*Yong Province Army Camp.*
Han Feibao’s brow was locked in a hard furrow. He had been turning over strategies for defeating the Ning army, running through at least twenty approaches in his mind — and rejecting every single one of them himself.
Whatever the approach, the foundation was the same: the million-plus conscripted civilians he held. With them as leverage, once the fighting started, he could act without constraint. Li Chi would be forced to hold back at every turn.
Even so, constructing a battle where victory was certain was no easy thing.
The reason again came back to those civilians. They were a double-edged sword.
Used well, they could leave the Ning King Li Chi unable to strike, driven back step by step.
Used poorly — the moment the Ning army pressed its advantage, all those civilians would accomplish nothing. A million ordinary people against hundreds of thousands of Ning soldiers — how long could they hold?
The moment the Ning army gained the upper hand, they would simply press forward, driving the civilians back into his own lines like a flood. Those people would become a disruption to his own forces.
So the best approach, still, was to wait for the Ning army to come to him.
If the Ning army attacked, Han Feibao would set up three lines of defense. The first line: civilians, sheltered behind ditches and earthworks. It didn’t matter how many died. Even killing a single Ning soldier was a gain. Killing none at all, but having the Ning soldiers kill many — that too was a gain.
Behind this first line of civilians: the supervising troops. Any civilian who tried to retreat would be met with a volley of arrows.
If the retreat couldn’t be stopped, the supervisors could fall back through the second line, and the third line would again be civilians.
By the time the Ning army reached that depth, the field would be utter chaos — a quagmire. Anyone who stepped into it would suffer. The Yong Province army could then surge in from both flanks and counter-strike.
He was still turning all this over when his senior general, Qi Lianshan, strode in quickly from outside, speaking before he had even fully entered.
“My lord — scouts have just reported seeing a column of Ning soldiers moving around our defensive line, heading south.”
Han Feibao looked up. “How many?”
Qi Lianshan said: “At most a thousand, possibly several hundred. Not a large force. I’ve already sent three thousand cavalry in pursuit. Barring anything unexpected, we should have their heads back before nightfall.”
Han Feibao nodded, smiling. “Well done.”
Then, something suddenly shifted in his expression.
Qi Lianshan noticed. “My lord — what is it?”
Han Feibao said: “A Ning unit of a few hundred men slips around us and heads south at a time like this. Where would they be going?”
Qi Lianshan said: “Probably to Da Xing City?”
Han Feibao said: “What would Li Chi’s people be doing in Da Xing City… Could they be going to offer terms of surrender to Emperor Yang Jing?”
The thought crystallized, and his eyes narrowed. “What is Li Chi playing at? Is he trying to bring the Chu Emperor over, and then use his forces to catch me between a pincer — Chu from the south, Ning from the north?”
Qi Lianshan’s expression changed. “My lord — the Chu Emperor did once proclaim to all under heaven that he would abdicate to the Ning King Li Chi. If Li Chi truly sent envoys to negotiate, Yang Jing might actually agree.”
Han Feibao rose and began to pace.
“No matter.”
He looked at Qi Lianshan. “Go yourself. Take more men and bring back everyone in that Ning column. Alive if possible. Heads if not.”
“Even if a few slip through, don’t worry too much. We have people inside Da Xing City — placed there long ago, not to be used until a critical moment. If any Ning envoys actually reach the city, we’ll have to use our hidden hands to remove them.”
Qi Lianshan acknowledged and turned to leave.
Han Feibao sat back down and thought the matter through again carefully. He found he was not overly alarmed.
His sense was that Yang Jing had not yet reached the point of giving up. If surrender came that easily, Yang Jing would have been imprisoned somewhere long ago, barely clinging on.
Yang Jing was an emperor with true ambition for Chu’s revival — just one whose reach exceeded his grasp.
About an hour later, Qi Lianshan came bursting back in, even more agitated than before.
“My lord — something has happened.”
Han Feibao looked at him. “Did the Ning soldiers get away?”
“They did…”
“If they got away, they got away,” Han Feibao said. “I’ve been thinking — if Li Chi really did send people into Da Xing City and we couldn’t stop them, perhaps I should also send someone. See whose terms the Chu Emperor finds more compelling.”
“Yes… my lord, there is one more thing, which is…”
Han Feibao’s brow furrowed. “You’re a senior general. Why are you fumbling like this?”
“The three thousand cavalry I sent — they were defeated by the Ning forces. Over two thousand casualties.”
Han Feibao shot to his feet. “Three thousand went after a few hundred, and not only failed to intercept them but took more than two thousand casualties?!”
Qi Lianshan’s expression was one of shame. “I went after them personally, but when I got there I ran into our own men already pulling back. They said the Ning forces were unusually skilled — fiercely aggressive, extraordinary bowmen and horsemen both. Our men were pursuing from behind, expecting them to run. Instead, they turned and charged straight back.”
“In a single pass, our cavalry were broken through. Their commanding officer, Zhang Fengshou, was killed in the first exchange — severed from his horse. With no one in command and unable to regroup quickly, those few hundred Ning soldiers drove back and forth through our lines several times… and then rode off without looking back.”
Han Feibao erupted. “A pack of useless fools!”
Qi Lianshan immediately said: “My lord, forgive me — I’ll take men and go after them again.”
“You won’t catch them now.”
He paused. “What did these Ning cavalry look like?”
“Black horses, black armor, red cloaks. Every one of them ferocious.”
“The Censorate Troops.”
Han Feibao said: “Then whoever was sent to Da Xing City carries real weight — someone of significance from Li Chi’s inner circle, worth deploying the most elite unit to protect.”
He considered a moment and said: “Someone — go and ask Tailor Xiansheng to come.”
Shortly after, a man who looked to be around forty — with the bearing of a scholar-at-large — entered.
“Your subject pays respects to my lord.”
He bowed the moment he stepped through the door, his manner genuinely deferential. This was Yu Pei’en, the foremost advisor in Han Feibao’s camp, styled Tailai.
“Tailai Xiansheng, please sit.”
Han Feibao said: “I’ve asked you here because there’s something urgent I need to discuss.”
He explained the situation — that the Ning King had apparently sent someone into Da Xing City. Yu Pei’en gave a nod. “They’ve gone to persuade the Chu Emperor to surrender. And you’ve called me here — is it because you want me to make the same trip?”
Han Feibao nodded. “That was my thought. But I’ll leave the decision entirely to you.”
Yu Pei’en’s role in Han Feibao’s camp was not only that of an advisor. He was also someone else’s piece on the board — placed there to keep a watch on Han Feibao. And so no matter how arrogant or brutal Han Feibao was in other matters, he never dared show Yu Pei’en the slightest disrespect.
He brought everything to Yu Pei’en for discussion. He did not give orders.
Yu Pei’en thought briefly, then said: “I should go. If Yang Jing is truly moved by the Ning envoy, it would be severely disadvantageous to our forces.”
Han Feibao rose at once and clasped his hands in a formal bow. “If Tailai Xiansheng is willing to make the journey, success is assured. I am deeply grateful.”
Yu Pei’en said: “I can only try. I make no guarantees. But I will give it my full effort. I do not think it will be extremely difficult — the Wu Prince has only just died. Yang Jing’s hatred has not cooled. Neither has that of the officers and people of Da Xing City.”
Han Feibao said: “I’ll have Qi Lianshan take the Geling Blue Banner to protect you, along with our best fighters.”
Han Feibao’s Geling Army in truth comprised nine corps. Eight were commanded by his most trusted generals; one he commanded personally.
Those eight were designated by the characters *jia, yi, bing, ding, wu, ji, geng, xin.* Of the eight, the *Jiazi* Battalion was the strongest.
But even all eight together were outmatched by Han Feibao’s personal guard — known as the Geling Colored Banners.
This unit was divided into six banners: Crimson, Yellow, Green, Blue, Purple, and Black. The Blue Banner that Han Feibao mentioned was one of the six.
Han Feibao asked Yu Pei’en: “Xiansheng — how do you intend to persuade the Chu Emperor?”
Yu Pei’en smiled and put the question back: “My lord — how do you intend to make the Chu Emperor believe you?”
Han Feibao said: “What I had in mind… three forces on the field. The enemy has a plan for alliance — and we have a plan to turn it back on them.”
He looked at Yu Pei’en, who smiled. “What is in my lord’s mind is precisely what is in mine. The only question is whether Yang Jing is a man who can see clearly.”
He rose. “Then I’ll make my preparations now. I ask General Qi to make his as well.”
Qi Lianshan bowed. “Have no fear, Xiansheng. I will ensure your safety.”
—
A few days later. *Da Xing City.*
In Shiyuan Palace, though the grand mourning rites for the Wu Prince had concluded, the Emperor had still not removed his mourning garments.
The Princess Consort had shut herself away and refused all visitors. Even the Emperor’s requests to see her had been gently turned aside. As for anyone else — there was even less to be said.
The young eunuch Yuan Ying refilled the Emperor’s tea, but the Emperor seemed not to register his presence at all, his gaze fixed on the window.
It was already the tenth month. This year, Da Xing City had taken on an autumnal coolness that belonged to the north — a thing it rarely saw.
The air was cold. Perhaps even the weather was mourning for the uncertain future of Great Chu.
“Your Majesty.”
The newly appointed Commander of the City Guard, Jin Jieyin, came in at a quick pace and bowed low. “There is an urgent matter.”
Jin Jieyin had been promoted recently from the Imperial Guard — the Emperor’s own choice, barely twenty-three or twenty-four years old, in a court now stripped of its capable generals.
“Speak.”
The Emperor glanced at him.
Jin Jieyin said: “A Ning army unit has arrived outside the city. They say they were sent by the Ning King Li Chi and wish to request an audience with Your Majesty.”
“Oh?”
The Emperor’s brow snapped up, and a cold, killing light appeared in his eyes.
“Our Royal Uncle has barely been laid to rest, and the enemy dares come to our gate? This is beyond all impudence!”
He gave a short contemptuous sound. “Jin Jieyin — take soldiers out there and cut them all down. Bring their heads back to Us.”
Jin Jieyin responded at once: “Your subject obeys!”
He turned to go.
“Your Majesty — reconsider.”
A white-haired old man spoke quickly. The Emperor heard the words and immediately called out: “Jin Jieyin — wait.”
Jin Jieyin halted at once and bowed, waiting.
That this old man could change the Emperor’s mind with a single sentence told you everything about his standing.
He was Yu Wenli — father of the late Empress Yu Ruoyan.
Even before Yu Ruoyan was elevated to Empress, Yu Wenli had already been appointed Minister of Rites. After the Empress’s death, the Emperor had elevated him to Duke of the State, Grand Chancellor, and concurrently Minister of Rites.
Old Master Yu was, at this moment, effectively the foremost figure in the entire court. His words carried immense weight.
The old man looked at the Emperor. “Old minister thinks… perhaps Your Majesty might go in person to the Wu Princess Consort. Ask the Princess Consort how this matter ought to be handled.”
Something stirred in the Emperor’s chest.
A moment later, he gave the order: “Yuan Ying — prepare the carriage. We are going to the Wu Prince’s residence. We will seek another audience with the Princess Consort.”
—