The Girl with Golden Eyes
I got lucky during my stroll through Handan. Despite her tiny frame, she moved with astonishing speed—I nearly lost her. If I had chosen the wrong path at that fork, I would be trudging back to the mansion right now with heavy, exhausted steps. It was fortunate my hunch proved correct: with a body that small, she would have taken the narrow alley.
Anyway, I kept turning over the meaning of the characters the girl, Jeong, had written. Jeong… That’s a beautiful name. It wasn’t empty praise. It truly was one of my favorite characters. The one that meant “correct” or “just”—I often used it to steady my mind before practicing calligraphy. Five simple strokes. Its form was as neat as its meaning, and no matter how many times I wrote it on any sheet of paper, it never lost that distinctive clarity.
My words must have embarrassed her, because Jeong answered in a voice that shrank away, making her earlier fierce shout at our first meeting seem like a distant memory.
“It’s just… I was born in the first lunar month, so that’s how they named me.”
“The first month. It does carry that meaning too.”
Come to think of it, the first lunar month was right now. “So your birthday was this month?”
“…I don’t know. I only heard it was in the first month.”
That made sense. In times as harsh as these, only people of truly high status could afford to celebrate birthdays properly. It was an era that honored the day of death far more than the day of birth—an age in which how one died shaped their legacy more than how one lived.
Then again, is the future really so different?
Yet for me, whose memories of my previous life still burned stronger, a birthday remained a joyous occasion worth celebrating and remembering.
“If I’d known I would meet you today, I would have brought a birthday present.”
“Huh?”
My words must have sounded strange. Jeong’s large eyes widened into perfect circles. Seeing her this close, I finally understood. Beneath the layers of dirt and soot, Jeong was genuinely adorable. Even as a child, her features were already strikingly clear. That straight nose and the gentle lift at the corners of her eyes radiated a powerful presence even without any grooming, hinting at a bright future. If she had been born in the twenty-first century, I would have bet my entire fortune that companies would line up to make her a child model.
“But giving you the clothes I’m wearing now would feel awkward since they’re used, wouldn’t it?”
Jeong kept blinking, still unable to follow. I chuckled softly. At our first meeting she had glared with such venom and shouted so fiercely. Yet she could also look at me with eyes this pure and innocent. She really was just a child. No matter how cruel the world she had fallen into, a child’s innocence refused to vanish completely.
“Let’s do this. The first lunar month ends in five days, so four days from now—just before it ends—we’ll meet here again. I’ll bring a present then.”
“Meet again? With me?”
Jeong looked as though she could not believe what she was hearing. More precisely, she seemed unable to understand why I would show her such kind interest.
In truth, I had not intended to be this friendly with the child, Jeong. My original reason for searching for her had been pure curiosity. I had been drawn by those mysterious golden eyes and puzzled over why she had called me a traitor. That was all.
But the moment I actually met her, none of those questions mattered anymore.
The girl had curled herself into as tight a ball as she could manage. The small clothes that did not fit her frame were torn in several places and could barely serve their purpose. No matter how deeply she hunched, the dark red and purple bruises covering her body remained visible. They were not the sort of marks one received from falling or bumping into things. They were traces of deliberate violence.
Who could have done it? Who would carve such malice into a small, fragile body that seemed to offer no place worth striking? The guards who punished vagrants? Street thugs? Beggars trying to protect their territory? No. None of them.
No matter how poor she appeared, the clothes Jeong wore were silk. She had been born to nobility. Even if she had fallen into poverty, that status could resurface at any moment through old connections. It was not as if they could not have overpowered her with force, so such ruthless violence was utterly foolish. A simple show of strength to drive her away would have sufficed.
Then who? There was only one possibility. The reason a child of noble birth would choose to venture out into the cold streets.
Domestic abuse. Parental violence. The scars and bruises on Jeong’s body had almost certainly been left by her parents.
A child abandoned by the very people who should have protected her above all others would surely carry unconditional resentment toward the world, all while desperately longing for someone—anyone—to look at her with kindness.
The wary gaze she had turned on me. Yet within that wariness, the clear thirst for affection. Every part of it spoke of Jeong’s heart.
Once I realized that, I could not turn away from the child’s wounds. The meager pity I had once hoped to receive from Lord Pingyuan was now ruling my own heart. Sympathy, compassion, tenderness… those feelings pulled me forward. The person I had been in my previous life—the one who watched news reports of child abuse and domestic violence and thought with aching regret, If only I had been there—was whispering inside me. Telling me not to ignore her.
And one more thing…
Before the thought could finish, a hand shook my shoulder and yanked me back to the present.
“I’m asking you! Answer me! Is it true or not?”
As Jeong pressed me for a reply, voices calling my name drifted from the distance. It was truly time to go back.
I looked straight into Jeong’s eyes and nodded firmly.
“It’s true. I promise. Four days from now, at this same time and place, just like today.”
“…Yes!”
Her clear eyes shimmered with unshed tears as she smiled beautifully and nodded with all her strength.
“They’re looking for me. I have to go now.”
The instant I rose, a small hand clutched the hem of my robe. Jeong gripped it so tightly her fingers turned white, as if begging me not to leave. I did not pull away. I simply met her gaze and waited quietly. Slowly, Jeong loosened her grip and let go. Then she slipped off the fur coat that had been draped over her shoulders and held it out to me.
“Here. Take it back.”
“…All right.”
What a mature child. A child forced to grow up far too soon. That maturity, so unlike a child’s, made my heart ache even more. If only she had acted her age, perhaps my heart would have felt a little lighter.
I put the returned fur coat back on and left the alley. After parting with Jeong, I walked toward the voices calling my name with growing urgency.
The moment Seok saw me, he rushed over in a panic, dropped to his knees, and began checking me for injuries. Only after confirming I was unharmed did he release the breath he had been holding and press his forehead to the ground.
“I failed in my duty to attend the young master. Please punish me!”
After I had run off on my own, punishing them for failing to attend me would have been ridiculous. Naturally, I had no intention of punishing them. I quickly tried to pull Seok to his feet. But the strength of a ten-year-old was hardly enough to lift a sturdy man like him. As I grunted and tugged at the motionless Seok, Hyu—who had arrived late—prostrated himself beside him.
In the end I gave up on raising them physically and chose to scold them with words instead. When I demanded whether they meant to ignore my order, the two finally stood and obeyed.
“Today’s events are a secret. Understood?”
“However…”
“Tsk! Nothing happened, so we simply stay quiet. This is an order, so do not speak a word of it to Han Jing either.”
“…Yes, young master.”
Only after making Seok and Hyu swear absolute silence did we return to the residence. On the way back, Seok asked cautiously.
“Um, young master.”
“Yes?”
“While you were separated from us, did anything happen? Your expression looks quite heavy.”
“Ah, no. It’s nothing. I’m fine, so don’t worry too much. And you know—not a word to Han Jing, right?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Good.”
Just as Seok said, even I could tell my face had grown dark. I was picking up the thread of thought that Jeong had interrupted when she shook me.
The moment she had written the character on the ground to tell me her name, I had understood. I knew why Jeong had called me a traitor.
Jeong (正). It is a simple character, so its shape does not differ greatly between states. However…
The character written on the ground was definitely not in Zhao script. Its form was one I knew very well.
Why would Jeong use the writing of another state instead of Zhao? The answer is simple. Because Jeong is not from Zhao. She is also a hostage, just like me. And her country of origin is most likely…
Qin. The style of characters I recognized belonged to Qin.
I wondered what thoughts had passed through the mind of the Qin hostage named Jeong when she heard about me, the hostage sent from Yan. A person like herself. Perhaps she had thought I was the only one in the world who could understand her.
That must be why Jeong had risked danger to slip out alone and meet me.
Now that I knew the full story, I could not choose any other path.
But if I help Jeong…
I squeezed my eyes shut. My mind was a hopeless tangle.