This was a small village nestled in the mountainous region.
With a population of roughly five hundred people, it was a typical rural settlement. Some made their living as hunters, venturing into the mountains to catch game, while others tilled the fields and lived off agriculture.
A baby boy was born to a farming couple.
They named him Shu, and he was raised like any other ordinary child.
Shu was a bright boy.
By the age of one, he could already speak quite well. By the time he turned two, he had learned to read and write simple characters.
His parents were in the prime of their working years, so his grandmother often looked after him. Noticing how clever her grandson was, she began teaching him basic arithmetic. Before bedtime, she would read him various stories, nurturing his imagination and sensitivity.
By the age of five, Shu had started helping with his father's work.
One day, the family's stock of medicinal herbs was running low, so he was told to go into the mountains to gather more. Although it was somewhat dangerous for a small child to enter the mountains alone, Shu had gone herb gathering many times before. As long as he didn't do anything reckless, it was safe enough.
That day, he carried a basket on his back and walked along the familiar mountain path toward the area where the herbs grew wild. He carried a small knife for self-defense, but it was too flimsy to be called a weapon. Its main purpose was to cleanly harvest the herbs.
After gathering a decent amount, he spotted a tree bearing bright, vivid fruit. It looked similar to an apple, but smaller and less sweet than the ones occasionally sold by traveling merchants. Shu had taken a liking to this nameless fruit.
Deciding to bring some home, he climbed the tree. From there, he could see the village where he had been born and raised spread out below him.
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The village was burning.
Unable to believe what he was seeing, Shu rubbed his eyes, but the flames were still there. He hurriedly scrambled down the mountain path and ran to the foot of the mountain.
Hundreds of soldiers were rampaging through the village — setting houses on fire, raping, looting, and destroying everything in sight.
Even a five-year-old child could understand what was happening.
It was war.
His grandmother had once read him stories about war. In those tales, there was often a happy ending, but the path leading there was filled with slaughter and sorrow. Shu was now witnessing the ugly side of war with his own eyes.
Even a child knew that rushing out now wouldn't save anyone. Screams echoed from within the village. He could hear the familiar voices of the children he used to play with, and the uncle who had taught him how to hunt, crying out in agony from every direction.
Gradually, the screams grew fewer. By the time the sun began to set, the soldiers finally withdrew.
On his back was the basket filled with freshly gathered medicinal herbs. Shu knew how to make simple remedies and treat wounds. If he went into the village now, he might still be able to help someone.
But what Shu chose was to wait.
The soldiers had been looting. Although he couldn't see any in the immediate area, some might still be inside the houses searching for valuables. He could easily imagine what would happen if one of them found him.
Night fell, and the village was swallowed by darkness. Normally, a few bonfires would be lit, but now only the smoldering ruins of burned houses glowed with a dull red light.
Shu slipped back into the mountains. It was possible that soldiers might pass along this path. Staying here was too dangerous.
He took a narrow side path that only locals knew about, then climbed a large tree. He tied his body securely to a thick branch with rope and decided to spend the night there.
The cold woke him up many times.
Are Father and Mother safe? No… they couldn't possibly be.
What about Grandmother? Did she manage to escape?
He eventually stopped thinking about it altogether.
When the sun rose and the surroundings grew bright again, only thin wisps of smoke rose from the smoldering wreckage of houses that had burned through the night. Before descending from the tree, Shu carefully checked the area. There were no soldiers in sight.
He entered the village and found exactly what he had feared.
Mutilated corpses lay scattered everywhere. The air was thick with the stench of charred flesh and the frozen expressions of agony on the dead.
He returned to where his house had stood. He found a charred lump that had probably once been his father. His mother's body was nowhere to be seen, but he wasn't optimistic enough to believe she had survived in this hell.
His grandmother's house, a short distance away, had not burned down but had been completely trashed. Her body had been hacked apart, covered in dark bruises from repeated beatings. Teeth — knocked out or broken from the blows — were scattered all over the floor.
He went to his friends' houses. Everywhere was the same.
The men's bodies showed clear signs of brutal violence — missing hands, missing feet, gouged-out eyes, or severed heads rolling on the ground. Many of the women's corpses were naked. Shu didn't understand why.
Is anyone still alive?
He wanted to shout, but instead he moved silently, careful not to make even the slightest sound.
"Even if you get lost in the mountains, never raise your voice."
The uncle who often took him hunting had told him that many times. Raising your voice was the same as announcing to every predator, "I'm right here!"
In this village, the same rule applied.
While he stood there in a daze, a horse-drawn carriage arrived. Thinking it might be the familiar traveling merchant, Shu approached, only to discover it was a slave trader. And not just any — a black-market one.
A man in his mid-thirties, with sharp eyes but a surprisingly gentle voice, stepped down from the carriage along with several guards. He asked Shu:
"Are there any other survivors?"
When Shu answered that there weren't any, the man told him to get in the carriage.
Shu obediently climbed aboard.
This must be a rescue team sent from the city, he thought.
The carriage wandered around the village for a while before heading toward a nearby town.
It was a town Shu had visited a few times before. When he poked his head out of the carriage to look around, one of the guards scolded him sharply.
"You must not look outside."
The merchant group bought food and supplies in the town, then immediately set off again. Shu had assumed he would be left under protection here, so he found it strange.
Shu: "Where are we going?"
The slave trader quietly replied, "Another town."
After three days of being jostled in the carriage, they arrived at a medium-sized port town.
During the journey, Shu remained quiet and well-behaved.
In truth, he simply didn't have the energy to act like a normal child. When he spoke to the slave trader, the man would only give short, simple answers and never engaged in casual conversation.
The carriage stopped at an inn on the outskirts of the port town, and Shu was taken to a room.
Slave trader: "We'll stay here tonight. Go take a bath before it gets dark. You smell terrible."
Shu did as he was told and took a bath, then waited for the trader to return.
There was a knock at the door. A different man entered carrying a meal.
"Leave the tray outside the door when you're finished eating."
With that, the man left the room.
After eating a proper meal for the first time in days, exhaustion and drowsiness overwhelmed Shu. He slipped into the bed, pulled the blanket over himself, and fell into a deep sleep.