Pei Qi’s body was retrieved. What was to be done with it, Li Chi left to his subordinates.

Mei City had fallen. Pei Qi was dead. And with him, the last man with any real power to stand against Li Chi in all of central China was gone.

So naturally, many of Li Chi’s officials began growing eager again, submitting memorials asking when he would ascend the throne.

Li Chi’s approach was simply to pretend he hadn’t seen them. Once he’d seen to the Shu region’s welfare, he intended to travel to Chang’an. In the meantime, he slipped away under the pretext of a regional inspection tour and left Xiahou Zhuo to deal with everyone.

Xiahou Zhuo, sharp as ever, took one look at Li Chi’s retreating back and handed the whole mess off to Zhuang Wudi, then spurred his horse to catch up with his lord.

Zhuang Wudi was the perfect choice for this task.

Everyone knew Zhuang Wudi was a man of few words.

The officials talked until their mouths ran dry, then realized Zhuang Wudi had probably been drifting off somewhere. Mentally, he appeared to be about two or three thousand li away.

The officials spoke. Zhuang Wudi listened. Time passed.

Eventually, the talkers ran out of steam. The listener remained blank-faced.

The officials shuffled away in frustration, thinking: what a colossal waste of half a day. Zhuang Wudi watched them go and let out a long breath, thinking: what a colossal waste of half a day.

Fortunately, Zhuang Wudi wasn’t too bothered by the wasted time. If he hadn’t been here spacing out, he’d have just been spacing out somewhere else.

But this was precisely why Zhuang Wudi was the right man for the job. Everyone knew what he was like — and everyone also knew his rank was high enough that the officials couldn’t complain about being disrespected.

So the officials went home in a huff, already plotting on the way out how to give Xiahou Zhuo a taste of his own medicine someday.

If Xiahou Zhuo heard about it, he wouldn’t have cared. He already knew what he wanted to do with his life once all this was over. He certainly didn’t intend to spend it being dressed down by officials every other day.

On the official road.

Li Chi sat back in his carriage and let out a long, contented sigh.

The familiar pleasure of escaping the noise and playing the carefree absentee lord — it never got old.

Gao Xining sat a short distance away, counting on her fingers. With her abilities, she certainly didn’t need to count on her fingers — she was doing it for Li Chi’s benefit.

She was calculating how long it would take to reach Ji Prefecture, then working out what month that would be, then murmuring to herself about whether there might be auspicious days in that month for a wedding.

Li Chi listened with a quiet smile and said nothing, content to watch her perform.

In all honesty, Gao Xining was… not a very convincing actress.

After a while she got fed up with the calculation and abandoned it, reached over, and knocked Li Chi on the head. “You figure it out.”

Li Chi laughed. “Why bother? What if we calculate our way to a month with no auspicious days at all — are you going to wait even longer?”

Gao Xining: “Wait my ass!”

She looked at Li Chi. “I am a very mature woman, do you know? Like a piece of ripe fruit. And if you don’t pick it—”

Li Chi: “Pick your great-uncle.”

Gao Xining burst out laughing.

Li Chi said, “Whenever we get to Ji Prefecture, that’s when we get married.”

Gao Xining said, “What if the three elders insist on picking a particularly auspicious day and make us wait?”

Li Chi said, “Take them out.”

Gao Xining: “Then we’ll have to take turns — you deal with my grandfather, I’ll deal with your shifu…”

Li Chi said, “A man must look out for himself or heaven and earth will destroy him. At this point, are you really still squeamish about it?”

Gao Xining: “If I weren’t squeamish about it, would they be able to hold this over us like this?”

Li Chi laughed despite himself. “Fair point. I understand you completely. After all, they’re holding it over both of us.”

Gao Xining sat up straight with a look of iron resolve. “Better to rebel sooner than later. Let’s just charge back there and pick a day on the spot.”

She waved a hand. “Swift and decisive.”

Li Chi: “The way you’re secretly talking big right now — it’s so adorable. I really do love you.”

Gao Xining: “…”

Yu Jiuling sat on the other side and sighed. “I can’t take any more of this. I’m going for a walk.”

Li Chi: “Where are you walking to?”

Yu Jiuling pointed ahead. “I heard something strange — apparently one of the supply company’s cart-horses, a stallion that only entered Mei City yesterday, was put in the same stable as some of the enemy’s captured horses. By this morning, one of the captured mares had given birth to a foal. Can you believe it? I want to go check on the little family.”

Li Chi: “Can’t you at least make your tall tales plausible?”

Yu Jiuling: “Oh, so the Lord himself knows what tall tales are.”

Then he bolted.

He ran and looked back: “You and my big brother — you’d never say any of that within eight hundred li of those three elders!”

Gao Xining: “You little rat!”

A stone flew through the air from somewhere behind and struck Yu Jiuling squarely on the backside with unerring precision. He yelped and stumbled.

They were heading northwest. Shen Shanhu was still pushing toward the last Zhou holdouts dug in up in the mountains — no word yet on how that was going.

And Li Chi genuinely wanted to stop along the way and take stock of conditions across the region, so he could make the right arrangements as they traveled.

Up ahead, Yu Jiuling hopped onto another carriage and lay there rubbing his backside.

Lu Chonglou hadn’t seen him get hit by Gao Xining. He looked up with a smile. “General Yu, what’s the matter?”

Yu Jiuling: “Got smacked on the behind.”

Lu Chonglou looked alarmed. “Who could be so vicious?”

Yu Jiuling: “Ah, she’s not really vicious.”

Lu Chonglou: “Does it hurt much?”

Yu Jiuling: “Of course it hurts.”

Lu Chonglou: “Both sides?”

Yu Jiuling: “Both sid— Lord Lu, you are supposed to be a gentleman. Do you know that talking like that is liable to attract a lightning bolt?”

Lu Chonglou: “Is it not both sides?”

Yu Jiuling sighed, climbed back off the carriage, and said, “Can’t have a conversation with you refined types. When you go bad, you go ten thousand times worse than someone like me.”

Lu Chonglou smiled. “Stay and sit a while.”

Yu Jiuling climbed back on and settled in, then said, “Lord Lu — I think the reason my lord brought you along on this inspection tour is because he intends to put you in charge of Shu.”

Lu Chonglou blinked, genuinely surprised. He hadn’t considered this possibility at all.

Now that Yu Jiuling had planted the thought, he reconsidered — Li Chi had received him after he arrived in Shu with the grain shipments and never sent him back. It made sense.

He was, by his own nature, a fairly straightforward person. If it had been Xu Ji, that man would have turned it over in his mind a thousand and eight hundred times already.

With that realization, Lu Chonglou immediately sat up straight. “In that case, I must be even more diligent.”

Yu Jiuling said, “I happen to have a piece of secret intelligence that very few people know. If Lord Lu is interested, I could tell only you.”

Lu Chonglou, though not a gossip by nature, was curious at that. “What sort of intelligence, General Yu?”

He asked the question and then looked at Yu Jiuling with wide, expectant eyes.

Yu Jiuling hesitated. “It’s secret intelligence. If anyone found out I told you, that would be bad.”

Lu Chonglou: “I see… then don’t tell me.”

Yu Jiuling: “What?!”

He turned to stare at Lu Chonglou. “Lord Lu, have you not given this even a moment’s thought?”

Lu Chonglou: “Thought about what else?”

Yu Jiuling sighed. “You really are a scholar through and through. All right — give me ten taels of silver and I’ll tell you.”

Lu Chonglou shook his head. “No.”

Yu Jiuling: “Why not?”

Lu Chonglou: “If it’s truly important, I ought not to inquire. That would be against propriety. And if I accidentally let it slip, it could be a serious offense.”

Yu Jiuling: “…”

He sat up and looked at Lu Chonglou. “It’s nothing important. Not official business — more like a personal matter. No harm if it got out.”

Lu Chonglou thought it through, then the realization dawned. “Ah. I see.”

Yu Jiuling: “So you understand?”

Lu Chonglou: “General Yu was trying to swindle me out of ten taels.”

Yu Jiuling: “You really are no fun. I’m going up front. Robbing you of ten taels is like pulling teeth.”

Lu Chonglou: “I have no ten taels. But I do have five copper coins, which I’ll give you if you’re willing to speak.”

Yu Jiuling sighed. “Fine, fine. Five copper coins it is. Give them to me first.”

Lu Chonglou counted out five copper coins and handed them over, counting them visibly to Yu Jiuling’s face. He claimed he only had five, but he had at least five hundred.

Yu Jiuling thought: the number of people who write me off this openly isn’t that large…

He pocketed the five coins, leaned in, and whispered, “This intelligence is… the behind is, in fact, one place. Not two.”

Then he jumped off and walked away.

Lu Chonglou sat there for a moment, then sighed. “I really must guard against greed. A lesson for self-reflection… five copper coins, and all I bought was a behind.”

If Yu Jiuling had heard that, he probably would have said, with great solemnity: Five copper coins for a behind? You’re dreaming.

After Yu Jiuling left, Lu Chonglou settled in to think seriously about Shu.

He was, at heart, a serious man. Now that Yu Jiuling had alerted him, he wanted to be ready. The rest of the journey, he divided his time between studying maps and talking to local people at every significant stop, stepping off the carriage to look and listen.

Li Chi noticed Lu Chonglou’s diligence and was quietly pleased. He didn’t know that it had been Yu Jiuling who’d lit the fire under him.

Yu Jiuling felt very satisfied with himself. He’d wanted to do something for Lu Chonglou — a man this earnest, this guileless, and this genuinely talented deserved a hand.

And besides, he’d made five copper coins doing it. Why wouldn’t he?

He didn’t even blame Lu Chonglou for haggling ten taels down to five copper coins. That was just the influence of their lord rubbing off on everyone — before they all joined him, surely none of them had been like this.

—