As days turned into nights, the war captives at last reached the imperial capital of Chang'an. What met the young boy's eyes was not the grand procession welcoming a triumphant general, nor the jeering crowds hurling refuse or stones. It wasn't even the distant sight of the imperial clan. Instead, it was the execution of Goguryeo rebels who had infiltrated the court. Warm blood splattered across the square, and the heads of strangers tumbled haphazardly. His mother quickly covered his eyes, but it was too late. The boy had seen it all. The image of swords cleaving through the necks of those adults froze him to the core. His body trembled uncontrollably, and his mind was a blur, unable to discern any pronouncements of their guilt.
"Mother, will we suffer the same fate?"
"No, dear. We are but ordinary Goguryeo commoners, not involved in the war like those officials and royals," his mother explained, her voice trembling. She too was equally afraid. She pulled her young son into her embrace, soothing him. "We are but tribute folk. As long as we behave well and obey commands, we will certainly not be executed."
"And what are we doing here, Mother?"
"I am not certain myself. Perhaps we will be sold into slavery, or sent to mine ore in some distant land. Are you afraid?"
"No, I am not afraid. As long as I am with you, Mother, I fear nothing," the young boy insisted, burying his face in her chest and tightening his embrace until bone pressed against bone. Both mother and son were filthy, having not bathed for months, smelling of stale sweat like the other captives. Yet, in that moment, they felt no revulsion, only the deepest sense of warmth and comfort.
Once the executions concluded, all thousand captives were herded into a wide square, guarded by soldiers who shouted insults and cracked their whips nearby. The mother and son held each other tighter, for it was time for the captives to be called forward, their fates to be decided: who would become a mine laborer, who would be sold into slavery, or who would be sent to the imperial palace. However, the boy observed that only a small number were designated to serve the masters within the Forbidden City.
"Mother, where will you go? Can I go with you? I do not want to leave you." The child's instinct told him this was a crucial moment in their lives, one that would determine whether he and his mother would remain together.
"I do not know either," she said, her eyes welling with tears. She tried to swallow her sobs, smiling for her son to show him that everything would be alright. "Can you promise me that you will obey Mother's commands?"
"I promise." His small hands squeezed her rough ones tightly.
"Whether you and I are sent to the same place or not, you must continue to live. Live well, and obey those in power and with titles. If you do well and are good at surviving, perhaps one day you and I will meet again."
"What do you mean, Mother?"
"You may not understand now, but remember to survive well. Do not resist, and obey your masters' commands, just as you obey Mother's. Do you understand?"
"But those people are not you, Mother. How can I obey them?"
"If you do not obey, both you and I might be beheaded or whipped to death, never to see each other again. But if you are a good child and your masters are fond of you, then perhaps we might meet again."
"So, if I obey and am a good child, I might see you again?" She already knew her son was clever and learned quickly, remembering after just a few lessons. Normally, children his age would be playing with others in the village, mischievously climbing trees or coming home with scrapes from being teased. Yet her son helped with household chores, helping her gather vegetables daily to earn enough to survive. In the afternoons, she would impart knowledge, teaching him to write characters and read books. The boy was diligent, copying texts as she instructed. In truth, had they not been impoverished, she would have wished to send her son to a school. But fate had played its cruel trick first, and her only son had lost the opportunity for formal education. She could only impart her knowledge to him herself.
"Yes, dear. This will be a temporary parting, not a separation forever."
"And how long must I wait until I see you again?" At this, the young boy began to dimly grasp the situation. Clear tears streamed down his face, but he roughly wiped them away with the back of his hand, attempting to show the resilience of a man who does not easily weep. Yet, no matter how much he wiped, the tears would not stop, until his mother could not resist caressing his smooth cheek with her thumb.
"Mother, I cannot say. But I will try my best too."
"Mother, do not think negatively yet. Perhaps we will be sent to the same place."
"Yes, dear. I hope so too."
She gave the boy the most beautiful smile before being called to report. The young boy tried to hold onto his mother's hand, but the soldiers pulled them apart, unable to grasp even her fingertips.
The boy fixed his gaze on the back he had looked upon for eight years. A fragile yet infinitely warm back. Those hands had nurtured him into manhood. The wide smiles and laughter when mother and son caught a big fish. All those beautiful memories would soon cease to be.
His eyes welled with tears. The boy blinked rapidly to clear his vision, to make the image before him sharper. He watched his mother converse with someone dressed in silk, like the court officials. His mother knelt, answering questions deferentially. He heard nothing of what she said. Soon after, his mother was dragged away by soldiers. She turned back, offering a small smile to her son one last time.