“Are you coming, big brother?” Jianyu called loudly over the crackle of the fire. “It wouldn’t be fun without you!” 

“No, not this time,” Húlí muttered, gesturing toward their parents’ hut. “I’m going to make sure her majesty hasn’t slaughtered Ba.” 

“Or…” a melodic voice floated from the darkness. “You can come inside your own tent.”

Húlí froze and turned toward the voice. From the shadows emerged a small figure — delicate, but commanding all the same. It was his wife, Hányuè.

 “You’ve been out here all night! Are you ever coming?” The fire snaps punctuating her tone.

He winced, groaning as he pushed himself upright, the mixture of wine and sleepiness making him sway. Jianyu grinned devilishly as he reached out his arm to haul his brother up.

“Sister-in-law!” Jianyu shouted into the dark. “I’m sending him straight to you!” 

Her voice returned, sharp and teasing: “And then go get a wife, Jian!” 

The words struck him. Jianyu flushed crimson as laughter rippled through the camp once more, bouncing off the huts and trees.

— ➿ —

Húlí stumbled into the hut, collapsing into Hányuè’s arms, and knocking them both to the floor. She giggled as she shoved him off her, “Be quiet! Don’t wake the girl!” 

His gaze drifted towards their neatly stuffed straw bed, where his daughter slept soundly — her round cheeks, soft in the glow of the lantern, inducing a smile. 

Hányuè attempted to rise, but he flopped onto his back, pinning her there, pillowing his head in her lap. He stared up at the thatched roof, eyes growing heavy; he allowed himself to sink deeper into her warmth and the hush of the room.

He had lived through countless battles.

His body — tall, slim, and etched with scars, both old and new, told every story.

This life had hardened him; death was a friend to him...until he met Hányuè.

“You’re really not going?” She asked softly, denying him that moment of peace.

“Shouban is going…” Her concern threaded through the hush, the weight of her words settling heavier than his armor.

The scent of wet pine and smoke lingered in the air.

He opened his eyes narrowly, catching a glimpse of Hányuè’s gentle face above him. Her dark hair flowed over him like silk, brushing his skin. Her hands framed his cheeks, warm against the spring chill.

He wanted desperately to surrender himself to the night, to let the warmth, the quiet, and her touch erase the noise beyond their walls.

But he couldn't ignore her.

He inhaled, then released a heavy sigh. Silence hung between them for a moment. He sat up to face her, reaching out a calloused hand to cup her cheek. She leaned into his touch, her eyes glimmering in the dim firelight that seeped through the cracks of the hut. 

“I know they’ll be fine,” she whispered, pressing deeper into his palm. “But something’s bothering me.” 

Outside, chatter rolled across the camp. The sound of clanking cups and burning logs blending into the night.

Húlí dragged his fingers through his hair, the calm of wine fading into restlessness as sobriety set in. “I feel it too.” He quietly admitted. “You didn’t see the way Shouban’s face—” 

“I didn’t need to,” she cut in.

He lowered his gaze. Old instincts stirred—that same protectiveness that had nearly consumed him once before. When his twin sister, Lìhuá, had fallen into the lake as a child, he learned what fear truly was. Since that day, the easy-going brother everyone loved had become something fiercer—a guardian willing to bare his teeth for the family he cherished.

And though Hányuè took no part in the warfare of the clansmen, her role was just as vital. Guardianship of their family was her sacred duty.

“I’ll take care of it...” he said, grabbing both her cheeks and giving them a gentle squeeze that made her lips pucker. Then pulling her face to his, he stole a kiss and paid her with a grin.

“You just worry about getting my little sister here safely.”

She smiled tenderly, surrendering to his tease. “I don’t know why Ba won’t let you get rid of him.” She muttered, though the unease rested behind her words.

— ➿ —

Outside, Jianyu and Hei’an were gathering six brothers for the raid on fat merchant’s barn.

“Only supplies.” Jianyu reminded them. “And keep it quiet.” 

At the edge of camp, Shan Hu silently stepped out from his hut. It had become a quiet ritual—he always needed to see them off before they vanished into the arms of uncertainty.

Jianyu slung an arm around Hei’an’s shoulders as they passed through the gate. Both turned to wave. 

“We’ll be right back, Ba!” 

Shan Hu nodded once in acknowledgement as the night swallowed them whole.

The drunken noise of camp faded as they ventured into darkness, replaced by the crunch of boots on lingering snow.

Jianyu glanced back at the distant dimming firelight, then smacked Hei’an’s back with a grin.

“Please don’t kill anyone tonight, big brother...”

— ➿ —

Next Episode — Anle Cun: Part One

The moon is high. The forest breathes.
Eight shadows move as one, until pride breaks their rhythm.
In the hush before dawn, the line between brotherhood and bloodshed begins to blur.