Section Two: Freedom

The girl insisted that he eat, solemnly promising she would never steal again so he wouldn’t get beaten because of her. The boy, however, didn’t take the food. Seeing her unwavering determination, he finally leaned forward and took a bite of the meat.

“All right, you eat now,” he said.

But the girl insisted he finish it. After pushing it back and forth, she only agreed to eat after he took another bite. Once she’d eaten the meat, she chewed the bones to bits, then licked her dirty, greasy hands absolutely clean. She looked reluctant, savoring the taste, carefully checking her hands for any remaining oil. Finding none, she suddenly leaned close to the boy’s face and licked the grease from the corner of his mouth.

The boy was utterly taken aback by this, looking at her in amused disbelief. “No wonder you’re bold enough to steal food.”

“I was hungry. I’ve always eaten a lot since I was little, so my parents sold me as a slave. My first master sold me again because I ate too much.”

He looked her up and down, curious, for her frail frame hardly seemed capable of holding much at all. “Just how much can you eat?”

“I’ve never been full. Once, at my first master’s house, I snuck into the kitchen at midnight and ate four chickens, a fish and a half, seven or eight plates of leftovers, and half a bucket of rice.”

He burst out laughing in disbelief.

“No wonder your parents couldn’t afford to keep you!”

“That’s right.” The girl showed no sign of sadness or resentment at being abandoned. Her memories of her parents were so faint, she couldn’t even recall their faces. “What’s your name?”

“Bu Jingxian. And you?”

“July.”

“July?” Bu Jingxian couldn’t recall ever hearing such a surname.

“I was born in July. That’s what my parents called me.”

Bu Jingxian understood then that her family must have been desperately poor. Only those in true poverty named their children so carelessly—anyone slightly better off would never be so casual. A deep sorrow welled up in his heart. He remembered his father often speaking of the days before the Divine Soul Clan was invaded and enslaved, describing a world that had once been beautiful beyond imagination.

There was no conflict, no hierarchy—no concept even of wealth or poverty. No one fretted over survival; everyone followed the will of the Divine Soul, pursuing freedom, living joyfully under the power granted by the Divine Soul, exploring its deeper mysteries. Every member of the clan was treated as an equal, and the elders devoted themselves to guiding the young on the path of the Divine Soul’s power. Everyone bore a family name that marked the honor of their connection to the Divine Soul’s strength—not for pride or nobility, but to record and commemorate their journey of discovery.

But now, the girl before him had not even a surname. And no one would ever tell her what their world had once been.

“July, do you want to leave here? To be free?”

July froze, unable to believe what she’d heard. “Is that possible?”

Bu Jingxian nodded with quiet confidence. “When I was brought here, I heard that many people have escaped to Xiang City in Zheng. The Zheng state welcomes refugees from Han. It’s only a dozen miles from here. The slave masters here are brutal and heartless. Everyone else lives in fear. If they had the chance, they would surely run. I’ve observed the manor these past few days—there are only a few dozen overseers, but more than two hundred slaves!”

July hadn’t expected Bu Jingxian to say such things. She couldn’t completely grasp it, but admiration rose unbidden in her heart. “But even if we escape, where would we go?”

“What is there to fear? Even begging on the streets is better—at least we’d be free. What could be worse than being a slave, at the mercy of others, beaten and even killed for their amusement?” His tone was stern, almost scolding, and July felt both afraid and convinced. She couldn’t help but say, “I want to be free!”

Bu Jingxian smiled.

When the group of children had finished eating, he called for silence and shared his plan to escape. The children were stunned, unable to believe it was possible. They were so young and weak, no match for the adults.

Bu Jingxian had already prepared his words, persuading and coaxing them with every argument he had. The children all felt gratitude and respect for him. Hearing his confidence and his beautiful vision of life in Zheng, their fear began to fade. One after another, they agreed to follow his lead.

“But we don’t even have any weapons. And the doors are locked…”

As one child voiced his doubts, Bu Jingxian dug a short, sharpened stick from the muddy ground beside the wooden shed.

“When the man comes to bring food, I’ll act alone. If I fail, say nothing. I’ll die myself. But if I succeed, you do exactly as planned!”

The children nodded in anxious silence.

The wait for the food delivery felt endless to the little slaves.

At last, the door was opened. A man came in carrying a large bucket of thin gruel and a basket of hard wheat buns. He set the bucket down and let the children serve themselves. He opened the basket, roughly counting the buns as he tossed them out. The buns rolled into the slushy snow and mud, getting filthy, but the children didn’t care—they snatched them up and ate them greedily. Then the man took out a bowl of rice and a bowl of meat and vegetables.

He shouted, “Which one of you is the kid Miss Feng said to look after? Come out! ******, your ancestors must have done some great virtue in a past life!”

Bu Jingxian took the bowls in two trips with one hand and set them down.

The laborer impatiently hurried the children sharing the gruel and shouted threats at some who were quarreling, warning he’d throw them to the dogs if they didn’t stop.

At that moment, while the man was distracted, Bu Jingxian drew the sharpened stick from behind his back, sprang forward, and threw all his weight into a ferocious stab aimed at the back of the man’s neck.

With the force of his body behind it, the sharp stick drove three inches deep into the man’s neck, sending him crashing to the ground. Bu Jingxian quickly straddled the man’s back, yanked out the stick, and stabbed again and again, mercilessly, at the side of his neck.

The children were terrified into silence, watching as the spreading blood soaked the muddy ground.

When the man finally stopped moving, Bu Jingxian ceased his attack. Despite the brutality of what he’d just done, he felt no fear. Regaining his composure, he tossed the stick aside, poured all the rice, meat, and vegetables into the bucket of gruel, and stirred until it was well mixed.

“Bring your bowls! Eat more so we’ll have strength. If I have meat, I’ll never keep it to myself while everyone else has only gruel! Bring your bowls—meat and rice will be uneven, but no one is to complain or fight over who gets more!”

The children, hungry and all too familiar with bloodshed, quickly recovered and eagerly held out their battered bowls, watching as Bu Jingxian ladled out the food.

In the end, only half a bowl of rice soup was left for him. Some children wanted to share theirs, but he refused sternly.

“You trust me, so I have the responsibility to do my best for you. I have nothing else to give, but at least I can eat a little less to show my goodwill!”

He urged the children to eat their fill, drained the last of the rice soup, took the keys from the dead man, and stripped off his clothes and shoes, giving them to the smallest, weakest child to wear. Once everyone had finished the gruel, Bu Jingxian grabbed the sharpened stick and said, “Let’s go!”

July led a group of more than ten children straight to the kitchen, where the fire was still burning and piles of prepared food lay about. The group wrapped cloth around sticks, soaked them in oil, and set them alight, each grabbing three or four torches and heading out in thirteen directions.

Soon, flames sprang up throughout the manor.

Cries and shouts echoed in the night.

“Fire! Someone’s killed a man and escaped! Don’t just sit and wait for death—kill those damned overseers, take everything and run to Zheng! Zheng welcomes refugees unconditionally, its people are strong and prosperous, and Han will soon be wiped out by Zheng. If we don’t flee or resist now, when will we?”

Fires blazed in thirteen places. The slave quarters were crude; as soon as the flames erupted, the slaves panicked and rushed out, bewildered. Hearing the shouts and seeing fire everywhere, some who had lost family to their captors’ cruelty saw red—joining the shouts, the chaos spread instantly.

In moments, the situation had spun out of control.