Chapter Thirty-Four: The Instinctive Sacrifice

Weisheng was jolted out of his sleep at the sound of his name being called by a voice he knew as well as his own.  Looking up, he quickly registered the sight of a knife sweeping down towards him.  Luckily, the night was warm, so he had slept on top of his bedding and his movement was unhindered.  Lashing out with his foot, he caught the assailant squarely on the chest, and the man was thrown back by the force of the blow.

Weisheng rolled out of the other side of the bed, away from the assassin, and reached for his sword.  Hearing the commotion, the two royal guards outside of the tent rushed in, their own weapons drawn.

Satisfied that Weisheng's life was no longer in danger, and anticipating the attacker's next move, Ming Yue dashed out of the tent and quickly ran around the outside to the back of the structure.  Sure enough, she was met with the sight of the man exiting through a large hole he had originally sliced into the fabric of the tent in order to enter undetected.  She hurtled towards him as he attempted to escape into the night and, hearing her approach, after several paces he turned to face her, knife still in hand.

Ming Yue cursed internally that she had not bothered to tuck her own knife into her boot earlier.  Still, that was hardly her fault.  She had not expected to have to leave the comfort of her own tent, let alone chase down a shadowy assailant.

Oh well, she thought.  No use worrying about it now.  With that, she threw herself towards the man, counting on her unexpected move to momentarily stun him, and the desperate fight between the two of them began.

***

After telling the royal guards not to raise the alarm and instead inform Luo Jian quietly, Weisheng exited his tent using the same route as his attacker.  It did not take him long to spot the two figures.  The assassin had made it only a few metres away from the tent before being accosted by a slender woman in white, and the two were now furiously engaged in combat, trading blows and blocking the other's moves in a dazzling whirl of arms and legs.

Weisheng approached cautiously.  He was furious that Ming Yue had behaved so recklessly, but did not want to distract her with his presence now and cause her to make a mistake.  As he moved forward, he assessed the man in front of him.  He was clearly a skilled martial artist.  He was tall, and his frame was wiry rather than bulky with muscle, suggesting that he usually operated in the shadows, not in open battle.

Also, his instinct after his attempt at assassinating Weisheng had failed was to flee, implying that the man himself did not harbour any intense hatred for the prince.  Otherwise, he would have attacked again, no matter how stacked the odds were against him.  No, this man was a hired professional, and he was most definitely a threat.

Weisheng's assessment of the attacker was proven correct when the knife in his hand suddenly flashed, moving at almost incredible speed.  He saw Ming Yue take a sudden step back and clutch at her right side.  A patch of red appeared, staining the thin white fabric and growing larger by the second, but she did not give way.

The sight made Weisheng abandon all sense of caution, and he leapt forward, placing himself between Ming Yue and the assailant.  Suddenly, he felt himself none too gently pushed to one side.  Looking to his left, he saw Luo Jian.

"I've got this, Your Highness," said the young captain, glancing slightly behind him to his right to indicate to Weisheng where he should direct his attention.

Ming Yue was still standing, but she was growing pale.  As Weisheng came towards her, and she saw that Luo Jian had taken up the fight, she allowed herself to sink to the ground, where she sat upright, keeping pressure on the wound just above her right hip.

Weisheng knelt down beside her, a concerned look on his face.

"Don't worry," she reassured him.  "It's not deep."

In the meantime, Luo Jian had gained the upper hand against the assassin, and was pressing his attack.  However, the onslaught of blows turned both men around, reversing their positions, so that now the attacker was situated between Luo Jian and the prince.  Suddenly sensing an opportunity, and completely without warning, the man turned and went to plunge his dagger into Weisheng's back.

Ming Yue saw the lightning fast move, and for her, it was as if time slowed.  Using her last ounce of strength, she grabbed Weisheng's arms and pulled, using the momentum to switch places.  She felt the dagger pierce just below her left shoulder and threw herself forward, the movement pulling the weapon from the man's hand and denying him further use of it.

Acting on instinct, Luo Jian quickly thrust his sword, and it erupted from the assassin's chest.  He was dead in an instant.  Not waiting for him to fall, the young captain pushed the man aside and rushed forward towards the two prone figures.

Weisheng was lying on the grass.  Ming Yue was on top of him with a knife buried in her upper back.  She wasn't moving.  Luo Jian pulled her up gently, being careful not to dislodge the weapon and cause further injury.  Weisheng looked to be unhurt, but emotionally, he was a wreck.

"Ming Yue," he cried, taking her face in his hands.  She smiled faintly up at him.

"It's okay," she said.  "Everything will be fine."  She raised her right hand to his cheek.  "But, Weisheng.  You must hide this.  All of this.  You must hide it from Jin."  Then, having made such an effort to speak, she fell unconscious.

Luo Jian went to lift her, but Weisheng stopped him.

"I will take her.  Fetch Doctor Xiao and Eunuch Wang and swear them to secrecy.  Ming Yue is right.  No one else can know of this."

Luo Jian nodded.  He signalled to the two royal guards, who had arrived just a fraction too late to be of any real assistance, and they moved forward to deal with the assassin's body.  Then, he set off on his mission.

Weisheng carried Ming Yue into his tent and placed her on her side on the bed.  He did not try to remove the dagger.

"You silly, silly girl," he said quietly.  "Whatever am I going to do with you?  You are not allowed to die, do you hear me?  I order you not to die."  A single tear rolled down his cheek.  He brushed it away.  Before he had met Ming Yue, the prince could not recall the last time he had cried.  Now, it felt like his emotions were constantly in turmoil.

Xiao Yu arrived within minutes, Luo Jian at his side.  He went straight to the bed to assess the young woman's condition, not taking the time to ask what had happened.  Weisheng guessed that Luo Jian had already given him the basics.

The physician rolled Ming Yue onto her front and cut away the back of her dress.

"Hold her down," he said, not bothering to look up.  Weisheng placed his hands on either side of the knife, and Xiao Yu took hold of it.  He pulled in one smooth motion, and quickly pressed down on the wound with a clean cloth.  He then replaced his hand with one of Weisheng's own while he reached into his bag, and finally spared the devastated man a glance.

"Keep pressure on it," he instructed.  "The strike is not near any vital organs, so the real danger to her life is from blood loss."  Weisheng took a look at Ming Yue's pale face and pressed more firmly on the cloth beneath his palm.

Xiao Yu moved back to Ming Yue's side.

"I need to clean the wound then stitch it closed.  She'll move if she wakes up, so you'll have to hold her down again."  Weisheng's hands moved to Ming Yue's shoulders, and he showed no hesitancy at all in placing them on top of her bare skin.  Xiao Yu raised an eyebrow, then bent down to focus exclusively on his work, not even looking up when Eunuch Wang rushed in.

"Your Highness, are you alright?" he gasped, clutching his ribs and doubling over as he came to a halt.

"I'm fine, Eunuch Wang.  She saved my life."  He looked down at the unconscious woman.  "She took the strike that was meant for me."  His grip on Ming Yue's shoulders tightened unconsciously, and Xiao Yu cleared his throat.  Weisheng relaxed his fingers immediately.

A royal guard entered the tent, which to Weisheng was now starting to feel increasingly crowded, and whispered something in Luo Jian's ear.  He nodded in response, and dismissed the man quickly, noticing Weisheng's discomfort.  He walked closer to the bed and leaned over towards his friend.

"Apparently, there is a large falcon just sitting on top of your tent.  It is making some of the men a little nervous."

Weisheng's mind went back to the many times he had seen a beautiful falcon circling above his mansion back in Han, and a thought suddenly occurred to him.

"Tell them not to hurt it!" he said, quickly.  "I think I know why it's there."  He looked down at Ming Yue again.  "Tell them it's a good omen, or something like that, so they stop worrying."

Luo Jian nodded and left the tent for a moment to deliver the message, and Weisheng turned to his chief eunuch.

"Eunuch Wang, I need you to ensure that no one outside of this tent knows about tonight's events.  It is essential that nothing affects the summit.  So much progress has been made already.  If any of the servants have noticed anything, please just spread the word that Ming Yue was taken ill while she briefed me on the timetable for tomorrow."

"But...," Eunuch Wang began.

"Don't worry about me," Weisheng reassured him.  "Tomorrow's events will proceed as planned.  I assume you know the schedule in as much detail as Ming Yue?"  Eunuch Wang confirmed it with a nod, then left, his mind set on damage limitation before a different message could leak out amongst the camp residents.

Suddenly feeling exhausted, Weisheng ran his hands over his face.  Xiao Yu looked up.

"I'm all done here," he said, fixing the final part of the dressing in place over the wound, but Weisheng stopped him before he could get up.

"Actually, Doctor," he began, and the physician shot him a sideways glance.

Slowly and carefully, and avoiding the older man's gaze, he turned Ming Yue over, and motioned towards the bloodied patch of clothing at her right side.  Finally losing his composure, Xiao Yu snapped at the young prince, his eyes burning in fury.

"Tell me, Your Highness.  How was this young woman so severely injured in defence of your life and yet, as far as I can tell, neither you nor Luo Jian have even a scratch on you?!"

He would have said more, but stopped himself when he saw that both the prince and his bodyguard looked completely and utterly miserable.

"Alright, alright.  Step away and draw the curtains around the bed.  I need to inspect the damage."

Weisheng went to protest, but ceased his objections when he noticed that the physician's eyes were looking pointedly downwards at where the wound was located, on Ming Yue's abdomen. Realising his error, Weisheng blushed, and immediately complied with the doctor's instructions.

It did not take long to treat the other injury.  As Ming Yue had correctly surmised at the time of its infliction, it was not deep.  Still, it had needed to be thoroughly cleaned and dressed, to minimise any risk of infection.

Now, after several hours, the only people remaining in the prince's pavilion were Weisheng, Luo Jian, and the injured woman herself.

"I should take Ming Yue back to her accommodation now that she is out of danger," said Luo Jian.  "The speculation around the camp will only get worse if she spends the rest of the night in your tent."

He walked to the edge of the bed and leaned down as if to pick her up, but Weisheng was at his side in moments, pushing his hands away.

"I will do it," he insisted.  He gathered her into his arms as carefully as if she was made of the finest jade, and walked off.

Luo Jian followed and, as they exited the prince's tent, he shot a warning look towards each of the two royal guards on duty.  Then, he suddenly looked up, his attention diverted by the sight of a majestic falcon rising into the night sky.

Meanwhile, in accommodation not too far from Weisheng's own, a Han minister lay quietly, listening for the sound of a commotion that never materialised.  As he gradually realised that the night had ended in failure, his thoughts turned to self-preservation, and how he would explain this fiasco to his fellow conspirators.  

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