With the matter of Pei Jinglun settled, Li Chi could now give Meicheng his full attention.

As Pei Qi’s stronghold, the city’s stores of provisions and materiel were sufficient to sustain a siege for years. That was precisely why Li Chi would not adopt the same encirclement strategy he had used at Meishan. Against Meicheng, a swift and decisive strike was the only way to keep casualties to a minimum.

Even as Li Chi arranged Pei Jinglun’s appointment to Zhongzhou, Xiahou Zhuo and the others were already marshaling the troops. The vanguard had already set out.

The first to depart was Gao Zhen’s Wolf Ape Battalion. Originally held in reserve for the assault on Meishan — a battle that had never come — the Wolf Ape soldiers had been champing at the bit for ages. When orders finally came to march on Meicheng, they were all clenching their fists and cracking their knuckles.

A few days after Gao Zhen and Fang Biechen led the Wolf Ape Battalion out, Xiahou Zhuo led the forward army into motion as well.

Li Chi’s central army, with all its provisions and supply trains, set off four days after Xiahou Zhuo.

And at that same time — in Meicheng.

Seated on his dragon throne in his bright yellow imperial robes, Pei Qi stared at nothing in particular. He had been doing that more and more lately.

Word had arrived only yesterday from outside the city: the scouts had confirmed that the Meishan camp had fallen.

When the report came in, Pei Qi sat perfectly still for a very long time after hearing it, as though the life had suddenly drained out of him.

With the Meishan camp gone, Meicheng had lost its final shield. What now faced them was the full force of the Ning Prince’s assault.

The growing frequency of his vacant staring was because he no longer knew what to do, or what he *could* do.

Meicheng was his last scrap of dignity — the final territory of the empire he had built.

Did he not know, deep down, that this empire was a farce?

But if he hadn’t declared himself Emperor, what else could he have done?

At least as Emperor, he would earn a line in the histories. However that line might read — brief or elaborate, glowing or damning — his name would be there.

He had schemed and maneuvered for the realm under heaven with everything he had. There had been a time when he truly believed it was within his grasp. And now he could only secure his place in history through something as laughable as this.

“Your Majesty?”

His most trusted minister, the man he had made Chancellor — Gao Naixin — called to him softly.

Pei Qi opened his eyes, looked at Gao Naixin, then closed them again.

“Your Majesty — the scouts have just reported that the Ning Army’s vanguard has been sighted outside the city.”

Even as Gao Naixin said this, his own heart felt barren. His Majesty was a joke. Was he, the Chancellor, any less of one?

“There is nothing to fear,” Pei Qi said, eyes still closed. “Meicheng’s walls are stronger even than Da Xing’s. We have provisions enough, weapons enough, and the conviction to hold this city…”

He paused, as though he realized his last phrase had been somewhat redundant.

“Nothing will go wrong.”

He wrapped it up in those five words.

“What this subject meant to suggest,” Gao Naixin said, pressing forward gently, “was whether Your Majesty might go up to the walls in person, to raise the morale of the troops.”

Pei Qi opened his eyes, considered for a moment, then nodded. “I understand. Go make the preparations. I will follow shortly.”

Gao Naixin hurried to obey, relieved. At the very least, His Majesty had not entirely given up.

Up on the city walls at this moment, the officer directing the Shu forces in their defense was Pei Qi’s cousin, whom Pei Qi had enfeoffed as the Prince of Wuxin — Pei Xuecheng.

Throughout everything, Pei Qi had cultivated outside alliances — backing Yang Xuanji, then backing Han Feibao — but at the end of the day, he trusted only his own family.

The Pei clan was one of Shu’s great aristocratic houses; even by the standards of the broader Central Plains, the family’s influence was not to be dismissed. The clan’s roots stretched back to the Zhou dynasty, when they had held a position of major importance at court for generations. One of their ancestors had been a disciple of the great Zhou sage-master, and had been held in the highest esteem by him; after the sage-master passed, that ancestor had served as Regent of the Great Zhou on behalf of its ruler.

To serve as regent in a minister’s capacity — that had been the proudest moment in Pei family history.

Pei Qi had imagined countless times: if only that ancestor had simply deposed the Zhou king at that moment and taken the throne himself, the realm might still be the Pei family’s today.

Pei Xuecheng was more than a decade younger than Pei Qi. From childhood he had loved martial training, and had also studied the military classics extensively. Within the Pei family, he was considered one of the most capable commanders.

Now he stood at the battlements, gazing into the distance. The scarlet battle flags had appeared on the horizon, at the very edge of his vision.

His hands gripped the parapet. The knuckles had gone white with pressure.

The Ning Army’s vanguard had arrived. Could the main force be far behind?

“His Majesty arrives!”

Just then, Pei Qi mounted the walls. The garrison soldiers all dropped to their knees at once. Pei Xuecheng ran forward to meet him, already moving to kneel before he reached him.

Pei Qi extended a hand and caught him. “Between us, as brothers, there is no need for such formality.”

Pei Qi walked to the parapet and gazed outward. The battle flags of the Ning Army in the distance were vivid and blazing, red so bright it hurt the eyes, and the sight of them made Pei Qi’s stomach turn.

“Soldiers!” He turned and called out loudly.

The men nearby all looked toward him.

“I have good news to share with you.”

Pei Qi’s face took on a smile, and with it came an air of confidence so completely seamless it showed no cracks at all.

“I have just received word that in the southwest, our great general Yan Yusheng has crushed the Ning Army — slaying their commander, the great general Tantai Yajing, and cutting down more than a hundred thousand of their troops.”

He paused to let that land, then swept his gaze across the gathered soldiers before continuing: “The messenger told me that, at the very latest, within another month, General Yan Yusheng’s relief forces will arrive at Meicheng. When that day comes, I will lead you out of these gates and strike with the general’s forces in a pincer — catching the Ning Army between us.”

He raised his hand and pointed toward the enemy beyond the walls. “The Ning Army is nothing to fear. We need only hold for a little over a month. When the general’s army arrives, it will be the hour of the Ning Army’s death.”

He smiled broadly. “Just moments ago, before I came up to these walls, I received yet another piece of good news: my ally, Han Feibao, Military Governor of Yong Province, has seized upon the emptiness of the Ning Army’s forces in Jing Province and surrounded Da Xing City with his troops.”

Another slow survey of the faces around him.

“What I want to tell you is this: we may not even need to wait for General Yan’s forces to arrive. The Ning Army may already be pulling back. If the fighting continues, it won’t just be Da Xing — all of Jing Province will fall to Han Feibao.”

The Shu soldiers on the walls listened to their Emperor’s words, watched his joyful expression, and felt something loosen in every chest.

They thought: if Jing Province were truly taken by Han Feibao, the Ning Prince Li Chi would surely have no heart left to continue attacking Shu.

Pei Qi exhaled slowly, then raised his voice once more: “There is one more thing I want you all to know. The grain and provisions stored within Meicheng are enough to supply us for a hundred years!”

At that, Pei Xuecheng, standing at his side, immediately called out: “Long live His Majesty!”

The Shu soldiers all around erupted: *Ten thousand years! Ten thousand years! Ten thousand ten thousand years!* The cries rolled and echoed along the battlements.

So loud, in fact, that out in the far distance, Gao Zhen and Fang Biechen both heard it, and couldn’t help turning to squint at the city walls.

“What are they doing over there?” Gao Zhen said, staring at the walls. “We’re camped at their gates and they’re cheering with joy…”

Fang Biechen: “Probably Pei Qi casting one of his spells.”

He kept his eyes on the walls. “Pei Qi is a man with a gift for sorcery.”

“What kind of sorcery?” Gao Zhen asked.

“The kind that deceives people,” Fang Biechen said. “He’s extraordinarily good at deceiving people — deceives those around him, deceives his friends, deceives his followers. Deceives even himself.”

Gao Zhen thought about that for a moment, then nodded. “That really is sorcery.”

“Let’s go pick our spot.”

Gao Zhen wheeled his horse and headed off in another direction. As the vanguard commander, he needed to select the best ground for the main army to establish camp — to make all preparations ahead of the assault.

“You said Pei Qi deceived them with something,” Gao Zhen said, urging his horse forward. “What did he say to make them shout like that?”

Fang Biechen replied: “My face isn’t thick enough to guess.”

Gao Zhen laughed. “If Commander Yu Jiuling were here, he’d probably be able to figure it out.”

Yu Jiuling, wherever he was at that moment, would have felt a great sneeze coming on.

“When this battle is over, we can go home.”

Gao Zhen found a fine piece of ground and ordered the Wolf Ape soldiers to begin setting up camp.

He walked to a rise, dismounted, raised his long-distance viewer, and studied Meicheng.

“This is the last piece of the Central Plains our liege is about to claim,” Gao Zhen said. “I hope that in a battle like this, our Wolf Ape Battalion earns the greatest merit.”

Fang Biechen nodded. “We will.”

Gao Zhen looked at Fang Biechen. “When this battle is finished and there are no more wars to fight — what’s the thing you most want to do?”

Fang Biechen answered: “Sleep.”

Gao Zhen blinked. He lowered the viewer and stared at him. “That’s it?”

“Sleeping…” Fang Biechen said, “has many varieties.”

Gao Zhen blinked again. Then let out a sigh. “You’ve changed.”

Fang Biechen said: “Whether I’ve changed, and why I’ve changed — does the general really not know?”

Gao Zhen burst out laughing.

“For something like this,” he laughed, “blame goes to the source. At the end of the day, you’d have to blame our liege. You’re welcome to go and reason with him about it.”

“Reason with our liege?” Fang Biechen said. “You don’t go there to reason. You go there to attend class. To study.”

Gao Zhen asked: “Would you dare?”

Fang Biechen replied: “It’s not that I don’t dare. It’s that I’m not qualified.”

Gao Zhen asked: “What do you mean, not qualified?”

Fang Biechen said: “I haven’t been with him long enough. Based on my rough understanding of our liege so far — if you want to learn from him, there’s tuition to pay. I’m poor. I’m not qualified.”

Gao Zhen said: “Then I’m not qualified either.”

Fang Biechen said: “Studying under our liege — the tuition is far, far too expensive.”

Gao Zhen thought about it and nodded. “That’s true. Every person who’s ever learned something from our liege, however wealthy they were, had just enough to pay the tuition once. And those people are all our enemies.”

He looked toward the walls again.

“This time, it’s Pei Qi’s turn to pay.”

Fang Biechen suddenly snorted with laughter. “Put it that way, and Pei Qi is actually rather pitiable — first he paid tuition to Yang Xuanji, then to Han Feibao, and now he has to pay tuition to himself…”

Gao Zhen said: “Great power brings great responsibility…”

The two of them burst out laughing.

Gao Zhen glanced back at his Wolf Ape Battalion soldiers, then let out a long, slow breath.

“My hope is… that this tuition — we collect it for our liege.”

—