LITMIR.BIZ

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first time, what that reason might be.

      Yulong Fort, China

      Kuang’s breath came out in strangled gasps. Snot hung from his nose and a rich, thick phlegm gathered in his throat. He wanted to stop and hawk it up but that would mean giving up his slender lead over the other runners, and that lead was too precious. Corporal Chen was waiting for him at the top of the hill. By the time he reached him, Kuang’s thighs felt fit to burst, but he was still first and hoped for a word of praise from the corporal.

      “Too slow, hurry up,” the corporal snarled, pushing him on down the shingle slope.

      Two more soldiers were close behind. Kuang lengthened his stride to get away from them and fought the urge to look behind. It would only slow him down. The crunch of their footsteps told him they were only a few paces back. The temptation was too strong. Unable to resist, he stole a glance behind. They looked as tired as he was. It was good to know.

      He reached a deserted farm building and scrambled over the outer wall. Earlier he had vaulted the same wall in a single leap, but this was his second lap of the training ground and this time he was forced to grit his teeth and haul himself up slowly. He lay across the top of the wall for a moment, wondering breathlessly how much longer he could keep up his furious pace.

      The next two runners began to help one another to climb the wall. He despised them. He did not need help. He would be first, the best, the only one to get round the course unaided. He jumped down and set off again through thick mud that sucked at his feet, sapping his strength with each step. A pool of black water came into view. The stench pierced his nostrils. The place had once been a cesspit. More recently it had been allowed to fill with rainwater and Corporal Chen had thrown in rocks and tree branches to make it more difficult to cross.

      Kuang jumped in up to his waist and felt his feet sink into the sludge. By the time he had reached the center of the pool, the water was at his chest and the stench had become unbearable. The first time he had crossed, he had succeeded in holding his breath, but this time he was too tired. He took a gulp of the foul air and retched. Nothing came up except a streak of yellow bile. He had not eaten for hours.

      Corporal Chen was waiting on the far side of the pool. Kuang could see him beckoning and hear the insults ringing out across the water: he was too slow, too lazy, a disgrace to his parents, his ancestors, and all the soldiers who had served in the imperial Chinese army throughout the ages.

      Was it true, he wondered? He was trying his best, like most of the others in his troop. They had not asked to join the army. They were not the elite cavalry that was winning glorious victories against the barbarians on the steppes. They were conscripts, little more than boys, stationed in a remote fort on the border with Tibet, a thousand li from civilization. A thousand li from home.

      Corporal Chen was still shouting insults in his ear as he dragged himself from the water and stumbled along the gravel path to the remains of an old barn. The building had burned down years ago, leaving only crumbling outer walls and blackened timbers of the roof. He scaled the wall and climbed the first roof strut, ignoring the splinters that dug deeply into his hands. By the time he had reached the main crossbeam, the two soldiers behind him were at the wall. From their grunts and groans, he could tell they were suffering too, and smiled grimly to himself. They would not catch him. Not today.

      He was near the end of the crossbeam when he noticed four dark shapes passing beneath him, four soldiers, crawling on their hands and knees to avoid being seen by Corporal Chen.

      “Hey, you’re cheating!” he yelled, searching frantically for Corporal Chen, but the corporal was nowhere to be seen.

      He jumped down and chased after the four who had stolen his lead. He saw them by a pile of logs at the bottom a grassy slope. The soldiers hefted a log onto their shoulders and set off up the hill. He grabbed a log of his own and hurried after them, his curses lost in his deep gasps for air. Soon he began to catch the last of the four. When he was close enough, he drove his log into the soldier’s back, sending him sprawling. The soldier lay in the grass, too weary to get up, his log rolling down the hill.

      “You’ll pay for that, Kuang,” he snarled.

      Kuang ignored him and hurried after the next man, who he recognized as Tsun. Tsun was big and powerful. During his short time in the barracks, he had already begun to intimidate the weaker conscripts. Kuang had kept out of Tsun’s way, but he now was too angry to care and jammed his log into Tsun’s knee.

      Tsun stumbled and dropped his log with a curse but recovered instantly, spun around and smashed his fist into Kuang’s face. Kuang fell. His log landed on top of him. The punch had caught him on the nose and his vision misted over. He struggled to get to his feet, but was dazed by the punch. Tsun kicked him hard in the ribs. He rolled away, hoping to make some distance and let his head clear, but Tsun was too quick and pinned him on his back against the hillside. He saw Tsun’s black outline against the white sky, his fist pulled back for the first of many punches.

      They never came.

      Corporal Chen wrapped Tsun’s arm expertly behind his back and dragged him off. “Plenty of time for that later,” he said grimly, shoving Tsun away to fetch his log. Then he turned to Kuang. “I saw what you did, Kuang. Do fifty push-ups here and another lap of the course. Then rejoin us at the bottom of the hill.”

      Kuang was about to protest, but the look on the corporal’s face changed his mind. He turned on his front to begin his push-ups. He was exhausted, and after five, his arms began to tremble. He gritted his teeth and continued to ten. Corporal Chen stood over him, waiting for him to stop or rest. “Why were you cheating, Kuang? It brings you no reward. I see everything you do. You have only disgraced yourself and dishonored your parents, your ancestors …” The corporal continued, but his words faded into the distance as Kuang slipped away to a place where nothing could reach him. He was too proud to stop or rest, and with the corporal standing over him, he would do all the push-ups. At any other time, fifty would be easy, but now, with his strength gone, he knew the pain would be immense. The only way to get through it would be to take his mind somewhere far away.

      He lowered himself to do another push up. A blade of the coarse mountain grass pricked his forehead. He turned to the side, but as he lowered himself again, it tickled his cheek. It reminded him of a place and a childhood he had left behind, and all but forgotten. He followed the memory until it led him to another hillside far from the barren wilderness of Yulong Fort. He was back in the rolling green landscape of his homeland in Hubei. His friends were there, at the top of the hill, beckoning to him. He set off up the slope to meet them, but as he did, they turned and ran away. He could no longer see them, but he could hear their laughter on the wind. He ran hard to reach the brow of the hill and see where they had gone. He pushed harder, counting each step up the slope: twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine … he was on high ground and the wind roared in his ears … thirty-two, thirty-three, thirty-four … The sun appeared over the brow of the hill and shone so brightly that he couldn’t see. Still he pushed on … forty-five, forty-six, forty-seven. Time slowed. His counting slowed, almost to a stop, but not quite. Forty-eight. His nostrils were filled with the smell of the grass, a scent so powerful it cut off his breath. Forty-nine. His eyes were screwed shut against the sun and he was running blind. He was almost there.

      Fifty. He had reached the summit.

      His vision returned slowly. He rolled onto his back and stared up at the white sky, then sat up and looked for Corporal Chen. The corporal had gone, and only his voice could be heard in the distance, cursing the other soldiers. Kuang rose and walked up the hill slowly, his arms limp by his sides. When he reached the top he realized something was missing. He had left his log behind. If Corporal Chen saw him without it, he would only add to his punishment. He went back to retrieve it.

      When he reached the top again, he saw the others had finished the course and the corporal had marked out a square on the ground. The soldiers had removed their tunics and were wrapping their hands in rough strips of sackcloth. He made his way down the hill to join them, wondering what was happening. When he arrived Corporal Chen yelled at him furiously. “What are you doing here, Kuang? Go round the course again like I told you. I’ll

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