**Beishan Pass.**

Three full months had passed. The Black Wu forces had been held outside this blood-soaked frontier pass, unable to advance a single step.

Given the staggering scale of manpower and resources they had thrown into the assault, this was a battle that would be written into history — whether measured by Black Wu standards or by those of the Central Plains.

“Whatever the truth of whether Chizhu Liuli is dead or alive, the Black Wu forces aren’t going to stop. Not after all this. Especially not now.”

Li Chi sat atop the city wall, gazing out at the distance. The Black Wu encampment was ablaze with torches, like a stretch of the Milky Way fallen to earth.

“Mm…”

Xiahou Zuo nodded. “From start to finish, it’s been the same commanding general — no replacements. That alone speaks to how resolved they are. Whether Chizhu Liuli is present or not doesn’t change much.”

“So if Chizhu Liuli really is dead,” Li Chi said, “the person who took over command was smart enough to stabilize morale quickly.”

Xiahou Zuo said: “The Blue Tribunal people took command. They aren’t nearly as familiar with warfare as the Southern Court barracks troops — so rather than shake things up, they simply kept the Southern Court’s men in place and continued executing Chizhu Liuli’s plan. Minimizes the disruption to themselves.”

Li Chi gave a sound of agreement.

It was undeniable that even minimized, the disruption was still significant.

Because Chizhu Liuli’s abilities were plainly beyond the reach of whoever was now directing the Southern Court troops. By the banner patterns, the commander now leading the assault on Beishan Pass was most likely a general under Chizhu Liuli’s command — a man named Jingluo Fu.

By every measure — renown, ability, boldness — Jingluo Fu fell far short of Chizhu Liuli.

“If Chizhu Liuli were still alive, then…”

Li Chi smiled slightly. “How could anyone allow a single commander to keep battering away for this long? Three months, and Jingluo Fu hasn’t gained a step. By all reasonable judgment, the man should have been dealt with by now. He’s merely adequate — running on borrowed lessons from Chizhu Liuli, mechanically repeating what he was taught.”

Xiahou Zuo laughed. “That’s our good fortune.”

“I’m here,” Li Chi said. “How could you possibly run short of fortune?”

Xiahou Zuo curled his lip: “You should say: *you came all the way here for me — how could you run short of fortune?*”

Li Chi sighed. “Since you insist on fighting over fortune, I’ll let you have it.”

“Who said you’re letting me have it? I’ve got plenty of my own.”

Li Chi said: “My master once told me — if a man’s greatest ambition for himself is to have good luck, then that man is nothing more than an ordinary person.”

Xiahou Zuo said: “Your master said that to you on purpose, just so you’d have something to mock me with?”

“Not at all. My master said so many things — I can always find something suitable for mocking you without even trying.”

Xiahou Zuo: *”…”*

“If you don’t believe me,” Li Chi said, “we can test it.”

“How do you test something like luck?”

“We jump down from here together,” Li Chi said. “Whoever doesn’t die — that’s clearly the lucky one.”

Xiahou Zuo: “I thank you kindly.”

“You still don’t believe me. Even before, I didn’t think about it much myself — after all, my master and I didn’t have an easy life back then. And yet even so, you could say our luck was never bad… because if it were truly bad, how would an old man raising a child like me have survived ten hard years without ever facing death?”

Xiahou Zuo thought carefully about those words and found them difficult to argue with.

“Especially after I became Prince Ning,” Li Chi continued, “luck started behaving in stranger and stranger ways. Strangely unreasonable, even.”

“How unreasonable?”

Li Chi turned to Xiahou Zuo. “Pick anything and bet with me.”

“Anything?”

“Anything.”

Xiahou Zuo looked down. The dinner leftovers included a fair number of peanuts. He scooped up a handful.

“Odd or even number.”

Li Chi said offhandedly: “Odd.”

Xiahou Zuo didn’t believe it, so he counted carefully. Twenty-nine peanuts. Sure enough — odd.

Xiahou Zuo said: “Once is a coincidence.”

Li Chi sighed. “Go again.”

Xiahou Zuo put the peanuts back, then spread his hand as wide as it would go and grabbed the largest fistful he could manage.

“Odd or even?”

“Odd,” Li Chi said without thinking.

Xiahou Zuo said: “If it’s right again, that proves you genuinely have a problem — you know some kind of sorcery.”

He counted again. Still odd.

Xiahou Zuo grabbed a third handful. “This time I’ll guess.”

Li Chi acknowledged with a sound. “As you like.”

“I say odd.”

Li Chi: “Then I’ll have to say even.”

Xiahou Zuo: “Then I’ll say even.”

Li Chi shrugged: “Then I say odd.”

Xiahou Zuo opened his hand and counted carefully. Still odd.

Xiahou Zuo said: “Let’s abandon this whole *general* and *prince* business. Let’s become a roving pair of gambling hall masters.”

Li Chi shook his head. “No.”

“With this kind of ability, why not?”

“The money comes too slowly.”

Xiahou Zuo: *”…”*

“I casually put together a Shanhe Seal operation, seized the Cao family assets, and the haul alone was tens of millions of taels of silver,” Li Chi said. “Gambling my whole life — how many lifetimes would it take to win tens of millions?”

Xiahou Zuo had to admit this seemed true enough — using such extraordinary luck on small stakes really would be a waste.

But he still wasn’t fully convinced, and pointed at the bag of peanuts: “Let’s bet the whole lot — I won’t grab another handful, the size of my hand is fixed, so three odd results in a row might have a logical explanation. Just guess: how many are there total?”

Li Chi: *”…”*

Xiahou Zuo smiled: “If your luck is really that good, it means Chizhu Liuli is truly gone.”

Li Chi said: “If my luck is really that good, then what Old Zhang Zhenren called the Four Directional Calamity shouldn’t be able to fully materialize.”

Xiahou Zuo said: “You can’t see it from here — maybe it really hasn’t come together.”

Li Chi smiled. “Honestly, whether it’s the Four Directional Calamity or any other calamity — nothing is more important than what’s happening on the northern frontier. Heaven’s will sent me into this world; for everything else, let Heaven’s will decide.”

Xiahou Zuo said: “If Heaven’s will handles everything — then what do you need me for?”

Li Chi burst out laughing.

Three months on, the soldiers had settled into the rhythms of war, and three months of attrition had not yet pushed the frontier army’s weapons and equipment anywhere near their limits. Even fighting another full year, their supplies would hold — while the Black Wu forces could not last a year.

“Three months without coming down from the wall.”

Xiahou Zuo said: “If you don’t go down soon, a fair number of the men are going to come petition you. Besides — you haven’t bathed in three months.”

“As if you have.”

“I have, of course. Every night while you’re asleep.”

“We haven’t seen a single drop of clean water in this place, and you’re telling me you bathe every night?”

Xiahou Zuo said: “I do bathe every night — I just divide the body into sections and go by sections. Dry bathing.”

“So you rub yourself down with your hands — ‘by sections’ just means you can’t finish in one night.”

Xiahou Zuo said: “It looks like the Black Wu forces won’t be coming up tonight. Go down for a bit… If you won’t go, I genuinely cannot bear it anymore and I will.”

Li Chi sighed. “A man has to keep his word…”

A soldier standing nearby said: “My lord, all of us would like to ask you to go down and rest for a while. Mainly because you’ve started to smell.”

Li Chi: *”…”*

Under the collective urging, Li Chi finally relented — and the first order of business was to go down and take a bath.

It wasn’t that they had truly gone three months without bathing — they had managed to splash water over themselves in stolen moments. But there was no proper cleaning, and after a full day’s fighting left everyone drenched in sweat, the staleness was only natural.

The news that Prince Ning was going down to bathe — such a small thing — actually drew a cheer from the soldiers on the wall.

Out on the far side, the Black Wu troops had no idea what to make of the sound. Some guessed reinforcements had arrived; others guessed supplies had come through. Nothing else could explain such cheering from the Central Plains men.

Even if you grabbed a Black Wu soldier by the ear and told him Li Chi was going to take a bath, he probably wouldn’t believe you.

When word reached below, Li Chi’s personal soldiers didn’t wait for Gao Xining to organize anything — they divided into groups and set to work at once. Some hauled water, some split firewood. It looked less like preparing a bath for Li Chi and more like preparations to boil him alive.

Li Chi soaked in a good hot bath, scrubbed himself clean, and felt like an entirely new man.

He returned to where Gao Xining was staying. She was standing in the doorway, smiling at him.

Li Chi smiled back. “What’s funny?”

“I’m thinking — if this keeps up, every few months you go without bathing or changing clothes, then suddenly wash and look like a different person… it stays fresh.”

Li Chi: *”…”*

Gao Xining had already prepared food and drink. With the Black Wu forces quiet for the night, she had even set out a little wine.

Three months without sitting down to a proper meal like this — the feeling was genuinely beyond words.

Li Chi asked: “I haven’t seen Ninth Sister around lately. Where has he gotten to?”

Gao Xining said: “He kept asking to go up and help on the wall. He went a few times, and every time people found him more nuisance than help. He started feeling like a burden, and his mood has been off…”

Li Chi sighed. “I’ll go check on him.”

Gao Xining gave a sound of agreement. “Together.”

The two of them went to Yu Jiuling’s quarters. The door was open, the lamp was lit, and both Li Chi and Gao Xining stopped short in the doorway.

Yu Jiuling was knitting by lamplight.

At least, that’s what it appeared to be — both hands holding a pair of needles, weaving in and out. And he looked practiced at it.

Li Chi said: “Something’s wrong.”

Gao Xining said: “I didn’t expect this either — a few days without seeing him, and he’s already…”

Yu Jiuling heard them, looked up, saw Li Chi and Gao Xining, and immediately broke into a smile. He put down what he was doing and came running out to greet them.

Li Chi asked: “What are you making?”

“I go help at the supply depot every day,” Yu Jiuling said. “During the slow stretches I didn’t know what to do with myself, so I started learning to knit. Finished it just today — my lord, let me show you what I’ve accomplished.”

Li Chi watched as Yu Jiuling held up the finished piece for display, and the more he looked, the more certain he became — this could not, under any circumstances, be worn by a human being.

“Who did you knit this for?” Li Chi asked.

“I noticed the supply depot at the frontier barracks keeps a few sheep,” Yu Jiuling said. “I sheared all the wool off one of them, then made this — and I’m about to go put it on the sheep I sheared it from.”

Li Chi stared at him. “You… sheared all the wool off a sheep. Made it into a garment. And you’re going to put it back on the sheep you sheared it from?”

“That’s right.”

Gao Xining said: “Maybe we should call a physician.”

Li Chi nodded slowly. “I’m not sure it’s not too late already.”

—