Though Yan first saw them on the horizon two days past, the newly constructed gates of SuiHua were even more impressive from up close. Chest swelling with pride, she took in the surroundings and marvelled at all the changes while waiting in line to speak with the guards. When she first saw SuiHua in the spring three months ago, it was a sleepy little harbour bursting at the seams with ships, soldiers, and supplies. Now, summer was upon them, the year was half over, and the bustling town had transformed into a burgeoning border fortress, one still under construction but with much of the groundwork already laid out. Stone blocks, iron rods, bags of lime and more sat in scattered piles up and down the developing wall while thousands of workers toiled beneath the hot afternoon sun. Each one played a part in this monumental construction project and the fruits of their labour could readily be seen in the several kilometres of grey granite wall, all in various stages of completion. Starting at the shoreline and extending southwards into the grassy plains, the completed sections of wall stood ten meters high, not an insurmountable height, but were decent enough defence against leaping garos and Defiled infantry.

Off in the distance, Yan spotted the half-built base of a bell tower. As construction on the wall continued, it would soon reach the bell-tower and proceed further south to connect with another bell tower or fortress cropping up along the border. Eventually, this would form a single, unbroken barrier and warning system spanning over a thousand kilometres from Azure Sea to Arid Waste. The Empire’s first (and likely the last) line of defence against a united Defiled army, it was to be a massive undertaking which Yan assumed would take decades to complete, if not centuries. However, if SuiHua’s speedy progress was typical, then this historic effort might be completed by year’s end, a staggering accomplishment in Yan’s admittedly uneducated eyes.

She knew next to nothing about building fortifications. How many resources had this project consumed and how much more had yet to be spent? An Emperor’s ransom no doubt, a debt shouldered by the Eastern province as a sign of their goodwill and solidarity. When the pretty-boy Legate made his announcement during the Grand Conference a few months back, Yan had scoffed and muttered something about how they’d be better off if the Emperor dispatched more Death Corps Legions and Royal Guardians instead. In response, Grandpa had scolded her for being short sighted, and now that Yan had seen the power one could wield through coin, she wholeheartedly agreed.

Luckily, her future husband and sister-wives were all wealthy or poised to become wealthy...

When she reached the front of the line, Yan presented her token and papers to the guard for inspection. “Warrant Officer Du Min Yan, here in SuiHua for rest and resupply. I have forty-three soldiers who require lodging.” Less than half her full complement had survived their latest outing, and she’d left almost four times their number behind in the fields of Sinuji. She’d had plenty of time to mull over her results during the five-day journey from the front lines to SuiHua, and she didn’t like what she concluded. She’d spent sixty days fighting on the front lines, took part in four patrols, a shit-tonne of skirmishes, and lost one-hundred and sixty-two soldiers, losing almost three soldiers a day on average. Not a record to be proud of, but evidently, it was the best she could do.

Inadequacy was hard to accept, but Yan couldn’t argue against cold, hard facts.

“City’s full. Lodgings are for officers and grievously wounded only. Your soldiers can camp out on the plains with the slaves and labourers.” The guard’s callous disregard ignited Yan’s ire and her regret and self-pity melted away in a blaze of fury. Blanching at her dark scowl, the guard handed her an entry pass and stammered, “Humble a-apologies Officer Du, b-but my orders come from the Marshal herself. Nothing I – er, this one c-can do.”

“This is fucking bullshit.” Snatching her entry pass out of the guard’s shaking hand, Yan stormed off to share the bad news with her retinue. Making no effort to hide her displeasure, she grumbled, “My people fought and bled on the front lines, endured hardship, lost comrades, and this is the thanks we get? Can’t even get a roof to sleep under, I shudder to think what they’ll feed us.”

“A few nights on the plains is but a minor inconvenience.” Blunt and to the point as always, Kyung followed closely on Yan’s heels and all but pushed her along. “Make haste and inform them of the situation so we can be on our way. There could be a message from Master waiting inside.”

Having long since grown accustomed to his abrasive attitude and complete lack of deference, Yan let the matter slide. A handsome and mature man, the stony-faced Expert wasn’t much like a typical Central slave, an outspoken warrior who didn’t hide the brash arrogance engraved in his bones. Grandpa blamed it on the half-cat’s ‘wild’ blood, but Yan figured it was something else. It wasn’t that he couldn’t be respectful, Kyung merely didn’t respect anyone who wasn’t Du Min Gyu. He treated Grandpa’s instructions like divine mandates from Heaven, while every task she asked of him was done grudgingly with a scoff. She didn’t take it personally, because to him, even the Emperor was an insignificant bystander who should kneel at Grandpa’s feet, and Yan ranked even lower still. Although she held his chain and could command him with impunity, in his heart, Kyung only had one Master and everyone else was unworthy.

Grandpa and Kyung had such a cute dynamic together, more like a stern, overbearing father and his doting, deferential son. Such a shame Grandpa didn’t see it the same way or share the People’s view of slavery. While he would never mistreat a slave, Grandpa didn’t pay them much mind either. In his eyes, a slave was property and he took care of them much like one would take care of a tea set or saddle. Yan hoped to change his attitude for the better, but like everyone else his age, Grandpa was stubborn and set in his ways.

Yan’s retinue took the bad news better than she would’ve. Stroking his elaborate moustache, Sutah shrugged and asked, “Camp here?”

“Wherever you think is best.”

Hoarding his words like precious gold, Sutah saluted and set off to work. After their encounter during the disastrous Captain’s contest, Yan thought they’d never meet again. Imagine her surprise when the burly, moustached southerner arrived in SuiHua with her second wave of reinforcements. From what she pieced together through his single word replies, the tight-lipped former Captain had offended his superior by refusing to forfeit against and subsequently defeating said superior’s relative during the Captain’s contest. As retribution, Sutah’s superior left him in Nan Ping to oversee the distribution of small clothes, a duty Sutah eloquently derided as ‘women’s work’. Then, whilst drunk and considering ritual self-incineration to reclaim his honour (Yan didn’t ask), he heard about her disastrous first mission in which she led her retinue headlong into an ambush of three hundred plus Defiled and lost almost half her force fighting them off. Luckily for her, by the time the news arrived in Nan Ping, the story had been told and retold so many times, her foolish blunder had been twisted into a stunning victory. This, along with the impression she’d made during their brief time together in the Contest, convinced the taciturn warrior to request a demotion and reassignment to Yan’s retinue.

A Heaven sent blessing if there ever was one. Yan was an incompetent buffoon of a commander and Sutah was capable and experienced enough to pick up the slack.

“Sorry. I’d hoped for better conditions, but the orders come from up high.” Even though she’d been looking forward to sleeping in a nice, comfortable bed, Yan stifled a sigh and said, “Have someone pitch my tent. I’ll return to camp before nightfall.” A leader must share in weal and in woe, meaning that if her soldiers suffered, then she should suffer too.

“Nah.” Shooing her away with a wave of his hand, Sutah continued, “Benefits of rank. Take advantage. Rest well.”

Taken aback by Sutah’s uncharacteristic chattiness, Yan offered a token protest before letting him ‘convince’ her otherwise, only to disregard face by absconding with Kyung in unseemly haste. During the past three months, she experienced her first taste of command and the repeated ordeals left her humbled and ashamed. Compared to her peers, her knowledge and skills as an Officer were sorely lacking, but she only had herself to blame. Her childhood dream was to surpass her idol, Akanai, the Chief Provost, a Lieutenant General, and the Herald of the Storms, but Yan never bothered asking anyone what this might entail. Instead of seeking advice, her rebellious younger self strove to prove her worth without help, wholly devoting herself to the Martial Path at the expense of everything else.

Well, not everything. She learned how to read, write, and do arithmetic, but only because she heard they were required skills for Military Officers, and a good thing too. If not for those lessons, Yan would’ve never recognized the beauty of what she discovered tucked beneath the housemarm’s mattress. Her love of tawdry erotic fiction aside, Yan’s dedication to the Martial Path saw her punished repeatedly for skipping lessons and shirking chores in favour of seeking Insight in the Forms and Enlightenment in Balance. While this earned her a place at the head of the pack with regards to Martial ability, she had only recently learned how much her wilful ignorance had cost her.

Except it was the soldiers under her command paying the price, a debt paid in blood.

Unlike Mila who studied the classics, or Rain who was naturally clever, Yan didn’t know shit about tactics, supplies, deployment, morale, or any of the other countless skills required to lead a retinue; she only knew how to fight. While out on patrol, she spent most of her time scouting ahead just to avoid the pitfalls of command, leaving capable Sutah to handle everything in her place. The results spoke for themselves as less than half her soldiers returned after every patrol. She should’ve given up after her first blunder when she came across a Defiled warband and failed to spot the two warbands waiting in ambush nearby. A novice mistake, one made in her haste to prove herself worthy of command despite possessing none of the requisite skills or knowledge.

Though she might be slow to learn, Yan eventually caught on to her ineptitude, aided by a multitude of tales singing praises of Rain’s accomplishments. By now, he would’ve spent two months by Sinuji and similarly was on his fourth patrol, but not only had he stayed there for the entire duration, he also had yet to even request for reinforcements. In comparison, this was Yan’s second leave of absence from the front lines, and she’d already requested reinforcements three times. A fourth would be required if she wanted to replenish her current numbers, but she wasn’t sure if continuing was the right option. She knew enough arithmetic to know she sustained forty percent losses on every patrol, a startling contrast between herself and Rain.

She couldn’t even blame it on his dog-shit luck. Not only was he a quick study, he was also a cunning strategist who could spot an ambush from a kilometre away, a skill he aptly demonstrated when they were forced to flee from the Society Headquarters. Though they survived mostly due to Alsantset and Charok’s incredible Martial skills, Rain’s contributions could not be overlooked. Whether it be finding elevated hiding spots to shoot from or choke points to fight in, Rain had a good eye for terrain despite his piss-poor forest-craft.

Though his talents often seemed numerous and without limit, Rain couldn’t track a trail to save his life and left more clues in passing than a blind rhino on a wild rampage.

Smiling as she reminisced of their fond times together, Yan brought Kyung through the gates before parting ways. While he headed for the mail depot, Yan made her way to Lin’s residence, a courtyard manor overlooking the docks. It was one of the nicest buildings in SuiHua and would remain so until construction finished on the wall, showing just how much the higher ups valued Rain and his Medical Saint of a Teacher.

Not to mention his brilliant, busty courtesan...

Who coincidentally enough, answered the door after Yan arrived. “What a pleasant surprise,” Zheng Luo said, faking a smile which didn’t reach her light-brown eyes. Arching her spine to better flaunt those oversized milk bags, she threw the doors open but curtsied in the doorway, presumably so Yan was forced to wait or squeeze inside. “Please, be welcome in our home.”

Leave it to a trained diplomat to craft a statement so double-edged, stating unequivocally that this was her home and Yan was merely a guest.

What a bitch.

“Yan-Yan!” Relieved there was someone here to defuse the situation, Yan watched Lin leap out of a tree and float gently to the ground. Like a dragon returning to sea, her movements were like floating clouds and flowing water. Though always impressive to watch, the more Yan learned about Lightening, the more she was amazed by Lin’s exceptional mastery. There were experts for all skills, and sweet Lin was fast becoming an Expert in Lightening, wholly in her element when high in the air. Skipping with an endearing smile, Lin launched herself into Yan’s embrace and squeezed with all her might, which was to say not hard at all. “Welcome back Yan-Yan. I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” Yan replied, putting the curvy bitch out of her mind while returning Lin’s hug. As much as she loved Grandpa and her new life with him, Yan missed the little things like hugs and holding hands, actions frowned upon here in Central even when both parties were of the same gender. In fact, especially when both parties are of the same gender, which made no sense. “How have you been?”

“Bored! There’s too many rules about where and when you can go out, and even if you listen, there’s nothing to do. Daddy is busy with the ugly octopus and Mi-Mi is always working or too tired to play, so only Luo-Luo keeps me company, but all she wants to do is paint, embroider, and do other boring stuff, ya?” Pouting adorably, Lin rested her cheek on Yan’s shoulder and asked, “How long will you stay for? A few days again?”

“Maybe longer this time.” Possibly even permanently. It was high time Yan gave up. She wasn’t cut out for a leadership, not without more preparation and education.

“Yay! Come say hi to the floofs, the quin pups and bunnies are so big now and I taught the bears how to clap and dance...” Always happy to gossip, Lin filled Yan in on everything she missed while she reacquainted herself with the pets. Only one quin pup was present because like Shana, the others were a danger to the rabbits, but the little squeaker seemed determined to make up for his absent siblings. Recognizing her scent as the person he used to share a bed with, the pup flopped into Yan’s lap and wiggled about, chirping up a storm and clutching her hand as she sank her fingers into his fat, furry belly.

Sadly, the other animals were less enthusiastic about Yan’s arrival. Aloof and uninterested, the wildcats lazed in treetops while the bears were still too timid to approach. Unwilling to climb up to greet them, Yan turned her attention to the bicorn bunnies, all fifteen bouncing about in their enclosure. Almost fully grown, the rabbits showered her hand with kisses and tolerated her petting until it became apparent she had nothing to feed them, at which point they went back to hopping around like maniacs and headbutting one another into unconsciousness. They were stupid and greedy creatures, but she loved their silly antics, not to mention their silky soft fur and adorable noses which never stopped twitching.

Cuddling the affectionate pup, Yan listened and laughed along with Lin’s narrative and forgot about all her worries and regrets for a few short hours. In the middle of tea and snacks provided by the accommodating Death Corps, Yan steered their conversation to Rain. “Do you know when he’ll be back?” Yan asked, praying the answer would be ‘soon’. Though she wished it were otherwise, they’d been stationed at different zones and working on different timetables. While he defended Sinuji, she would be off on patrol, and vice versa.

Mother in Heaven, why must you tease your children so? They shared one, incredible night together and had been separated ever since. The worst part was, Yan couldn’t even fantasize about sating her needs with another man, and imagining Rain only made her that much lonelier...

Raising her arms in an exaggerated shrug, Lin replied, “He keeps writing he ‘hopes to come back soon’, but in his latest letter, he said he thinks the commander hates him or something.”

“You mean Colonel Hongji is denying his request for reprieve?” If so, then it was an abuse of power and he had a rude awakening before him. An unaffiliated Colonel dared to keep Yan from reuniting with her lover? As Grandpa had recently started saying, this was simply seeking death.

“Hang on.” Running inside for a moment, Lin returned with a sheaf of documents and shifted through them before holding one up for Yan to see, the barely legible scribbles a sure sign it was written by Rain’s hand. “See? It says, ‘Commander Hongji seems friendly, but he works my retinue hard. We are sorely in need of a break but I may have offended him somehow as he has yet to provide us with one. I hope to visit soon, but I don’t know when he intends to schedule our reprieve.’ That’s what hubby wrote, so I dunno.”

“...That idiot. No wonder he hasn’t had a leave of absence yet.” Re-reading the passage with a wry grin, Yan rolled her eyes and shook her head. “He’s waiting for Commander Hongji to schedule them a reprieve, but that’s not how it works. Rain needs to put in a request, which I’m sure will be approved.”

“...Hubby is a big dummy.” Thoroughly angered, Lin puffed her cheeks in a childish pout and tossed the rest of the documents down for Yan’s perusal. “You know what’s the worst? He writes a letter every week, but he never talks about anything important. He just drones on and on about something stupid like he feels obligated to fill the page.” Slumping her shoulders and pretending to sulk, Lin gave her best impression of Rain speaking slowly, as if he’d taken a head-injury. “Pong Pong loves shrimp, but when the shrimp arrives, it’s almost spoiled. Can you send more shrimp? Faster too. A faster delivery, not faster shrimp, because that would be silly. Can we get ice in Central? Frozen shrimp might last longer. Also, please look into dried shrimp and see if this is a feasible option, as well as any other shrimp preserving methods you can think of. Pong Pong really loves shrimp, so I need a way to provide him with more shrimp.” Crossing her arms, Lin crinkled her nose and huffed, too angry at Rain to continue with the mockery. “Stupid Rainy. Stupid Pong Pong. Luo-Luo! Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Apologies Lin-Lin, but this one has little experience in military matters.”

“Write hubby a letter and tell him what Yan said! If he doesn’t come back soon, I’m gonna eat all his stupid rabbits.” Pointing angrily at Luo-Luo, Lin barked, “Don’t write that last part!”

Doubled over with tears streaking down her face, Yan gasped for breath and silently begged Lin to stop, her stomach cramping and lungs burning from laughing too hard. It wasn’t just Lin’s spot on impression or uncharacteristic anger, or even how she bullied the concubine like a stereotypical evil wife. What she found most comical was that Lin wasn’t even exaggerating, but repeating a passage Rain wrote word for word. Communication had always been Rain’s biggest problem, right above his trust issues and inability to read social cues, but the problem seemed so much worse in writing.

When she finally got her laughter under control, Yan felt like a weight had been lifted off her chest. This was what she needed, an afternoon of relaxation and cathartic release. So she wasn’t Officer material and would never command an army of thousands. It wasn’t important. She was Du Min Yan, grand-daughter and terminal Disciple of Du Min Gyu, betrothed to the love of her life, Falling Rain, and sister-wife of Lin and Mila.

...Zheng Luo too, but as a concubine, she barely counted. Lin was already bullying her, so Yan had no qualms against joining in.

Aside from this wonderful life, Yan also had her Martial skills which had won her the title of third strongest young talent in the Empire, losing only to Wu Gam and her beloved husband-to-be. With her skills, her options were limitless. She could have her pick of Officers to serve under, whether it be her childhood hero Akanai, her former idol and future father-in-law Baatar, or if needed, she could even join Grandpa and learn at his side. Better yet, she could join Rain’s retinue and they could learn the ins and outs of command together. As evidenced by his misunderstanding, Rain had just as many gaps in his knowledge as Yan did, except his issues were largely social in nature. It would be so romantic fighting side by side, just like they used to when they were younger, but this time as comrades in arms on the battlefield and lovers in the bedroll, their days filled with glory and nights filled with pleasure.

...

Perhaps it’d be better if she stayed with Grandpa. If Yan and Rain served together, then neither one of them would ever get a wink of sleep. Regardless, Rain had best return, and soon. Having tasted the sorrows of separation during these long weeks apart, Yan yearned to see his smile and feel his touch again, raving like a silly, sappy, love-struck maiden straight out of one of her favourite novels.

Not only that, but she was curious to know what he could do with all his limbs intact...

Chapter Meme