The moment Emperor Yang Jing saw Princess Wu stride into the great hall, something lurched in his chest.

He revered Prince Wu with something close to filial devotion, the way one reveres the pillar that holds up the sky. And Princess Wu — she could have left. No one in Daxing City could have stopped her. Yet she had stayed. When the Emperor had taken his bride, she had managed every detail of the wedding, inside and out. Every expense had come from her own coffers. Even the Empress’s wardrobe, every layer, had been Princess Wu’s doing.

There were those who whispered in the shadows that Prince Wu’s sending his son away from Daxing City early proved his disloyalty.

The Emperor had answered those whispers in the most direct way possible — he had had every one of those people killed.

Now, seeing Princess Wu announce her intention to go to the rescue, the Emperor’s expression changed at once.

“Honored Aunt, you must not.”

He moved toward her quickly. “Your nephew is even now selecting the finest talents Chu has to offer. Honored Aunt, please wait a little longer. Even if I must lead the campaign personally to bring Royal Uncle home, I would never allow you to face such danger.”

“Your Majesty.”

Princess Wu dropped to her knees. The Emperor rushed to help her up; she would not rise.

“Prince Wu is trapped. By rights, it should be his children who go to his rescue. But Zhenting is not in Daxing City, so it falls to me.”

Princess Wu looked up at the Emperor. “These past two days, my left eye has kept twitching. Prince Wu, he…”

“Honored Aunt,” the Emperor said quickly, “Royal Uncle is a man of heaven’s favor — nothing will happen to him. I promise you reinforcements will be sent at once. They will march tomorrow!”

Princess Wu said: “Prince Wu and I have never asked anything of the court or of Your Majesty. Today I break that habit and make one request on Prince Wu’s behalf. Allow me to go. If Prince Wu… truly cannot return, he should not be alone. I will be with him.”

The Emperor stood motionless, at a loss for words.

General Jiang Qihai spoke: “Your Majesty — the Princess should go.”

The Emperor spun to look at him.

Jiang Qihai struggled to his feet again and said: “Your Majesty, the Left Vanguard Guard has been besieged on Mangdang Mountain for some time now. If provisions run low and there is no way to break out, morale will be failing. But if Princess Wu herself leads the relief army, that sight alone will rouse the soldiers inside the mountain to new life!”

The Emperor’s eyes flickered.

Jiang Qihai continued: “Your Majesty — when Prince Wu learns it is the Princess who has come for him, he will lead the Left Vanguard Guard in a single furious charge to break through. There will be a force in that charge nothing else could match.”

Princess Wu said: “Your Majesty, General Jiang is right. There is no one more fitting for this than me.”

General Dou Yong stepped forward. “Your Majesty, this subordinate will follow Princess Wu and bring Prince Wu home.”

Dou Yong’s valor was the equal of any man’s. Only the accident of his birth had kept him underutilized within the Liangzhou Army. But his combat ability was no less than Zhang He’s — and with a general of that caliber spearheading the assault, the rescue stood a far better chance.

“Your nephew…”

The Emperor wavered, then gave a single nod. “Your nephew agrees.”

He looked at Dou Yong. “General Dou — whatever else happens, you must protect the Princess’s life.”

Dou Yong bowed low. “Your Majesty may be at ease. While this subordinate draws breath, no harm will come to the Princess.”

And so it was decided.

The Emperor instructed Jiang Qihai and Dou Yong to select and organize the force, while he kept Princess Wu behind to offer her free choice of anyone she wished to take — from within the palace or outside it, anyone of use, she could bring along.

Princess Wu chose no one. The martial artists she had gathered around herself over the years were, if anything, superior to what remained of the palace’s inner guard — that much-diminished force that had suffered so terribly during the Tianming Army’s mutiny, losing even Hui Chunqiu in the fighting. There were no remarkable fighters left to offer her.

But how strong Princess Wu’s personal guard truly was, perhaps only she herself knew.

All these years that Prince Wu had led the Left Vanguard Guard on campaign after campaign across Chu’s frontiers, he had made enemies beyond counting. How many had decided that seizing Princess Wu was the surest way to threaten the Prince? Yet the Princess had come through every year unscathed.

In accordance with Jiang Qihai’s design, the relief force was not to include any soldiers from the Tianming Army — despite the twenty thousand still encamped beyond the city walls.

He instructed Dou Yong to draw the core from the Liangzhou Army — no fewer than a hundred thousand — then add fifty thousand from the Chu Army and fifty thousand from the Yuezhou Army, assembling a combined force of two hundred thousand to march north.

Military details Princess Wu did not involve herself with, leaving everything to Dou Yong.

To ensure absolute security, Jiang Qihai sent along nearly every capable officer the Liangzhou Army possessed. The Yuezhou Army lacked true military minds but was rich in former wanderers and fighters from the rivers and lakes — and so from the Yuezhou ranks an outer guard battalion was formed, composed entirely of such men, charged solely with protecting the Princess’s outer perimeter.

The Emperor personally selected three thousand Imperial Guard cavalry to serve as Princess Wu’s personal escort.

Within only a few days, the two hundred thousand soldiers departed Daxing City. Princess Wu’s heart was already in flames — she could not wait any longer.

When word spread that Princess Wu herself was riding to Prince Wu’s rescue, nearly every soul in Daxing City poured into the streets. They lined both sides of the road, cheering her onward.

For the first time, Princess Wu found those common people rather endearing.

Ning Army Camp

Tang Pidi had a vast sand table constructed inside the main command tent, every contour of the terrain reproduced upon it. Red flags marked the Ning forces; black flags the Chu; green flags the Marquis of Guanting’s New Yuezhou Army; grey flags Han Feibao’s Yongzhou Army.

“The report only just arrived from our agents yesterday.”

Tang Pidi looked toward Li Chi. “The Marquis of Guanting’s army is encamped on the border between Yangzhou and Jingzhou — no movement whatsoever. It seems we underestimated him.”

Li Chi gave a slow nod.

He had predicted the Marquis would use the siege of Prince Wu to attack Daxing City. Clearly, this man had a steadier nerve than anticipated.

“We have far too little intelligence on this person.”

Tang Pidi’s eyes never left the sand table.

Li Chi said: “Zhang Tang interrogated a number of spies within the intelligence corps, but they too know little of the Marquis. Only that he is the sole son of the former Yuezhou Military Governor.”

He looked at Tang Pidi. “The Marquis left for Daxing City to be educated when he was still young, then returned to Yuezhou for less than a year before departing on a long journey, not returning until just before Brother Hu marched south. Where he went in those years, no one knows.”

Tang Pidi said: “Judging by his methods — composed, calculating, luring Li Hu with measured steps and striking only when certainty was absolute…”

He looked at Li Chi. “That style of doing things reminds me somewhat of you.”

Li Chi smiled. “How so?”

Tang Pidi said: “An old coin, worn smooth on both sides.”

Li Chi gave him a look.

Just then Gui Yuanshu entered from outside. “My Lord. General.”

He bowed. Li Chi smiled and waved him off. “Spare the ceremony. You came back in a hurry — something urgent?”

Gui Yuanshu had been sent to track down certain individuals. Returning now meant he had something of substance.

Gui Yuanshu glanced at the water on the table — just a glance — and was about to answer when Li Chi pointed at the pitcher. “Drink first.”

Gui Yuanshu grinned, lifted the pitcher, and gulped it down. Fortunately the water had cooled enough not to scald.

“Your subordinate, some days past, led men from the Military Intelligence Division in a raid on a Yunwu Map hideout and caught a few sizable fish.”

Gui Yuanshu said: “Some information came to light — not related to those people, but to the Marquis of Guanting.”

Li Chi looked at Tang Pidi and smiled. “Look at the timing — we were just saying we knew too little about him, and Gui Yuanshu walks in.”

Tang Pidi smiled. “Sit down and tell us.”

He called to a guard: “Go have food prepared for Deputy Gui. When it’s ready, don’t come and ask — just bring it straight in.”

The guard acknowledged and went out.

Gui Yuanshu settled himself and said: “This Marquis of Guanting — he left home at the age of five.”

Li Chi startled.

Five years old?

That meant the former Yuezhou Military Governor’s ambitions were not of recent making — reckoning from that point, this had been two decades in preparation.

Gui Yuanshu continued: “Among those we captured, one had once been an attendant of the Marquis and had lived with him in Jizhou.”

“Jizhou?!”

Li Chi and Tang Pidi exchanged a glance.

Gui Yuanshu said: “Yes. According to this man, the Marquis lived in Jizhou from the age of five until fifteen. During that time he traveled once to Daxing City, spent some time there calling on various influential families, then returned to Jizhou. When he turned fifteen, he moved to Daxing City permanently, and this attendant stopped following him at that point.”

Li Chi calculated. By the time the Marquis left Jizhou at fifteen, Li Chi had already been in Jizhou for some time.

So the Marquis might have known who Li Chi was, even then? The possibility was slim — at that time, Li Chi had been nothing more than a student with a modest reputation at the Academy.

But one thing was beyond doubt: the Marquis had certainly known Xiahou Zhuo.

Li Chi looked over at Xiahou Zhuo, who had already fallen into thought, clearly searching his memory for any acquaintance surnamed Guan.

After a long silence Xiahou Zhuo shook his head: “Nothing. Not the faintest impression.”

Tang Pidi said: “When I was studying at the Academy, I knew no one surnamed Guan either. He must have used a false name.”

Working backward from the timeline, this person had left Jizhou precisely when great upheaval had come to the region — likely judging Jizhou had become too dangerous. But Jizhou lay at the far north; Yuezhou at the far south. Why had he been sent all the way to Jizhou to study?

If any reason were to be found, there was only one answer: the Academy’s Headmaster.

Headmaster Gao was the foremost Confucian scholar of the age, the acknowledged leader of the literate world. That meant this young man had been at the Four-Page Academy for a full ten years.

Li Chi said: “I’ll go and ask Headmaster Gao myself. He may have used a false name, but knowing he entered at five and left at fifteen, the Headmaster may still have some recollection.”

Everyone was curious, and all decided to follow Li Chi.

This Marquis of Guanting was growing ever more mysterious — which, in itself, was unsettling.

Before long, when they found Headmaster Gao, he was reclining in a rocking chair alongside Old Daoist Zhang and Long-Brow Daoist, the three of them soaking up the sun with eyes half-closed, looking remarkably at ease.

Li Chi smiled. “You three look very idle.”

Gao Xining said: “Idle! They’ve just had a quarrel. What looks like peace is just neither of them speaking to the other.”

Li Chi asked: “What were they quarreling about?”

Gao Xining glanced at Old Daoist Zhang, who was smiling to himself with his eyes squinted shut.

These three old men — one day this one stirs up the other two, the next day one of those two stirs up the remaining pair. There was never a moment’s peace.

Gao Xining lowered her voice: “Old Zhang said out of nowhere that Master has far fewer wrinkles than Grandfather. Master got rather pleased with himself, and Grandfather took offense…”

Li Chi looked at Old Daoist Zhang. Old Daoist Zhang chuckled: “Don’t look at me — yesterday your master was saying that in his youth Headmaster Gao must certainly have been the handsomer man.”

Li Chi sighed and turned to Headmaster Gao: “Headmaster, I have a matter to ask you about.”

Headmaster Gao turned over. “Ask the one with fewer wrinkles.”

Li Chi said: “Master has fewer wrinkles, but also fewer answers. Headmaster, more wrinkles, more wisdom.”

Headmaster Gao: “Oh?”

Long-Brow Daoist sat bolt upright and glared at Li Chi. Li Chi clasped his hands in apology toward him.

Headmaster Gao also sat up: “You have finally learned some sense. Good thing you haven’t picked up his shallow ways.”

Long-Brow: “You’re not shallow — your wrinkles go so deep they look like furrows. You’re skin-deep, deep as an abyss…”

Li Chi cast a pleading look at Long-Brow Daoist. Long-Brow gave a huff, raised a hand to cover his own mouth, and continued mumbling into his palm: “Throw a basin into one of those wrinkles and you’d wait a year before hearing it hit the bottom…”