Part 2From the Ashes

The night Zane came to find me, Peyton called me over.

I had just entered his tent with my zither when I was pushed onto the table from behind. Peyton reached into my clothes with one hand and grabbed my neck with the other, forcing me to look up.

His kiss was like a violent storm, without tenderness.

I don't know what was wrong with him today; he was unusually rough, from the table to the bed, from night until dawn.

I was exhausted, lying weakly on the edge of the bed.

Peyton hugged me from behind and asked:

"I'm marrying the princess, and you're jealous?"

He paused for a moment and then said:

"What right do you have to be jealous of the princess? Rose, you're no longer the Capital's Peony."

This title hadn't been heard for a long time, and it inexplicably stirred up some memories.

Back then, I was quite famous in the capital.

Many sons of officials admired me, and Peyton was one of them.

Among those playboys, his way of pursuing me was particularly unconventional.

He would climb over my family's wall, risking a beating from my father, to place a dew-covered sprig of plum blossoms on my windowsill.

On the Lantern Festival, he bribed the girls in the brothel in advance. When my sisters and I passed by, those girls leaned on the railing upstairs, waving handkerchiefs of various colors that together formed the word "Rose."

My parents and brother cursed him for being rude.

But they didn't know that night I looked up at him, the stars were shining, and he leaned among the girls, showing a mouthful of white teeth, smiling freely and casually.

My heart missed a beat.

At that time, the war between Chen and Dayan had just begun, and many sons of noble families were sent to the battlefield to gain experience.

Peyton was among them.

They hurried to the battlefield. I didn't have time, nor the position, to see him off.

But that morning, I still saw a fresh sprig of red plum blossoms on the windowsill.

There was a note underneath, in handwriting as bold and unrestrained as he was.

——"Wait for me to achieve success and fame, then I will come back to marry you."

I didn't wait for his return.

My father was charged with a serious crime because he stood on the wrong side, and our home was raided.

My father and brother died, and my mother committed suicide.

I was the only one left, thrown into the military camp as a prostitute.

The first night, dozens of men broke in, cornering me like hungry wolves.

"This is the Capital's Peony, the unattainable Rose."

"I heard many sons in the capital wanted to marry her. She really is beautiful!"

"Today, let's brothers break her in..."

A despair I had never felt before enveloped me.

I was trembling all over and couldn't move, thinking I should just let it happen. Death seemed like a good option.

Suddenly, someone in silver armor broke in, a bloody spear blocking in front of me, shielding me from those disgusting gazes.

"You dare to touch my person?"

"You're courting death!"

Three years later, seeing Peyton again, he was darker and thinner, and a scar on the side of his face made him look a bit fierce.

But facing me, he hugged me tightly, as if he had found a lost treasure:

"Thank goodness, you're alright."

Because of lingering fear, his hands were still trembling slightly.

Afraid that I would get sick in this environment, Peyton asked me to move to his tent and took me to the nearby stream and grassland to relax whenever he had time.

He knew I loved the zither. He found one somewhere in this remote place and placed it on my bed like a treasure.

I played a song for him, and his smile was as refreshing as a spring breeze.

"Hearing Rose play a song, death is worth it."

At that time, I really thought I could entrust my life to him.

Peyton was very capable. In just one year, he achieved great military exploits and was promoted rapidly.

With his protection, no one dared to have ideas about me.

He socialized more and more late with those generals. Occasionally, they would call some young and beautiful military prostitutes to drink and feast in the main tent.

I could hear those unbearable sounds. At first, I deceived myself thinking Peyton was definitely not one of them.

Until he suddenly roughly turned me over on the bed, lying on the edge of the bed in a humiliating posture.

I realized what he was going to do and instinctively pushed him away.

He frowned:

"This isn't okay either? They... forget it, go to sleep."

He went to take a shower in frustration and slept holding me as usual.

But my mind was full of the sentence he didn't finish.

They are all okay.

They are all military prostitutes, why aren't you?

My heart sank to the bottom.

The battles were frequent, Peyton was running around every day, and he came to see me less and less.

A bold soldier mistakenly thought I had been abandoned, sneaked into my tent in the middle of the night, covered my mouth and nose tightly, and pressed his foul-smelling mouth against me. I struggled in panic and was slapped in the face by him.

In an instant, my ears were buzzing, and my mind went blank.

Fortunately, Peyton returned in time. He kicked the man away and held me in his arms.

I thought he had dealt with that scoundrel, but a few days later, I saw that man again.

He stood in front of the roasted sheep unscathed, laughing with others:

"How could General Peyton really turn against me for a whore? He even treated me to a drink, saying women are like clothes, and the friendship with brothers is life-and-death."

"That chick is really tender. It's a pity I didn't get her. When I have a chance, I must screw her."

Meeting my eyes, he licked the corner of his mouth, disgusting to the extreme.

The nightmarish scene appeared before my eyes again.

I was terrified and asked Peyton about it.

At that time, he was reading a book at the desk. Hearing this, his beautiful brows frowned slightly.

He pulled me to sit on his lap and stroked the back of my neck with his hand.

"Rose, personally, his uncle is my deputy general and saved my life. I can't punish him."

"Officially... what reason should I use to deal with him? Bullying a military prostitute?"

I stared at him blankly.

His hand had already reached under my skirt, flippant and casual.

Confused by passion, he comforted me saying:

"You are mine. I will definitely not let others bully you. Wear more clothes when you go out of the tent in the future..."

I felt like I knew the man in front of me for the first time.

From then on, I knew men were unreliable. To escape this hell, I had to rely on myself.