Xiahou Zuo looked at the letter in his hand. It had come tied to an arrow, shot onto the city wall — an invitation from Yefu Lie, Grand General of the Black Wu Southern Court, to meet outside the city at noon tomorrow.

Garrison Commander Ji Donting asked: “General Commander — will you go?”

Xiahou Zuo said: “I won’t. He never made clear who’s treating. Meeting at noon and not eating — what’s the point? And if there is food — who’s paying?”

Ji Donting felt the General Commander had a point.

“The same tired routine as always — nothing more than putting on a display of how strong they are, implying you’d be wise to surrender. He’ll throw in a few lines about how much he admires you, and how if you were willing to come over to their side, the treatment would surely be better than what you get where you are now.”

Xiahou Zuo said: “Nothing worth engaging with.”

Ji Donting smiled: “The Black Wu side probably figures we rarely spare admiration for anyone, so offering you face like this is supposed to be flattering.”

Xiahou Zuo gave a slight smile, then asked: “How’s that painting coming along?”

Ji Donting replied: “Still being worked on.”

Just as he spoke, an eagle’s cry rang out. Xiahou Zuo looked up. A massive hawk swept across the sky.

It was Yefu Lie’s snow-headed eagle — a great bird whose wingspan, fully extended, exceeded the reach of a man’s arms by a considerable measure, and which was said to be able to seize a horse and carry it aloft.

The creature had been trained by Yefu Lie to be remarkably obedient. It flew too high for arrows to reach.

This snow-headed eagle circling over Beishan Pass at altitude was likely another form of Black Wu intimidation.

“General Commander,” Ji Donting suddenly thought of something and asked with curiosity: “I’ve heard the Prince of Ning also keeps a hawk — is it anywhere near this big?”

Xiahou Zuo replied: “About the same size as that snow-headed eagle’s head.”

Ji Donting thought about it for a moment. The image appeared in his mind — the Prince of Ning’s hawk flying alongside the snow-headed eagle, no bigger than the eagle’s head. They were not in the same category at all.

This species of snow-headed eagle was unique to Black Wu territory — nothing like it existed in the Central Plains. The largest of them reportedly had a wingspan of over one zhang.

Ji Donting sighed: “I wonder what that wretched thing likes to eat. If we knew, we could set a trap and kill it.”

Xiahou Zuo considered for a moment. He supposed they could tie Ninth Sister to the wall and the snow-headed eagle would probably find that very interesting.

The next day, Yefu Lie truly did appear outside the city — accompanied by only a few personal guards, a small table set up before him, sitting and waiting for Xiahou Zuo.

Xiahou Zuo genuinely couldn’t be bothered to make the trip for small talk. He had two wooden posts set up on the wall, strung a hammock between them, and was now swaying back and forth on it at his leisure.

In this world, there were few who understood the art of command better than Xiahou Zuo.

He knew that the more relaxed he appeared, the more confidence his soldiers felt; the more tense he seemed, the more anxious they would become than he himself was.

“General Commander — the painting is finished.”

Pei Chengqi, who had been up all through the night, came up carrying the painting. The style was somewhat rough, but it looked entirely the part.

Xiahou Zuo had the canvas — over two zhang long and one zhang wide — hung on the outside of the city wall, then went back to swinging in his hammock.

Out beyond the walls, Yefu Lie waited a while and saw no sign of Xiahou Zuo coming. He couldn’t help letting out a soft sigh, thinking to himself: the Central Plains produces excellent commanders in abundance, but Xiahou Zuo would rank among the very finest.

He had invited Xiahou Zuo out to meet him in order to test his temperament. A man of excessive pride and arrogance would likely refuse to back down — he would almost certainly come out to meet him. Xiahou Zuo’s indifference was not born of fear; it was dismissal.

While he was still thinking this over, he saw a painting hung from the city wall. Yefu Lie called for the spyglass and looked carefully. After a moment, he frowned.

His clan’s banner bore the device of a soaring eagle clutching a deer. The painting on the wall showed a deer trampling a soaring eagle.

When the Black Wu Khan-Emperor of the previous generation had bestowed this banner upon him, there had been meaning behind it. Yefu Lie, as Grand General of the Southern Court, had spent the better part of his life dealing with the Central Plains people.

The Central Plains had a saying about “chasing the deer through the realm” — a metaphor for contending for supremacy. The Black Wu people, not entirely familiar with the allusion, had taken it to mean that the Central Plains people used the deer as their symbol.

The soaring eagle clutching a deer was therefore meant to signify that Yefu Lie had spent his career keeping the Central Plains armies too beaten down to lift their heads.

“Good.”

Yefu Lie lowered the spyglass and murmured to himself, then glanced at the chess board that had already been laid out.

“Pack it up.”

He gave the order, mounted his horse, and rode back to camp.

Back on the wall, Ji Donting asked: “General Commander — will this painting infuriate Yefu Lie?”

Xiahou Zuo smiled: “A man of his caliber — would he truly grow angry over a petty gesture like this? He’ll probably think us childish and absurd.”

Ji Donting was baffled. He asked again: “Then what did the General Commander mean by—”

Xiahou Zuo replied: “He’s old.”

Ji Donting turned those three words over in his mind and still didn’t quite follow.

Xiahou Zuo smiled: “The older a person gets, the more superstitious they become. I hang this painting for him to see, and he can’t help turning it over in his mind. This man has fought against us his entire career without ever losing — and after seeing this painting, perhaps he’ll feel a little unsettled.”

Ji Donting still wasn’t fully certain he understood. The whole point of hanging this painting was simply that an older man might be a little more superstitious?

But Xiahou Zuo offered no further explanation. He turned and gave the order: “Muster the men — let’s find ourselves a bit of entertainment.”

He looked at his personal guard: “Yesterday I told you to catch ten chickens. Did you?”

The guard quickly replied: “We caught them, sir. Not knowing what the General Commander intended, we’ve been keeping them penned up on the wall.”

Xiahou Zuo then gave his instructions: “In a moment I’ll throw the chickens off the wall. You all shoot at them. Whoever hits one gets five jin of fine liquor and ten taels of silver. And remember — tie a rope to the chicken’s leg first so you can pull it back. Whoever scores the hit gets to have their chicken roasted and eaten.”

The soldiers broke into a loud cheer.

On the Black Wu side, not long after Yefu Lie returned, his men came to report: a wave of cheering had erupted from the walls of Beishan Pass, and the Ning soldiers were shooting arrows for sport.

Yefu Lie grew curious and came out of camp to watch. Through the spyglass, he could see someone on the wall tossing a chicken off the edge, while the soldiers competed to shoot it down.

The way those chickens tumbled and fell through the air had a strange resonance with the painting of the deer trampling the soaring eagle that still hung on the wall.

“Chickens — not eagles.”

Yefu Lie murmured to himself, then turned and walked back to camp. A few paces later, he glanced back at the painting on the wall. His expression gradually darkened.

The Ning army’s little amusement was also likely meant to tell him: *we have so many arrows, we can afford to shoot them for fun.*

—

Meanwhile, in Daxing City.

Emperor Yang Jing looked at Prince Wu, who was seated across from him, and asked: “Royal Uncle — Tang Pidi’s forces in Suzhou are too few to do anything but hold the city. Does Royal Uncle have any stratagem that might provoke Li Xionghu into attacking Suzhou at all costs? Tang Pidi has no reinforcements — this would be a golden opportunity to be rid of him.”

Prince Wu was silent for a moment before replying: “Your Majesty — if I were to move my forces in the direction of Suzhou, Li Xionghu would assume I intended to assault the city and would likely make his move first. However, provisions are truly scarce at present, and the army cannot take the field — so I confess I cannot think of any solution.”

The Emperor felt a measure of displeasure in his heart. He always had the sense that Prince Wu was reluctant to go and engage the Ning army.

But the fact of empty granaries was real, so he had little grounds for further complaint.

After a moment, the Emperor asked: “What of a scheme to sow discord?”

Prince Wu replied: “Your Majesty’s scheme of sowing discord — I am not sure what you have in mind.”

The Emperor said: “If we were to send someone now to try and persuade Tang Pidi to declare himself king — what are the chances of success?”

Prince Wu shook his head: “Not a chance in the world.”

The Emperor frowned: “Why is Royal Uncle so certain?”

Prince Wu replied: “If Tang Pidi had any such ambitions, he need not have waited until now. When he led his army south to attack Yuzhou, Li Chi handed him every soldier he had. If Tang Pidi had any desire to set himself up as king, he would have done it right there in Yuzhou.”

The Emperor said: “I do not believe any man can be so entirely without self-interest.”

Prince Wu, instinctively, fired back a question: “Is Your Majesty questioning the loyalty of those who serve you?”

The Emperor felt a jolt inside. His expression changed.

Prince Wu, having spoken those words, immediately began to regret them himself.

Both men fell silent. After an indeterminate stretch of time, the Emperor managed a strained smile: “Royal Uncle is joking — that is not what We meant.”

Prince Wu bowed respectfully: “Yes, yes… a jest on my part as well.”

“Then how about this.”

The Emperor said: “Royal Uncle, write a letter to Tang Pidi — find some way to have it delivered into the Ning army’s camp. Not to Suzhou directly — send it somewhere else and have it forwarded to Tang Pidi. If anyone should happen to read the contents, it may well stir up rumors.”

He smiled slightly: “Idle rumors and gossip can wound a person just as surely as a blade.”

Prince Wu looked at the Emperor before him. Suddenly he felt that this man, in whom he had once placed such great hopes, was in truth so childish and absurd.

Such a scheme might work against ordinary men. Against Li Chi and Tang Pidi, a tactic like this would only invite ridicule.

“Your servant obeys.”

Prince Wu bowed and said nothing further.

The Emperor added one more question: “If… We were to send someone to meet with Li Xionghu and propose that We are willing to divide the realm along the Chi River — offering him all of traitor Li Chi’s territory north of the Chi River — might he be tempted?”

This was another scheme to drive a wedge between enemies — a shallow one, but not without a slim chance of effect.

It would not be effective enough to make Li Xionghu immediately lead his forces north — but at the very least it could make Li Xionghu understand that the court’s primary target was Li Chi, not him.

However, such a move would strip the entire Dachu imperial family of every last shred of dignity.

Prince Wu said nothing — only silence.

In his heart, he thought: His Majesty has truly grown desperate. His thinking has painted itself into a corner and cannot find the way out. Every road he walks grows more and more crooked; every thought he entertains grows stranger and more bizarre.

—

Approximately a month later, an emissary dispatched by the Emperor truly did arrive in the camp of the great outlaw Li Xionghu.

After reading the Emperor’s letter through, Li Xionghu let out a cold snort.

He looked at the small eunuch standing before him, trembling with fright, and asked: “Has your Emperor run out of real men around him? Is that why he sent someone like you — a castrated man — to deliver his letter?”

The little eunuch raised his eyes to look at Li Xionghu, shaking with fear, but he answered with great seriousness: “I am a eunuch, yes. But I have guts.”

“Ha ha ha ha—!”

Li Xionghu burst into loud laughter, turned to those behind him and ordered: “I like that line. Give this man a red envelope of a hundred taels — he’s earned it.”

The little eunuch was stunned.

Li Xionghu looked at the eunuch with equal seriousness and said: “Go back and tell that bastard Emperor of yours: I, Li Xionghu, hate Tang Pidi down to my bones, I hate Li Chi down to my bones — I could eat both of them alive, and it wouldn’t be the first time I’ve eaten a man. Back when I raised my banner in Yuezhou, I cooked that dog magistrate and used him as a side dish for my liquor.”

He stepped up to the eunuch, looked him directly in the eyes, and said: “I can fight Li Chi and Tang Pidi on the battlefield to the death — sworn enemies till the very end. But I will not stoop to that kind of filth right now. You want to know why I haven’t attacked Suzhou these past months? Because Li Chi is fighting the Black Wu people.”

He gave the little eunuch a pat on the shoulder — the eunuch’s legs nearly buckled.

Li Xionghu said: “Tell that dog Emperor: he doesn’t deserve to be an emperor. What’s the difference between him and his dog father?”

He asked: “Do you dare say it exactly as I told you?”

The little eunuch was so terrified he shook his head repeatedly.

Li Xionghu turned and ordered: “Find someone with fine penmanship. Write down everything I said and have him bring it back — not a single word left out.”

He turned and walked back to his chair, cursing under his breath: “What a mess.”

—