Chapter Six: An Arrow at the Edge of the Heart

On his way back to the cavalry barracks, Le Yi was still turning over in his mind what Qin Cheng had just said to him. Amidst his sighs, his heart was full of comfort and satisfaction.

After their hand-to-hand bout, Qin Cheng had spoken in a deep, grave voice: "I want to learn mounted archery. You must help me."

"Learn mounted archery? What good is it for an infantryman like you? Unless you want to become a cavalryman?" Le Yi recalled his own astonishment at that moment.

"Precisely!" Qin Cheng’s reply was resolute.

"To fight the Xiongnu, cavalry is key. Infantry have little use, almost none, on the battlefield. So I want to become a cavalryman, and mounted archery is fundamental to that. That’s why I must train in it!"

"But the annual selection is nearly upon us. You won't master mounted archery in such a short time," Le Yi had said.

"If not this year, then next," Qin Cheng responded firmly. "I know that even if I master mounted archery, I might not be transferred from the infantry to the cavalry. But if I don’t master it, I’ll certainly never become a cavalryman! In any case, I must train!"

"Very well, I’ll help you!" Le Yi had been stirred by a rare determination in Qin Cheng, and agreed with conviction. Little did he know, this was no longer the same Qin Cheng he’d always known.

As he thought, a smile crept unbidden onto Le Yi’s face. Having grown up alongside Qin Cheng, their bond was deep. Especially after Le Yi lost both his parents in succession—without the help of his neighbor Qin Cheng and Qin Cheng’s elder sister Qin Yue, he’d probably have starved long ago. Yet Qin Cheng had never stood out; his character was unremarkable, bordering on timid. Compared to Le Yi, who had trained relentlessly in archery and hand-to-hand fighting and possessed a steely will, the difference was like heaven and earth. That’s why, when Le Yi was chosen for the cavalry, Qin Cheng could only serve in the infantry.

As childhood friends, Le Yi had tried many times to change Qin Cheng, but the boy raised under his sister’s shelter was hopeless—a mass of soft clay that couldn’t be molded. This had often left Le Yi both angry and disappointed. Now, just as he was about to give up on the idea of both of them making a name for themselves in the army, Qin Cheng had broken out in a way Le Yi never expected. The excitement was undeniable! Le Yi silently resolved to help Qin Cheng master mounted archery, and as for whether he could become a cavalryman, who could say? But Le Yi chose to be optimistic.

Having endured hardship and possessing outstanding skills, Le Yi was, in truth, proud and solitary by nature. Throughout his life, he’d had only two real friends—Qin Cheng was one of them. That made Qin Cheng especially important to him.

By the time Qin Cheng returned to his infantry quarters, it was nearly time for rest. Dong Chu and the others had already returned the warhorse to Qin Cheng’s cousin, the squad leader in the cavalry, and reported Qin Cheng’s situation to the officers, as agreed. The matter would likely be officially handled the next day.

The other soldiers, unaware of the details, could not resist teasing the “deserter” upon his return, while the squad leader scolded him sternly. Qin Cheng said little in response—he knew the official result would come soon enough and couldn’t be bothered to argue. This disappointed Dong Chu and his companions, who had been waiting for Qin Cheng to thrash the mockers and restore their group’s honor, especially Dong Chu, who would have felt somewhat avenged.

Soon, the bugle sounded and the men went to sleep; the night passed without incident.

In the entire barracks, only two men remained awake: Qin Cheng and Dong Chu.

Lost in thoughts and emotions brought on by the upheaval of his two lives, Qin Cheng didn’t notice Dong Chu glancing at him, his eyes flickering with ambiguous intent.

Unable to sleep, Qin Cheng was the first to rise at dawn.

Early that morning, he and Dong Chu were summoned for questioning. Once Dong Chu’s account was confirmed, the officers did not make things difficult for Qin Cheng, and soon the details were posted for all to see.

However, Qin Cheng quickly became a minor celebrity within the army. Many soldiers eyed him strangely and couldn’t help but gossip. A man who couldn’t be struck down by lightning would, naturally, draw attention. This, perhaps, was the price Qin Cheng paid to avoid the charge of desertion.

With the annual selection looming, the intensity of training in the camp increased. News of the Xiongnu invasion of Dai Commandery and Yuyang had reached every ear—war seemed imminent, and so the men drilled with greater focus. As a result, Qin Cheng could only find a little time in the evening to practice mounted archery.

“To learn mounted archery, you must first master stationary shooting. That means standing still and shooting at a fixed target. Stationary shooting is the basis for mounted archery, and your skill in it wasn’t great before, so I’ll start by teaching you this,” Le Yi explained, gripping a powerful bow as Qin Cheng listened intently. “This strongbow is standard for cavalry. Its draw is stiff, its range long, but it requires great strength—at least eight dou of force.”

Qin Cheng examined the bow in his hands—bone reinforcements, a wooden body, recurved horn tips. It felt solid and heavy. In his previous life, he’d played with compound bows during his leisure time—not as a professional, but he’d become a decent shot. His riding club had included an archery range, and after unifying the province’s underworld three years before, he’d spent much of his spare time there, or at the boxing gym. Ranked first in underground fighting for four years, his athletic talent was unquestioned.

“You know the basics. Now, try a few shots so I can see and judge,” Le Yi said after introducing the strongbow. In truth, based on the Qin Cheng he knew, Le Yi wouldn’t have bothered with this step—he knew exactly how poor Qin Cheng’s archery had been. But, given the strangeness of Qin Cheng’s behavior the day before, he decided to be cautious.

“All right,” Qin Cheng agreed without hesitation. Though the ancient strongbow differed from the compound bows he’d used before, the principles of archery were the same. The bow felt good in his hand, and he was confident this test wouldn’t go badly.

With that, Qin Cheng stepped up to the target fifty paces away, raised the bow, and prepared to shoot.

“Wait!” Le Yi interrupted, hurrying to the target and dragging it ten paces closer, until it was only forty paces away. Then he returned and signaled Qin Cheng to proceed. It wasn’t that Le Yi had no confidence, but Qin Cheng’s archery left him uncertain. He didn’t want to put too much pressure on Qin Cheng and sap his confidence on the first attempt.

Qin Cheng found this amusing but said nothing. He centered himself, focused, and slowly assumed the stance.

He stepped forward with his right foot, feet shoulder-width apart, left hand drawing the bow, right hand gripping the arrow, nocking it between forefinger and middle finger and resting it on his left forefinger. Eyes locked on the target, he aligned himself, drew a deep breath, pulled the string to a full moon, focused, then exhaled sharply and loosed the arrow. The movements—though unhurried—were smooth, fluid as flowing water, and almost elegant.

A sharp twang, then a thud—the four-edged iron arrow flew straight and slammed into the target, half-buried, the shaft quivering violently.

Le Yi drew a sharp breath, startled by the sheer power behind the shot. How fierce! And...

Qin Cheng lowered the bow, glanced at the arrow, and laughed. “First time with this thing and I only hit the edge of the bullseye—not dead center. What a pity!”

He was clearly pleased.

Le Yi’s brow twitched. “Hitting the bullseye is hitting the bullseye—what do you mean, only the edge?!” He’d intended to praise Qin Cheng, but seeing his smugness, decided against it. “It’s only forty paces. If you can hit the bullseye at fifty, then I’ll be impressed!”

“Done!” Qin Cheng responded with enthusiasm. He shifted two steps left to face a fifty-pace target, set his stance, drew, nocked, and aimed at the tiny bullseye, ready to fire.

Le Yi watched, thinking, I know exactly how good you are. That last shot had to be luck. If you hit it again... Does he think archery is like squatting in a latrine—just sit and results happen?

Unaware of Le Yi’s thoughts, Qin Cheng let fly with all his strength.

A thud—the iron arrow struck the target, half-buried once more.

“Haha!” Qin Cheng exclaimed, louder this time. “Again, right on the edge! Why do I keep missing dead center?”

Turning around, he saw Le Yi rubbing his eyes, staring wide-eyed at the distant target in disbelief.

This was absurd. Was this the same mediocre fellow, whose arrows were so poor that even calling them mediocre was an insult? This was a fine shot, even among the army’s best!

“What’s wrong, Le Yi?” Qin Cheng asked, feigning innocence.

“Ahem, nothing. That was a good shot, haha,” Le Yi said, worried his reaction might hurt Qin Cheng’s pride. “You just have a lot of strength!” he added, waving grandly, still pleased with himself. “But if you moved back another ten paces, I’d still hit it, haha!”

Le Yi now realized what a silly mistake it was to worry about Qin Cheng’s pride. He replied with a challenge, “Another ten paces? If you can still hit it, I’ll call you master!”

“Great! Move the target!” Qin Cheng declared boldly.

“Let’s see you try!” Le Yi dashed over and quickly shifted the target.

“Watch closely!” Qin Cheng called out, then composed himself, readied his stance, drew, nocked, took aim—a perfect full moon.

Le Yi’s heart pounded with each of Qin Cheng’s moves. Sixty paces! Damn!

As Qin Cheng released, the arrow whistled through the air and struck the target—on the edge of the bullseye.

Le Yi’s jaw dropped.

He was speechless.

Qin Cheng’s laughter rang out again. “Damn it, still the edge! Why can’t I hit dead center?”

What more do you want? Le Yi cursed silently. Heaven, I thought he was a hopeless amateur, but who’s ever seen a so-called amateur shoot like this?

Now, Le Yi could only look at Qin Cheng as if he were some kind of monster.

Three shots in a row, and Qin Cheng was elated, utterly forgetting Le Yi, caressing the bow and repeating his stance, grinning from ear to ear.

Then Qin Cheng did something that nearly broke Le Yi. He trotted happily over to the target, moved it back another ten paces, and then returned, all smiles.

As Le Yi watched in open-mouthed disbelief, Qin Cheng focused himself once more, gazed at the sky, steadied his breathing, drew, nocked, aimed, inhaled, pulled, exhaled, and loosed.

Le Yi felt as if his heart was being manipulated with each motion, thudding in time. When the arrow finally flew, it was as if his very soul had left his body.

A thud as the arrow struck, and Le Yi felt a detonation in his chest, then a wave of weakness.

He no longer knew what to think or say.

Damn it, he’d hit again—on the edge of the bullseye. And Qin Cheng’s voice rang out once more.

“Haha, damn, still just the edge. What’s wrong with my hand? Why can’t I ever hit dead center?” he laughed, thoroughly pleased with himself.

Yes, what IS wrong with your hand? I’d like to know too. Seventy paces! It had taken Le Yi years to reach this level—and this guy just does it at will?

When Qin Cheng finally finished laughing and turned around, he saw Le Yi walking away, shoulders slumped.

“Le Yi, aren’t you going to teach me archery? Where are you going?” Qin Cheng shouted after him.

Without turning, Le Yi waved weakly. “Practice by yourself. I’m not feeling well today.” I have to leave. If you hit the bullseye at eighty paces, I might as well drop dead. This is just too damaging to my self-esteem.

Behind him, Qin Cheng replied with a casual “Oh,” and then fell silent. Le Yi’s heart sank—could he have taken it the wrong way?

Just as Le Yi was about to turn back, he heard the thud of another arrow and Qin Cheng’s booming voice: “Haha! Eighty paces! I finally hit the bullseye! I really am a genius!”

The bullseye?

Le Yi’s vision went dark—he nearly collapsed.

Damn it, why should I worry about this freak? He’s a monster! Eighty paces! Not even monsters are this terrifying!

“So my aim is only accurate enough at long distance! That’s it! Haha, I really am a god! Let’s try ninety!”

At those words, Le Yi felt his legs give way and toppled to the ground. Without waiting to hear what Qin Cheng said next, he scrambled up on all fours and fled as fast as he could.

A demon!

Better to escape while he hasn’t yet hit the bullseye at ninety paces. Even my self-respect has its limits.