The caravan yard, rear courtyard.
Tomorrow the great army would set out southward — a matter of tremendous, tremendous importance.
Yet today, Li Chi lay sprawled across a haystack, gazing up at the drifting clouds, a stalk of dry grass dangling from his lips, as though he had entirely forgotten about the campaign.
By all rights, he should have been in the command tent right now, running through the southward strategy one final time with his generals.
By all rights, he should have been standing on the parade ground, rallying the spirit of the tens of thousands of soldiers under his command.
By all rights, he was a man of ambition.
Yes — all of that was true, by all rights.
But here and now, this young man — who knew perfectly well what he ought to be doing, yet had given himself over to something almost petulant — simply lay in the haystack and refused to move.
As though the dry grass itself were his greatest refuge.
Everyone passes through childhood. Everyone, as a child, knows fear many times over — and every time fear comes, they reach for something to hold onto.
Some children, when frightened, burrow under their blankets and dare not come out, as though the blanket were an iron fortress.
But ah.
Li Chi had no bed as a child, and no blanket. What he knew best, and loved most, was a woodpile with just a trace of hay-sweetness in its smell.
That woodpile was to him what a blanket was to other children — in moments of fear and confusion, it became an iron fortress.
Li Chi’s iron fortress. Li Chi’s stronghold.
“The things a great man with ambitions ought not to be — you are all of them.”
His master had found him again.
His master did not pull him up, but instead tapped Li Chi’s foot lightly with his walking staff.
“Scoot over,” his master said.
Li Chi grinned.
His master lay down beside him — old man and young man, in exactly the same posture, hands pillowed beneath their heads, watching the sky.
In that instant, Li Chi’s iron fortress came back to him completely.
It felt so good.
The feeling of peace settling into his heart felt so good.
“Master, am I a coward?”
“You are.”
“Ha ha ha ha… at least soften it a little.”
“I’ve watched you be a coward since you were small. How am I supposed to soften it?”
His master smiled and said, “But your cowardice is different from other people’s.”
Li Chi said, “I feel like a great wave of praise is on its way here, just about to arrive.”
His master glanced at him sidelong, then looked back at the white clouds and said, “You’re not afraid of killing. You’re afraid of saving — because if you save someone and fail, you’ll feel as though you killed them yourself.”
“Others crave high position. You fear it — because the higher the position, the greater the burden, and you’re afraid one careless word or deed could harm even more people.”
“Warlords dream of becoming emperor. You fear becoming emperor — because the emperor stands at the very peak, and one misstep would make ten thousand people suffer.”
His master turned to look at him. “Shall I cast a little spell and give you just a tiny bit of courage?”
Li Chi said, “Master, you’d do better to cast a spell and remove that worm you put in my belly — you know everything I’m thinking, it’s outrageous.”
His master laughed, drew his hand from behind his own head, and that slightly roughened hand ruffled Li Chi’s hair affectionately.
“Diudiu.”
“Mm.”
“Master, it’s been a long time since you called me Diudiu.”
“Because you’re already a king now, and a king must carry himself like one.”
His master gave Li Chi’s head a light pat.
“Diudiu — do you remember, before we came to Jizhou, back in Yongqing County, when you asked me: Master, why don’t we bury all the bodies?”
Li Chi nodded. “I remember.”
“What did I tell you then?”
Li Chi said, “Master said: do what your strength allows. Not doing it is a betrayal of conscience, but trying to do what exceeds your ability is only going to harm yourself.”
His master gave an acknowledging sound and asked, “So — how much strength do you think you have now?”
Li Chi fell silent, unable to answer right away.
His master smiled and asked, “Then let me put it another way. Can Jizhou still contain your strength?”
Li Chi slowly breathed out. “Master, you know what I’m afraid of — but do you know why I’m afraid?”
His master said, “Because you’re truly capable.”
Li Chi smiled, and something like comfort came into his eyes — the feeling of being small and frightened and held by his master.
His master truly understood him.
Li Chi was afraid that as he rose higher, he might fail to bring good lives to the common people — that the wars he waged might instead make them suffer.
But it was precisely because he was truly capable, because he had already grown to have such strength, that the fear was real.
If he hadn’t, why would he bother being afraid of it at all?
“Master, I’ve asked about Li Xionghu. It seems… he’s done quite well.”
“Mm, he has. I’ve heard things about him too — he rose up with the common people, and everything he gained, he split equally among them.”
His master said, “He is neither greedy nor grasping, and he is deeply loved by the people. But Diudiu, everywhere he passes, the land is left desolate.”
“Li Xionghu’s soldiers, having received their share, lose any interest in attending to anything else — and that ‘anything else’ includes the people in other places.”
“I’ve heard that every time Li Xionghu goes to war, there are at least several hundred thousand common people trailing behind his army.”
“Once the fighting is done, these people surge forward into the city to loot and plunder.”
“Li Xionghu claims to be undefeated, with an army of eight hundred thousand — but the civilians following behind that army number in the hundreds of thousands, perhaps even a million.”
“When Li Xionghu reaches a place, do the local people benefit? No — those million followers in his army’s wake become a plague of locusts.”
His master looked at Li Chi and asked, “He’s not bad — but is he better than you?”
Li Chi slowly breathed out.
“You…”
His master’s hand had never left the top of Li Chi’s head, just as in the old days — warm and steadying.
“Diudiu, you’re always afraid you haven’t done enough good, so you keep hoping someone better than you will appear. That way you’d have legitimate reason to step back — a way of comforting yourself, a graceful surrender.”
His master gazed at the white clouds in the sky.
“That’s why I’ve always said there’s a knight-errant standing in front of the warlord inside you, blocking the way.”
“Do a good deed, then turn and walk away. Finish the work, brush off your robes, depart — leaving no name across a thousand miles.”
His master said, “But it would be better to leave a name that endures through the ages, so that future generations, because your name remains, will find shelter in it.”
“I have a medicinal elixir here. Anyone who takes it will find their courage multiplied many times over. Would you like to try?”
Li Chi curled his lip. “Master is bragging again.”
His master’s hand left Li Chi’s head and reached inside his own robe, rummaging around, and drew out a small cloth pouch.
He opened it. Inside was a lollipop.
“Lady Ning had me bring it to you. She knew right away you’d be here, but she said — a master’s words carry more weight.”
His master pressed the lollipop into Li Chi’s mouth. “Ning’er says: once you’ve finished this miraculous remedy, it’s time to go and be a king.”
The lollipop in Li Chi’s mouth was very, very sweet.
He sat up straight, took it out of his mouth, and looked at it — it had been made in the shape of a heart.
“This candy… it hits hard.”
Li Chi put the lollipop back in his mouth and got to his feet.
“Master, I’m going.”
“Wait — there’s something else.”
Li Chi stopped. “Master, what is it?”
His master walked around to face him. Li Chi was tall now, much taller than his master.
His master no longer needed to bend down — his master had to tilt his head up.
And yet, just as in those early days, he carefully picked off the bits of hay and dried grass from Li Chi’s clothes, then fussed over his robes until they were neatly arranged.
“Diudiu, before, every time you were about to get up and go do something important, you’d give yourself a little pep talk first.”
His master said with a smile, “Shall we do it one more time?”
Li Chi said, “Let’s do it.”
The two of them turned around, went behind the haystack, faced out toward the open distance, and relieved themselves together…
And together they shouted: “Whoever goes farther wins!”
Old man and young man — both finished at the same moment, both gave a little shiver.
“Ha. That felt great.”
Li Chi looked at his master. “A gentle stream becomes a rushing river — and now I’m off to accomplish great things.”
His master curled his lip. “As if anyone’s never had a rushing river of their own.”
Li Chi burst out laughing, and walked toward the entrance.
Outside the caravan yard.
On the street, a column of elite Ning Army soldiers stood in formation. Among them was a carriage, black as ink, with a blazing crimson character for “Ning” painted on its side.
The moment Li Chi stepped out of the caravan yard, the ranks of Ning soldiers raised their right arms to their chests in unison.
“We welcome our king!”
A single great shout.
Li Chi passed through the ranks of soldiers standing like a forest of spears and stepped up into the carriage.
Inside, Gao Xining smiled at him, and that pair of beautiful large eyes curved into the most gorgeous crescent moons in the world.
She held Li Chi’s royal robes in her arms — he would need to speak before the assembled troops today, and on a day like today, the royal robes were required.
She smiled because she had seen it — the great king still had that lollipop in his mouth.
“Is it sweet?” Gao Xining asked.
Li Chi grinned. “Want to taste?”
Gao Xining opened her small mouth. “Ahh…”
Li Chi took the lollipop out of his mouth — and then pressed his own lips against hers.
The small hands holding the royal robes suddenly gripped tight.
Those small feet that had been neatly side by side suddenly lifted up onto their toes.
A long, long moment passed.
Li Chi asked, “Sweet enough?”
He held up the lollipop. If not, I can hold it in my mouth a bit longer, then let you taste again.
Gao Xining shot to the opposite seat in an instant, clutching the royal robes and sitting there catching her breath.
“Scoundrel,” she said.
She darted a glance at him.
Then she broke into bright, pealing laughter.
Li Chi: “You adorable little fool…”
Gao Xining chuckled. “Take your clothes off.”
Li Chi: “Here?”
Gao Xining suddenly realized what she’d said and hurried to explain: “Change your clothes, change your clothes — you can’t just take them off without putting something on…”
Li Chi said, “Hmm… I thought the moment had finally come.”
Gao Xining pressed two fingers together and waved them. “One more move like that, and I’ll send a sword through the air and knock that candy right out of your mouth!”
Just as she said it, Li Chi popped the lollipop into her mouth with a smack — those soft, round little lips trembled slightly.
Gao Xining’s big eyes blinked, a little stunned.
Li Chi said, “I’ll leave the candy with you for safekeeping while I change.”
He changed his clothes swiftly and nimbly while Gao Xining helped straighten them.
Right in the middle of straightening them, Li Chi popped the candy back out of her mouth with another smack — those soft, round little lips trembled again.
He put the candy back in his own mouth.
“Hmm?”
Li Chi smacked his lips thoughtfully. “Why is it even sweeter now?”
Gao Xining felt warmth rising to her face, and thought to herself about this scoundrel she had chosen… he really does something to a person.
Half an hour later, the Ning Army main camp.
Li Chi descended from the carriage in his black royal robes, and on the parade ground, armor gleamed like a forest.
Supreme General Tang Pidi led the Ning Army’s many officers forward to receive Li Chi.
Everyone came to a stop before him and bent in unison.
“We pay our respects to our king!”
Li Chi slowly breathed out, and reached out to lift Tang Pidi to his feet.
“Come up to the raised platform with me.”
Tang Pidi was momentarily taken aback, then nodded. “By your command.”
The two of them ascended the raised platform on the parade ground one after the other.
Li Chi walked to the edge of the platform and looked out at the Ning Army soldiers below — these soldiers were the foundation stones of a mountain ten thousand feet high.
“Over these past few years, the Ning Army has accomplished one thing — no matter who came to take what was ours, they couldn’t. Everything that belongs to us, no one could take away.”
“In the years to come, the Ning Army will accomplish one more thing — no matter who refuses to give us what we want, it won’t matter. Everything that belongs to us, we are going to take it all back.”
Li Chi drew his long saber and pointed it south. “Wherever the blade points — all of it is ours!”
“*Hu!*”
“*Hu!*”
“*Hu!*”
—