Chapter Sixty-One: Gratitude

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The atmosphere in the mountain stronghold’s courtyard was so heavy it pressed down on everyone’s spirits. The remaining county guards sat in small groups on the ground, heads bowed in silent contemplation. Comrades who had been laughing and talking together just hours before now lay cold and lifeless on the earth. Those who had survived the battlefield felt neither the joy of victory nor the relief of having escaped death. Almost all of them were consumed with thoughts of how they might have saved their fallen brothers.

The women hid inside their rooms, crouched by doors and windows, quietly observing the silent county guards in the courtyard. They knew these soldiers had won today’s battle, rescuing their fates once again. When the bandits had first launched their attack, all the women had fled in terror. Having so recently escaped disaster, none dared imagine the consequences if the guards had lost; none wished to return to those days when bandits freely abused and tormented them.

In this moment, they no longer feared the uniforms worn by the county guards. Even though those garments were stained with blood and torn to reveal fresh wounds, the women felt a deep sense of security toward both the uniforms and the men inside them. How could those willing to risk their lives protecting them ever harm them as the bandits had?

One woman whispered something to her companion, who nodded and passed the message along. Soon, all the women in the house were quietly conferring, and before long they seemed to have reached a decision. Led by one woman, the entire group stepped out into the courtyard.

Some collected firewood; others set up pots and stoves. Together, they wanted to cook a meal for the county guards as a gesture of gratitude. Women in other houses saw their actions, perhaps influenced or moved by the same thoughts, and began to prepare something themselves.

Most of the county guards, lost in grief for their fallen comrades, failed to notice the women’s busy efforts. One guard wiped away his tears, raised his head, and caught sight of the scene. He quickly nudged the man beside him.

“Mao, look at them—what are they doing?”

The other guard glanced at his companion, then lifted his gaze to the women, feeling an unexpected stirring within.

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The aroma of cooked grain soon wafted from the pot, cutting through the guards' gloomy reverie. Some women skillfully found bowls and chopsticks left behind by the bandits, filling them with steaming wheat porridge.

Who would deliver the food, though, became a dilemma. The women hesitated, shy and self-conscious about their humble status. At last, a bolder woman summoned her courage, picked up a bowl, and walked hesitantly over to a guard. Under his surprised gaze, she set the bowl beside him and hurried back to her room.

Her example emboldened the others. They too picked up bowls, approaching the guards and placing them at their sides.

Sun Jiu stared at the brimming bowl by his feet, sinking into emotion and reflection along with the others. No one had forced the women to cook for them, nor had anyone made such a request. The women had simply acted out of spontaneous kindness.

Meanwhile, women from other rooms were busy as well. They gathered scraps of cloth and thread left over from sewing, and with trembling courage, came to the guards to carefully bandage wounds and mend torn clothing. Once finished, their faces flushed red, they hurried back to their rooms. Compared to serving food, tending wounds and sewing clothes was far more intimate.

Watching the women peering from their doors and windows, Sun Jiu felt his eyes sting with sudden emotion. He paused, then solemnly clasped his hands and bowed to the women inside. The other guards quickly followed his lead.

The women were astonished. In Da Liang’s harshly patriarchal society, how could men salute women? Especially women who had been abducted by bandits, considered “unclean” by local custom.

Yet Sun Jiu’s simple gesture deeply moved them, and soft sobbing began to ripple through the crowd.

“Brothers, eat!” Sun Jiu momentarily set aside his grief, lifting the bowl and swallowing mouthfuls of food, tears falling and mixing with his meal. In his memory, aside from his own mother, no woman had ever cooked for him. He never imagined he would eat such a special meal, served by women rescued from Panlong Ridge.

He finally understood why, earlier, when he and the guards entered the houses in uniform to invite the women to participate in judging the bandits, their eyes looked upon them no differently than upon the bandits themselves.

In this moment, Sun Jiu pondered the meaning of his uniform. Once, taking advantage of his position to extort and exploit the people, robbing and freeloading, what real difference was there between himself and the bandits of Panlong Ridge?

For today’s battle, his chief concern at the outset had simply been the survival of himself and his men. Long shaped by the culture of the county guard barracks and officialdom, he had never truly regarded the struggling, destitute common folk of the lowest ranks.

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Sun Jiu set down his bowl and gave himself a hard slap. The ideals he had clung to all his life wavered at this instant.

Striving to please superiors, to become captain, then magistrate—what then? Suddenly, he realized these empty and distant goals were less real than the bowl of wheat porridge before him.

With that thought, he looked up at the dazzling stars overhead, only then noticing the sound of sobbing among the guards.

Qi Jun, having finished the rites for their fallen comrades, returned with two guards and was stunned by the scene. The women wept in their rooms, Sun Jiu and the guards’ faces were streaked with tears. Qi Jun and his companions were baffled.

Who had started trouble with whom? It made no sense. The guards, exhausted from battle, wouldn’t bully those pitiful women, and the women could hardly provoke Sun Jiu and his men.

“Sun Jiu, what’s going on?” Qi Jun approached, looking at him in confusion.

“It’s nothing… Maybe the brothers just got sand in their eyes…” Sun Jiu rubbed his eyes, uncertain how to explain. He lowered his head, avoiding Qi Jun’s gaze, and quickly changed the subject, “Sir, did you need something?”

“More people have arrived at the foot of the mountain. I’m not sure if they’re bandits. We should—”

“What? More? Brothers, grab your weapons—bandits!” At the word “bandits,” Sun Jiu immediately shouted to the guards.

All the guards set aside their bowls and utensils, snatched up swords and crossbows, and quickly assembled before Sun Jiu and Qi Jun.

“Sun Jiu, listen to me—” Qi Jun was bewildered by their response.

“No need, sir. From today onward, every man in our squad will live anew! Even the smallest kindness must be repaid!” Without waiting for Qi Jun to finish, Sun Jiu glanced at the assembled guards and strode toward the main gate.

Behind him, the guards’ eyes shone with a fierce determination to fight to the death.