Wáng Píng Secret Camp

As another scream echoed through the night air, Jié Qiáng tried to pretend it wasn’t as it seemed. Perhaps it was a heron or a sparrowhawk. It could be an injured owl. When the scream continued, there was no mistaking it for any sort of wild beast. It was human and it was a woman.

“Open your eyes, Prince,” someone ordered, but he tried to refuse.

He gripped the chains holding his arms high to brace himself for more pain. When it came, he wasn’t ready for it. As always, it was something new.

🩸 There had been slices cut into him by sharp and dull blades. There were bloodied bruises where he’d been hit by fists and all manner of blunt objects. There were pieces cut from him as he was made to watch the cannibal tribe taste his flesh.

🩸 This time, it was a hot iron. He clenched his teeth and tried not to scream as it cooked his back. The attempts to remain strong were lost again as he finally released a guttural yell.

The man who had spoken before leaned close to his ear to speak again.

“I said … open … your … eyes.”

The stench of sour wine, rotted meat, and fresh blood wafted into Jié Qiáng’s nose, and he thought he would be sick. He heard a sound behind him and quickly obeyed the order before he was burned again.

Before him was the woman he knew belonged to the screams that had kept him awake for the better part of an hour. Their torture was slow and methodical, attacking only the parts of the body that would cause pain but not death.

🩸 They had her tied to a long pole set horizontally over a smoldering pit. She was covered in blood, parts of her arms and legs missing, and her belly round with an unborn child. She shook uncontrollably, causing the wooden pole to noisily vibrate on its support.

🩸 When she turned to face him, blood rolled down from her mouth and a newly empty eye socket. Her tears were red and her lips were torn from more violent acts.

“Kill me,” she whispered to anyone who could hear.

The man beside him laughed.

“In a moment, sweet miss,” he taunted. “In a moment.”

🩸 As Jié Qiáng was forced to watch, one of the men plunged a knife into her abdomen and sliced down the length of her. She screamed in agony and then horror as he lifted her child from her womb. While it still moved, they took it as their meal.

Jié Qiáng had little fight left within him, but he tried to force his legs to move. His foot took a step forward in his need to save her, but the chains held him against the post to which he was restrained.

“Look!” the Wáng Píng leader called out. “The prince thinks he can help her!”

The clan laughed at his fruitless attempts and finished their revolting acts upon mother and child until neither breathed. They stoked the fire to cook the bodies, and Jié Qiáng’s head fell in sadness and shame. It was a ridiculous notion that he could have done anything for her, but the need was within him just the same.

In that moment, he thought to offer himself next. He desired only death as he had given up on the hope of the planned rescue by his brother and their men.

He shouldn’t have been in that camp for so long. Being brought there as a hostage had taken less time than expected. The elite soldiers who followed to return to base with the location hadn’t yet returned to save him. Something must have happened, and he felt he was all alone.

He allowed himself to sink beneath the weight of his body, the chains cutting into his wrists as he leaned forward. Sleep came almost immediately in his state of hopeless despair, and that’s when he saw her.

As bright as the full moon above lighting the horrors of that camp was his Little Crane. She was before him standing not in that pit of demons but a field of lovely flowers. Beckoning for him to return to her, she laughed and held out her hand.

“Walk with me!” she gently commanded.

In that moment, he was free. There were no chains, there was no blood or broken bones or pain. He quickly obeyed and they ran through a field glistening with dew and the morning sun.

Those moments of her in his dream breathed life into him, and he refused to give up. In his sleep, he gripped the chains and gritted his teeth. No one would keep him away.

He was still with her, holding her and kissing her, when he heard a sound beside him. When he felt his arms being pulled down, he awoke with a scream.

“Easy, Qiáng,” said the man helping to free him.

Jié Qiáng opened the eye that hadn’t been swollen shut by a fist and gazed into the worried eyes of his guard.

“Yáng Ning,” he said barely above a whisper.

“Yes, Your Highness,” Yáng Ning replied.

He carefully removed the rest of the bindings and pulled a blanket over Jié Qiáng’s naked body.

“My brother?” Jié Qiáng inquired, worried the Wáng Píng had killed him and their soldiers.

“He’s at the camp. I wouldn’t let him risk coming for you. You’re safe now, Qiáng. You’re safe.”

With those words, Jié Qiáng fell to his knees and collapsed against Yáng Ning. His friend and guard held him as he cried.

When he looked up to see if the soldiers watched in judgment, he saw their horrified expressions at the scene they had entered. There were bodies, young and old, male and female, strewn about like scraps for the vultures. A corpse was laying in a pit only feet away from where Jié Qiáng had been chained.

No one there would ever judge him for losing himself to the trauma he had so evidently endured.

“Come on, my friend,” Yáng Ning gently told him as he helped him to his feet. “Let’s go home.”

🩸 = Descriptions of torture on Jié Qiáng and the woman.