Helian Bo leapt up and engulfed him in another tight hug. Duan Ling wriggled away laughing and hopped onto his back, just as they’d done as boys. Riding around one on top of the other, they staggered about, laughing uproariously. This went on until Helian Bo, huffing for breath, collapsed onto the divan and dumped Duan Ling off.
Shang Leguan wisely left the room, closing the door behind him.
Duan Ling gave Helian Bo a friendly kick, then lifted the covers of the platters on the small table set over the divan. Finding some raisins, he grabbed a handful and tossed them into his mouth. “What are you doing here?” he asked.
“Bride!” Helian Bo cried miserably.
Duan Ling and Helian Bo had always shared a good understanding. Duan Ling asked, surprised, “Yao Jing is your bride?”
Helian Bo nodded, looking too put-upon for words. He gesticulated wildly as he stuttered through his explanation of the situation. Duan Ling pointed at him and laughed unapologetically, then attempted to throw raisins into Helian Bo’s open mouth—one of which ended up in his nostril instead. Helian Bo pressed down on one side of his nose and snorted out the fruit with a loud pbbfft. The two doubled over laughing once again. In their school days, whenever Helian Bo’s family had sent raisins from his homeland, he’d always horsed around like this with Duan Ling and Batu.
Recalling their childhood, Duan Ling was suddenly filled with a million emotions, the greatest of which was a poignant sorrow. Helian Bo patted him on the back and gestured for him to stop fooling around and listen properly.
On that fateful day when Helian Bo and his mother had escaped Shangjing, Duan Ling had refused to join them and adamantly remained in the city. Western Liang was bracketed by Liao to the north and Southern Chen’s capital of Xichuan to the south, so a route through the Taihang Mountains should have been the fastest way out of the besieged city. Unfortunately, Helian Da, the late king’s brother, had struck an agreement with the Han family of Liao’s Southern Court, effectively preventing Yelü Zongzhen from sending reinforcements to Shangjing for a time. It had been in both their interests to ensure neither Yelü Dashi nor Li Jianhong came out of that battle alive.
“Dashi?” Helian Bo asked.
“Dead,” Duan Ling replied. “He took an arrow after he escorted you from the city. He didn’t make it.”
Helian Bo sat lost in thought. His expression was complicated, and his eyes flashed with fury.
Nudging him with an elbow, Duan Ling asked, “What’s wrong?”
He looked at Duan Ling and shook his head.
Duan Ling had been clueless during his time at Ming Academy, but, later, at Biyong Academy, he’d figured out a few things. Yelü Dashi and Helian Bo’s mother had almost certainly shared some clandestine relationship. Every time she had come to collect her son at the school, Helian Bo always appeared repulsed by her. Duan Ling and Batu had visited the Helian residence on several occasions, and while his mother had always been kind to his peers, Helian Bo himself had been reluctant to engage with her.
“It’s all in the past now,” Duan Ling said.
Helian Bo nodded. “Zongzhen l-looked. For you. Batu too. M-me too.”
Duan Ling’s eyes grew hot. He forced back his tears and gave Helian Bo a hard nod.
Before Shangjing had fallen, Yelü Zongzhen had dispatched reinforcements in an attempt to rescue Duan Ling. Ultimately, the effort had proven futile, and a once-magnificent, centuries-old city was reduced to rubble. The Liao and Chen armies had proceeded to clash with the Mongols in a fierce battle to the death. Searching for Duan Ling amid the chaos had been akin to searching for a needle in the ocean. Duan Ling recalled how he’d been the one to save Yelü Zongzhen’s life when he was nearly assassinated by Han Weiyong’s man back in Shangjing. Although they’d known each other for a mere few days, Yelü Zongzhen had proven himself a worthy friend.
As for Batu…
Li Jianhong’s death, as well as the fall of Shangjing, were both directly caused by his people, the Mongols. Duan Ling couldn’t help but feel conflicted. Since saying their goodbyes at the academy, they had ended up on opposite ends of the world, making true the saying, “Never to meet in life once parted, like morning and evening stars, forever divided.”19
Helian Bo set down his cup and gestured again. “Zongzhen. Batu. Fought.”
Of course they would’ve. Duan Ling, too, knew of the deep hatred that existed between Yelü Zongzhen and Batu’s people. Because of it, it seemed they could only inquire about Duan Ling’s whereabouts through Helian Bo. Helian Bo added that they were both offering hefty sums as a reward for locating him, before proceeding to lay out the half-finished portrait he’d drawn of Duan Ling.
Duan Ling chuckled with pleasure at the drawing. Helian Bo had already shown an aptitude for art when they were in school, and his skill had improved greatly. Another thought struck him—though Yelü Zongzhen didn’t know his identity as the crown prince of Southern Chen, Batu did. In that case, how would he have tried to find him? Could he have met with the fake crown prince? Duan Ling tensed at the thought.
Hastily, he asked, “And what did Batu say?”
“You might be d-dead. Batu said h-he wrote to your family. U-unknown if alive, in danger. You must be found, alive or dead—or he will flatten Southern Chen. Mad,” Helian Bo remarked, still baffled by Batu’s behavior. “What’s it got to do with Southern Chen? H-his own people invaded Shangjing. Thank goodness you’re alive. Thank goodness!”
Helian Bo gave Duan Ling a hearty slap on the shoulder, the rims of his eyes red.
So Batu had written to his “family”—which was to say, the imperial court of Southern Chen. But when Duan Ling tried to question Helian Bo further, he only shook his head; he didn’t know any more than that. Batu must’ve kept Duan Ling’s identity secret from Helian Bo as well. All he’d been told was that Batu knew how to reach Duan Ling but had received no response to his letter.
Even from this limited information, Duan Ling was able to put the pieces together: After Shangjing fell, Batu had heard the crown prince of Southern Chen had returned to court and dispatched a messenger—perhaps in secret, or perhaps with a congratulatory message on his father’s behalf. But he and Batu couldn’t be any more familiar with each other. Even if the false crown prince’s response had been written by a scribe, the sentences couldn’t have been in Duan Ling’s style. Once Batu carefully interrogated the emissary who’d met with the crown prince, he would no doubt become suspicious.
How clever of him! But, still, what use was that—it wasn’t as if Duan Ling could ask Batu to stand as his witness.
Frowning deeply, Duan Ling paced around the room. His eyes fell again on Helian Bo, and all at once he noticed that he didn’t seem to be quite the same boy who’d once wrestled with him every day at school. With his thick brows and large eyes, he had a gallant air about him. Sitting with one arm resting on the back of the divan, he radiated a kingly authority, yet remained approachable.
“Y-you lost weight,” Helian Bo said. “Hard?”
Their eyes met. After a long silence, Duan Ling quirked his lips in a small smile. “Very hard. But it was worth it to stay alive.”