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Chapter 3 - – The unwilling bride –

Tiān Lè didn't know how long he had been sitting there. He couldn't feel his lower body anymore from the cold and was shivering all over.

As so often, he cursed his fragile body. Everything in his head was spinning and a tightness in his chest made it difficult to breathe.

 

Small clouds of mist formed in front of his mouth as he listened to the music and the exuberant mood outside.

After a while, he stood up, a sharp pain in his legs causing him to stumble awkwardly through the small tent.

He looked up at the sky through the hole in the tent ceiling. 

It could have been afternoon or dusk, the sky was so gray and dark that it made no difference. 

The rain was still pouring down mercilessly, and within a very short time he was not only soaked again, but his face was numb from the cold.

 

He watched the rivulets running down the menacing stake. Outside, the roaring and shouting grew louder and louder. 

The soldiers celebrated their victory exuberantly, and he paced his prison for the hundredth time.

 

The tent was solid; there was no other way out than the way he had entered. He stood very close to the entrance and could sense the presence of the guards. He could smell the leather of their armor and hear their soft, hoarse voices singing along. 

Suddenly, the guards flinched and the metal fittings on their armor clanged.

"The general is on his way back, finish them off," slurred a voice.

Tiān Lè couldn't tell if it was the same soldier who had brought him to the camp. The voice sounded distorted and strangely hollow. 

Tiān Lè quickly moved back to the center of the tent and waited tensely. Sure enough, just seconds later, two women entered.

 

They had their heads bowed and did not look at the guards or the prince. With quick steps, they stood on either side of the prince and made a slight curtsy.

"My lady, follow us," said one of them.

"Just do as you are told, and you will have nothing to fear. The Bǎoléi men under General Cuī Ruò Tián are civilized," whispered the other.

Tiān Lè swallowed the lump in his throat. The feeling of being paralyzed with fear was humiliating.

 

He followed the two women out of the tent. Outside, the smell of sweat, leather, and blood hit him. Mixed in was the scent of a roughly cooked meal with hot spices.

 

The rain had made the ground muddy, and he stumbled forward rather than walked. It was cold, and beneath the muddy surface of the ground, he could still feel the hard, frozen earth.

He stumbled and fell. The women helped him up and led him to a brightly lit tent. It was larger and comfortably warm.

 

When the two women began to tug at his clothes, he held on to them with all his strength.

He was shivering pitifully and was soaked to the bone and frozen through. His black hair was disheveled and stuck to his body like tiny snakes. He felt miserable and humiliated. 

He was a prince and would not allow them to undress him. He frantically wrested himself from their nimble fingers.

"I can do it myself!" he cried hoarsely. The two women exchanged glances.

"It is our duty to ensure that you appear clean and well-groomed before the general," they explained. 

Tiān Lè shook his head jerkily. The tent was lit by dozens of candles. Even though his royal bath chamber would have had room for ten such tents, he recognized the water tub, the clothes laid out, and the jewelry.

"At least leave me some dignity. I can do this myself," he said hoarsely.

The two exchanged another doubtful glance.

 However, they did not seem particularly eager to engage in discussion. Finally, they curtsied again in annoyance and disappeared. Tiān Lè exhaled audibly. The women were not from Bǎoléi; they would have been more loyal to the soldiers' orders. They must be prisoners from Sānhé who preferred to serve the enemy rather than be slaughtered. 

Tiān Lè looked around frantically. This tent was also sturdy and solidly built. There were small separate rooms, but no exit.

After searching the entire tent for several minutes, fear rose within him. If he couldn't find a way to escape, he would have no choice but to continue playing the concubine for a while longer.

He dipped his fingers into the hot bath water. 

If he didn't do it himself, the women would show no mercy when they returned, and when they saw that he was a man... 

If he dawdled too long and someone came to check and found a man in the bathwater, then...

 

Tiān Lè rubbed his temples. Perhaps it really would have been better to choose death with his family?

 

He left the bath water behind and ran his fingers over the jewelry that had been laid out. One hairpin was particularly long and pointed. He clutched it and held it up to his eyes. He gritted his teeth as he closed his eyes and pressed the tip to his throat.

His breath came in gasps and his whole body trembled. All his life he had avoided pain. He had been ashamed of his body and hated himself for his weakness. So how could he now hurt himself, let alone kill himself? 

He threw back the hairpin with its elaborately decorated phoenix flower and slammed his fist on the table.

"What a meaningless life. It began miserably and will end miserably," he whispered softly.

 

He stood in front of the tub and slowly let the wet, sticky clothes slide off his shoulders.

"The general will reach the camp in an hour, make sure you're ready by then," a voice rang out from outside.

Tiān Lè swallowed as he slid his feet into the water. The warmth was welcome, but it didn't reach his icy, frozen core.

 

He avoided washing with the oils and scents so as not to smell like a whore. When he climbed out of the tub, his gaze fell on a tarnished mirror in the corner. With heavy steps, he forced himself to take a look.

He was tall, slim, his skin snow-white. You could see his ribs when he stretched, but no muscles. His skin was slightly reddened, but otherwise no scars or scratches marred his figure. 

His gaze fell on the pile of red silk and gold jewelry. The clothes laid out were of high quality. He picked up the fabric and held the women's underwear up to the light.

 

Tiān Lè sighed. His servants used to play such pranks on him regularly. It was no problem for him to put on women's clothes, so he swallowed his remaining pride and dressed himself.

He left his hair unadorned. Just a simple knot and, after a moment's hesitation, the hairpin. If he couldn't hurt himself, then maybe he could hurt this general. Perhaps he would at least be able to defend himself a little in the face of death. 

He clutched the cold gold, which was heating up in his palm, and resolved to take at least one of them with him if he had to die today.

 

No sooner had he finished and tied the veil over his face than the two women rushed back in. They stood rooted to the spot. With open mouths, they admired the beauty before them.

Tiān Lè smiled sourly behind the red veil that hid his face. A heavenly fairy had truly been lost to him, hadn't she?

"

"We didn't ask your name," said one of the two, looking at him expectantly. 

"Tiān Lè," said the prince tonelessly. The two nodded.

"A beautiful name."

Tiān Lè looked at the floor. As he had expected, no one knew the name of the crown prince. Locked up his whole life, he had never even seen his family.

 

Of course, not even the people of Sānhé knew his name, let alone knew of his existence. But that didn't matter anymore. He would not survive this night, and then Prince Fèi Tiān Lè would leave this world as quietly and silently as he had entered it.

He clenched his fingers into the red silk as the two led him out of the tent.

 

The rain had stopped and night had fallen. The air was still filled with the smell of the soldiers' victory. He was led to the largest camp in the entire tent city. It stood in the center, impossible to enter or leave unseen.

So impossible that there weren't even guards watching the entrance. The two women who had accompanied him bowed.

"Only you may enter. Sit on the bed and wait for the general. Cuī Ruò Tián is not a monster. If you do not resist, he will not hurt you," they reassured him. 

Tiān Lè suppressed a hysterical giggle. Even if he were a woman, he would not consider himself unharmed after a night with a man, with the enemy.

 

He entered. The tent was sparsely furnished. In the middle stood a table with maps and wooden dolls. This was where the attack on the royal house of Fèi had been planned.

Tiān Lè looked around. There was a brazier warming the tent, a few tables and seats, and a large bed. 

He sat down on it, pulled the long hairpin out of his hair, and clutched it tightly with icy fingers. 

He could literally hear the sand trickling down in the hourglass, counting down the remaining time of his life.

 

With his heart pounding wildly and his limbs frozen stiff, Tiān Lè waited with his eyes wide open. Tears filled the corners of his eyes and ran down his white skin. 

He swallowed. The feeling of being paralyzed with fear was terrible. The feeling of waiting like a lamb for its slaughterer was horrific.

 He closed his eyes to control his fear. Then a dark, rough voice carried a gentle melody to his ears.

Let the moon appear scarlet tonight.

My love, oh my love, if not in this life, then in the next.

I will follow you from your human shell with outstretched wings over lakes, seas, and a thousand realms until I reach your arms again.

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