over me. Thank you.” Serenely, he slips the necklace around his neck, patting the coin amulet for good measure.
You don’t know how long you’ll live to see another tomorrow, or if General Wan had heard the words that went unsaid.
But of one thing, you are certain: this night will be forever etched in your memory.
The stars were bright, like distant, fading beacons of hope…
...and General Wan, his face illuminated by the firelight, kept your amulet close to his heart.