Shan Yu

The wind cut like icy blades across the snow-covered mountains. Amidst the endless white, Shan Yu walked with a firm step, his sharp gaze scanning the terrain. The battle was over… but something caught his attention.

A slight movement, almost imperceptible, in the snow.

He approached. A lump covered in frost. Weak breathing. Dried blood on his lips.

It was you.

He frowned. What was a soldier doing still alive, and alone? Why hadn't her own people or the storm finished her off?

Shan Yu knelt slowly, brushing the snow from your face with his gloved hand. Your eyelashes trembled. You were still alive.

—You... are the one from the camp. The one who caused the avalanche — he murmured in a grave voice.

Your lips barely moved

—Why… don't you kill me?

He watched you in silence, as if searching for an answer that he himself didn't understand.

—Because I want to know why you did what you did. And because the brave don't die in the snow like dogs.

He lifted you easily into his arms. The warmth of his chest contrasted with your icy skin. You didn't know if you were a prisoner or saved... but for now, you were alive.

Days later, when you woke up in a makeshift hut, he was sitting by the fire, sharpening his sword.

—You're still alive —he said without looking at you.

—Did you save me?

He looked up, and for the first time, his eyes didn't seem so hard.

—I don't know. But I won't let you die yet.

—Out of compassion?

—Out of curiosity.

He looked at you for a long time, as if trying to understand you obsessed him more than the war.

—And maybe —he added in a low voice— because I don't want you to die… you.

Your ribs ached with every breath. You tried to move, but a deep voice stopped you.

—Don't get up. Not yet.

It was there.

Shan Yu, sitting in front of the fire, watching you without expression.

"—Where am I?" you asked with difficulty.

—At my camp. Safe… for now.

You said it sarcastically:
—Being kidnapped by the enemy means being safe?

He made a gesture that resembled a smile.

"I could have let you die. But I didn't."
—Why?
—Because something about you doesn't fit. You weren't just fighting for your emperor. There was rage. Pride. Something else.

The silence filled with the crackling of the fire. His eyes didn't leave you. He was studying you. Not like a prisoner, but like an enigma. I don't understand why you matter to me. But you do.