Standing under the rain shelter, watching the enemy’s movements across the water on Meishan, Li Chi suddenly found himself thinking of that time with his master in Fangcheng County.

His master Changmei Daoren boasted about that story for the next seven or eight years without ever getting tired of it. And it was precisely because of the rain-prayer affair that Changmei Daoren’s name began to spread across the seven counties of Jizhou, growing louder with each passing year. Because of it too, as they traveled those seven counties in the years that followed, whenever they encountered people who had taken to banditry, one word that this was the great Changmei Daoren was enough to keep anyone from giving them trouble.

Jizhou in those days was in utter chaos. Rebel armies terrorized the people; people with nowhere to go became rebels themselves, and then went on to terrorize more people.

Whenever Changmei Daoren brought up that story, he always said he could never work out whether it was just the two of them getting lucky, or whether the boy was hiding some kind of magic. Because Changmei Daoren was quite certain that whatever had brought the rain, it wasn’t his own doing — and if it wasn’t luck, then it had to be some art of Diudiu’s.

And that luck, as it turned out, genuinely did protect Li Chi and his master through the years that followed, keeping them alive through the rebel armies’ violence.

The most dangerous moment had come in Fangcheng County itself, four years after the rain-prayer affair. Master and disciple had been caught by rebels — surrounded, with a crowd pressing in. It wasn’t that anyone had spotted something of value on them; they barely had enough clothing to cover themselves, so valuables were hardly the concern. What the rebels had noticed was Li Chi. A small child… who could be eaten.

This is not some lurid exaggeration. It was something that happened almost every day across Jizhou at that time.

Changmei Daoren would say later that whatever the cause, the rain had saved the common people one life — but hadn’t saved them *two*. The year after the rain, rebel armies stripped away all the grain, and the people died in great numbers. After that Jizhou saw no more droughts, but there was no one left to farm the land.

Just as Li Chi was about to be dragged away, the rebel leader appeared — and recognized Changmei Daoren.

He shouted at his men, who by that point looked little different from primitive creatures, and drove them back. Then he said loudly: *This is the Daoist master who saved us. Without him, we would all have died in the drought.*

He said: back then, we had scraped together some grain and eggs for him, but we were bastards — we cursed him and took everything back. Then after the rain came, by the time we thought to look for him, the Daoist and his disciple were already gone.

He said: now… we can’t even scrape together grain anymore. Let alone eggs.

He said: let me kowtow to the Daoist master.

So this rebel leader knelt down and knocked his head to the ground three times before Changmei Daoren, then rose, gestured to his men, and led those refugees away.

For a long time afterward, Li Chi could never quite work out what those people were — whether they were kind or whether they were cruel.

Call them kind: they ate people. Especially strangers. It was as though they had become true wild animals — not eating their own unless there was no other way.

Call them cruel: they still remembered the rain-prayer, and they kept Changmei Daoren in their minds as a benefactor.

Later, Changmei Daoren thought about those events and wanted to say something to Li Chi — but held back because the boy was still too young.

What those refugees had not done was not out of gratitude, and not out of kindness. It was out of fear of retribution. Because Changmei Daoren was a holy man who could call down rain.

And the common people would say: *Look — that immortal is just as ragged and wretched as we are. That is what a real immortal looks like.*

Yes. Even in those circumstances, they were still comforting themselves. Not that the immortal wouldn’t come to save them — just that the immortal was down on his luck too. Not that the immortal wouldn’t use his powers — just that the immortal was too hungry.

Standing on the hillside now, watching the Shu army soldiers inside the Meishan camp across from him, Li Chi suddenly thought of those refugees from Fangcheng County.

If the Ning army kept up the siege — six months from now, seven or eight months from now — what would these Shu soldiers eat? Perhaps they too would return to the identity that nature first bestowed upon people.

Wild animals.

“I hate rain,” Yu Jiuling said, standing beside Li Chi, as though talking to himself.

“But when rain is working in our favor, whether I like it or not doesn’t matter — let it pour for a few more days, I say.”

Some other thought seemed to cross his mind, and he added two more sentences.

“I’m no saint, either. Whether floods and disasters follow this kind of rain isn’t something I can think about right now. All I know is that a few more days and the Shu army’s earthworks will be finished.”

He paused, then added one more remark.

“I can only be a saint about things that don’t concern me.”

Li Chi glanced at Yu Jiuling and nodded. “Nine times out of ten, that’s how it is.”

Li Chi said, “And the remaining fraction of people?”

Li Chi said, “The remaining fraction are either people who can’t be saints regardless of whether something concerns them, or people who *can* be saints regardless of whether it concerns them.”

Yu Jiuling felt this was quite a mouthful, but not hard to understand.

He asked Li Chi: “Are there more of the former or more of the latter?”

Li Chi didn’t answer.

Yu Jiuling understood why he hadn’t. If there were more of the latter, then it could have been answered.

“Jiuling — if it rains for two more days, take some men down to the foot of Meishan and call up to them. Tell them if they’re willing to surrender, the Ning army’s camp will open its gates and give them a hot meal.”

Yu Jiuling started slightly at those words. Even by his way of thinking, he could see how easily the enemy might exploit that.

If the enemy feigned surrender and used the opportunity to launch a surprise attack, things could go badly wrong.

“It doesn’t matter,” said Li Chi, seeing Yu Jiuling’s concern. He smiled faintly. “They won’t surrender.”

Yu Jiuling asked, “If you already know they won’t surrender, Chief, why send me to call out to them?”

Li Chi was quiet a moment before answering. “Because I have to be a benevolent lord.”

Yu Jiuling paused, then nodded. “Understood.”

The rain didn’t fall for just two more days. It fell for a full four more days, bringing the total — front to back — to eleven days before it finally stopped. The first seven or eight days had been heavy and unrelenting; the last few days eased off somewhat, but that was hardly any improvement worth speaking of.

As expected, the defensive fortifications on Meishan began to fail. Landslides broke out at several points around the mountain’s perimeter; the trenches overflowed and the water carved through the earthen walls, causing even wider collapses. Under these conditions, the morale of the Shu army had sunk so low that all it would take was a single spark to ignite a mutiny.

It was at this moment that Yu Jiuling appeared.

He and his men stood at the foot of the slope and called up loudly, telling the Shu soldiers that the Ning Prince was willing to receive them.

But Li Chi’s judgment had not been wrong. Nobody actually came down. No matter how tempting it appeared, Pei Jinglun was not going to take this bait. Because Pei Jinglun understood perfectly: if *he* could see the obvious opening, did that mean Ning Prince Li Chi was an idiot?

By the next day, Yu Jiuling came back without complaint and called up again, the same few lines cycling over and over — but to the Shu soldiers, it was like someone quietly scratching at their hearts, tickling an unbearable itch.

A hot meal.

Yes… after more than eleven months of siege, those three words carried an enormous power of temptation for every man on that mountain.

Up on the high slope, Li Chi stood watching. His expression was calm. That no Shu soldier had come down caused him no surprise, and no disappointment.

Xiahou Zhuo smiled and said, “Tomorrow, send men to carry freshly cooked food — still steaming — down to the foot of the mountain.”

The corner of Li Chi’s mouth curved slightly.

Xiahou Zhuo said at once, “I’m not a worm in your stomach. I haven’t guessed what you’re thinking. You don’t need to compliment me. Just keep your mouth shut.”

Li Chi nodded, and kept his mouth shut.

Xiahou Zhuo waited a moment. “Really not going to say anything?”

Li Chi glared at him.

Xiahou Zhuo: “What does that glare mean?”

Li Chi said, with faint exasperation: “If you want me to speak, then rescind your order — *you’re* the one who told me to shut my mouth!”

Xiahou Zhuo: “But you just spoke…”

Li Chi said, “Then you go handle it tomorrow.”

Xiahou Zhuo: “The reason I brought it up is obviously because I wanted to handle it myself.”

Li Chi said, “Then if what you were going to say was: to give the enemy an even greater temptation, to demonstrate an even greater show of strength, the food laid out at the foot of the mountain should be lavish — there should be fish and there should be meat… then keep your mouth shut.”

Xiahou Zhuo: “…”

Li Chi said, “See — I’m the worm in your stomach.”

Xiahou Zhuo: “Then I’m not going.”

Li Chi burst out laughing.

Yu Jiuling happened to be walking back from the front just then. Hearing Xiahou Zhuo say *then I’m not going*, he immediately asked: “Where is the General going? Where is he *not* going?”

Xiahou Zhuo said, “Ask your chief.”

Yu Jiuling looked toward Li Chi. Li Chi said, “General Xiahou wants to take over for you, calling out at the foot of the mountain for a couple of days. He says he worries you’re getting tired. He says his Jiuling is someone he cares about — others can’t do it, only he can.”

Yu Jiuling: “I don’t quite believe that.”

Xiahou Zhuo said, “Jiuling really is a warm person. Even in those four words ‘I don’t quite believe,’ you still managed to find space to add the word *quite*.”

Yu Jiuling: “I *quite* don’t believe that.”

Li Chi: “See — point it out, and the space is found right away.”

It was a new day. Both Xiahou Zhuo and Yu Jiuling went to the foot of Meishan. They left bamboo baskets, one by one, at the base.

Lifting the lids, steaming buns rose up before the eyes of the Shu soldiers.

“You don’t have to come to the camp — we’ve brought the food to you. If you want a hot bite to eat, come on down.”

Yu Jiuling called out loudly: “Don’t worry — we won’t stay here. We’ll put the buns down and go. Remember to come eat them while they’re still warm.”

With that, he turned and walked away.

As he walked, he lowered his voice and said to Xiahou Zhuo: “If those bastards actually come down and eat our buns, I’m going to feel ripped off.”

Xiahou Zhuo nodded. “I’d feel ripped off too. Which is why I pocketed one.”

He raised his hand and shoved a bun into his mouth in a great bite.

Yu Jiuling: “Aah…”

He raised both hands. “I pocketed two.”

—