Unyielding Spring Mountains - Chapter 97: To My Lord

Chapter 97: To My Lord

The clash of two armies roared like thunder. Panic spread like plague; the people of the city fled in all directions, screams erupting across the marketplace in a chaotic chorus.

The scene gradually spiraled out of control. Gazing at the crowd below, Wei Zhen took the mallet handed to her by a palace maid and struck the nearby war drum with all her strength.

A thunderous “BOOM” echoed across the square, the sound of the drum louder even than the battering of the city gate.

The terror-stricken crowd was stunned into stillness. In that fleeting silence, all heads lifted toward the woman on the dais.

Wei Zhen spoke: “If the city gate falls, the Chu army will next destroy your homes—your families will be the ones at the point of their blades. They will not stop at stealing wealth—mass execution, massacre, even total annihilation are possible!”

A child in the crowd burst into tears. Soon, the sound of sobbing multiplied.

Wei Zhen gripped the mallet tightly. “I say these words not to incite fear—but because Wei has no retreat. If the Chu breach our walls, every citizen becomes a potential corpse beneath their swords! I beg you, hold on a little longer. Our reinforcements will arrive very soon!”

From outside the walls came the blaring of a war horn—a clear sign the Chu were preparing for another major assault.

Wei Zhen continued: “Today, I am willing to tear apart the royal palace to block the gates. But the city guards alone cannot hold against tens of thousands of enemy soldiers. I ask all of you to help me—raise whatever arms you can and fight beside our soldiers to defend this city!”

Her voice rang, clear and resolute, across the entire square.

The pounding at the gate surged louder, nearly drowning her out. Wei Zhen turned back, raised the mallet again, and with full force, struck the drum repeatedly.

The sky behind her blazed with brilliant sunset clouds, golden light glinting off the hem of her gown. Her long hair whipped in the wind as she drove the drum into thunderous rhythm again and again, attempting to drown out the battering of the gates.

The sight burned into every onlooker’s memory. Turning back to face them, she spoke, calm amidst the storm: “You all cherished my father, your king—and today, I, too, stand beside him, vowing to fight and die for our capital!”

Her gaze was tender and steady, looking into the eyes of each ordinary soul—not from a position of royalty, but as one of them. She inspired every person, declaring that she would live and die as one with them.

“So go home. Seek any weapon you can—a block of wood, a stone, no matter how simple. As long as it can strike the enemy, you can offer your strength. Are you willing?”

No one spoke. All faces lifted to the woman on the platform. She stood cloaked in light, radiant as a celestial goddess.

“For your families, for your children—for the land beneath our feet, won by generations past with their blood—will we hand it over to our enemies? Where, then, is the pride of Wei’s people?”

Her words lit a fire in their hearts.

In that thick and stagnant air, a voice cried out: “Princess! The beams of my home can be taken to reinforce the walls!”

And then more voices followed, one after another:

“Princess, the fence around my house can be torn down!”

“Princess…!”

Wei Zhen said, “Then please go back at once.”

The people began to scatter in all directions. The King of Wei stood at the side of the platform, his gaze full of pride. Wei Zhen turned toward him, and just as he was about to speak, she did not step down from the dais immediately. Instead, she approached the great war drum.

A gust of wind swept past, rustling the leaves overhead. Her loose strands swept past her glistening eyes as she struck the drum once—“BOOM.”

The King of Wei paused, then heard her begin to sing the military anthem of Wei.

Many among the citizens had never experienced war, and even more had never heard this song before. Yet now, they all perked up their ears, quietly listening.

“Mighty as Tai Mountain, flowing as great rivers. In days past, through wilderness they forged the path—braved wind and storm, forging iron will…”

Gradually, from all sides, countless soft voices joined in, low yet powerful, merging into a resonant chorus.

In that moment, the spirit of Wei was fully awakened.

With the rhythmic beating of the war drum, the song even overpowered the relentless pounding on the gate.

Boom. Boom. Boom.

The Chu army rammed the giant pillar again and again. The center of the city gate finally gave way—but the Wei soldiers surged forward, using their bodies to fill the breach. Rocks and timber flew from all directions to patch the gap, holding the invaders at bay.

From dusk to the depth of night, no one knew how much time passed before the enemy’s siege finally came to a halt.

The people of Wei, united from top to bottom, had survived yet another grueling day.

Day turned to night, and night turned to day again. After a day of rest, the Chu army resumed their assault. But to their surprise, Wei’s soldiers had newfound morale.

The tide had turned.

On the fourth, fifth, and sixth days—they persisted.

And on the seventh, though losses were great, they still resisted defiantly.

By the eighth day, reinforcements had yet to arrive. Hopes born of many days of struggle began to wane.

They watched as soldiers fell one by one. Their fellow villagers screamed and wept. Rivers of blood snaked through the streets…

By the ninth day, despair began to rear its head again, spreading throughout the city.

Now, it was the tenth day of siege.

More than half the city’s soldiers were dead or wounded. Fewer than six hundred remained who could still fight. A deep crack had appeared in one portion of the wall, the bastions barely holding together.

People could not help but ask—can the capital truly last one more day?

The night sky shone white as frost, cloaking the land in silver.

Beneath the city wall, Wei Zhen walked among the soldiers’ infirmary. Her shadow stretched long under the moonlight.

All around her was silence. Some soldiers had collapsed onto the ground, others leaned in despair against the walls—it was eerily quiet, like a tomb.

After these many days of battle, most were already at their limits.

“Will the reinforcements come at all?” one wounded soldier, his voice choked with tears, asked while Wei Zhen bandaged him.

Others turned to look at her. “Princess?”

Wei Zhen forced her trembling hands to stay steady, lowering her head to continue dressing the wound. “They will come.”

“Your Highness! If reinforcements were coming, wouldn’t they have arrived by now? So many days have passed already, and not a single soldier in sight. Meanwhile, the Chu attack us day and night—they outnumber us by far. I fear by tomorrow, the city will fall!”

“Princess,” another said, “With so many of our people already dead, do we really still believe the reinforcements will come?”

The night wind carried their fearful voices. Wei Zhen could feel the dread thick in the air.

Over and over, she tried to calm them with her words. “Very soon now. The Chu have laid siege for days without victory—they’re nearly out of supplies. Compared to us, they are the ones who should be more anxious. We just have to get through one more day. The reinforcements will come!”

Tears welled in the soldiers’ eyes. They lowered their heads. Silence resumed.

Wei Zhen could no longer bear the look of despair on their faces. She rose and walked away.

If the Chu pressed any further, the capital would fall. The walls were riddled with holes, fragile as paper. If they struck just the right spot, they could break through fully and storm inside.

Ten days—it felt like the limit of what they could endure.

But the letters summoning reinforcements needed time. The messengers had to traverse great distances, and Wei Ling, leading his troops, needed time to return.

Her people had already been resilient beyond belief—yet still, fate seemed uninterested in taking their side.

During the day, with so many eyes on her, she could force herself to remain strong. But at night, exhaustion and helplessness crashed over her like a tide.

The city was in chaos now—no one would notice her disappearance.

Her skirt hem was dirtied with dust. She sat casually in the shadow of a wall, looked up at the starless sky.

She rested her head against the rough wall and touched the string of luminous pearls on her body, gently wiping away the blood that had stained it with the edge of her sleeve.

The glowing pearls shimmered silently in the darkness. A small smile played on her lips.

Though nights were weary and endless, now and then, she allowed herself time to think of Qi Yan.

Whenever she thought of him, the night no longer seemed so unbearable.

A voice approached: “Princess.”

Wei Zhen looked up to see Liangchan drawing near. “Why have you come?”

“I was helping treat the soldiers, then turned back to find you gone… I hurried to look for you.”

Wei Zhen pulled her to sit at her side. The night wind smelled of blood. The two girls leaned quietly against each other, unconcerned with roles of servant and noble.

Liangchan rested her head on her knees, her gaze fixed on the distant fortress. “Princess… everyone’s saying the Chu might break through tomorrow. Do we truly have no way left? If the city falls… have you thought about what to do?”

Even those closest to Wei Zhen were beginning to waver.

Wei Zhen wrapped an arm around her, smiling gently. “If the city falls, I have my ways.”

Heaven never seals every path. Should that day come, she would find a way to negotiate with Jing Heng, fight to preserve the lives of her people. But she feared he now loathed her to the bone—killing her might not even quell his hatred. She could only do her best.

The moon tonight was especially clear—a perfectly rounded moon with shimmering silver light.

Looking up, Wei Zhen suddenly said: “Do you have a brush? I want to write a letter.”

Even as she spoke, she tore a clean edge from the hem of her skirt.

“Princess, write to whom? To General Qi?”

Wei Zhen lowered her lids, her fingers brushing the silk.

“I sent that first letter for help—but begged that he not come. But if the city falls tomorrow, I fear I may never see him again.”

Her voice suddenly choked. Turning slightly, her tear-filled eyes gleamed. Yet she forced herself to smile.

“Liangchan, will you help me find brush and ink?”

“Yes, right away.”

Wei Zhen looked up at the dark sky. The moon above was just like the one on the night she and Qi Yan were married.

She wondered—where was he now? Was he thinking of her as she was thinking of him?

She laughed softly at herself, the sweetness stinging in her chest. Tears fell from her cheeks, blurring the silk.

Before Liangchan returned, she brushed the tears away and calmed her expression.

“Princess, I found the ink and brush.”

Wei Zhen picked it up. She had a thousand things to say—but did not know where to begin.

It felt as though the moment she began to write, it would seal their parting permanently.

But she had no choice. From the moment she was born, every person is destined to face death. She had once dreamed of her previous life’s final moments—and now she felt death approaching again.

Her fingers shook. Ink flowed from the tip like tears—streaks driven by the frailty of her soul.

“To my husband, Qi Yan. If this letter reaches you, it shall be as if we are face to face.

The Chu army has besieged our city for many days. Inside, the people are stricken with terror. Bones litter the ground. The wind howls in sorrow. We are as grass beneath the storm, gazing toward the Central Plains with no path in sight.

I am trapped within the city, unable to leave. Beneath the moon, I write to you.

In this life, to have met you and become your wife is the greatest joy across three lifetimes. We once vowed under sun and moon, before mountains and rivers, and that vow remains unbroken.

I ask only to traverse the green mountains with you, hand in hand, to never part.

My love for you is infinite. Please—treasure yourself.”

She fought to stay composed, wishing him peace and happiness in the years ahead. Yet as the ink flowed, memories surfaced—and she could not remain calm.

“Our love bloomed like spring orchids. Alas, we met too late.

I had no father or mother, lost shelter when I was young. I expected a lifetime of solitude… then met you.

One spring in May, I found the love of my life. We rode across wild fields, witnessed the dust of the world.

Though life is short, my heart is fulfilled.

But this love knows no end—it shall burn eternal.

Even if I were a moth flying into the flame… I would have no regrets.”

She pressed the letter over her heart.

Even if this life brought only hardship, were there another life to follow—she would still walk it by his side.

Folding the silk, she handed it to Liangchan.

“Keep it safe. If you survive this, give it to Qi Yan.”

Liangchan saw the look in her eyes and trembled. “Princess… you promised we’d live together, didn’t you?”

Wei Zhen smiled. “Yes. We will live together.”

But when the capital falls, the Chu army will spare none—least of all her. Only if a stranger carried this letter would Qi Yan ever receive it.

Her gaze fell on the folded silk. She suddenly thought of her past life—of Qi Yan left behind, alone for the rest of his days.

What about in this one?

Wei Zhen’s heart throbbed painfully. She could not bear to imagine it further.

The moon’s brilliance bathed the whole world, shining down on her—and on the one she loved.

She did not know whether moonlight and the evening breeze could carry her longing to him…

Wei Zhen rested her head on her knees, eyes tracing the edge of the nightscape.

All was silent—turmoil distant and faded.

Her soul grew still, quietly waiting for the dawn to come.

If only one wish remained in this life… it would be for him to live unharmed and in peace.

That would be enough.