No one knew how much time had passed before William Thompson slowly woke up, feeling as if his head was splitting with pain. He found himself lying in a dark, damp room, with quite a few people lying around him. Just as he tried to sit up, a searing pain shot through his back. William Thompson couldn't help but reach behind to touch his back. In the corner of the room not far from him sat an old man, who, seeing William Thompson's confusion, couldn't help but say to him, "Don't touch it, child. That's the slave brand they burned onto you. It'll scab over in a few days."

"What! I'm a slave now?" William Thompson cried out in shock.

"Sigh! It's already a blessing to be alive. Accept your fate! We Song people are just that lowly. Child, what about your family?"

"My father was killed by the Jin soldiers. My mother and sister are nowhere to be found."

"If you didn't see their bodies, then they were taken away. With feet that small, where could they possibly run to!"

Suddenly, a wave of grief overwhelmed William Thompson. He could no longer hold back and collapsed to the ground, weeping bitterly.

"Ten years of life and death, so far apart; I do not think of it, yet it is hard to forget!"

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Chapter Two: Life as a Slave

The Jin Dynasty's Lintao Prefecture was a large city with a population of two hundred thousand, a key stronghold on the western border of the Jin. Although people of various ethnicities lived together here, by this time it was hard to distinguish between Jurchen and Han, and it was almost no different from the Song state. On the west side of Lintao Prefecture was a military slave market, specializing in selling slaves captured by the army from various places. In the past two days, there had already been several large slave auctions, and today the remaining old and weak slaves were to be auctioned off. The auction was presided over by a black-faced soldier, a minor officer in charge of logistics in the army. There were two wooden platforms at the auction site, surrounded by thick ropes. The eastern platform was for selling female slaves, with thirty or forty buyers or onlookers gathered below. Five or six young women from the Song Dynasty stood on the platform, waiting to be auctioned. The western platform was for selling men; the young ones had already been sold, leaving only a gaunt, emaciated boy and three elderly men on the verge of death.

That boy was none other than William Thompson. Over a month of slave life had left him tormented. Of the more than forty people captured with him, more than half had already died. The remaining dozen or so were sent to Lintao for auction. William Thompson was bound hand and foot with coarse rope, curled up in a corner, his eyes lifelessly watching the auction of the women across from him. Suddenly, William Thompson noticed a familiar face among the women being auctioned. Looking closely, it was actually Miss Carter. Her clothes had been torn in many places, exposing large areas of her fair, glistening skin. She stared blankly ahead with hollow eyes—the look of death. Miss Carter! William Thompson screamed in his heart. He immediately sat up, nervously watching the auction across from him.

"This girl has tender skin and delicate flesh. All the brothers in the army praised her. Now selling for twenty strings of cash—any takers?"

Hearing this, William Thompson felt as if struck by lightning. His already numb heart was suddenly wracked with pain, as if being gouged by a knife. Overwhelmed by intense hatred, he wanted to howl at the sky, but his mouth was gagged and he could not make a sound. The guard beside him noticed William Thompson's agitation, raised his whip, and lashed him hard, nearly whipping William Thompson into unconsciousness.

"Bastard! Are you looking for death?"

The angry shout drew the attention of those below the eastern platform. A sallow-faced, lame man in his forties glanced at William Thompson in surprise before slowly turning his face away. A man beside him teased:

"David Clark, you don't have a wife anyway. Why not buy this Song girl to warm your bed?"

"Hmph! That girl is clearly a young lady from a wealthy family. I can't afford her. I'm here to buy someone who can work."

As they spoke, a luxurious carriage pulled up, and a plump, middle-aged man got out.

"Look, someone from Cuihua Brothel is here. They're the real buyers."

The crowd below the platform parted to make way. The middle-aged man walked up and carefully examined the women, then pointed at Miss Carter and asked:

"How much is she?"

The soldier smiled and said:

"Harold King has a sharp eye, as always. This girl's skin is fair and she's very pretty. Fixed price, twenty strings of cash."

The man surnamed Yan sneered, "If she were a virgin, I'd pay fifty strings, but you've already ruined her like this. The most I'll offer is ten strings. Will you sell or not?"

"Harold King, you're bargaining too hard. This girl could earn you at least two hundred strings. Even at twenty, that's ten times your profit!"

"I'll pay at most ten strings. If you won't sell, I'll go elsewhere. Song slaves are for sale everywhere!" With that, he turned to leave.

"Alright, fifteen strings, and I'll throw in another one for free."

"Deal!"

The middle-aged man named Harold King went to the back to complete the transaction, then shoved Miss Carter and another woman onto the carriage and drove off. By now, the crowd below the platform had gradually dispersed. The sallow-faced, lame man slowly walked to the western platform, reached out to pull the rag from William Thompson's mouth, pried open his teeth for a look, and asked the guard, "How much?"

The black-faced officer came over and replied, "These are the leftovers, just a waste of food. If you want them, you can take them for two strings of cash."

The lame man nodded, took out two strings of paper money from his pocket, and handed them to the officer.

"I'll buy them!"

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