West of Jizhou City.

About ten or twelve li from Jizhou, Luo Geng’s Youzhou forces had made their camp. Since arriving at this position, Luo Geng seemed to have genuinely accepted Cui Yanlai and Liu Li’s so-called advice — resting his forces here without stirring.

But the ground west of the city had a peculiar quality that any experienced commander would immediately recognize: it was a deeply awkward place to camp.

Roughly thirteen or fourteen li to the west was a great river, running from north to south. The current wasn’t especially fierce, but the channel was wide — the narrowest point was still about two li across, and the widest stretched beyond four li.

Camping on the near side of the river, between river and wall, the ground available for fifty thousand men meant the camp’s far edge would be less than ten li from the city wall. Whether it was a Jizhou sortie, or a pincer attack from the Qingzhou and Yuzhou forces on either flank, there would be nowhere to retreat.

Camping on the far side of the river, Luo Geng — if word came that Jizhou had fallen — would have no hope of crossing in time.

The terrain on the western approach was ideally suited to containing Luo Geng. That was why Cui Yanlai and Liu Li had forced him to it.

On balance, the far bank was clearly the safer option.

So the Youzhou forces settled on the western bank of the river — which meant that to attack Jizhou, they would first have to cross it.

Luo Geng appeared in no hurry. He went about things methodically: after arriving, he ordered soldiers to fell timber and set about building a crossing.

The pace of construction was unhurried — as though he had entirely abandoned any thought of competing with Cui Yanlai and Liu Li for Jizhou.

Even so, as long as Luo Geng had not left, he remained a tremendous threat to everyone.

By the third day of his encampment to the west, the Yuzhou and Qingzhou armies had begun their three-sided siege of Jizhou.

Luo Geng made a show of responding — dispatching a few dozen scouts to circle the western side, where they waved some banners and shouted for a while.

Then Luo Geng had a canopy erected by the riverbank, took a small folding stool, and went fishing.

On the fourth day, he was up early and out fishing again, and sent the same few dozen men on another circuit of the walls.

In the afternoon, his soldiers returned, carrying a letter they said had been shot down from the city wall. The fact was hard to miss — the Jizhou soldiers on the wall had been calling out at the top of their lungs. Not only had Luo Geng heard them; the Qingzhou forces camping well south of the western position would have been stirred up too.

For that matter, the Jizhou archers hadn’t cared who the men on the western approach were — the moment anyone came within range, they called out a few times and shot a few arrows down.

Luo Geng unfolded the letter and looked at it — and couldn’t suppress a smile.

Such a simple, transparent little trick. If this could actually sow discord, it would mean the men outside were truly witless. Then again, Luo Geng considered Cui Yanlai and Liu Li both to be exactly that — witless.

“Zeng Ling has run out of schemes.”

Luo Geng smiled and tossed the letter into the river in front of him.

He fished only to fish — whatever he caught was thrown back. The letter went the same way as the fish, carried off by the current until it vanished.

One of Luo Geng’s generals said: “The General saw through Zeng Ling’s pathetic scheme in an instant. But those fools Cui Yanlai and Liu Li — what if they fall for it?”

“Let them.”

Luo Geng smiled: “I can’t make a fool smarter.”

He looked at his fishing rod, felt a dip in the line — and landed a very large fish.

By the fifth day, the Youzhou forces had built seven or eight crossings over the river. Luo Geng went out personally to inspect them and walked back and forth across one of the bridges himself.

At midday on the fifth day, a basket was lowered from the city wall — and a man climbed out, carrying no weapons. He walked alone toward the Youzhou camp.

Before long, Youzhou cavalry scouts intercepted him. The man said only one sentence and then fell silent.

“I want to see General Luo Geng.”

Half an hour later, by the river, Luo Geng shifted his gaze from his fishing float to the man who had come alone out of Jizhou City.

“What is your name?”

Luo Geng asked.

“In reply to the General — my name is Shi Kuan. I am captain of personal guards under the Military Governor.”

Luo Geng heard this and gave a small nod. He asked nothing more, and his gaze returned to the fishing float — as though waiting for the next great fish to bite.

He said nothing. Shi Kuan said nothing either.

Everyone found this odd. Here was a man who had risked his life to come as an emissary, and he said not a word — and the General equally said nothing. It was peculiar, to say the least.

After the better part of an hour and a half, Luo Geng stood up. He seemed to have lost his taste for fishing — but the last fish he’d landed, he did not release. He dropped it into the bucket.

It was the General’s fish; no one else dared touch it. It could only wait in the bucket for now.

Luo Geng rose and pointed at Shi Kuan: “Find him a place to stay.”

Shi Kuan saluted: “Thank you, General.”

Luo Geng paid him no attention and told his attendants: “Clean the quarters properly. Give him new bedding if there is any. Whatever food and drink he wants — as long as it’s available in camp — give it to him.”

Shi Kuan heard this and bowed again. He had said five characters before: “Thank you, General.” This time he said seven.

Thank you, General, for your generosity.

Luo Geng looked at him and said: “I have no respect for Zeng Ling. But men like you I do respect. A man who can go to his death for his master — such a man deserves different treatment.”

With that, he walked away.

Shi Kuan was led to his quarters — swept clean, just as promised, with fresh bedding.

Someone came to ask what he wanted to eat. Shi Kuan smiled: “The General just caught a fine-looking fat fish. I’d like to have that, if possible — and some braised meat alongside, and enough wine.”

The soldier stared at him — thinking: what nerve, asking to eat the General’s own fish. The General had been fishing for days, and this was the only fish he’d kept. And here was this man from the enemy’s side, requesting it for himself.

Remarkably, however, the soldier went to ask — and came back with the answer: the General had said that whatever this man wanted to eat or drink, as long as it was available in camp, give it to him.

Before long the cooked fish arrived, along with braised meat and a full crock of wine — not less than thirty jin. Luo Geng kept good wine and rewarded his men generously with it, and every campaign he brought a considerable supply of aged vintage.

Shi Kuan didn’t concern himself with any of this. When the food came, he ate. When the wine was poured, he drank. When he was full and the wine had done its work, he lay down and slept.

—

The sixth day.

Two columns of cavalry appeared outside the Youzhou camp — each several thousand strong. They pulled up short at the perimeter and sent men inside to announce their presence.

When Luo Geng received the news, he smiled to himself. Those two, he thought, were exactly as foolish as he’d expected — Zeng Ling’s simple transparent little provocation had actually gotten to them.

Then again, thinking further about it — of course those two could recognize a sowing-discord scheme when they saw one. But they already had suspicion in their hearts, like weeds that couldn’t be pulled out. And a discord scheme didn’t need to be subtle to work; it only needed to find soil that was already prepared.

That was the true nature of the discord stratagem. It wasn’t really a covert scheme — it was almost an open one. Even when seen through, it didn’t mean it had no effect.

Because discord worked by exploiting what was already in people’s hearts. Everyone harbors suspicion. People we call magnanimous are simply those who can press it down with reason. But in truth, nine hundred and ninety-nine out of a thousand people aren’t that magnanimous — and of that remaining one in a thousand who appear magnanimous, more than half are forcing it.

And those who force it — if they ever found means to retaliate — would be the most savage and merciless of all.

But ask anyone in this world: who has not, at some point, doubted the people around them?

Luo Geng came out of the camp and walked across the bridge. The sunlight today, he noticed, was especially fine. Deep autumn now — mornings rarely felt warm and gentle; it was only in the afternoon that the air turned comfortable.

But today was clearly different. The light was so good. Probably because those two fools opposite were shining with the radiance of their own stupidity.

Luo Geng thought them fools. They thought him a fool. People who wanted to use each other probably all thought the same.

Cui Yanlai sat on horseback — he didn’t dismount — looking down from his height at the short figure walking toward him, feeling a sudden urge to put an arrow through that stumpy little man.

Luo Geng was genuinely short. But it didn’t prevent him from being a giant in the field of war.

“General — I hear you have a distinguished guest in camp?”

Cui Yanlai’s words came out cold.

Liu Li immediately said: “Now, now, Old Cui — watch how you speak to the General. Is the General really likely to be colluding with Zeng Ling? Let’s keep things civil.”

Luo Geng smiled inwardly.

He nodded: “Indeed I have a guest — someone who came out of Jizhou City.”

Cui Yanlai asked: “And who is this person, if the General would tell us?”

Luo Geng said: “Captain of personal guards under Military Governor Zeng Ling. Name of Shi Kuan.”

Cui Yanlai immediately pressed: “And what did he say to the General?”

Luo Geng shook his head: “Nothing.”

Cui Yanlai frowned.

Liu Li said: “Let’s not fall out over this — let’s not fall out. I believe the General when he says nothing was said. But if the General would be willing to bring the man out here so we can ask him ourselves, that would be even better.”

Luo Geng said: “Very well.”

He turned and said something to an attendant, who immediately ran back to camp.

Before long, Shi Kuan was brought to the riverbank. He looked remarkably calm — without a trace of fear.

Liu Li, still mounted, looked down at him: “Who are you?”

Shi Kuan replied: “Captain of personal guards under the Military Governor. Shi Kuan.”

Liu Li asked: “You came to the Youzhou camp to seek out the General — what was it that Zeng Ling sent you to say? And what did you say to the General?”

Shi Kuan replied: “Nothing. I said nothing.”

Liu Li gave a contemptuous snort: “You think that makes you a man of principle right now? Doesn’t it just make you foolish?”

Shi Kuan said: “I don’t think I’m foolish. I think you’re foolish. And the one beside you is probably about equally foolish.”

Cui Yanlai drew his long blade and leveled it at Shi Kuan: “What exactly did Zeng Ling send you to say?!”

Shi Kuan said: “What my Lord sent me to say — I said just now.”

Both Cui Yanlai and Liu Li went red with fury.

Shi Kuan continued: “My Lord also told me: outside this city there is one man of outstanding ability and two fools. Go and pay a visit to the man of outstanding ability, say nothing at all, and the two fools will be convinced you said plenty. You can tell them honestly that you said nothing, and those two fools will not believe you for a moment.”

Hearing this, Luo Geng gave a small, almost involuntary nod — as though he found it quite accurate.

Cui Yanlai waved a hand: “Take him. Bind him behind a warhorse and drag him. I don’t believe he won’t talk.”

Shi Kuan remained utterly composed — with even a touch of contempt.

“So it seems my Lord was right.”

He looked at Luo Geng: “The General would agree, I think?”

Luo Geng was silent for a moment, then said four words to him.

“Walk well on your way.”

Shi Kuan saluted: “Thank you, General, for three fish and for the wine.”

Luo Geng turned and walked away, his face expressionless.

Cui Yanlai was deeply displeased at Luo Geng’s response. Liu Li pulled at his sleeve — a warning not to act rashly.

Cui Yanlai’s men bound Shi Kuan and had a warhorse drag him across the open ground, up to the base of the city wall.

The Jizhou soldiers on the wall above watched with eyes red and burning, every hand gripping a weapon tight, every man barely restraining himself from charging out to kill.

The horse was pulled to a stop. Someone said to Shi Kuan: “If you tell us now what Zeng Ling actually sent you to say to Luo Geng, you can still live.”

Shi Kuan, bloodied and clothes in tatters, struggled upright. He made himself stand as straight as he could manage. He looked at the comrades on the wall above him, and he made himself smile.

Then he looked at the man on horseback and said: “Let me think carefully about what words to use in answering you.”

The rider waited a moment and then demanded: “Have you thought of it yet?!”

Shi Kuan nodded: “I have.”

He looked at the man.

“Ptuh.”

……

……