Tang Dynasty Night Songs

The dense forest blocked out the sun, casting a deep shade where not even the usual chorus of insects and birds could be heard. The woods were utterly silent, until a sudden scream shattered the tranquility.

“What’s happening?” A young man, who had been dozing on a mossy stone, jerked awake.

He wore coarse linen clothes and had a mattock by his side. Next to the stone sat a medicine basket—clearly, he was a herbalist who, exhausted from his work, had taken a nap and been roused by this horrific cry.

“There’s a boy here!” someone shouted loudly while the young man was still confused.

“Kill him,” another voice replied.

Their exchange was in a strange, guttural tongue the herbalist did not understand, but the murderous intent in their words was unmistakable. Instinct told him danger was near. He turned and fled, moving nimbly. Behind him, with a sharp twang, an arrow thudded into the spot where he’d just been sitting, its fletching humming against a pine trunk.

Terrified, the boy let out a howl and tumbled down the slope, scrambling frantically while shouting for help. But in these deep, deserted woods, his cries only echoed back at him, unanswered by anything but the rocks and trees.

He ran not on the main paths but through winding trails, hoping the tangled branches and thick underbrush would shield him. Two arrows missed their mark, and soon his pursuers began to close in, flanking him on either side.

“What did the brat overhear? That man spilled plenty before he died. If word gets out, the commander will have our heads!” o