There are those who say the vague and elusive so-called stages of understanding in this world can be described as something like: *you look at a mountain and see no mountain; then you look again and see the mountain once more.*

Put it that way, and it always carries just a faint touch of lofty grandeur.

Apply that kind of grandeur to the description of any stage of understanding whatsoever, and it rarely seems inappropriate.

Except when watching Li Diudiu eat.

Watching him eat gives you a feeling of: *you see him full, yet he can still eat; you think he’s stopping, and he’s only waiting for everyone else to finish so he can sweep up what’s left.*

That, too, is a stage of understanding.

Many people find that as their living conditions improve, their appetite actually grows smaller—but Li Diudiu was different. No matter whether the food was good or not, his appetite had never declined.

After eating several days’ worth of dry rations by the river, a meal of steamed meat buns had finally arrived—the kind where one bite sent grease running down the corners of your mouth. Li Chi sat there, his belly already having swelled to a slight roundness.

Xiahou Zuo looked at him and felt this fellow seemed as though he had never grown up.

The same manner he’d had at the academy—that was still his manner now.

When it came to eating, Li Chi felt that not taking it seriously was a form of disrespect to food.

Though that did not mean he ate dry rations any less enthusiastically than meat buns—his appetite was equally excellent for both.

So it was that some time after the flood, when Li Chi asked Tang Pidi: *The army’s grain supplies are short, and a large portion of the grain and provisions has been allocated to the flood victims—your supply situation will be a bit slow for a while. Besides requesting more grain, is there anything else you need me to do? Just say it directly and I will do my best.*

Tang Pidi replied: *Just don’t come to my camp and eat.*

Li Chi always had this sensation of being unwanted, until later when he confirmed it was not a sensation at all.

When he went to the Tingwei’s office, the people there would say: *My lord, the lotus flowers in the rear courtyard are in bloom—go and have a look.*

When he went to the military camp, the soldiers would say: *My lord, today the weather is fine, there’s no wind, the water is calm—a perfect day for fishing. Go and fish.*

When he went to the government office, the clerks there would say: *My lord, look at that cloud drifting overhead—doesn’t it look like a row of characters reading “everything here is taken care of, you may leave”?*

Ah, how delightful.

Being unwanted was delightful—delightfully pleasant.

Sitting by the river, Li Chi stuffed the last bite of bun into his mouth and patted his belly in satisfaction.

Meat was certainly better than dry rations. Eating the same amount was one matter; which tasted better was entirely another.

Xiahou Zuo also patted his belly. He had done his utmost and managed to eat exactly half of what Li Chi had consumed—for him, that was already a personal best.

Li Chi asked: “Do you know how what we just ate is different from buns we’ve had before?”

Xiahou Zuo shook his head: “I’ve only just arrived—how would I know the difference?”

Li Chi said: “The grain that made today’s buns was stolen from Yang Xuanji’s territory on the other side of the river—Teacher Ye and the others took it.”

Xiahou Zuo: “And the ones before that?”

Li Chi said: “Those too.”

Xiahou Zuo: “Then what is the difference?”

Li Chi: “Today’s were buns.”

Xiahou Zuo: “????”

He gave Li Chi a look that said: *I don’t know whether having this kind of lord is a blessing or a curse for us in the Ning Army*—an expression that plainly said this lord must be missing something inside his head.

“If nothing unexpected happens, the man Yang Xuanji sends to replace Pei Fanglun will arrive very soon, and they will attack again.”

Xiahou Zuo decided to bring up something practical—at least it would make Li Chi seem somewhat more normal.

“Yes, soon.”

Li Chi counted on his fingers, bending them back with a bit too much force—his knuckles cracked sharply.

He paused for a moment, then carried on as though nothing had happened: “It should be within the next three to five days.”

Xiahou Zuo was now certain: when there was something happening, Li Chi was the sharpest mind of anyone present. When there was nothing happening, whatever it was he was missing in his head would start to show itself again.

The more idle he was, the more obviously that gap made itself apparent.

Xiahou Zuo said: “I wonder who it will be this time. Yang Xuanji has many famous generals from the garrison army on his side.”

Li Chi said: “It will have something to do with the Pei family.”

Xiahou Zuo thought it over, and understood the meaning behind Li Chi’s words. Pei Fanglun was dead—and to give the Pei family some comfort, whoever Yang Xuanji chose to replace him would certainly still be someone connected to the Pei family, even if they did not bear the Pei surname.

And one must not forget—Yang Xuanji’s home base was in Shuzhou, and the military governor of Shuzhou was a member of the Pei family.

Li Chi said: “Yesterday I sent a letter to Luo Jing asking him to bring his troops back as soon as possible. With Shen Shancoral holding things together in Qingzhou, there’s no need to worry overmuch about that side—here in Yuzhou we are short on troops, and Yang Xuanji will use the pretext of avenging Pei Fanglun to press his attack again.”

He lay back on the ground, gazing at the clouds drifting across the sky—beautiful, like Gao Xining.

“Dantai has been handling the disaster relief for the flood victims the whole time. Settling several million flood victims—that truly is a difficult task.”

Li Chi continued: “Fortunately things have largely been sorted out on that side, and some of the troops can be pulled back. That should amount to roughly twenty thousand men.”

Xiahou Zuo murmured in agreement. It would take Luo Jing’s forces several months at least—perhaps half a year—to march back. But if Dantai Yazhen could bring those troops over to reinforce them, this battle would not be too worrying.

“General Liu Ge should be arriving soon as well.”

Li Chi said, still watching the sky: “After this battle is finished, our people will be coming back one by one—and once they do, we will have more troops than we need. At that point…”

He exhaled slowly: “Yang Xuanji thinks he can bully people just because he has greater numbers. Once I’ve called everyone back, it’ll be time to bully him right back.”

Xiahou Zuo: “Attack Daxing?”

Li Chi shook his head: “No—we won’t go there and join that crowd. We go after Jingzhou. If things go well, we go after Liangzhou too.”

Xiahou Zuo thought it through carefully, and after a while, he understood what Li Chi had in mind.

If Li Xionghu’s great army entered Jingzhou, his sworn brother Zhai Li would come with him. And in order to be safe, Yang Xuanji would certainly summon his allies into Jingzhou as well.

His most important allies were two men: the Military Governor of Liangzhou, Du Ke—who commanded more than a hundred thousand elite garrison soldiers who had not yet entered the war—and the Military Governor of Jingzhou, Xie Xiu. Xie Xiu had fewer troops by comparison, but he had managed Jingzhou for many years and commanded absolute loyalty there; his strength was not to be underestimated either.

If these two men led their armies into Jingzhou, then from the Ning Army’s perspective, the enemy’s rear would be wide open.

If the Ning Army struck into Jingzhou and Yang Xuanji did not split off forces to go back and save it, then once Jingzhou was taken, the Ning Army could directly threaten Liangzhou.

Never mind actually taking it—simply seizing the vital strategic passes connecting Liangzhou to Shuzhou would make Yang Xuanji’s situation unbearable.

His founding territory of Shuzhou would be cut off from him by the Ning Army.

The more carefully Xiahou Zuo thought it through, the more he felt Li Chi’s mind was somewhat frightening.

Looking back—from the strategy Li Chi had laid down to seize Jizhou onward, every move he had made seemed to follow the same principle: *strike last, seize the advantage.*

Had Yu Chaozong been willing to accept Li Chi’s advice and entered the game in the end, then the one now preparing to go around and strike at Yang Xuanji’s rear would have been Yu Chaozong’s Green Banner Army.

Now the situation had reached this point, and everyone was fixated on the vital ground of Jingzhou—yet Li Chi was still going to strike last and seize the advantage.

Yang Xuanji could not possibly allow Liangzhou and Shuzhou to be threatened—so the moment Li Chi advanced on Jingzhou, Yang Xuanji would be forced to split off troops. And that would mean the great bandit Li Xionghu and Prince Wu Yang Jiju would both have reason to be quietly grateful for Li Chi’s unseen efforts.

Xiahou Zuo also thought of how Li Chi had sent Tang Pidi with an army to attack Suzhou—and now everything suddenly became clear.

Suzhou and Yuezhou were the home base of the great bandit Li Xionghu.

Yuezhou had been given by Li Xionghu to his sworn brother Zhai Li; Suzhou had therefore become especially important to Li Xionghu.

If Tang Pidi pressed hard in his attack, Li Xionghu would certainly split his forces back to save Suzhou—and might even withdraw his full army from Jingzhou entirely to secure his home base.

Li Chi’s strategy, put plainly, was: *You all fight your own battles—I won’t join in. I’ll just go raid your home bases.*

At this thought, Xiahou Zuo could not help but laugh.

Li Chi turned his head and looked at him: “Is something wrong with your head? Why are you suddenly laughing to yourself?”

Xiahou Zuo: “……”

He looked at Li Chi and said: “How long ago did you start planning this—to let the powers in Jingzhou fight among themselves, then strike their rear?”

Li Chi said: “When we were still in Jizhou.”

Xiahou Zuo was mildly stunned.

When they were still in Jizhou?

Li Chi said: “You’re looking at me like that—you might as well just say something complimentary.”

Xiahou Zuo laughed: “So it turns out the pieces missing from that head of yours were all redistributed elsewhere.”

Li Chi glanced at him sideways.

This move of Li Chi’s—on the surface it looked like the most cowardly thing imaginable, not daring to contend with those great powers for Jingzhou. In truth, it was ruthless to the extreme.

Which of the three forces was weakest?

Naturally it was the imperial court. Prince Wu was now sustained by nothing but a single unyielding spirit—nothing but his unbroken record and fearsome reputation. Both Li Xionghu and Yang Xuanji were far stronger than Prince Wu’s garrison forces.

Xiahou Zuo laughed: “With this arrangement of yours, Prince Wu really ought to personally write you a letter of thanks.”

Li Chi said: “We people of the Central Plains have always had a tradition of helping whoever is weakest—and we have another tradition of helping people and asking nothing in return. Generally we just give what we can; whether we give more or less doesn’t matter.”

Xiahou Zuo burst out laughing.

With Li Xionghu’s rear unstable, he would split his forces or withdraw outright. With Yang Xuanji’s rear unstable, he would split his forces as well. And with that, the pressure Prince Wu faced would suddenly ease considerably.

Given the ability and style with which Prince Wu commanded troops, he would not let slip an opportunity like an enemy splitting their forces.

But was this a scheme?

It was not. It was a genuine and straightforward strategic reality—one that everyone could see clearly before them, yet that no one could avoid or escape.

If Prince Wu thought it through carefully, he would understand exactly what the Prince of Ning Li Chi was plotting: he was forcing Prince Wu to marshal his full strength and go destroy one of the others first—whether he took out Li Xionghu or Yang Xuanji, it had to be done. Even though Li Chi had plainly created that opportunity for him, Prince Wu had no choice.

Li Chi’s plan was: *Are you going to fight or not? If you all keep refusing to fight, then I’ll just have to force you into it.*

Strike last, seize the advantage—taken by Li Chi to its absolute limit.

Xiahou Zuo let out a long, slow breath. He looked at this young man whose face still carried one or two traces of youth, and felt within himself a kind of reverence that he could not quite put into words.

This same young man, still with those slight traces of youthfulness, was already walking the path of creating miracles—and walking it faster and steadier with every step.

He still seemed exactly the same as he had been back at the academy. Yet he was long past being that child at the academy who had laughed and joked and scolded with free abandon.

“Diudiu.”

“Mm?”

“If one day you become Emperor—what is the very first thing you would do?”

Li Chi thought for a moment, then replied with utmost seriousness and in a tone that brooked no argument: “Sleep with Gao Xining.”

Xiahou Zuo was struck completely dumb.

Truly—in his entire life to this point, he had never been this thoroughly at a loss. Li Chi’s answer had no relation whatsoever to the thousand and one possibilities he had already imagined.

After a long silence, Xiahou Zuo could not help but raise his thumb: “Impressive.”

Li Chi nodded: “I know.”

Xiahou Zuo: “……”

After another long silence, Xiahou Zuo asked: “And the second thing?”

Li Chi answered without a moment’s thought: “Do it again.”

Xiahou Zuo: “!!!!!”

—