On the bank of the Panxing River.

Li Chi and Tang Pidi and the others sat by a fire, roasting steamed buns. The army was crossing the river right beside them, yet the group seemed utterly unconcerned — as if the Chu forces didn’t exist.

Tang Pidi was supremely confident, having calculated that the Prince of Wu wouldn’t dare attack. And even if he did attack, Tang Pidi wasn’t worried — preparations had been made.

“Report!”

A scout came galloping in, dismounted as he neared, and clasped his fists before Li Chi. “My lord, Chu cavalry has been spotted approaching.”

Li Chi raised his hand and pointed at Tang Pidi, as if to say: tell him.

Tang Pidi smiled slightly and said, “Understood. Here — take two buns to eat.” He gestured to the scout. “Just keep watching the enemy side.”

Li Chi handed the scout the two buns he’d just finished toasting. “Be careful, they’re still hot.”

The scout broke into a grin — as though receiving those two buns was the greatest reward in the world.

“If the Chu cavalry actually came, how do we respond?” Cheng Wujie asked.

Tang Pidi shook his head. “Ignore them.”

He then looked at Li Chi. “Toast two more — I haven’t eaten yet.”

Li Chi shot him a glance but picked up two skewers of buns and started toasting them anyway. Then he asked: “With meat filling?”

Tang Pidi: “With filling.”

Li Chi: “There isn’t any.”

Tang Pidi: “A ruler’s word is law.”

Li Chi: “I was asking whether you wanted filling. You said yes, so I told you there wasn’t any. It would have been the same if you’d said no. Why bother?”

Tang Pidi said: “Ask me again.”

Li Chi: “With filling?”

Tang Pidi: “Give me the bun, I’ll add my own.”

Li Chi handed the buns over. Tang Pidi opened his travel pack and produced an oilpaper parcel — which, astonishingly, actually contained meat.

The braised meat looked genuinely appetizing. The color, the aroma — it made the appetite surge.

Li Chi stared for a moment, then reached over and rifled through his own pack. His hidden braised meat was, of course, gone.

“When did you steal it?”

“When you went to wash your hands at the river just now.”

“How did you know I had meat in there?”

“Because you never let that pack out of your hands.”

Tang Pidi said, “Things that make you keep a pack close — either it’s money, or it’s food.”

Li Chi looked over at Yu Jiuling. “Another traitor for the list.”

Yu Jiuling said, “Exactly. How could anyone steal the lord’s meat? Terrible, terrible. Deeply unacceptable.”

Tang Pidi sighed and said to Li Chi, “I just lied to you — that was wrong of me. The meat — it was Yu Jiuling who told me about it. I was going to protect him, but it turns out he just sold me out.”

Li Chi looked at Yu Jiuling. Yu Jiuling gave an embarrassed little laugh. “My lord — surprise. Turns out the traitor has always only been me.”

Li Chi glanced at him. “Recover the meat. You’re pardoned.”

Yu Jiuling looked at Tang Pidi and sighed: “My lord, you’d better just punish me. Snatching meat out of the Grand General’s mouth — that’s like pulling a tusk from an elephant’s jaw…”

Before he could finish, Li Chi and Tang Pidi both moved at the same time — one left hand, one right — and simultaneously knocked him on the back of the head.

In the middle of this, another scout came galloping in. “My lord, Chu cavalry is now twenty li away.”

Li Chi pointed at Tang Pidi again.

Tang Pidi said, “Understood. Continue monitoring.”

He glanced at the scout, who didn’t leave immediately — just stood there, eyes fixed longingly on the buns in Li Chi’s hands.

Li Chi broke into a smile and held out two freshly toasted buns. “You want some too?”

The scout said, “Little Sanzi wouldn’t stop bragging about it when he got back — said the lord personally toasted the buns for him. He was so proud of himself.”

He took the buns Li Chi offered, grinned, gave a military salute, then turned, mounted, and rode away.

He was still laughing loudly as he galloped off.

Tang Pidi glanced pointedly at Li Chi’s hands. Li Chi understood the implication and picked up two more skewers to toast.

As luck would have it, they were just about done when yet another scout came galloping in.

Before this scout could say a word, his eyes went straight to the buns in Li Chi’s hands. Li Chi didn’t wait for him to speak — he just held them out directly. “They’re yours.”

The scout grinned too, elated as a child who happened to weigh a hundred and seventy-odd jin.

He took the buns and started to leave, which left everyone stunned. Tang Pidi laughed: “He got so excited he forgot to report.”

Li Chi called after him: “Come back! What were you going to say? Why did you leave without saying it?”

The scout said: “My lord, I just came for the buns.”

Li Chi: “…”

Tang Pidi was taken completely off guard and burst out laughing.

Cheng Wujie laughed so hard he doubled over, and between gasps said to the scout: “Don’t go spreading this around — otherwise the Grand General won’t get a single bun from the lord today.”

The scout said: “Not spread it around… but wouldn’t that be a shame? Nobody else would know the lord gave me buns.”

And with that he laughed and ran off.

Li Chi stood up, grabbed his camp stool, and started walking. “Come on, let’s find somewhere else.”

Yu Jiuling grinned: “In the year such-and-such, on such-and-such a day, the Ning King Li Chi, unable to afford buns for his own men, fled in disarray.”

Li Chi kept walking as he called back: “I’m not dealing with you right now. Later I’m going to find that soft spot behind your knee and give you a good kick.”

The group moved off together, laughing all the while.

Before long, another scout tracked them to their new location and reported: the Chu cavalry had halted ten li away, apparently observing — neither pressing forward nor withdrawing.

Tang Pidi smiled. “As I said — don’t worry about them. The Prince of Wu just wants to see whether we’ve laid an ambush. That’s all.”

Li Chi asked the scout: “We only just moved over here — how did you find us so fast?”

The scout said: “I… am a scout.”

Li Chi looked down at the buns he hadn’t yet gotten around to toasting. The scout asked: “Not done yet?”

Li Chi made a sound of acknowledgment, thinking: let’s see what you do about that — bet you didn’t expect that, the buns aren’t even done.

The scout looked at Tang Pidi. “Any further orders, Grand General?”

Tang Pidi said: “No.”

Scout: “Alright then. I’ll wait.”

Li Chi: “…”

—

Half a day later, in the Prince of Wu’s encampment.

Yang Jingyuan led the cavalry back into Ting’an County and reported to the Prince of Wu.

After hearing Yang Jingyuan’s account, the Prince of Wu’s brow furrowed slightly.

His cavalry had come within ten li of the Ning Army, and the Ning forces had shown not the slightest reaction. It seemed the Ning Army did indeed have a trap in place.

After a moment of quiet thought, the Prince of Wu shook his head and sighed. “There’s no trap. Tang Pidi simply calculated that I wouldn’t dare send troops to actually attack.”

Nie Qitai asked: “Your Highness, what if we attacked now?”

The Prince of Wu shook his head. “It’s already too late. A full day has passed. The units that have crossed the river number at least several tens of thousands — by now they’re fully in position and waiting.”

He rose and began pacing along the wall.

“But for Tang Pidi to be this relaxed and unguarded — their reinforcements must be truly close.”

Yang Jingyuan said: “Your Highness, perhaps we should split our forces. I’ll take troops southeast to break through, flying your banner — drawing Tang Pidi to pursue. General Nie takes troops southwest to break through, also flying your banner. Tang Pidi won’t dare be careless; he’ll have to split his forces east and west. At that moment, Your Highness personally leads the main army, and while the Ning forces are divided, breaks through due south.”

It was, one had to admit, an excellent plan.

And yet, as expected, the Prince of Wu shook his head.

Having his subordinates impersonate him to draw away the enemy — he was not capable of that. If he were the kind of man who could do such a thing, he would never have earned so many utterly devoted soldiers.

He could have men impersonate him to frighten the enemy — that was a different matter entirely. But this situation was nothing like that.

People said the Prince of Wu didn’t spare lives in battle, and it was true — but that was for the sake of victory, and every victory was for Chu, not for himself.

What Yang Jingyuan was proposing now was for the Prince of Wu to sacrifice his men to buy his own escape.

Even with a blade at his throat, the Prince of Wu would never agree.

“There is nothing more to say on this.”

The Prince of Wu shook his head, walked to the edge of the wall, and looked out. “We have not yet reached the point of certain defeat. I have not yet reached the end of my road. As long as I still command this army, I have a responsibility to bring you all back to Daxing City.”

As he spoke those words, his mind drifted for a moment.

Fifty years ago. The outer steppe. The earthen fortress at Mao’er Mountain.

Looking out at the rising dust in the distance — the hoofbeats of steppe cavalry bearing down — even Yang Jijü’s face had changed color slightly.

He had gone alone back into Iron Crane territory to settle matters with Multan. He knew that once the business was done, Multan would have him killed to silence him.

So he had deliberately told Multan that his younger brother had fallen behind due to illness, and asked Multan to send some men to escort the brother. Multan, intending to kill them both, heard this and naturally dispatched several hundred riders — outwardly to escort Yang Jijü to collect his brother, but secretly ordered to kill them both once the brother was found.

Yang Jijü was a warrior of extraordinary skill. After deceiving Multan and leading those several hundred riders out of the camp, he waited until they were several dozen li away, then suddenly struck — killing those nearest to him — and rode for his life.

He deliberately took a wide detour instead of going directly to Mao’er Mountain, even risking a dash through Huole territory to throw off the pursuit.

After shaking them off, he rode through the night and arrived at Mao’er Mountain to rendezvous — only to find, just as he arrived, that the pursuers had arrived too.

The steppe people were skilled at using trained falcons and eagles for tracking. He had believed he’d lost them. He had been followed the entire way.

In that moment, Yang Jijü made a decision.

“The enemy doesn’t know our exact numbers. If a few of us are missing, they’ll have difficulty accounting for everyone.”

He turned to his men and said: “We go into Mao’er Mountain now. I’ll take you with me to draw away the pursuers. Leave two men behind to protect my…”

He looked at Yang Jishen. For the first time, he called it out on his own initiative — elder brother.

“Leave two men hidden, to protect my elder brother. Once I’ve drawn the pursuers away, escort him back to the Central Plains.”

Yang Jijü finished speaking. His men immediately responded: “Yes!”

But Yang Jishen refused to accept it.

“It doesn’t matter whether you accept it. It’s always been my call.” Yang Jijü gave a single order, and everyone mounted and rode for Mao’er Mountain, vanishing quickly into the forest.

The pursuing force came surging behind them — at least a thousand riders. Yang Jijü’s group numbered only a few dozen. There was no fighting that.

After entering Mao’er Mountain, the guards all moved to carry out the Prince of Wu’s orders — but at that moment, Yang Jishen suddenly called out: “Do as I say!”

The guards wheeled their horses in unison and followed Yang Jishen charging out. They were going to draw away the pursuers themselves.

The Prince of Wu tried to give chase, but the two men left behind blocked his path with their horses.

It turned out that before Yang Jijü had even returned to Mao’er Mountain, Yang Jishen had already discussed this with the men.

He had told them: I am a man of no use. Even if you bring me back alive, I serve no purpose for Chu. But my brother is different — he has great talent, the kind that can turn the tide. If only one person can be saved, you must all remember: it has to be him.

Those guards had all been trained by Yang Jijü, bound to follow only Yang Jijü’s orders — yet this once, they chose to listen to Yang Jishen.

Galloping away, Yang Jishen turned and shouted back: “I’ve always done what you said. It’s always been your call. But not this time. Don’t forget — I am the elder brother.”

He — a man who had been genuinely terrified every step of this journey — rode out without a moment’s hesitation, laughing loudly as he galloped away.

—