An emperor stumbles into disaster, and if a minister directly points out his mistake and criticizes him for it, that official’s career is finished right there.

If someone rushes forward to tell His Majesty, “Use my method and the problem will be solved immediately,” that official won’t last long either—he might even earn the emperor’s hatred.

So you’re clever, and that makes me look like a witless pig?

All emperors are fickle and dark-hearted creatures. While he’s asking something of you, he won’t say a word against you—he might even treat you so well that if your family’s walnut-cracking hammer breaks, he’ll gift you one made of pure gold to use. But once the hardship passes and the emperor’s days grow easy again, he might not want to look at you at all.

Yang Zao wasn’t foolish. He didn’t currently suffer from any “emperor’s disease,” and having just come down from the battlefield, he was an emperor well-versed in actual combat over many years—he understood strategy. Even so… it took She Qingling two full days to guide him toward a plan, one that could be presented as though the sovereign himself had devised it.

Behead the Gongji Tan King, and stir up a succession struggle among the Tan people’s heirs.

Past Zuoliang Pass lay the Tan River, and the land the river flowed through was called Gongji. Gongji wasn’t a nation—it was a naturally formed seat of tribal authority. At the source of that river, in that stretch of land, stood the Sun Palace worshipped by all Tan people. The sun god dwelt there, and the Gongji Tan King slept at the sun god’s feet.

It was a palace. The Gongji Tan King worshipped the sun god in the mornings and administered the tribes in the afternoons. Unlike the rulers of Great Liang, who wanted to control and know everything, the Gongji Tan King collected offerings on behalf of the people to commune with the god, merely assisting the tribes and mediating disputes—like the core of a people, holding profound meaning for the Tan.

Only the greatest of the Tan could become Gongji Tan King—he was the son of the god. The Tan people said their homeland was the first land touched by the rising sun, that they were born noble, and that the greatest warrior among them must carry the true god’s bloodline, acknowledged by the divine. “Gongji” meant “son of the god”—the collective father of all Tan people.

Though the people of Great Liang viewed the Tan as savages without civilization or propriety, they too had their own traditions. The Tan possessed an innate wildness; they didn’t place much weight on bloodline, but worshipped whoever was strongest among them as king.

As for succession: when the old Gongji King died in the Sun Palace, the attendants serving him would hang his severed head on high, so the sun god could more easily carry away his son’s spirit. From that moment, every tribal chief among the Tan gained the right of succession. They had to return to the Sun Palace and engage in individual combat—not tied to their tribes—in order to become the collective father. In short, it was the law of the wolf pack.

Such combat wasn’t mere brawling—it also tested one’s capacity to govern the tribes… And so the Gongji Tan King was inevitably the strongest of all, matchless in both might and wisdom, revered by every Tan as something close to a demigod.

In sum, guided by She Qingling, His Majesty pondered at length on his own and finally—through his own brilliant wisdom—arrived at this ingenious, world-shaking scheme: dispatch assassins to behead the Gongji King, ignite a succession war among the Tan, and buy Great Liang time to recover.

The emperor mustered his forces, selecting the four command-bearers of Jiu Si Tang led by Xie Wuhao, along with his most trusted chief scout, Chen Dasheng, and six others.

Looked at another way, this mission carried enormous risk—but wealth and honor are sought amid danger, and it wasn’t without its advantages.

Both Chen Dasheng and She Qingling understood clearly: if Lao Dao and the others wanted to be valued by generations of rulers to come, if they wanted to rise higher in the future, they needed accomplishments earned independently, lodged in the emperor’s heart. After all, their past service under the Tan family army had already been repaid in kind by the emperor.

As for whether the mission would fail, whether men would die—that could no longer be a consideration. Before the survival of the nation, matters of the heart had to be set aside. She Qingling had made his peace with this. Chen Dasheng had made even greater peace with it.

As for Qiqian’er—she would surely be devastated. But if Chen Dasheng didn’t go, who would? When it came to small-unit combat capability, who in all of Great Liang could rival Lao Dao?

Spring’s warmth crept slowly back, and Qiqian’er sank into gloom, wanting to do nothing, unable to shake her feelings. She had the servants hitch the carriage and send her back to Qingfeng.

Passing through the Liushi Kou intersection, they heard a commotion and called for the carriage to stop, rolling down the window to listen to traveling merchants from the border weeping out the news from that region.

The news was heartbreaking to hear, enough to enrage anyone who caught wind of it.

The merchant said they’d fled into the forest the moment they got word, in the dead of night. The Tan, riding horses taller than a man, had passed along the forest’s edge. They were clever—they knew people might be hiding there—and laughing, they’d set the woods ablaze, listening to the screams outside as they drank.

The merchant’s face had been burned horribly, still unhealed, still weeping pus and blood. He didn’t cry, didn’t speak of the men who’d died—he simply ground his teeth and described, instead, how the women and children of Great Liang had been violated… The suffering of women and children always doubled the grief, and some scholars rose in righteous fury, wanting to demand an explanation from the court.

And so the blocked street emptied out—half the street’s worth of people surging toward the palace of Great Liang, begging their sovereign: Send troops! Save your people!

These past days, Minister of War Sun Shouyi had been standing on the city walls daily, spreading false reassurances—that the court was mobilizing troops, that provisions were being gathered everywhere, that the great army would march any day now, that His Majesty was furious and had sworn to avenge the people of Great Liang, that the Tan would be cut to a thousand pieces.

The people wept with gratitude, bowed to thank their sovereign, and dispersed.

Such scenes had played out daily of late. Aside from a handful of key ministers, officials throughout the court now believed the great army truly was about to march…

To calm the people’s hearts, every morning fake grain carts rolled through Yanjing’s main street, bound—supposedly—for the garrisons stationed near the capital.

In the camps, soldiers drilled fervently, their battle cries shaking the heavens, hearts burning with rage, ready to march at any moment…

Qiqian’er’s carriage rolled slowly on. As one of the few who knew the truth, she found herself puzzled—why had her father and Chen Dasheng told her the real situation? Did they think she had a heart of steel?

The imperial city grew larger and larger as Qingfeng stretched farther and farther away. She used to think forty li was quite a distance, but with so much traffic back and forth, the road never felt lonely, and before she knew it the carriage had entered Qingfeng’s outskirts.

Chunfen, driving the carriage, glanced back without thinking and said through the window, “Madam, it seems the young master is behind us.”

Qiqian’er’s hearing was sharp—of course she knew. The moment she’d left the house, that man had mounted his horse and silently followed the whole way.

You feel guilty, but what good does following do?

He was the sort of clumsy, honest fool who didn’t know how to say a single sweet word. It wasn’t that the man was bad—it was that these days, seeing his face, she wanted to grind him into the mud, even though she couldn’t really say he was a bad man.

He was a great hawk with a vast heart, born unable to simply be an ordinary man—only able to keep soaring higher and higher.

And yet she still hated him. Hated him enough to want to bite straight into his flesh, drink his blood, and eat him raw just to feel satisfied.

Still, these past few days Qiqian’er had noticed her own feelings had shifted. In both her lives, the Chen family had bought her. Last time, when Chen Dasheng left, she had nearly died of despair. This time, she wasn’t afraid—she simply felt resentment.

When Chunfen mentioned the “clueless pig” following them, Qiqian’er said flatly, “Just drive. Don’t mind him.”

Chunfen wasn’t the least bit afraid of the master of the house—he only obeyed the mistress. So he snapped the reins and drove the carriage on into the city.

Qingfeng was a city that had suffered great wounds. It had no walls left, had lost its water source, yet the old city remained crowded with enough people—refugees from elsewhere who didn’t want to return home had settled here, deciding to put down roots.

They weren’t necessarily poor, either—after all, fleeing one’s hometown with family in tow meant carrying generations’ worth of assets on one’s back.

Now the old city of Qingfeng was filled with such people—not looking particularly wealthy, honest and hardworking, speaking with outsiders’ accents, with no relatives nearby. They’d spent everything to buy cheap old houses in the old city and set up stalls all over Qingfeng, selling traditional recipes from every corner of the land.

Siyue loved watching this scene most; she donated most of her monthly allowance right here. Qiqian’er hadn’t noticed anything odd, but today Siyue found things strange.

She asked curiously, “Madam, why aren’t the vendors calling out today?” Then sighed, “The pine-nut candy man is gone too.”

Qiqian’er leaned over to look. In the area outside Qingfeng that used to bustle so lively, today there were fewer vendors, fewer calls—the refugees, still like startled birds with wounds unhealed, huddled in corners murmuring quietly.

The little maid had a face like a peach blossom, her hair done in twin looped buns adorned with silk-wrapped pink apricot blossoms. Beneath her ears hung the cheapest silver bell earrings from Yanjing’s gold shop, worth six hundred coins. She was Qiqian’er’s senior maid—besides what the Chen household gave her and the extra from the princely estate, she always managed to receive unexpected rewards too, averaging three or four strings of cash a month.

A girl this young shouldn’t have suffered so much, yet it was as if the world owed her a debt—whenever she had money in hand, she couldn’t stop buying snacks to compensate herself, going out looking like the pampered daughter of some wealthy landowning family.

Perhaps worried in her heart, as the carriage rocked along, she looked at Qiqian’er with pleading eyes, as if seeking reassurance. “Madam, do you think there’ll really be a war tomorrow?”

Qiqian’er smiled, reached out, and took her hand. “Don’t be afraid… This is Great Liang’s dynasty…”

Yes. This was the Great Liang dynasty.

In her previous life, it had been the same—the whole nation panicked for over a year, with people saying every day that the Tan were coming, the Tan were coming. She had been so afraid she’d secretly hoarded grain and silver, dug pits all over Baiquan Mountain to bury elm-bark flour… but in the end the Tan never came… Now, though, she felt less certain. Great Liang’s cities had actually fallen this time.

A commotion rose from the road ahead. Chunfen tugged the reins to slow the horse, and Qiqian’er lifted the carriage curtain to see Kong Xiangchun, Dou Yonglun, Qu Yingfang, and a group of young masters from Qinwei Lane, cricket cages tucked under their arms, sweeping past amid a crowd of finely dressed young men.

Yu Shoutian, who used to play with them, had already begun training hard in martial combat at the Jinwu Guard.

Shoutian was still a boy who could endure hardship—Choutou said that among all the noble sons in the Jinwu Guard, Shoutian wasn’t the sharpest, but he was steady and honest, and their commanding instructor liked him best of all.

After that group of young masters had run off into the distance, a gong sounded from a gambling den, and Qiqian’er caught sight of two people.

She said to Chunfen, “Slow the horse, stop here a moment.”

Chunfen halted the carriage. Qiqian’er handed Siyue a string of copper coins, and Siyue hopped down and dashed toward the candy shop—the old lady at home always woke with a bitter mouth and loved to wrap a piece of the local taffy in cloth, not even biting it, just letting it soften in her mouth for an hour, still half a piece left when she opened her mouth.

Those who’d known true hardship savored candy that way—not even the wealthy had that much patience.

Seeing his wife’s carriage had stopped, Chen Dasheng nudged his horse forward a few steps. From atop his mount, his eye immediately caught a shoe stall where Xie Wuhao of Jiu Si Tang crouched, fitting shoes for a young man.

That young man wore the clothing of Jiu Si Tang, and his features resembled Xie Wuhao’s somewhat—clearly brothers. The younger one, though, wore a look of open displeasure.

In five more days they would set out together for Zuoliang Pass, so Chen Dasheng took the initiative to greet Xie Wuhao.

He dismounted and called out, “Lord Xie.”

Xie Wuhao startled, turned to see who it was, and broke into his usual gentle smile. He stood and hauled his reluctant younger brother up as well. “Quick, pay your respects to Marquis Chen.”

Xie Liuhao had a few days off and had wanted to sleep in, but his brother had burst in like a madman, first dragging him out of bed, then—seeing grease in his hair from the pillow—had tossed his blanket away entirely, drawing laughter from the whole division.

A grown man living out in the world, who washes his feet and crawls back into bed like that? It’s not as if he can wear a shoulder cape and hair oil like the women do.

His brother had said he was taking him to buy a new blanket, but the moment they entered the market, his brother had spent money as if determined to burn through next life’s fortune in one go—buying him six full outfits from head to toe, plus every kind of snack hung all over him. His brother, who normally loved to lecture him, hadn’t lectured him at all this time—just kept nagging him to be sensible, to grow up!

Which was, frankly, even more annoying…

His brother told him to pay respects to a colleague, which annoyed him further, but then he saw, in the carriage straight ahead, that very Marquis Chen helping down a she-devil.

Xie Liuhao shuddered, hurried over, brushed off the dust, straightened himself, took a breath, and bowed deeply.

Like worshipping a bodhisattva who’d married a demoness, he thought: Thank you, great and merciful one, for saving every man in the vicinity of Baiquan Mountain.

“Greetings, Marquis Chen!”

Chen Dasheng smiled and feigned puzzlement. “And who might this be?”

Xie Wuhao, mortified, hauled his still-bent-over brother upright and apologized, “My apologies—this is my younger brother, Liuhao… Get up! Get up!”

Xie Liuhao raised his head, and the string of cakes, preserved fruits, candy beans, and salted beans hanging from his neck swung and jangled all at once.

In that moment he genuinely wished to die.

Even Chen Dasheng felt embarrassed for the young officer, so he escorted Qiqian’er over and made introductions. Xie Wuhao hurried to salvage his family’s dignity, greeting his sister-in-law properly.

Qiqian’er managed a smile and returned the greeting, then reached over, untied Chen Dasheng’s favorite jade pendant carved with a tiger from his waist, and gave it to Xie Liuhao as a meeting gift.

That jade was worth three hundred strings of cash—its carving was so exquisite, the tiger’s roaring pose so ferocious and lifelike, that it was one of the few treasures Chen Dasheng truly cherished. In an instant, as if struck by five bolts of lightning, Chen Dasheng’s heart shattered into pieces.

He didn’t dare ask for it back.

Xie Wuhao, despite his family’s newfound wealth of less than four years, still didn’t recognize fine palace-crafted items, so he simply patted his brother’s head and said, “Now thank your sister-in-law.”

Xie Liuhao offered his thanks. Chen Dasheng thought bitterly, That’s my jade—if anyone deserves thanks, it should be me.

But Xie Liuhao only worshipped the she-devil and paid him no attention at all.

Since they’d be working together going forward, this time Xie Wuhao and Chen Dasheng’s exchange was cordial, without any of their usual friction. As the two men walked ahead, Qiqian’er passed close by Xie Liuhao and said quietly, “Tell Uncle Xin—usual place tonight.”

Xie Liuhao startled slightly, then nodded.

Qingfeng was a long, narrow city. Coming from the east side, Chen Dasheng watched Xie Wuhao buy his brother no small amount of goods, and being short on funds himself, shamelessly went back to ask his wife to put things on credit. With the money, following his own instincts, he bought a whole cartload of odds and ends—mostly for A’Nai, his elder brother, the family, but above all for his wife.

It really was a reckless waste of money, and not knowing how else to express the guilt weighing on his heart, he’d indulged himself once, even at the cost of a scolding.

Later, after parting ways with Xie Wuhao, he returned home and was indeed scolded.

The old lady pointed at him, spraying spittle as she called him a spendthrift wastrel—the kind of useless fool who couldn’t even hold in what came out of him without dragging it onto someone else’s field. Their household had more silk than they could ever wear through, and here he was buying his old mother coarse cloth?

Chen Dasheng didn’t get angry. Full of tender affection, he simply laid his head in the old lady’s lap and drifted into a hazy sleep that lasted the whole afternoon.

He dreamed again of his old home, where the departed had all returned. At sunrise they went out to farm the fields; his mother chased him around the well with a bamboo switch, beating him and scolding, “You stinking fool—your backside’s full of shit and you go fertilize someone else’s field with it! There are plenty of people in this world—why should you be the one to die?”

He begged others for help, but they all seemed angry too, glaring at him with disappointed, hate-tinged love. Chen Dasheng, grief-stricken and speechless, woke with tears at the corners of his eyes.

He sat up. It was already dark. A’Nai, afraid of waking him, had dozed off leaning against the kang cabinet. When he stirred, she immediately opened her eyes and reached for the ring of keys tucked beneath her clothes.

Only after touching the keys did she notice him, and she gave him a slap. “So grown and still acting spoiled—go eat at your own house, there’s no meal for you here.”

Chen Dasheng, still dazed, said, “A’Nai, I dreamed of them.”

A’Nai blinked. “What were they up to? A bunch of good-for-nothings who only know how to eat burnt paper offerings and sacrifices—not one of them ever sends me a dream, the useless lot!”

Chen Dasheng rubbed her numbed leg. “Seems like they’ve all gone back home.”

A’Nai exhaled. “…Good, as long as they’ve gone back.”

Then she smacked him again. “That useless fool, your grandfather—was he alone?”

“Mm, just him alone, sitting under our tree watching the fruit. Watched me get beaten and didn’t even step in.”

Chen Dasheng’s voice carried a note of grievance.

A’Nai asked, “Who beat you?”

Chen Dasheng sighed. “My mother.”

He got smacked again.

A’Nai huffed angrily. “Serves you right, your mother beating you—who told our family’s spineless lot to wrong that family. Go on, get to your own house for dinner, there’s nothing prepared for you here… you idiot? Your wife’s carrying a child, and you’d let her eat alone?”

The mention of his wife made Chen Dasheng startle. He leapt off the kang, shuffled into his shoes to leave, but after only a few steps turned back to embrace A’Nai once more. “A’Nai, His Majesty has assigned me a task out of town. I have to make a long trip.”

The old lady’s scalp went numb instantly, her throat seizing up. She hoarsely clutched him tight and asked, “Sending you to fight?”

She’d been discussing the matter of the Tan with the neighborhood wives for days now, cursing them for days too.

Chen Dasheng steadied himself and put on a tone of great grievance. “What are you saying! I wanted to go, but Father wouldn’t let me! So he got His Majesty to send me elsewhere instead—a chance to build merit and make a name for myself, one that comes once in a hundred years…”

Before he could finish, the old lady smacked the back of his head repeatedly, and finally, out of patience, pointed toward the door and told him to get out.

Chen Dasheng fled…

His heart uneasy, he ran into Tong Jintai on his way home through Qinwei Lane. He jerked his chin at him and blinked meaningfully. Tong Jintai shook his head. “Brother, don’t you dare say a word—Wanru’s pregnant again, don’t want to scare my little one out, ptooey, ptooey! Not out, not out…”

Chen Dasheng parted from him and recalled what his father had said—that no matter who else in the household was kept in the dark, his wife could never be. His wife was the anchor of the household; if she wasn’t told clearly where he was going and something truly happened, Qinwei Lane would descend into chaos.

So—even though his own wife was likewise heavily pregnant, should she still be shielded from the truth?

Troubled, Chen Dasheng slipped quietly into the house, ate quietly, and seeing his wife’s room dark, candle already out, crept quietly in to climb into bed.

He wrapped his arms around Qiqian’er, burying his face in her hair, drawing strength from it with all his might.

Qiqian’er was still awake. She heard him say, “Wife, I’ve wronged you. If there’s a next life, be smarter—don’t marry someone like me.”

Qiqian’er, eyes bright, stared ahead and asked, “Then what kind of man should I find?”

Chen Dasheng held her a while longer with deep affection, one hand gently cupping her belly, the other resting against her warm skin, trying with all his heart to carve this memory of happiness and tenderness into his soul.

He said, “If there really is a next life, wife, don’t come find me. Find someone less fierce than you… someone older than you, ideally, with a gentler temper who’ll indulge your quick tongue… his family needn’t be terribly wealthy, but they should at least own a hundred or two hundred mu of land. By then, wife… you can afford to be a little foolish, understand nothing at all—not household matters, not farming, not the ways of the world—because the man you find will have such a good temper he won’t hold anything against you, wife…”

“Mm?”

“Will you remember?”

“Remember what?”

“Remember this—next life, be careful. If you ever pass that big willow tree on Quanhou Street in Qingfeng again, and there’s an old woman sitting beneath it, remember to stay far away from her. Because if her grandson marries you, then no matter how much in his heart he wants to treat you well, he’ll still… are you crying?”

Chen Dasheng suddenly tightened his arms around her, pulling her close, murmuring softly, “Don’t cry… Do you remember what I told you?”

But Qiqian’er broke free of his grip, sat up abruptly, and turned to face him, eyes glinting in the darkness. Like a mother wolf guarding her cub, she growled low at him, “Chen Dasheng! I have no next life!”

Chen Dasheng drew a breath, then said with certainty, “Then… I suppose I’ve only wronged you in this one, Huo Qiqian! Bad luck for you—you got stuck with me, and that little one you call An’er has grown in your belly! I, Chen Dasheng, have wronged you! I’ve—I’ve saddled you with my burden… In this world there will always be things one does knowing full well they cannot be done. This Great Liang you see today—there will always, always be someone who must protect it…”

Qiqian’er was furious. She nodded angrily, got off the kang, and put on her shoes.

Chen Dasheng got up to accompany her.

Watching her storm out of the household in the dead of night in a rage, he grabbed a cloak and draped it over her, letting her temper run its course.

The young couple left Qinwei Lane together in a huff, without letting any servants follow. Qiqian’er, without thinking, headed straight for Baiquan Mountain.

Afraid she might fall, Chen Dasheng hurried to support her.

This time Qiqian’er didn’t resist—but once they entered the forest, she suddenly stopped and turned, her face twisted into a demonic grin. “Chen Dasheng, do you know what place this is?”

Chen Dasheng blinked, shook his head. “No idea. Wife, whatever you say it is.”

Qiqian’er grinned up at the starry sky, somewhat smug. “This mountain is mine.”

“Ah, yours, yours, yours—slow down, don’t trip.”

“The ground beneath your feet is mine!”

“Yes, yes, yours, yours…”

“I say you won’t die—do you believe me?”

“Won’t die, won’t die, won’t die, of course not!”

Chen Dasheng soothed his wife with certainty. “Of course I won’t die, wife, don’t worry, I still need to…”

But the poor Marquis of the city gate of Great Liang never got to finish what he needed to do—he discovered he was already flying through the sky.

Qiqian’er, gripping Chen Dasheng by the collar, soared up and down among the century-old trees of Baiquan Mountain.

By the time they’d gone far enough that no one could hear them shouting, Chen Dasheng—his soul thoroughly shaken from his body—heard his wife, possessed as if by some vengeful spirit, declare: “Chen Dasheng, this old lady won’t let you die, so you simply won’t die! Understand?”

“…Eh?”