The discussion began. Having come through three years of war, everyone present had accumulated some experience, and having heard the news, each had already formed a few preliminary ideas. Yet no one rushed to speak first — they waited and watched. On military matters, the one with the most authority was Zhù Ying. If she presided over the meeting without speaking first, the first to address the room should be Zhù Qingjun.

Zhù Qingjun had already had a brief exchange with Zhù Ying before the others assembled. Now she was straightforward: leaning forward slightly, she said, “Grandmother, I’ll take troops and go — to probe their strength and determine the next step.”

Zhù Ying gave a nod.

Zhù Qingjun continued: “If the situation is critical, we may need to request reinforcements.”

Lin Feng, Su Zhe, Lu Danqing, and several newly promoted colonels found themselves unable to sit still. Zhù Ying gave another nod. “All right.”

Zhù Qingjun then moved to the more specific plan. “Across the border they spotted Chief Pusheng. He knows this area well — I’m worried he may know of hidden paths connecting the Western Tribes’ side to Annan. I’ll do my best to scout the front lines. As for the rear — Grandmother, please keep watch there as well.”

Zhù Ying said, “Of course.”

Then came Wu Ren on logistics: “The administration hall is newly established. Remaining grain from last year: such-and-such amount. New harvest this year: such-and-such amount. Daily consumption per soldier: such-and-such. Transport attrition rate: such-and-such. Dried meat needed: such-and-such…” Every figure was laid out, one by one. On the whole, having had one year to recover, there was no immediate pressure.

Su Zhe then reported on population: “Two more thousand households have been registered — one able-bodied adult per household comes to two thousand people. But these two thousand are untrained — useful for labor conscription, but hardly up to the task of actual combat. If troops need to be augmented later, it would be more practical to call back former soldiers.”

Zhù Ying nodded her agreement.

Lin Feng said, “Wuzhou and Bozhou are about to send in their grain as well — military supplies shouldn’t be a concern. After the harvest, their other affairs will also ease up, and they won’t be short of hands when the administration needs them. Grandmother — I’m willing to go train the reserve troops, in case they’re needed.”

Zhù Ying said, “There’s no rush on that — you have a different task. Qingtian — share what you have.”

Zhù Qingtian’s expression was somewhat troubled. She had been caught off guard — had received no advance warning of this at all! Back in the capital, her work had been intelligence-gathering within the capital; here in Annan, everyone working in intelligence had been freshly recruited raw hands. Everyone else was pulling their weight, yet here she was with a gap in her work. It galled her.

Zhù Qingtian thought carefully and said, “I believe this is not the work of the same people as last time. A major army mobilization — even among the frontier peoples — requires time to gather provisions and muster forces. That there was no movement detected at all suggests there may be some external force at work. I’ll immediately dispatch more people to investigate.”

Zhù Ying said, “Be careful.”

“Yes. As for the hidden paths — our people know of two such routes. Both are the kind of trails used by hunters and herb-gatherers, completely impassable for cavalry.” Zhù Qingtian added this as a supplementary point.

Zhù Qingjun gave a nod, indicating she understood.

Zhù Ying turned to Zhù Qingye: “When Zhao Su and Zhù Yan arrive, you’ll manage their escort and assist Wu Ren in going over accounts with them.”

“Yes.”

Zhù Ying gave Lin Feng and Lu Danqing a new assignment: between the pass and Xizhou City, prepare one or two additional lines of defense — in case the pass fell, the enemy mustn’t be allowed to come straight through in a single push.

And to scorch the earth.

Everyone looked over. They understood what “scorching the earth” meant, but the idea of actually doing it was still rather unfamiliar.

Zhù Ying said, “Sitting idle is as good a time as any — the harvest is nearly done too. If the worst comes, we grind down the frontier peoples until they’re forced to withdraw.”

Zhù Qingjun bowed her head in thought, then said, “I won’t let the frontier peoples set foot in Annan!”

Zhù Ying said, “This is not your battle alone. Everyone must be prepared. You can’t be fighting at the front while everyone else watches from behind. We will face many things that are not simple. This is not a matter of finishing breakfast before lunch — when you’re in the middle of breakfast, someone comes asking to borrow a book and tells you the water in the pot is boiling. Who waits for you to do things one at a time? Everyone move.”

“Yes.” Everyone replied in unison.

Zhù Qingjun said, “There are also some additional materials I’d like.”

“Give me a list.”

“Yes.”

Zhù Ying turned to Su Zhe: “The matter of conscripting soldiers — handle it together with Qingjun.”

“Yes.”

There were also various construction works that would need to be paused. War’s destruction was invariably vast — if what had been built up front was destroyed at the back, it was all wasted effort. So now the priority of construction should shift inward toward the interior. Works to the west, other than road repairs, should all be assessed against conditions before proceeding.

The strategy was quickly decided, and everyone scattered into motion. Zhù Ying became the most idle person in the whole administration hall — she clasped her hands behind her back and walked slowly back to the inner quarters.

The inner quarters of the administration hall were larger than the mountain stronghold had been, and larger too than the Chancellor’s mansion in the capital. When it was built, something of the imperial palace layout had been echoed: the front was for official functions, the back for residential and daily life. The official section, which managed all military and civil affairs across Annan plus the governance of three prefectures, was naturally extensive. Inside it, a number of young, lower-ranking officials of student-like appearance moved briskly about.

The inner quarters had only Zhù Ying’s household of three as its proper occupants, but Zhao Ji, A’Pu, and others were lodged there as well. Su Zhe, Lu Danqing, and Zhù Qingjun also lived there, making it quite lively. Zhang Xiangu, in her daily routine, would wander about wherever she liked; each evening, when Zhao Ji, A’Pu, and the others finished their classes, she would reliably return to watch the children eat their supper.

Now, with Zhao Ji and A’Pu both in their lessons, Zhù Ying occupied with affairs, and Huajie busy with work at the school, Zhang Xiangu was chatting idly with Sister Du. “Keeping those fish in the back pond just for show is such a waste — we’ve already planted lotus roots, so let’s also raise some fish you can actually eat.”

Sister Du said, “I don’t know how to raise fish — let me ask around. And you’re right, a good fish-head stew is delicious!”

“Isn’t it?”

Zhù Ying caught the cheerful drift of their conversation and joined in: “Then we’ll have that tonight? Have them go to the market and buy a big crate of fish — there are quite a few people eating here today.”

Seeing Zhang Xiangu’s delight, she refrained from saying what she had originally intended to say — that this confrontation with the Western Tribes had come suddenly, and she had no firm grasp on their strength; it was hard to say whether things would be large or small. If it spiraled beyond control and they had to dig in for a long siege, she wanted to send Zhang Xiangu back to Wuzhou early and bring her back once the fighting was done.

But Zhao Su hadn’t arrived yet. It could wait until he came.

Sister Du, not knowing any of this, agreed readily. Zhù Ying stayed a while longer chatting with Zhang Xiangu, mentioning that Zhao Su and Zhù Yan were coming over.

Zhang Xiangu was very fond of both of them. She expressed her longing for a bit, then turned to nag Zhù Ying: “You — I won’t go on about you. But you really must take Chui Zi’s affairs to heart! A child isn’t finished just because you’ve raised him to adulthood. He’s no small boy anymore — it’s time he started a family! Look at this whole house full of young people. How many of them have families and careers of their own?

“Lin’s boy and Zhao’s eldest — their own parents worry about them, and both already have wives and children. As for Little Sister — hers is a different situation, she has a family estate to manage and her family may have other plans; it’s not our place to say too much. But the others — they’re counting on you. If you don’t push, at least ask — do any of them have someone they fancy? Are you not going to arrange things for them?”

She went on at length about “it’s no time to talk about such things during war, but once the fighting’s done, it’s time to settle down” and similar things.

Finally she circled around to her daughter: “You and Huajie — with those children of yours: Qingjun, Qingye, Qingxue, and then Chui Zi who’s your student, and Zhao’s eldest who’s your adopted son — have you decided which one to rely on to care for you in your old age?”

“What? Which one?”

Zhang Xiangu was puzzled. “You haven’t decided? They’re all good children, but there has to be a main pillar! Whoever you’re leaving things to, you need to treat them just a little better. Zhao’s eldest is steady and dependable, not young anymore. Chui Zi — well, you’ve put him far away. The girls are young and attentive. You need to show them that extra bit of care. One task, if everyone can do it, means everyone ignores it — you need to designate one person clearly!”

In Zhang Xiangu’s eyes, a daughter born of her own body was no longer likely, but Zhù Ying had given the Zhù surname to many people, and had gathered many clever children into the household — which had the meaning of “the master nurtures the disciple, the disciple cares for the master in old age.” This was acceptable. With so many to choose from, pick the best and most devoted, and settle the matter.

That way Zhang Xiangu could rest easy.

Zhù Ying’s idea of a “successor” and Zhang Xiangu’s idea of “someone to care for her in old age” were quite different things, but she didn’t explain. Instead she said, “Who does Mama think is good?”

“Chui Zi is the one we watched grow up. He was a serious child, but he’s got better. Qingjun is capable too — she sees what needs doing, she’s grounded and hardworking. All the others are good too.”

Zhù Ying laughed. “Well, there you go, then.”

“But what about Chui Zi’s marriage?”

“When he gets here, I’ll ask him.”

“That’ll do!”

Having failed to accomplish her own objective and instead received a thorough talking-to, Zhù Ying wasted no more time — she slipped away to the stables first, checked over the horses, and gave orders for the sturdiest geldings to be well cared for. Then she strolled out of the residence to look in on the school, inquiring particularly after the welfare of the orphaned children, before drifting back inside to sit with Zhang Xiangu over the stewed fish-head.

Zhang Xiangu only knew that her daughter had ordered the fish-head. Watching her eat with such relish, Zhang Xiangu was happy too, feeling a profound sense that the days were good and life was full.

It was only when Zhù Qingjun marched out again with her troops that Zhang Xiangu realized a war was apparently brewing once more.

Since Zhù Ying had been occupied for a few days and couldn’t accompany her out, Zhang Xiangu went out on her own with the widow Jiang, riding her little donkey through the streets. On the streets she saw the officials conscripting soldiers and hauling grain, and asked out of curiosity, “Do we still need to send grain to the court this year?”

She was told, “This is for our own little General Zhù’s campaign,” and that was how she learned there was a war.

She had experienced and witnessed much in her life. She made no show of it at the time, but when she returned home she questioned Zhù Ying.

Zhù Ying replied breezily, “Right now our most capable person is Qingjun. If every single thing falls on her, that won’t do either — I figured I’d let her take a few newer people this time to get some practice. It’s not just the soldiers that need training; the officers need training even more. Once she’s trained them up, Qingjun can get a break too.”

The reasoning was sound. Zhang Xiangu was mollified.

Zhù Qingjun set out again on the march.

This time she brought not only one thousand cavalry but also two thousand infantry. Beyond the standard provisions and supplies, she had made out a special additional list to request from Zhù Ying: extra flags and banners, all made through a night of rushed work. The specifications and designs were required to match those used by the court’s armies — something Annan’s tailors and needlewomen had never seen before. Su Zhe and others had to personally direct the work by drawing out the patterns.

Zhù Qingjun marched westward, and before she reached the pass, Zhù Xinle had already sent people out to welcome her. That young man was stubbly-bearded, his face considerably darker than before, his armor showing a good number of new scars. He flashed a white-toothed grin: “General.”

Zhù Qingjun said, “How are things?”

Zhù Xinle said, “The kids are holding! Much longer without you coming, though, and we really would have been in tears!”

Zhù Qingjun looked him over. He did not look like a man who was about to cry. “You spotted Chief Pusheng?”

Zhù Xinle nodded. “It’s him! Right at the side of some Western Tribe official, pointing and gesturing at our position.”

Zhù Qingjun said, “There are two herb-gatherer paths — guard against him knowing about those.”

“Already have people watching them. How would he know about paths like that? He was too busy enjoying himself in comfortable halls to bother.”

“Let’s go in. And don’t make any noise — let them think there are no reinforcements.”

Zhù Xinle said, “Understood — trick them! Catch them off guard. Things are looking up now. We can make them suffer for a change. We’ll enjoy ourselves.”

Zhù Xinle sounded cheerful, but in truth the garrison defending the pass had been living quite hard of late.

At the start, being assigned to guard the pass had been quite good. The soldiers were all of humble backgrounds; by coming to serve here, their families back home could be spared one share of labor conscription. Here they could accumulate some military merit, and they had food to eat and were not beaten. Their main duty was patrolling — guarding against enemies, that is, the Western Tribe soldiers and bandits, and protecting travelers and merchants passing through. Tax collection and document inspection were handled by the literate civilian officials and clerks that Annan had assigned — people who could read. These men also doubled as tutors, teaching the garrison soldiers some common speech and basic characters.

Here, without crossing into corruption, there was occasionally a small “token of gratitude” from passing merchants: sometimes a bottle of wine, sometimes a small trinket. The soldiers had even found time in idle moments to carve out two garden plots and keep a few sheep…

Life at the pass had been quite pleasant, actually. The great battle that had wiped out the chiefs of the Western Ka and Ji Ma clans felt like something from a distant past.

Until one night, when Western Tribe forces suddenly stormed the pass!

Thank heaven they really had posted night sentries. The night watchman had actually been dozing off at the time, but the enemy made a bit too much noise and startled him awake. He opened his eyes — and in the firelight, a head was cresting the top of the wall! He screamed on the spot.

The bloody battle began.

The enemy’s surprise attack had failed. From the following day they began direct assaults, starting with battering the gate. The pass had been reinforced afterward, and simple siege weapons couldn’t break the gate. Defensive equipment had been set up along the top of the walls as well.

Zhù Xinle dispatched urgent word to the administration hall while holding them off. He had fewer men; the enemy kept coming in greater and greater numbers — eventually several thousand strong — and they had brought Chief Pusheng with them. Over this stretch of time, Zhù Xinle had already lost about a hundred men, with even more wounded. Without reinforcements, he really would be in tears.

Looking down every day at Chief Pusheng below the walls, it was hard even to feel angry — he was too busy calculating how to use his dwindling numbers to hold off each successive round of attacks. How on earth did the enemy also have a catapult? Their initial force had been all cavalry; later, infantry arrived in growing numbers, and it was the infantry who brought these infernal devices.

Zhù Qingjun said, “All right — I understand the situation. First, rotate the garrison soldiers. The wounded are to be bandaged and sent to the rear. Do you know who the enemy commander is?”

“It’s one of the Tribal Lord’s major generals — not the same person as last time.”

Zhù Qingjun reorganized the garrison above and below the pass, made her own observation of the enemy’s position, and studied their flags. The enemy force had indeed changed hands; the bearing and demeanor of the soldiers also looked different.

Zhù Qingjun issued her order: “During the night, plant all the flags I’ve brought densely along the tops of the walls and stuff them full of straw men. At dawn — beat the drums and raise the battle cry!”

Zhù Xinle sensed something was off. “But then…”

Zhù Qingjun asked, “Those herb-gatherer paths — do you know them?”

“Yes.”

“Good. I need to use them.”

“A flanking maneuver?”

Zhù Qingjun gave a nod.

The flanking force also carried the large standards — not just banners, but the soldiers’ own armor was of court-regulation pattern. Zhù Qingjun led the detachment herself. Zhù Xinle said, “How can I let you go yourself? That stretch of territory — none of us know it.”

Zhù Qingjun smiled. “I brought guides.”

Zhù Qingtian was furious about it, but she had stayed up all night rounding up for Zhù Qingjun merchants who traveled this route — people from Zhù County and A’Su County who knew this line of trade.

Zhù Xinle still worried. “Good sister — what was true before isn’t true now. Before, everyone put their lives on the line together. Now you’re someone valuable.”

“Nothing particularly valuable about it. Let’s go!”

The new day came, beginning as it had been beginning — with preparations for blood. This day, however, was different. The walls bristled with flags and standards, which gave the enemy general a start. He demanded of Chief Pusheng, “Didn’t you say it was autumn harvest time and they would all be busy?”

Chief Pusheng’s face was also dark. Zhù Xinle was his foremost enemy for now — Zhù Ying he would deal with later. Each day he had watched the wounded on the walls grow more numerous and the defending heads grow fewer, yet still the pass did not fall. His back molars were nearly ground to dust.

He also detested this enemy general, who ordered him about as though he were a servant! He was a chief — once the equal in standing of the enemy general, at least roughly. But now… he swallowed that bitter taste. His old “friend” was dead.

That “friend” had originally come to help him deal with the fearsome force from the east, but then turned without warning and plundered his city, threw open the gates, and destroyed everything he had. Yet when the “friend” left, he had casually taken him along — “saved” his life. He knew exactly what had really happened, but he had been forced to endure it, to pretend ignorance, to continue expressing gratitude to the “friend,” and to promise: “Help me return, and I’ll give you whatever you ask.”

That “friend” had never agreed. It wasn’t until the “friend’s” younger brother brought in the Tribal Lord’s forces — killed the older brothers, and handed him over to the Tribal Lord — that the situation changed.

Chief Pusheng had once again become a “guide.” Guide he would be, then — so long as it could bring him back to the land where his ancestors had lived and let him be chief again. Once that day came, he would have all the time in the world to take his revenge…

On the walls, the defenders had clearly been replaced by fresh troops. The enemy general had attacked for so long without success, growing ever more frantic, lashing the soldiers around him: “Charge! We’re almost through!”

Without warning, a battle cry erupted from his flank and behind!

Zhù Qingjun had arrived!

The enemy general was no longer agitated. His expression shifted. “How is it—”

“Retreat!”

Zhù Qingjun reined in her horse and personally guarded the rear as she withdrew, watching until the last of the enemy soldiers had fallen back before slowly pulling into the pass.

Above and below the walls, jubilant cheers rang out.

Zhù Xinle said, “They’re crafty — we still need to guard against them coming back.”

Zhù Qingjun said, “You arrange the night watch.” She wasn’t certain how determined the enemy really was — whether this had been a genuine probe or a shift in strategy, with a true intent to settle scores with Annan.

Three days later, the walls of the pass had been raised by another foot in height, when the Western Tribes sent an envoy. The man came alone on horseback to the base of the walls and called out: “I request that Zhù the Chancellor come to speak.”

Zhù Qingjun replied from the parapet: “The Administrator has countless affairs to manage. If you have something to say, say it to me — I will convey it.”

The envoy then explained his purpose: he was an envoy of Kun Da Chi, come to make peace with the court. He had the credentials and seals to prove it.

Zhù Qingjun said, “This is not something I can decide. I also do not recognize your credentials. You came and provoked us first, and now you want to negotiate peace — you do both the provoking and the peace-making. Is it really that easy?”

The other party hastened to explain: “It was a disloyal border official who acted without my lord’s knowledge! My lord dispatched troops to bring him to justice. Some of his remnant forces fled east — and encountering a pass that refused them entry, those inside assumed it was the treacherous official making a last stand in a fortified position, and so launched an attack. It was all a misunderstanding.”