Qingmian County.

In the parlor of the rear courtyard of the county offices, two men dressed in deep-purple brocade robes sat facing each other over a game of *weiqi*. The match seemed to have been going on for a long time; pieces crowded the board in dense constellations, yet victory and defeat remained unclear.

The man on the left appeared to be around forty, clean-shaven, with a temperament that struck one as somewhat gloomy.

The man on the right was dressed identically and looked to be about thirty. If he’d changed into ordinary clothes, he would have looked like a country boy who’d spent his whole life working in a field.

The two men’s bearing could not have been more different. The older one looked born aristocratic — a single glance made you feel he dwelt among the clouds. The younger one, even draped in expensive brocade, couldn’t quite shed a certain rusticity.

The same robe on two people: one looked celestial, the other earthbound.

Perhaps it was because the younger man had a darker complexion — when he smiled, he seemed a little guileless.

But anyone deceived by that appearance would come to a very bad end.

Both men were General Flag Officers of the Curtain Camp. The older one was called Fang Biehan; the younger, Yan Xilai.

“You saw it last night?” Fang Biehan asked, placing a stone.

Yan Xilai studied the board as he answered. “I saw it. Strong technique — unlike anyone who’s come before.”

Fang Biehan said, “The ones who came before weren’t weak either.”

Yan Xilai said, “Then this one is stronger — stronger than any of those we’ve killed.”

Fang Biehan laughed softly. “The days won’t be so dull now. You let him leave because you’re sure more will follow.”

Yan Xilai glanced up at him. “Don’t even think about cutting in.”

Fang Biehan said, “You go first.”

Yan Xilai said, “Last time was yours; this time is mine. I didn’t touch your credit, so don’t touch mine.”

Fang Biehan said, “I already told you — you go first.”

Yan Xilai: “What do you mean, ‘after’? There’ll be nothing left.”

Fang Biehan smiled. “Didn’t you just say it yourself? The one who came this time is different from before — stronger.”

Yan Xilai said, “The contempt in that remark, you’re not even bothering to hide anymore.”

Fang Biehan placed a stone. “You lost.”

Yan Xilai had lost, though not by much. Their skill at *weiqi* was nearly equal — but Yan Xilai had never once won, so Fang Biehan always spoke to him from a position of effortless superiority, which never stopped grating on Yan Xilai. Every time he lost, the margin was narrow; every time, he refused to accept it; so every time, it was he who issued the next challenge.

“I won’t interfere this time,” Fang Biehan said. “But I’ll give you one piece of advice: if you have enough patience, let out more line before you reel in.”

Yan Xilai pursed his lips. “Since you’re not going to interfere, why open your mouth at all?”

Fang Biehan just smiled and said nothing more. He stood, stretched his back, eyes still on the board. “Nineteenth time.”

Yan Xilai said, “I’ll beat you on the twentieth.”

Fang Biehan: “And if you can’t?”

Yan Xilai: “Then on the twenty-first.”

He finished speaking, turned, and walked out through the door. In the courtyard, at least fifty Curtain Camp soldiers had already been waiting — and had been waiting for some time.

“Move out.”

At Yan Xilai’s command, the fifty soldiers and two Flag Officers fell in behind him and left the compound.

After they had gone, a Flag Officer under Fang Biehan’s command came over and smiled. “General Yan is the same as ever — thirty years old and just as rash as he was at twenty.”

Fang Biehan said, “He’s thirty years old and just as rash as at twenty — but he’s already a General Flag Officer. As for you, you’re still a plain Flag Officer. If I remember correctly, when you were made Flag Officer, he was still an ordinary soldier.”

The Flag Officer — named Gao Song — felt his expression stiffen. He bowed. “My lord has corrected me.”

Fang Biehan said, “Don’t talk behind your superior’s back. Even if you are my man, you may not speak ill of another General Flag Officer in front of me.”

“Your subordinate will remember.”

Gao Song quickly acknowledged the rebuke.

“Go keep watch,” Fang Biehan said. “If Yan Xilai fails to capture them, then we’ll move. I gave him my word — but if he’s smart, he should take my advice and not take anyone just yet.”

Gao Song cupped his fists. “Your subordinate will go immediately.”

Fang Biehan turned and walked back inside. Passing the *weiqi* board, he glanced down at it and thought that next time they played, that fellow might just actually win.

This time, he had won by only half a point.

Back in the study, Fang Biehan brightened the lamp a little and took a book he hadn’t yet finished from the shelf.

He had barely settled in when he heard a voice from behind the folding screen.

“Yan Xilai rushes headlong into everything. You’ve been playing *weiqi* with him for over half a year — has he improved at all?”

Fang Biehan immediately rose at the sound of that voice. “Sir, when did you arrive? I didn’t notice at all.”

“You didn’t notice?”

The figure emerged from behind the screen, speaking as he walked. “Your step faltered ever so slightly when you entered — almost imperceptible, but I still caught it. You’re always deliberately hiding your true strength. That’s not good.”

The man appeared to be around fifty, dressed in a long hemp robe. He had a goatee and a lean, angular face.

“Master Jiang.” Fang Biehan smiled. “I’m not deliberately hiding my strength — I simply know my own limits.”

Master Jiang settled himself in the guest seat and smiled faintly. “If you weren’t hiding your strength, when they were choosing the Central Marshal all those years ago, it wouldn’t have been Mo Lili who was selected.”

Fang Biehan said, “Mo Lili’s strength surpassed mine. I lost to him wholeheartedly…”

“He’s dead.”

Master Jiang’s words cut Fang Biehan off mid-sentence. Fang Biehan’s face changed at once — disbelief flashed in his eyes, followed by grief.

Master Jiang was the Curtain Camp’s Senior Advisor — in other words, the chief of the Camp’s strategists. Just as the marshal-soldiers had three Central Marshals, the strategists also had three senior leaders.

The Senior Advisors, in most situations, held a rank even above the Central Marshals, because they spent far more time in contact with the Military Governor Pei Qi than the Central Marshals did.

Master Jiang’s name was Jiang Wei. He looked at Fang Biehan and said, “I know you two were close friends. It was you who deliberately lost to him back then.”

Fang Biehan said nothing. He simply stood there, his expression gradually steadying.

“I recommended you to the Military Governor to fill Mo Lili’s position, but His Excellency declined. He chose Xue Lingcheng.”

Fang Biehan said, “Xue Lingcheng is young and talented — composed and yet sharp. He’s stronger than I am.”

Jiang Wei sighed. “When will you ever change that infuriating disposition of yours?”

Fang Biehan replied, “I’m only speaking the truth.”

Jiang Wei said, “Do you know how His Excellency described you when I recommended you?”

Fang Biehan shook his head. “I don’t.”

Jiang Wei said, “His Excellency said: when Fang Biehan stops looking so hopelessly unambitious, then we can talk about making him a Central Marshal.”

Fang Biehan nodded. “Fair enough.”

Jiang Wei nearly choked on his frustration, and fixed Fang Biehan with a furious glare.

Shu Province, though dominated and entirely controlled by Pei Qi alone, was not exactly tranquil.

That restlessness came from Pei Qi’s subordinates. They had each cultivated their own allies and loyalties, gradually forming factions.

The three Central Marshals were fine — each had his own domain, and none would interfere with the others. But the three Senior Advisors were a different matter.

One day, when Pei Qi finally achieved his great ambition and became the new master of the Central Plains, one of those three would become prime minister.

These three had never gotten along. Each was constantly, quietly cultivating the support of others.

Of the three, Jiang Wei’s standing was the lowest — he had the least seniority and had come latest.

So he was desperate to sponsor a Central Marshal he could call his own. Only then would he truly secure his footing.

Mo Lili, who had been his closest ally, was now dead. That made his position in the Curtain Camp even more awkward.

“You could at least think of me a little,” Jiang Wei said, somewhat irritably. “All these years I’ve looked after you. Consider it repayment — put in some effort, accomplish a few things, get yourself promoted to Central Marshal. Then I could bask in your reflected glory too.”

Fang Biehan said, “There’s nothing of importance happening in Qingmian County.”

Jiang Wei said, “Someone came last night. Unless I’m mistaken, they were agents sent by Prince of Ning Li Chi. You spotted them first, yet you deliberately kept still and let Yan Xilai go scrambling for the credit. You call that nothing of importance? You just don’t want to do anything.”

Fang Biehan said, “Last time was mine. This time should rightfully be his.”

Jiang Wei said, “Last time there was just one Senior Agent. Can this time be the same?”

Fang Biehan said, “This time is different — which is precisely why it’s Yan Xilai’s to handle.”

Jiang Wei’s eyes narrowed. After a long moment he lowered his voice. “This time is very different?”

Fang Biehan nodded. “Very.”

Jiang Wei rose and paced back and forth across the room. Finally he turned and looked at Fang Biehan. “If Yan Xilai bungles it, then you’ll act?”

Fang Biehan said, “If Yan Xilai bungles it, I may not succeed either.”

Jiang Wei said, “Then this is truly a major matter…”

He looked into Fang Biehan’s eyes and asked very seriously, “You already knew this was a major matter, yet you still wouldn’t handle it yourself. You…”

Fang Biehan said, “I will handle it.”

Jiang Wei was taken aback. “You’ve already ceded it to Yan Xilai. If you truly meant to handle it, why did you…”

Fang Biehan said, “Because now I know Mo Lili is dead.”

He walked to the window and looked out into the night. “What’s coming in doesn’t really matter. What’s more different this time is… a great battle is imminent.”

Jiang Wei thought carefully about the meaning behind Fang Biehan’s words and understood in a moment.

“You mean the people coming in aren’t the important part. There are certainly more important people — and more people in general — waiting outside the town for word.”

Jiang Wei asked urgently, “Did you tell Yan Xilai?”

Fang Biehan shook his head.

Jiang Wei let out a long breath. “At first light tomorrow, we go outside together.”

Fang Biehan glanced at Jiang Wei, then returned his gaze to the night outside.

After a long silence, Fang Biehan asked, “Was he killed by Bureau of Justice agents?”

“Yes.”

Jiang Wei’s answer came quickly.

“Mm…”

Fang Biehan murmured once, and said nothing more.

—