Chapter Sixty-Four: Testimony

This village was not large, with only a dozen or so earthen houses, all built from mountain stones and tree branches. Judging by appearances, not a single resident here could be called even modestly well-off.

The house that Kang the Fourth found for them had already been tidied up. The two men carried Zhang Wujia onto the clay kang bed. A soldier had lit a brazier in the room, but to everyone’s surprise, Liu Ji pushed open the only window. He knew that, compared to the cold, the lack of fresh air was far more dangerous.

Zhang Wujia’s eyes remained tightly closed. His chest heaved, each breath labored, and from his throat came a heavy, gurgling sound, as though the air was full of bubbles, rising one after another.

High altitude, thin air, and extreme exertion together could lead to a particular kind of illness. Remembering what happened as they climbed the mountain, Liu Ji instantly understood: Zhang Wujia had pushed his body far beyond its limits, relying on sheer willpower to keep going, and with his injuries as well, it was no wonder he had collapsed.

What should be done?

To relieve these symptoms, oxygen could be administered to supplement the air intake, but such means were not available. Only one option remained.

"Go down to the river and see if you can find any reeds. If so, bring back the thinnest, most resilient stems you can find—the tougher, the better."

Kang the Fourth sensed the gravity of the situation and said nothing, turning at once and rushing out. He and his companions had been Zhang Wujia’s comrades for over a decade; their bond was far deeper than anything Liu Ji could claim.

A short while later, before Kang the Fourth returned, Chen Jinxian—who had been on watch outside the village—entered the room.

“Commander—” he began, but Liu Ji quickly gestured for silence. Seeing the situation on the kang bed, Chen Jinxian immediately fell silent, and the two of them left the house together.

“Did you catch someone?”

“Your foresight was accurate, Commander. Someone did try to escape. My men have already caught the person. I left some to keep watch and brought the captive here first.”

Liu Ji nodded. At Chen Jinxian’s signal, a soldier dragged in a small figure. Something was stuffed in the captive’s mouth, their hair a tangled mess, clothes filthy.

Liu Ji stepped forward, seized the captive by the hair, and forced their face up. The person glared at him in fury, kicking and struggling, still trying to break free.

A child?

Just by looking at the eyebrows and eyes, Liu Ji could tell this person was no more than fifteen. Of course, he himself was only sixteen, but with the harshness of his own countenance at that moment, few would have guessed it.

“Who were you trying to find?” he asked in the local language of Bolü, removing the cloth from the captive’s mouth.

“You… you’re not good people.”

As soon as the captive spoke, Liu Ji was startled again. Not only was this a child—it was a girl!

“Since you know we’re not good people, your actions could bring disaster upon your family. Do you understand?”

Terrified, the girl stopped struggling. “Don’t hurt my little brother.”

It was good she cared about someone. Liu Ji breathed a sigh of relief. Though he was not averse to interrogation, when it came to a child, he couldn’t bring himself to act harshly. He might end up handing her over to his subordinates, and then things would be out of his control.

War always brought the greatest harm to the weak.

“Hang up her brother. If she lies, give the boy a hundred lashes.”

At this moment, Liu Ji’s demeanor was entirely in keeping with this new body—utterly genuine. Did he, in his subconscious, truly have the heart of a scoundrel?

“Don’t hurt my brother, he’s too little,” the girl cried, frightened into tears.

“Then answer my questions honestly,” Liu Ji said coldly, sharpening his tone. “Were you trying to contact the Tibetans?”

“I went to find my father. He’s a soldier by the river. Their officer, I think, is a Tibetan.”

The girl was likely a highland herder. Her skin was dark, her features the typical South Asian cast, quite different from the people of Bolü in Hepulao City.

As he questioned her, Liu Ji watched her eyes closely, but saw no sign of evasion. He continued, “How many men are in your father’s camp?”

“A lot—more than the sheep old Bayi keeps. All the brothers from our village are there, so many…” She, it seemed, couldn’t count, for she ran out of fingers and could only gesture anxiously. Liu Ji quickly calculated: there were only twelve households in this village, so at most twenty grown men, perhaps even fewer.

He thought for a moment and asked, “How far is your father’s camp from here?”

“It takes…” The girl struggled to describe the distance, finally pointing at the sun in the sky. “When the sun sets over there, we arrive.”

By her reckoning, it was about fifty li—just over two hours’ walk from the bridge. Liu Ji now had a clear idea of their position. There were no secrets to be learned from this girl; further questioning would likely yield nothing more. There was no need to press on.

What to do with her? Killing her would be simple, but perhaps there was more to be gained. Liu Ji’s thoughts circled and circled, but in the end, he decided to keep her detained. With the warning she’d received, she’d think twice before trying anything else.

Catching his meaning, Chen Jinxian grabbed the girl by the collar and hoisted her up. The girl, thinking she was about to be killed, burst into loud, terrified sobs.

“Don’t kill me! Don’t kill my brother!”

Liu Ji watched them go, his face expressionless. He had to be responsible for his men. For now, every stranger was an enemy—there was no room for mercy. If this girl had escaped and they remained unaware, it might have meant thousands of Tibetans surrounding the village while they slept.

Mercy is a luxury for generals.

After Chen Jinxian left, Liu Ji did not order the sentries outside to stand down. Instead, he divided the men into shifts, some open, some concealed, sealing off every path from the village toward the Poyi River rattan bridge.

Once all was arranged, he had barely a moment to reflect when Kang the Fourth’s loud voice suddenly rang out.

“Commander, we found them! We found them!”

Liu Ji quickly gathered himself and turned. Kang the Fourth came running, dripping wet, a large bundle of reeds of various lengths and thicknesses in hand.

Liu Ji took the reeds, immediately discarding those that were too thick or too soft. After sorting, only a few remained.

Beside him, Kang the Fourth was deeply worried. “Is Old Zhang beyond saving?”

To him, these things seemed entirely unrelated to medicine. The commander’s intent was impossible to guess—perhaps just a desperate attempt to do something, anything.

“Fortune favors the worthy. Some things, even Heaven cannot change—it remains to be seen if he has the luck to survive.”

With these words, Liu Ji, without looking back, strode toward the house.