The dawn broke cold and gray, casting a silvery light over the sprawling Qin camp pitched at the foot of the Zhao borderlands. The air was thick with anticipation — soldiers sharpening blades, horses pawing the earth nervously, and commanders poring over maps etched with red ink and trembling hands.
Ying Zheng sat cross-legged at the head of the war tent, his youthful face calm but eyes burning with intensity. Around him, a semi-circle of generals exchanged murmurs, their voices hushed but charged with urgency. The fate of Qin, and perhaps all of China, hung in the balance.
"Prince Ying Zheng," General Han said gruffly, "the Zhao forces outnumber us two to one. Their cavalry is swift and brutal. If we attack head-on, we risk total annihilation."
Ying Zheng nodded, absorbing every word. He traced the jagged river on the map, a natural barrier between the two armies. His fingers paused over a narrow mountain pass nearby — treacherous terrain, but a perfect place for an ambush.
Before he could speak, Li Mei stepped forward, her eyes sharp as a hawk's. "We must use the land to our advantage. The Zhao army trusts in their numbers and speed. If we lure them into the pass, our archers can rain death from above. The narrow space will neutralize their cavalry's strength."
A murmur of approval rippled through the generals, but General Han frowned. "Risky. If the Zhao scouts discover the trap, we'll be crushed."
Ying Zheng rose slowly, his voice steady and commanding. "Better to die with a plan than live shackled by fear. We strike at dawn."
As the commanders dispersed to prepare, Ying Zheng found Li Mei standing alone by the edge of the camp, her gaze fixed on the distant mountains.
"You're reckless," she said softly, but there was no anger in her voice. "One misstep, and this could all end in flames."
He met her eyes. "Reckless or bold, I have no choice. Our people suffer while these kingdoms fight for scraps. If we do not act now, the dream of unity dies."
Li Mei's hand brushed his arm, a gesture full of unspoken support. "Then let's make sure it lives."
---
That night, under a sky sprinkled with stars, the Qin soldiers moved silently through the rocky pass, their breath visible in the cold air. Hidden among jagged cliffs and dense pines, the archers took their positions, arrows nocked and ready.
Hours passed in tense silence. The distant beat of Zhao war drums grew louder, echoing off the stones like a summons to death.
Suddenly, a figure darted from the trees — a Zhao scout, unaware of the trap. An arrow hissed through the night and found its mark. Chaos erupted as the Zhao army plunged into the pass, only to be met with a deadly storm of arrows raining from above.
Ying Zheng's plan unfolded perfectly. The narrow pass became a slaughterhouse. Horses faltered on rocky ground, and soldiers fell in droves, trapped with no room to maneuver.
But as the sun rose blood-red over the mountains, a terrible cry pierced the battlefield.
"Li Mei!" Ying Zheng shouted, heart pounding.
Through the smoke and dust, he saw her fall, an arrow lodged in her shoulder, her face pale but determined.
Rushing to her side, he knelt, wiping dirt from her brow. "Hold on, Li Mei. We will win this day."
She gave a faint smile, the fire in her eyes undimmed. "For the dream, Ying Zheng. No matter the cost."
---
The battle won, the price paid.
As the wounded were tended and the dead buried beneath the cold earth, Ying Zheng stood atop a hill, gazing across the bloodied valley. Victory was his — but the war was far from over.
In that moment, the boy who wished for peace realized that power demanded sacrifice, and the line between friend and foe blurred beneath the crimson sky.
Tomorrow, the dream of unification would demand even more.