scarlet heart | exo

Assassination

Random disjointed phrases from Sun Tzu's Art of War floated around in Xuefeng's mind. Zitao was across the table, shifting wooden pieces around a map and pondering his next move.

Xuefeng blinked, and rolled her shoulders back, shaking herself out of the reverie. A few dry coughs followed.

A mild discomfort was settling in her head-- it had been a few hours since she had started reading the books and contemplating war strategies. They had since begun morphing into one big question mark. She put down the text in her hand and massaged her temples.

Xuefeng hadn't slept for a long time. Her dreams had been plagued by thoughts of Zitao falling to the ground, poisoned arrow in his chest, coughing up pools of blood, on the brink of death...

She shook the image out of her head, and tried to focus on the text once more.

"Are you okay?"

Zitao had made his way to her side of the table. He pressed the back of his hand to her forehead, drew back almost immediately. "You're burning up!"

"It's hot in here, that's all." She tried to smile. "I'm fine."

He eyed her doubtfully, and threw her an apologetic glance. "Sorry for making you stay up so late..."

"I'm fine..." She sighed. "I'm fine."

"Let's call it a day, okay? Come on, go and rest." He took her arm and guided her to the bed. She sank down onto the soft blankets gratefully, looking up at Zitao who was smoothing out the duvets and letting her hair down so that she would be comfortable.

It was at times like this that she felt the most loved. It wasn't the times when he told her "I love you", it was the times and the little actions he made around her. When he would grab her waist whenever another person was looking at her. When he would stand between her and something potentially dangerous. When he would keep silent whenever she was feeling down, but stay beside her. When he would never leave her side to protect her.

Small actions, big meaning, enormous love.

His hand came up to caress her cheek and she turned her head to kiss his palm.

"I love you." He whispered, bringing his lips to hers.

"I love you too." She swallowed, and squeezed his hand. "What will happen if I leave you one day?"

"What...?"

"I'm just saying, if it happens..."

"Xue, what are you talking about?"

"Keep smiling, no matter what happens... Okay?" There were tears in her eyes now. She fought them back, but two streaks of wetness started to make its way down to her cheeks.

"I will... But nothing will happen to you with me here. I promise."

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They were in a meeting that morning with all the other generals.

Xuefeng gripped the hilt of her sword a little tighter.

She couldn't shake off the fact that there was something strangely wrong about today.

The entire camp seemed to be cheerful. A little too cheerful. She had warned Zitao not to get complacent and he had heeded her advice, but the same could not be said for the rest of the army. She could see the visible slack of the soldiers' shoulders whenever she walked past, and there was no tension in the air, like there had been for the past months.

This can't be when the assassin struck, can it?

The entrance flap of the tent parted and a soldier walked in. "The enemy has sent a messenger!"

Enemy! Xuefeng stiffened, but forced herself to remain calm.

There was an unspoken code of battle honour that prohibited the use of messengers as assassins or spies, in exchange for their safe release back to their side once the message had been relayed.

It was unlikely that the enemy would violate this long-standing code, so there was no reason to be alarmed.  But her feet shifted instinctively into a battle stance.

Zitao raised a questioning eyebrow.  "Send him in."

The generals cleared the table of all their materials and dispersed to the sides of the room.  Xuefeng herself retreated to her seat right behind Zitao. Her eyes wandered around the tent, in search of any suspicious movement.

As Zitao and the others conversed with the enemy's messenger, her keen ears picked out the sound of shuffling. Years and years of training in archery and fencing picked up the sound of the wind whooshing past a longbow, and the small clean squeaking of the metallic blade drawn out of its scabbard.

No one had the time to react.

"Watch out!"

Zitao's eyes closed, and he realized that the wetness against his stomach... The red flower rapidly blossoming on his chest...

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