【Pearl Coast - Pure White Lotus】(3)

Author: Yang Yixing
Published: 2015/09/17
Word Count: 12435
III
As the naked middle-aged woman, her hands and feet bound by shackles, jingled as she walked through the city streets,
the Nalan she saw revealed the bustling and noisy daily life. Although it had been ten years since it was the capital of a country,
Nalan, under the control of the Central Plains Dynasty, was still considered the capital of a prefecture. Walking along
the main road in broad daylight, the various houses and courtyards on both sides stretched out in a winding line, mostly shops and residences, with
little open space. Buyers and sellers with their doors and windows open, hearing the noise, looked up, and
those who had nothing else to do probably gave her a once-over. Passersby in the middle of the road were also numerous
; they generally glanced at her ugly, branded face, inevitably frowning
, but also glancing more at her chest and thighs. She knew the iron rings piercing her nipples
were swaying, and the sparse, withered hair between her legs, which opened and closed as she walked, offered no cover. If there
was anything beyond that, it would be to continue downwards, revealing her thin, dirty bare feet.
During the years of the Great Zhou's rule over Nalan, encountering a few naked male and female slaves on the street
was commonplace in the remote border regions, not a miracle. Perhaps occasionally one might encounter a younger, prettier one,
which would warrant a second glance, but upon further reflection, one would realize that youth and beauty were valuable
assets. Since her sister was beautiful enough to warrant attention, why not have her master use her for other purposes, instead of
sending her out on the street for everyone to feast their eyes on? So, although Nalan was a place that kept many slaves, those
who were truly led naked into the city were mostly sparse-faced, withered-bodied
laborers confined to manors outside the city for logging and clearing land. They would spend their entire lives on farms and forests without any clothing to cover their bodies,
and their legs would be chained for life, with constant vigilance against resistance or escape. If their master needed to
move some odds and ends, taking someone out for a stroll was like taking a piece of livestock; whether
inside or outside the pen, the animal would always be dressed like that.
The Nalan royal slave of the Great Zhou had returned to Nalan several times over the years. The master who led her into the city was
the king who guarded the southern border of the Great Zhou. The Southern King bore the responsibility of inspecting the dynasty's territory. Most of the time, the king would enter in a grand procession of carriages and horses , but according to his personal preference, he would also stroll through the streets in plain clothes and casual shoes, 　　chatting idly with people
in small noodle shops .
Private visits were considered an important way to understand the people's sentiments. The king disguised himself as a
Confucian merchant from the Central Plains visiting Nalan. He changed into a scholar's robe and ordered, "Go," to
bring out the Nalan servant.
In the initial period after being brought to Guangdong by the Southern King, the woman was frequently summoned to the royal palace for questioning. The questions covered everything
from the politics and military of her homeland, financial revenue and expenditure, to the people's basic needs—they were extremely detailed and comprehensive. Each time
she went there, she was never spared. Even if she made a careless mistake, or if
her memory had faded over time, or if her statements didn't match the records in her own palace, she would immediately be severely
beaten. From finger-crushing to spanking, kneeling on sharp wooden stakes and having sticks pressed behind her knees were commonplace. Anyway,
for a deposed monarch, such things were insignificant. They had brought her to Lingnan to hear useful information from her
, so of course they had to constantly remind her that their leader wasn't someone to be easily fooled.
Each time she was interrogated, she would be unable to get up for several days. Being unable to get up meant she wouldn't have to pull the latrine or clean
the toilets; she would simply be dragged to the platform and forced to lie down and be violated. After several rounds of this interrogation and beating,
others had probably figured out everything she knew while she was a king. In the following years, the Southern King didn't summon
her for interrogation again, but when the king himself went to Nalan, he often took her with him.
What was their psychology at that time? Only after the trip could one know.
The king always led a fleet across the sea to Nalan. The woman was locked in the cabin the entire way, rowing with the oarsmen.
Each time she was brought onto the ship, a wooden wedge was nailed to the first seat in the first row by the aisle; if the woman wanted to
sit up, she could only accommodate that thing inside her body. According to the regulations of the Guangdong provincial authorities,
her shackles were a daily necessity, and there was never any leniency while she was in the palace. Only
when the king took her out on official business, for long journeys, was it considered an exception, and they could be removed for a few days. Although the heavy wooden boards were removed,
the shackles still locked her to the stool, and her wrists to the handles of the oars. A sailor with a whip was specially assigned to supervise and
watch over her. The king's ship was a warship, and the oarsmen were all royal soldiers, all men. In fact,
the other men on the same oar were all burly men; she could be carried smoothly even without exerting any effort. Therefore,
the purpose of the man behind her was to force her to exert herself. Anyone whose arm was not fully extended
when pushing the oar, or who did not pull the oar into her arms with sufficient force, would be whipped twice, once in each direction. Below the deck of the king's ship, there were three tiers of oars, each with
over two hundred oarsmen. According to the tradition of the oarsmen's quarters, another responsibility of the female oar slaves was to satisfy the men's sexual desires.
During the two hours the women rested in their shifts, the iron chains were unlocked, and they were led to each oarsman's stall one by one.
The soldiers on the ship weren't oar slaves; if they complained that the women were too old and ugly, they would bring a jar of
liquor to the cabin. After drinking, there would be liquor, and everyone would naturally rush to take their turn. Each time,
the women would only be in the oarsman's stall for about half a day before they were already exhausted and unconscious.
The journey from Yuezhou to Nalan took five days by water. When they finally reached the port, the sailors hurriedly
disembarked to enjoy a few days of pleasure, leaving her alone in the oarsman's cabin. She had to seize the opportunity to get a decent sleep
. Even according to the rules for oar slaves, sleeping required sitting upright with her upper body leaning on the oars, and even with a wooden stick inserted into her lower
body, it was still much better than being penetrated to the point of death by two hundred men
. She slept for an unknown amount of time, and with her eyes closed, she heard a series of sharp cracking sounds as if something had been slashed across her skin
. Her entire back felt like it was on fire. When she opened her eyes again, it was already broad daylight. It was a person...
The servant used a whip to tell her to cheer up, disembark, and accompany the Prince of the South, who was traveling incognito, on a stroll through the streets.
When the prince, dressed in plain clothes, stepped off the ship, everything was already prepared. The prince rode a horse, as did his two civil
and military attendants; they had three horses in total, plus a blue mule carrying miscellaneous goods. Besides lifelong
shackles and handcuffs, the rules for slaves entering the city included a collar with a long, hanging chain that reached to the ground
, the end of which was connected to the shackles and locked. An iron ring was worn around the waist, and the hands were cuffed behind the back. Considering the newly established social conditions for Nalan,
the tag indicating her identity was removed, but a small iron bell was hung under each of the thick iron rings on either side, making a sound so that
she could be easily found if lost. Finally, a four-foot-long thin chain was used to fasten her neck, so that
she could be led to the mule's saddle after setting off.
When there was a king and horses, the slave had to be the one to mount. Even before the king was ten paces away, the slave
had already knelt. Because her hands were cuffed behind her back, she couldn't use her arms for support after kneeling; she
placed her buttocks on her heels, using her waist to straighten her back. The kneeling woman buried her face deep, her eyes
fixed on the ground. She only saw four horse legs pass by, and then a man's large foot stepped on her back.
The man spurred his horse away with small steps, followed by another spurt of hooves and legs, and then another man. All three officials
used her body to mount their horses. Finally, two sharp lashes of the whip lashed down.
"Get up!" a low growl roared from above.
The three officials rode away, and a group of servants and attendants stood on the ground with her. One of the attendants carried a whip
; the whip was there to keep the woman and the mule in line. Anyway, that's the rule they'd set for her—
first the whip, then the words. The woman quickly raised her head, pulled her leg back, and straightened her upper body, only to be struck
again on the chest. This time the whip was harder, making her cry out. The small bell under her breasts flipped over with a crisp
clang.
The king, walking ahead, hadn't paid any attention to such matters, but when his horse twitched at the sound of the whip, he
glanced over. He saw his female servant's dazed expression, her thin, dark body, and the strict and
comprehensive shackles and restraints, all of which made her look very much like a servant. The king smiled. He said, "Give her a
basket. After we enter the city, you'll see, what servant walks empty-handed?"
The king was meticulous, paying particular attention to details of appearance. So, he had a wooden carrying frame tied to her shoulders with hemp rope , on which a bamboo basket was placed, filled with thirty catties of soybeans for feeding horses, so that 　　she could supplement the horse's diet with concentrated feed when
she remembered along the way .
A chain extended from the mule's saddle, one end of which was fastened to the woman
's neck. Nalan Wangnu, completely naked, carried the bamboo feed basket on her shoulder, her body and limbs shackled by various chains
, small bells dangling from her breasts, jingling as she walked into the city streets.
With her load on her back and several new chains around her body, the woman slowly dragged her legs along.
The feeling beneath her bare feet was surprisingly peaceful and natural. For over ten or twenty years as a slave, she had walked barefoot
on ice and snow, through filth and excrement every day; she didn't feel particularly uncomfortable walking on the soil of her hometown.
Even if this was a humiliation, it didn't need to be compared to being bare-breasted and wearing two bells.
The hunched-over woman walked along the central road, slowly surveying her own city. Here lived her
people, and also the enemies who later invaded—
enemies she was entitled to when she was a queen, of course; now they were all her masters.
This was the rest of her life. This was the city she had traded her life for. In
the blink of an eye, this place could have been turned into a wasteland. To be able to
walk naked and shackled through the kingdom she had ruled in her first half of life in the latter half of a female slave's life was truly a rare fate. For her former
people and her current masters, the woman slowly displayed her bare feet and chains, her scarred body,
and her naked breasts and cunt.
"Squeeze your fucking cunt tighter!"
Every few shops she passed, the henchmen who managed the mules and slaves would casually curse, followed by a fierce lash of the
leather whip. The bamboo baskets protected her shoulders and back; it was always her exposed buttocks that were being whipped. She couldn't see
how red and swollen her buttocks were; she only felt a burning, wet sensation. "Your ass
is as red as if you're horny, and you're still wriggling around like that, inviting a male dog to fuck you?"
With forty pounds of beans and a basket on her back, and the shackles on her feet that she had to drag with her ankles,
how could she not bend her knees and spread her legs wide? She just took one step at a time, trying to use the strength of her waist and abdomen
; she had no intention of wriggling around to attract attention. But she was the slave to be tortured and abused in every way imaginable. Could a slave possibly reason with their master about the principles of walking? She bit her 　　lip and groaned as she endured
the two painful blows to her buttocks . She thought the two blows from the leather strap would be over, but she never expected the third blow to be the man gripping 　　the whip and thrusting it straight in. 　　The man stabbed the woman's crotch from below. She was still moving, so 　　neither the man nor the woman knew exactly where the stab had landed, or how forceful and vicious it was. The 　　woman only realized what had happened after it hit her; a sudden, suffocating pain shot into her stomach, a throbbing pain that seemed to explode within her internal organs, stuck 　　in her throat, impossible to expel. Caught completely off guard, the woman cried out in pain and 　　crouched down, trembling all over. The man who had done it didn't care; beating her a few more times along the way was a rule set forth by the officials before they entered the city 　　. 　　The men stood coldly to the side, watching her in pain. They watched her bare heels rise into the air, 　　spinning wildly left and right. The woman's hands were cuffed behind her back. She twisted her waist erratically, desperately swinging 　　her shoulders. Crouching was painful, standing was painful too; her body, carrying the bamboo basket, rose and fell, unable to find 　　a stable footing for a long time. The woman's body twisted and turned for a long time, her knees finally buckling, 　　but she managed to keep herself from collapsing. 　　Her cry attracted a few bystanders. Two people stopped to watch as they were walking. "Oh, beating a servant. 　　Wow, that's a pretty hard beating; he even peed."

She hadn't noticed until someone mentioned it, and then she realized there was water running down her legs,
and the mud beneath her feet was soaked. The laborer with the whip turned to face her, nudging her chin with the whip handle: "Can you walk now?
Everyone's waiting for you."
...Yes...oh...yes.
She pulled her leg away, her legs buckling from her toes to her waist. That was a really hard blow. But she had to
say yes. Even a vague slur would have resulted in an even worse beating. The woman staggered as
she struggled to her feet, her body trembling and unable to stand upright, but she took a shaky step. Every step she could take
was a step. The woman looked up, unable to see the road ahead; her eyes were filled with tears of pain, which
she couldn't wipe away. She could only vaguely see something swaying in front of her—
the mule's rump, which was chained to her. She had been pulled to a stop, waiting for her to be beaten, but now that the mule moved,
the chain around her neck was pulled loose again.
The beatings and humiliations followed her like a mule's rear. The iron chain around her neck made her
feel like a mule herself. She truly wished she were an animal. Even the most bored person
wouldn't stare at a cow's udder and rear for an entire journey, nor would they bother to find out the name of a dog.
Naked, barefoot, carrying a bamboo basket on her back, the chain jingling as she walked. The weight of each step
, twisting and turning, made her knees ache and her calves cramp. Even being beaten until she urinated in the street wasn't the worst
thing. She was a woman who wore an iron plaque engraved with the throne, having walked through the entire Great Zhou Dynasty. What is a parade through the streets? What
is public humiliation? It means that at each stop, a gong is struck to gather the people, so that this naked woman
can be thoroughly examined from front to back. There are only a few ways to completely destroy a woman. No matter
when, no matter where, no matter how many men and women are present, after a brutal beating, there's
a series of rapes in turn. While being beaten, they scream and wail like mourners,
crawling and rolling in their own blood and urine, begging for mercy. Even if you were made to crawl and bark like a dog, you'd have to do
it; there's no semblance of humanity left.
Anyone who thinks a person can silently endure a beating has never truly felt pain. When publicly raped, they
spread their legs wide, their vulva exposed, their buttocks and waist rising and falling, twisting and turning,
to receive the penises of twenty or thirty men. At that moment, the rise and fall of human flesh, the welcoming and sending off of the sex,
the blush on their faces, the fluid flowing from their groin—every drop is seen by every man, woman, and child.
You've publicly performed every shameful act a woman can commit; how can you ever look back on yourself afterward
?
A woman who has spent half her life as a slave cannot look back. But whether a woman's body is shown to others, and to whom
, is not up to the slave herself. Fate is always unpredictable, and the master's favor and wrath are unfathomable. Her fate was
determined by a single thought in the mind of the man on horseback ahead. He could simply give a casual greeting and lead her
to be displayed at the city gate for three days. That would be three days. If he said ten days, then it would be ten days. He could even add
, "Find a few more men… let everyone see." Let the people see what their former king's ass looked like
. Then she wouldn't even be able to remain a nameless, stray dog.
The king walked along the main road that day with a calm demeanor. He dismounted at the horse market outside the city gate, took
a few steps, and called out, "Bring your servants in." He casually examined the animals' teeth and coat colors in the market. The slave woman, Nalan, was untied from
her mule saddle and led by a servant. The king casually remarked, "
You know these things too? Look how old this pony is."
The woman indeed knew horses; she had ridden several fine ones. "This horse is a year old," she said. "These are all
farm horses…
um." "Speaking of which… Nalan, how many warhorses did you have under your command in your last year?"
He had asked about warhorses countless times. She could answer that question perfectly. The king asked again, "Look
at this place now, how many stockpiles of livestock can you collect for war each year?"
He asked casually. The woman couldn't help but shudder. She could only say, "This servant deserves to die, this servant truly
doesn't know." As soon as she finished speaking, she was ordered to raise her head. The king's attendant personally slapped her several times across the face.
She was carrying a basket. To raise her head meant to stand up straight, and to stand up straight meant to spread her legs and bend over. Forward, she thrust her knees forward to
balance her weight, then shoved her toes down to brace herself. Even taking a few slaps was incredibly difficult.
Those were the king's men, strong enough to kill an ox with their bare hands, slapping a person's face as easily as playing a game. After the beating, the
man coldly said, "How can a servant speak to the king without uttering a word of dissent?
Besides, how many horses do you have?"
She could only give a number, and then received four more slaps. "You keep so many horses to rebel?
I'm asking you, how did you know?"
Blood splattered from her nose and mouth, mingling with her tears, making her
face a smear of blood. She couldn't wipe it away, so she could only let it dry slowly. The king entered the city gate
, seemingly in high spirits, walking the entire way, chatting as he went. Nalan, the slave, had to carry a basket and
drag her shackles close behind him. It goes without saying how strange it was for them to walk into the rice and cloth shops like that.
Wang asked, "Look at this fabric, is it locally made or imported from the inland?" She guessed it was from the inland,
and the fabric shop owner agreed. Wang snorted, "Not bad, you have a good eye. I see you were quite serious
about managing things back then, and you even sneaked out to stroll the streets, didn't you?
Let me ask you, how many fabric shops were there in the city back then?"
The official next to her, who had been holding a folding fan, used it to tease her breast, each tease producing a sharp, metallic sound like a small hammer striking a gong
. The fabric shop owner, hiding behind the counter, stared intently at this farce of a wealthy man and a female slave, and
even the sound of that object made him shudder. The official, unhurriedly teasing her a few times, urged, "Speak, the master is asking you
a question."
Actually, no matter what she said, the man swung his closed fan and struck her breast, like
striking a gong with a small hammer. The blow was quite severe, leaving the fabric shop owner stunned, his eyes wide and mouth agape. A woman's breast struck...
The pain was so intense that she wanted to roll around and bang her head against the wall, but she couldn't even reach to rub it. All
she could do was grimace and stomp her feet, violently slapping her breasts at the cloth shop owner.
The small bells hanging from her breasts bounced and jingled in a long string. The shop owner quickly lowered his head, pretending to tidy up the cotton fabric, but
couldn't help but steal a glance. Those two large breasts and the bells were still dangling in front of his forehead.
"Hmph, lying. When did you know you owned several cloth shops in the city?"
This wasn't a conversation; this was a beating. When Wang was quiet, she was tied to a mule and had her buttocks whipped
and her genitals poked. When Wang wanted to talk, this was the endless beating of her breasts and face. Bare-bottomed and with her breasts bare, she was
whipped and beaten the whole way. Of course, everyone understood that this was a game specifically set up to treat you like a toy,
leading you around like an animal at their doorstep, letting you experience firsthand the pain and suffering that could be
inflicted on your body and mind. The goal was to leave you neither dead nor able to live like a human being. Only
those who have truly endured such a living hell know the true extent of this.
That day, the prince, disguised, strolled through the market and visited the garrison commander's residence in the evening. The woman looked at the official
compound and buildings and felt unfamiliar with them. But this place in the city center shouldn't be unfamiliar to her. Ten years ago, this was
the capital of the kingdom, and Nalan's palace was built in its center. The woman herself had looked around for a while, and after
some thought, she finally understood that this area had been rebuilt by demolishing the original streets and alleys. If the former palace hadn't been destroyed,
it should be behind the garrison commander's residence. It turned out that she and the livestock were being led around the wall to be taken
to her royal city.
That year, she herself opened the city's gates for the Great Zhou army. No war had been fought within the city; the city
still stood, and so did the old royal palace. The Zhou Dynasty was a kingdom, not bandits who would burn everything in sight
. They preserved the old palace, simply repurposed it. The palace
walls and gates the woman saw that day were as they were, though now dilapidated and crumbling, with collapsed gaps in the walls revealing
crumbling rammed earth beneath. The gatehouse was still there, but the doorway was open, the doors long
gone. As she entered, she saw horse manure at her feet and grass growing from the cracks in the bricks
.
Nalan's royal slave spent her first night back in her homeland chained to the walls of her own royal city. Along
the wall, beneath the covered walkways, were a herd of horses and mules—now the Great Zhou army's stables.
The beans the woman had carried all the way now had a proper place to go; she could pour them into the troughs to feed the king's horses. That day, the Prince of Nan spent
the entire evening entertaining the Prefect with a meal, and it was
only natural that the slaves and livestock he had brought be sent to the stables for the night. The woman had already resigned herself to her fate, thinking that it
was probably only natural that she would be defiled by men all night long in this place. Later, the stablemen who lived there surrounded her,
hanging lanterns under the eaves and setting out the food and wine they had brought. More than ten men slowly and deliberately had sex with her,
undoubtedly just following orders. This series of intercourses, which began at midnight, continued until dawn
.
In any case, the woman curled up beside the horses' hooves and slept for a while afterward, until someone
woke her with a whip. They were going to put her to work. Even on a journey, a slave shouldn't be left idle and listless
. She then spent the rest of the night drawing water from the well and washing the mules and horses in the stables, one by one.
It was already afternoon when the prefect of Nalan Prefecture accompanied the Prince of Lingnan into the Forbidden City.
The female servant washing horses dropped her water ladle and long-handled brush, knelt down, and kowtowed three times in greeting. The woman, naked
and kneeling at the feet of two powerful men, felt a deep sense of shame and fear; she didn't know
how many more torturous methods they would devise. She tried to maintain a calm expression as she raised her head. Aside from
the Prince of Lingnan, this was the first time she had seen the prefect of Nalan Prefecture sent by the Great Zhou court. This man was probably
seeing her for the first time as well. The Prince of Lingnan said, "This is the woman. Let's meet her. I brought her from the Tiger-Taming Army to the south;
everyone can broaden their horizons.
" He told the woman, "Get up." She followed.
The blue bricks paving the ground were all broken; her bare feet felt cold with every step. When no one spoke, the shackles on her
feet clattered loudly. The surrounding walls and the tiled eaves and wooden railings are all old.
The stone foundation in the middle of the courtyard, three feet above the ground, is also old, though where once stood a large house, now only
a few lonely wooden pillars remain.
Every palace must have a main hall. Although Nalan is a small country, its palaces are modeled after those of the Central Plains dynasties. The royal city is divided into front and rear courtyards. The main hall on the stone foundation in the front was 　　where she arranged ceremonies and summoned officials
when she was queen . It was a symbol of national power, carrying too much symbolic meaning. 　　Perhaps there are still forbidden dragon and phoenix patterns on the beams and eaves. The new masters are indeed determined to demolish it into ruins 　　. "Let's go up," said the Southern King, turning to look at the woman and smiling. "You summoned 　　your officials up here?" 　　"I received the throne here at seventeen. Hmm, how many households and how many people did Nalan have that year? When I was twenty 　　, the kingdom fell. How many people were there in Nalan then?" " 　　When I was in charge of the puppet state, Nalan had 89,160 households and 711,741 people. Three years later, 　　the population was 790,075. That year, the annual revenue was 367,000 strings of cash and 71,000 shi of grain. " " 　　Tsk tsk tsk," the King said, "you remember so well. Young people have good memories." He then looked at the prefect beside him, wondering if he knew 　　how many people Nalan had now. 　　"Well... since the Great Zhou conquered Nalan, the barbarian settlements along the Changshan Mountains have been situated in valleys and streams. The terrain is rugged, and their languages 　　vary. Most counties are established under a system of 'tributary system,' and their populations are not registered with the Ministry of Revenue..." 　　This "tributary system" meant appointing a local tribal chief to govern his subjects. The central dynasty didn't collect 　　taxes, only requiring them to behave properly. Clearly, the Zhou dynasty's governance of the area was far less effective than 　　when this female slave was queen. 　　The Southern King and the provincial official sat on an empty platform watching the sun set. The dark blue-green Changshan Mountains stretched west of the city.

Far beyond the edge. A female slave knelt amidst the broken bricks and tiles, watching her master. The place resembled an abandoned factory. The king
, a man of few manners, lifted the hem of his robe and sat directly on a wide stone slab. The king said, "A ruined
city, a deposed king, and also flutes and drums are good. What about those old servants we talked about last night?"
The garrison kept slaves who played flutes and drums. The old man who brought the drum had a full head of white hair that reached his shoulders; he
was probably over sixty. Even in his old age, the drum slave was not spared
the punishment of being naked, barefoot, handcuffed, and shackled. The old slave had white hair and no beard. Because he was completely naked, one could easily see that his genitals
were only partially exposed, with only an opening remaining, but his penis and testicles were completely gone.
Having been castrated and subjected to the humiliation of being naked every day, one wonders if this former man had gotten used to it after ten years
. When Gu Nu was five years old, he became famous in Nalan City for his prodigy deeds. In his youth, he
traveled to the Central Plains to study, and after returning to Nalan, he was recommended for an official position. When the eldest daughter of the former king of Nalan began to understand things, he was the one who was
appointed Grand Tutor and taught the princess.
Since he had returned to his old country, it was inevitable that he would encounter some old acquaintances, or perhaps this was all expected.
Although it was the first time the teacher and student had met after many years, they only exchanged a silent glance. Regardless of
whether there were any emotional turmoil of memories in their hearts, at least they maintained calm and obedient expressions. In this
real world that had lasted for so long, being a dutiful and obedient slave was the only important
thing.
The king's slave saw that the next naked woman carrying a bamboo flute walking up the stone steps was the princess of the Nalan royal family,
her father's youngest sister. The queen's aunt was not much different in age from herself, only
approaching forty. The princess was married to General Yin Yuehou, the commander of Zhuzhai, who was enfeoffed there. General Yin Yuehou
died in battle after the fall of Zhuzhai, and his wives and concubines were taken to the Central Plains. The concubine, Consort Yin Yue, disappeared without a trace. The princess's wife, a general,
had served in the laundry department of the Great Zhou capital for many years. Later, when she met Prefect Jin Jing of Nalan, she was granted permission by the emperor
to return home as a servant.
Before the fall of the kingdom, King Nalan arranged for the royal family to flee overseas via the Kingdom of Ba. Xiao Nu was
one of the few direct descendants of the royal family who remained in Nalan. Even as a princess, Xiao Nu was renowned as a talented woman of the royal family, skilled in poetry, painting,
and music. Upon returning to Nalan, she was naturally capable of playing a flute piece for her master, the prefect.
The aunt, now a slave, appeared dazed and timid, her expression and actions resembling those of an elderly woman.
The old woman's thin ankles, shackled with heavy iron chains, moved with almost constant pauses, each step accompanied by a
prolonged tremor and sway. Xiao Nu's gaze seemed fixed solely on the bamboo flute she held in her shackled hands
. Though her naked body was rough, dark, and emaciated, it still
evoked a powerful sense of horror at first glance. This was because the old, naked Xiao Nu's chest bore only a patch of grotesque, undulating
scars, lacking the prominent, mountain-like breasts of a woman. Her breasts had
been severed at the root sometime during the night.
Before sunset, bats, lurking in the empty pavilions of the courtyard, flew in search of food, circling and hovering above the crumbling
walls and corner towers. Two naked old servants, their genders almost indistinguishable at first glance, knelt on
the ruins of the royal palace. A flute and a drum played, their sounds melodious and fragmented.
The Southern King rose and said, "Come, servants, dance for your master."
Wang Nu stood before an unfallen wooden pillar, the iron chain around her neck now pulled behind her,
looped around the pillar and locked. A slave's dance, too, should be chained to the pillar. The woman, when she was a queen, certainly
hadn't learned to dance, but later, in the enemy's north, as a slave to the army, she often
danced naked for hordes of soldiers. Or perhaps the men simply wanted to see a woman without any cloth covering her kicking, waving, and
twisting her body. No one taught her, she hadn't learned, but a fallen woman might be born
with the ability to perform. Her hands, though cuffed and unable to be spread, could be raised; she held them high above her head,
waving them to one side in time with the drumbeats. At that moment, the woman raised that bare foot, curling all
five toes as high as she could. As her hands reached their highest point, she stomped her bare heels to the ground.
The thud matched the drumbeats, and caused her hips to jut out sharply in the other direction.
Dance requires rhythm and cadence, and she provided both for the audience. The iron bells hanging from her breasts swayed
, joining the ensemble of flutes and drums. A woman who had been a king danced naked, barefoot, to
entertain her masters. Of course, rhythm and cadence were actually of little use; for the victorious onlookers,
her nakedness and submissiveness were a sufficient symbol of submission, giving the audience much pleasure in wielding power
and the pride of humiliating their enemies.
The King of Lingnan stood before the woman, hands clasped behind his back, scrutinizing her. Under his gaze, she bounced naked and submissively.
The king, with a faint smile, nodded slightly, as if he too were stepping and keeping time. This man
held the power to torture, humiliate, to give her life or death. The woman didn't know how long she would have to writhe nakedly
to satisfy this man, and the iron weight on her body was heavy; she was already panting and staggering. The man calmly
said, "We should also have a whip." He turned to look at the prefect: "Summon two Nalan soldiers?"
The dynasty's prefectures and counties had been established for many years, and the army was conscripting local residents. The prefect's retinue did indeed
include Nalan people, though they should all be considered subjects of the Great Zhou Emperor. The two Nalan
soldiers with whips remained waiting beside the thick pillar. They didn't stand close, but the whips were long enough that
when the tips flew through the air, they were almost shapeless shadows, yet they produced a chilling whistling
sound. Their power was heart-wrenching. The sharp blows of the whips tensed and sensitive her nerves and muscles
, and fear fueled an even greater force within her. They maintained a rhythmic left-
right sequence, striking her when her legs weren't quick enough or high enough. Most of the whippings landed on her legs
, but sometimes they deliberately lashed her chest, the heavy blows to her breasts causing her to involuntarily
let out sharp screams.
She was in so much pain she could barely stand, let alone lift her legs or stomp her feet. She no longer had the strength to shake off her disheveled hair
; she only vaguely remembered seeing
stars through the gaps in her hair for a fleeting moment as she crouched down—meaning she had been dancing for a long time, and it was already dark. The sweat-drenched woman
clutched her breasts tightly as she knelt on the ground, banging her forehead against the floor, writhing like a worm
. She didn't know how else to relieve the immense pain building in her chest. At the same time, she thought desperately that
more whips were about to fall; the muscles in her back and waist instinctively contracted, bracing
for the next blow.
But she actually received a sweeping lash, tearing the skin of her buttocks. The rhythm of the whip
was clear and punctuated, fluctuating like music, followed by a pause. In these pauses, the woman was finally
able to struggle to her feet. She needed to keep dancing. Although the Prince of Lingnan was no longer looking at her,
he was speaking quietly with the prefect on one side of the stone platform. He waited for a while before pacing
back amidst the heavy lashes of the whip.
The drums and flutes continued. The drumbeats and whip sounds seemed to be constantly exploring and accommodating each other, eventually merging into
an unspoken balance. The tall, thin old drum slave looked up at the sky, his eyes half-closed; as a slave,
all he could care about was music. The melody from the bamboo flute was like a tangled ball of thread,
its twists and turns, yet an infinitely extending narrative, making one feel that repression and madness were merely two aspects of the same thing
. And thought was just a nightmare.
The Prince of Lingnan said, "Stop." He said, "Stop, come and kneel down." The prince even seemed somewhat gentle at the moment he gave the slave the order
. The woman took a quick step forward, but on her third step, the chain tightened around her neck, causing her to
stumble several times and fall heavily to the ground. For a moment, she forgot she was chained to the post behind her,
and that she was truly exhausted.
Such a disoriented slave might be whipped all night long. The woman struggled and rolled on the ground, desperate to get her
knees to the ground so she could kneel. She finally crawled to her master's
feet. The woman was actually crying; she was terrified. Gasping and sobbing, she looked up, her face
drenched in sweat and tears.
Beneath the tears and snot was the rough, weathered face of a middle-aged woman. So many years of
whipping and branding—a harsh whipping leaves scars after healing, and a branding iron pressed into the face
leaves a permanent mark. The dents and grooves around her eyes and mouth made her face look uneven and
crooked. Coupled with the series of slaps she'd just endured yesterday,
her eyes were bloodshot and swollen, her cheeks bruised and shiny. Wang was still watching. The woman forced back a sob,
wiping her face and tucking her disheveled hair behind her ears. "
Do you regret it?"
The woman paused. She didn't know what he was going to say. Wang continued, "Why didn't you slit your own
throat back then?
You know, over the years, many people have asked me this. How could you be so stupid as to try to save the people? The people are
the most forgetful, the most ungrateful creatures. What did your teacher teach you?"
Wang glanced at the two men with whips standing on either side. "I told her to kneel and listen to me. Who told you
to stop?"
"Yes, your servant was negligent." Both men shuddered, quickly straightening their stances and resuming
their swinging arms. The king stood before the woman, the whip cracking again, this time aimed at her back. The drumbeats weren't
fast anymore, and the whip wasn't too heavy; the servant knew, of course, that her master didn't intend to beat her until she couldn't speak.
However, with everyone gathered together, the crisp, clean sound of the leather strap striking flesh
exploded right before their eyes, sounding utterly unmistakable. The woman, under the king's gaze
, struggled to maintain her composure. With each lash, no matter how hard she tried, she would shudder, the breath escaping her chest, unable to be contained
, inevitably letting out a cry of pain.
The woman said, "This servant… oh…
this servant had no choice but to do it. There are so many things in this world… oh…
in the end, you always have to choose one to do.
I've heard that everyone must die," the king said. "I may not be afraid of death. But I am afraid of pain. You've lived like this
for ten years, or perhaps another twenty. This endless life of a servant must be very difficult for you.
Human nature is to seek advantage and avoid harm." "With death, morality and literature mean nothing to us. You rode alone into the enemy camp
, galloping ten miles, only to be rewarded with a lifetime of pain and humiliation. What reason can we possibly have for heroes and knights
?
" The female slave knelt silently. The flute music had faded to a meager strain, barely continuing, perhaps because the flute player was exhausted
. Or perhaps it was an illusion born of silence, but the woman heard only the swirling, trembling
sound of a whip striking her own shoulders and back. Pain rippled through her, like scalding
water seeping into her body. The woman bit her lip, enduring the pain, and gave a bitter laugh before opening her mouth.
"Heroes are not a matter of principle," the female slave said softly. "Heroes are something we are bound to encounter. Because
a people without heroes has not survived to this day.
There must have been nations where everyone only calculated their own gains and losses, never sacrificing themselves for the group, but since we
haven't encountered them, they are probably all dead." Beyond his achievements in both military and literary arts
, the prince's experience and knowledge far surpassed that of a lowly slave. The prince knew, of course, that sacrificing oneself for one's people was
a common occurrence. It might be rare, but it was inevitable. If it were foolish, how could it have endured for millennia?
The woman fell silent, bowing to endure another lash. But breath and bubbles sprayed from her nose
, and she wiped her face again.
If this slave had submitted and offered herself, perhaps more people would have survived in Nalan City. In times of crisis,
if a brave warrior is willing to sacrifice himself, the lineage might continue; otherwise… the bloodline would simply be extinguished. To have any doubts
is a blessing for the survivors. Under such circumstances, this slave will likely have no one left to examine right and wrong, worth
and injustice.
That night, the King of Lingnan didn't question his slave again, nor did he pay any attention to the woman. He simply
told the prefect, "I'm going out of the city tomorrow for a three- to five-day trip. I won't take this woman with me;
leave her in the prefecture for people to see and entertain.
Have her shackled outside your gate every day and give her a good spanking so she remembers she's
a slave."
In the following years, whenever the queen's slave was brought back to Nalan City, in addition to the chains and
bells, heavy shackles were added to her neck and feet. It became a routine to parade her along the main road in front of the prefectural government office
. Every afternoon, in busy areas, she would be publicly punished by being forced to the ground and
severely beaten on the buttocks.
Each time the Southern King inspected the various prefectures and counties under his jurisdiction, it usually lasted three to five days. When the mood struck him, he would shamelessly
ask the slaves questions and debate the merits and demerits of governing the country and defending the territory. After the leisurely discussions, he would have the slaves carry
two large wooden planks on their shoulders and ankles, parading them naked through the streets. After one or two lashes
, the woman's buttocks and legs were usually swollen and ulcerated, making it impossible for her to stand or walk. In the following days, she would mostly kneel on
the ground, trudging along the streets, relying on her knees to move with difficulty.
The official authorities never revealed the identity or guilt of this naked woman, only allowing the people to privately spread
various legends about her. In short, she must have been a treacherous and rebellious criminal who
was extremely arrogant and rebellious towards the Great Zhou Dynasty, which is why she suffered such cruel and severe punishment. Every
passerby who saw her looking miserable, ashen-faced, and staggering and struggling under the heavy shackles would have a very clear and deep impression of this.

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