Winter left and spring came. Meanwhile, the Ruo-Yang relationship had developed smoothly in those short few months. True to her word, the Queen had sent a boatload of men to help guard the borders against the Kong, and agreed to send more in case of an invasion. A trading canal had been set up along the Changjiang river after the reversed waters returned to normal, ensuring that goods could be ferried easily from the north to the south.

Occasionally, the Queen herself would come up the river with her entourage. Not for any formal business, merely to drink and talk with the Emperor. She seemed to be particularly impressed by his poetry skills, often giving him prompts so that she could listen to him make one up on the spot.

At first, Lin joined these sessions, watching quietly from the sidelines and adding to the conversation when necessary. Afterwards, however, she was dismissed from the room with the rest of the servants, leaving the Emperor and the Queen to their own devices. Lin was troubled at first, but afterwards, found that her worries were for naught. It was good that the Emperor and the Ruo Queen could show such trust around each other. A sign that the agreement between the two nations was flourishing.

She didn’t have time to think about the Ruo for long though. Word came that the Kong was once again amassing its armies at the border. An army ten times larger than the one that Lin had turned away last year. Already, the first section of the army had begun its march across the desert. It was only a matter of time till they set foot on Yang soil.

Lin sat by the window for the last time, frowning down at her old loom. The last remaining red thread twirled between her fingertips. Back and forth, back and forth. No matter how much she thought, she could not find an answer.

The Yang kingdom will fall.

All her struggles to twist the threads into something good for the kingdom, and this was how it ended. A straightforward message, marking the end of the Yang. No room for negotiation, no way around.

In frustration, she chucked the thread out the window. It hung in the air for a moment, a shining red ribbon on a backdrop of gold, before falling down out of her sight. When she turned away from the window, however, there it was on her loom again, as if it had always been there.

The Yang kingdom will fall.

The burning bonfire in her heart spat in vexation. She could not accept defeat now. Not when she had come so close! Surely, surely there had to be a way.

She picked up a small knife and tried to cut off the “Yang” part of the thread. Maybe she could modify it so that it just said “kingdom will fall”. She could work with that.

But the thread stayed intact under the onslaught of the blade. No matter how hard she pushed, sawed, or ground away at it, it remained whole.

General Xie watched her from beside the door, a rumbling sigh coming from his throat.

“Shut up!” Lin shouted, throwing the knife to the floor. “I’ve told you. I won’t accept it!”

“Calm down, Lin,” he waved his fan slowly through the air. “Even if you throw a fit, nothing will change.”

“I… I know…” she fell back on her stool with a thump. She held her head in her hands. “Is there really no other way?”

General Xie shook his head slowly. Slowly, the flame in her heart faded. She felt her wish, her duty, all crumble up and wash away like sand on a beach.

“Won’t tian ming give me a chance?” her vision blurred and wavered. “I’ve been trying so hard…”

“You have come far,” said the General, patting her sympathetically on the shoulder. “Much farther than any of your ancestors have. Never have I seen a Weaver of Fate more successfully twist tian ming to match their vision.”

“But it’s all over now,” Lin wiped her eyes. “Everything that I’ve done for this place. Gone. All because Fate says that the Yang will fall.”

The General grimaced.

“I know, Lin. But such is the way of the world. All things have their time to shine, but all things will also fade someday. It is only a matter of how they do.”

He stepped past her to gaze out the window.

“The Yang will fall, just as the Weavers of Fate will die. These are both truths, written into Fate by tian ming. But how the Yang falls, how you will die, can both be decided.”

“What do you mean?”

“Will the Yang go out by the might of the Kong? The Ruo? Or by an inner turmoil?” General Xie held out his hand. “All these are for you to determine.”

“You are not out of choices yet.”

Lin wiped her tears once more and stood up.

“I suppose I am not. Thank you, General Xie.”

There was no reply.

She stood awhile in the empty room, gathering her thoughts. Then, she went to get ready.

She stripped herself of her robes and put on the practical men’s garb she had once worn on her infiltration into the Imperial Palace. She pulled on her new riding boots, fashioned for long marches in all climates. She took her helmet and armour from where they had been sitting quietly by the door, and put those on as well.

Finally, when she was ready, she looked around her tiny room. The room she had grown up in. The room where she held all her conversations with General Xie. The room where all her memories lay.

She turned, and strode out the door for the last time.

***

Far on the outskirts, where the soil fell away into dusty sand, the armies of the Kong and the Yang stood facing each other. At the head of the Yang armies rode Lin, while opposite her, her old acquaintance, Chun Wai.

“It has been a while, Yao Lin,” said Chun Wai, his voice grim.

“Indeed, General,” she replied from atop her horse.

“We have come once again to take the Yang,” he gestured all around him. “There are no cities for you to burn us in this time.”

“Turn back, this is your last warning,” Lin lowered her eyes. “We have reinforcements coming from the south.”

“Then I’ll just have to be a little bit faster with my assault,” Chun Wai rode his horse back into the midst of his men, signalling the end of the civil chat.

After a while, the beat of war drums arose.

Thump. Thump. Thump. Like a steady heartbeat.

Following the signal, the Kong soldiers began to run forwards.

“Charge!”

“Hold the line! Till reinforcements from Ruo arrive!”

The two armies clashed. Men from both sides swiped at each other with swords. The battlefield rang with the screech of metal upon metal, the shouts and screams of soldiers crying out as they fell. The ground was painted red with blood, bodies building up in a line where the armies met. Whenever one fell, another two would take his place, stopping the advance of the Kong.

Out of the Kong’s side came mounted riders, scattering the Yang’s foot soldiers and trampling a few into the ground. The defense line fell apart, the once clear divide becoming a mix of soldiers of different clothing styles, all fighting for the good of their kingdom.

The fight grew messy quickly as the archers jumped into the fray. From the sky rained down hundreds of arrows, piercing through armour of friend and foe alike. Some horses were shot down, leaving their riders to tumble off their backs and hit the ground.

Soon however, the Kong began to gain the upper hand. The line of foot soldiers on the Yang side thinned, leaving them at a disadvantage.

“Retreat! To the pass!”

Lin gave the signal and the remains of the Yang army retreated, fleeing from the battlefield. The archers covered the retreat with a hail of arrows raining upon the pursuers, forcing the Kong foot soldiers to take a step back. A rider broke free from the line and cantered forwards, only to be shot down by a stray arrow to the neck.

One last arrow was shot, and then the archers, too, began to flee.

Urging her horse forwards, Lin took a glance back. The Kong were giving chase, their riders taking the lead as they stormed ahead.

“Maintain formation! Take out the riders!” she shouted. One of the Ruo’s garrisoned soldiers stood up in the stirrups. He precariously took aim with his crossbow and shot. There was a panicked whinney from behind as the closest horse fell. Its rider tumbled to the floor and was trampled under his own mount’s hooves with a sickening crunch. The rest of the riders trampled over the body, no regard for their fallen comrade.

The soldiers fled deeper and deeper into Yang territory, the Kong’s riders following close behind. In the distance appeared a wide mountain range, with a narrow valley between the rocky cliffs.

As Lin ushered her soldiers through the narrow mountain pass, the riders slowed their horses. They engaged in what seemed to be a brief discussion, before heading back the way they came. Lin watched the cloud of dust grow further and further in the distance, and heaved a sigh of relief. It seemed as if they’d strayed too far from the main army, and were waiting for the rest of the forces to catch up before pressing on. This bought them some time. Time for the Ruo reinforcements to come up the river to help.

She rushed her soldiers further through the pass, eager to get to the other side where they would be less vulnerable. Here, the rocky walls rose up like monoliths on either side. Sparse trees hang precariously from rocky walls, their roots anchored deep into the rock fissures. The pass was narrow and littered with pebbles, causing the army to have to traverse slowly and carefully.

Lin brought up the rear, making sure that no one had been left behind. In the distance, she could see an emerging dust cloud, a sign that the Kong army was catching up. She gritted her teeth. That wasn’t nearly enough time.

Her soldiers were weary, and their numbers were growing sparse. At this rate, the Kong would breach the Capital before the Ruo reinforcements got there. The Yang kingdom would fall, but then, it would fall anyway, wouldn’t it? That was what the Threads of Fate decreed.

She looked down at her hands. Once, they were the smooth hands of a weaver maiden, but now they were rough and calloused. She had not been brought up prepared for the hardships of war, yet here she was. Completely out of her league.

Perhaps she should give up.

Behind her, the army was waiting for her orders. She looked at their faces, wrinkled with fatigue but attentive nonetheless. Each face the face of a man with a family, waiting for him to come home.

To struggle against Fate was futile. But the journey was what made the struggle worthwhile, wasn’t it?

Lin made up her mind.

She turned and grabbed a crossbow from a Ruo soldier, and swept her hand forward.

“Retreat to Hui’an city!” she commanded. “I will hold them back!”

“But Grand Chancellor—“

“NOW!”

The dregs of her soldiers nodded, before marching in the direction of the walled city. She watched them go. They would hold the fort there. She had faith in them.

She steered her horse back down the middle of the pass, and waited.

Approaching over the horizon, the first of the Kong soldiers began to emerge, followed by another, and another. They marched in unison, their heads held high. Seeing her standing alone, their footsteps hastened. Then stopped, as they reached the narrow opening to the pass.

“What are you waiting for?” she heard Chun Wai roar from somewhere in the back. “Advance!”

After a moment of hesitation, the Kong soldiers pushed forward in single file, squeezing their horses through the narrow gap in between the mountains. Closer and closer they got, till one was within arms’ grasp of her horse.

Time seemed to slow as she raised the crossbow to the air, the tip of the arrow shining bright in the light of the sun. Shining like the thread of red that hung in the air as she threw it out the window.

In the blinding light, she thought she saw the faces of friend and foe alike. The face of Chun Wai, frowning out of care for his men. The face of the Emperor, laughing with the Ruo Queen, more genuine than she had ever seen him. The faces of the men under her command, keenly awaiting her orders. The faces of her late family, already having given up, telling her to watch and observe.

The Yang kingdom will fall.

“There are boundaries to what we can and cannot do.”

“You are not out of choices yet.”

The bonfire in her heart flared.

Yes. The Yang would fall.

But it would not fall to the Kong.

The arrow shot free from the crossbow, and with a crack, it landed in the roots of a nestling tree. The tree gave out a rumbling shudder, then a groan as its roots stretched and snapped under its weight. The tree fell, dislodging rocks and pieces of the mountain.

An alarmed cry rang out from the advancing Kong army.

“Go back! GO BACK!” They began to push and shove at each other in their attempt to escape the collapsing mountain pass. Alas, it was too late.

As the rocks rained down upon her, Lin thought she saw General Xie standing among the falling debris. As calm as always, with his hat that spelt out “Met with Prosperity”, waving his bamboo fan.

He reached out his hand to her.

“It is time to leave, Yao Lin.”

Lin smiled. She took his hand.

“I’ll go.”