In the forest, Guiyuanshu sat on the grass and rested. Ahead lay an expanse of open country — the scenery, in truth, was beautiful.

Yet danger lurked everywhere in this beautiful place, for they were deep in enemy territory, liable to be discovered at any moment.

At the farthest reach of his spyglass lay a highway, and along that highway Bureau agents lay hidden.

If their position were exposed, the agents there would be the first to spot the enemy coming. And if they chose to signal a warning to those in the forest, they would most likely die doing so.

Yet this was what Bureau agents stood for — they would not abandon their comrades, and they would die for them. It was the very first lesson taught to every person who joined the Bureau.

Guiyuanshu kept thinking: that Prince of Ning could have subordinates like these — how could the great cause possibly fail?

He himself had once been an official of the old Chu, and a high-ranking one at that — Chief Justice of the Court of Judicial Review. Yet in all the old Chu court, he had never seen anything like this bond among the Ning Army. At the time, he hadn’t even quite believed soldiers could possess such devotion.

Sitting beside him was the Senior Agent who had survived alone from the previous reconnaissance mission. His name was An Xiaozhuang.

He was silent most of the time. If someone asked him something, he would answer in thorough detail, but when no one sought him out, he seemed to have grown accustomed to sitting quietly by himself.

He said he should have died. But two hundred-odd lives had been sacrificed to obtain that simple hand-drawn map, and someone had to bring it back — so he was alive.

“I should have been the one to go,” An Xiaozhuang had said to Master Ye several times. Every time he raised it, everyone around him could feel the grief welling up in him.

When Master Ye and the others had found An Xiaozhuang outside Kaoshanr Pass, he had been sitting alone in the Bureau’s hiding spot, staring at nothing.

Master Ye had noticed his slightly dazed look at the time.

When they’d questioned An Xiaozhuang, Guiyuanshu recalled now, something had flickered in his eyes with each answer — as though every question forced him to relive what he most dreaded recalling, touching the wounds inside him.

When Master Ye saw only An Xiaozhuang in the hiding spot that day, he knew something was wrong.

“My name is An Xiaozhuang. I am a Senior Agent of the Bureau of Justice. The Deputy Chief of the Bureau has never met me, nor I him.”

An Xiaozhuang removed his iron identification badge and handed it to Master Ye. Master Ye examined it, then asked, “Where are your people?”

An Xiaozhuang looked back over his shoulder. On the wall stood a wooden rack. This rack was used by Bureau agents departing on missions — they each drew a mission tablet, which was proof of official assignment. On return, the tablets were surrendered. The rack was managed by the Senior Agent in charge of each branch.

On that rack hung only a single tablet — An Xiaozhuang’s own.

In that moment, Master Ye understood what An Xiaozhuang meant. And he understood why An Xiaozhuang looked so dazed.

Whoever you were, after a blow so devastating, you might not be quite yourself either.

And especially for him — sitting in this hiding place every day, alone, facing the emptiness of the room, facing that bare rack.

“I should have been the one to go,” An Xiaozhuang said.

“For that mission, the Senior Agent above me assembled two branches’ worth of men. One branch was me and my brothers; the other Senior Agent was Guo Qing and his brothers.”

“According to the plan, we’d cut through the mountains into enemy territory to gather intelligence on Qingmian County.”

“At first everything went smoothly. We charted the map of the territory outside the mountains, including several villages.”

“But when we approached Xiaoguo Village, we sensed something wrong. As we were pulling back, the enemy appeared from all sides — thousands of Shu Province soldiers.”

An Xiaozhuang sat there and narrated this in a voice that sounded calm. Yet every word seemed to tremble.

“Guo Qing and I led our brothers in a breakout. Guo Qing gave the map to me and told me to cover the rear. I refused — I said it didn’t matter who got the map out, he or I were the same.”

“In that battle, over a hundred of our brothers fell, and another dozen or so were captured.”

“Guo Qing and I brought thirty-odd brothers out and hid in the forest. I had been wounded.”

An Xiaozhuang slowly parted his robe. Across his chest was a long knife scar, stretching from his chest nearly to his throat.

Master Ye pulled his robe closed and shook his head. “I’m not asking you to explain.”

An Xiaozhuang gave him a look of gratitude and slowly dressed himself again.

“Guo Qing said we couldn’t leave our brothers behind, so he began planning a rescue. Once they’d treated my wounds, they tucked this hand-drawn map into my arms.”

“Guo Qing said: I’m sorry, brother. We can’t take you along to save our comrades. If we come back, we’ll bring you home with us. If we don’t come back — please, take this map back.”

An Xiaozhuang said this, and pointed at a notebook on the table.

“Guo Qing said: besides the map, there’s this roster of every brother in both branches. If you can make it back alive, let the Chief of the Bureau know our names. Let him know what we died for.”

“When Guo Qing finished, he led thirty-odd brothers to Qingmian County. I lay in the forest for three days. They never came back.”

As he spoke those last words, he was still trying to keep his voice steady. He didn’t manage it.

His lips were trembling.

Now, in this forest, as Guiyuanshu looked at An Xiaozhuang, he felt again that quality of solitude around him.

He had probably long since come to think of himself as a dead man.

“Master Ye and his people will be all right,” Guiyuanshu said, out of nowhere.

An Xiaozhuang nodded and, as if to himself, repeated, “Master Ye and his people should be all right.”

Guiyuanshu shifted over and sat beside An Xiaozhuang without saying anything — just sitting there quietly.

Time seemed to move quickly. The sun rose from the east and fell in the west; night descended over the world again.

An Xiaozhuang suddenly said, “If… Master Ye and the others don’t come back — what do we do?”

Guiyuanshu said, “Whatever your people did last time, we’ll do the same.”

An Xiaozhuang bowed his head. “Bureau agents really are all fools.”

Guiyuanshu said, “I’m not a Bureau agent. But I’m a fool too… and so are my brothers.”

Zheng Shunshun and the others, sitting not far away, all nodded at the same time.

The Intelligence Division’s people had all been handpicked from the Ning Army’s combat soldiers, a large portion of them scouts by training.

What they’d learned from the very beginning was the same thing: you don’t abandon your comrades.

Guiyuanshu patted An Xiaozhuang on the shoulder. “Eat something. Then we’ll take turns on watch and get some rest.”

An Xiaozhuang was silent for a moment, then asked, “Can I take the second watch — the one in the last half of the night?”

Guiyuanshu asked, “Why?”

An Xiaozhuang shook his head without directly answering. After a long time he finally said in a very quiet voice, “The last watch of the night carries more responsibility. And you can see the morning sun.”

Guiyuanshu nodded. “All right.”

At the same moment, outside Qingmian County, a Curtain Camp force had already been waiting in the darkness for its orders.

They had left town early that morning, yet had been on standby ever since — unsure of what they were supposed to do, knowing only that this time the General Flag Officer himself was leading the force.

Their General Flag Officer, Fang Biehan, was a remarkably lazy man — or so everyone thought.

Most of his people didn’t even like Fang Biehan. Anyone with connections or ability had already managed a transfer away from his unit.

Because under Fang Biehan, they felt, there was no future. Under other officers, missions came frequently, and there were gains to be made — openly or otherwise, there were always benefits to pocket.

Fang Biehan simply had no talent for scheming and no apparent ambition. He seemed to think that being a General Flag Officer was already plenty.

But Curtain Camp members — which one of them didn’t want to get ahead?

They were Curtain Camp. They stood above all the armies in Shu Province.

If they followed any other General Flag Officer — or even a plain Flag Officer — and made a single tour through any Shu Province army unit, their purses would be stuffed full on the way home.

Yet Fang Biehan loathed that kind of thing. In his view, if even Curtain Camp people behaved that way, what made them different from any other unit?

Some said Fang Biehan was a man who lived by ideals — his indolence and his failure to get ahead came from his contempt for the others.

Just as the others all had contempt for him.

This time, at last, there was an operation. And by the looks of it, a major one — a General Flag Officer mobilizing his entire force and leaving town meant there was likely great credit to be earned.

Just then, from inside Qingmian County, several more people rode out, heading into the forest where the unit was hiding.

Leading them was none other than Yan Xilai, the other Curtain Camp General Flag Officer in Qingmian County.

He leaped from his horse and strode toward Fang Biehan. “General Fang — what are you up to?”

Fang Biehan looked at him sidelong. “What does it have to do with you?”

Yan Xilai said, “We are both General Flag Officers, both stationed here under orders. Whatever we do, we ought to consult each other — those are Central Marshal’s standing orders.”

Fang Biehan said, “You told me not to interfere in your business. You’d do well not to interfere in mine.”

Yan Xilai bristled and was about to flare up, when he spotted someone in a plain hemp robe walking over from not far away.

When the man drew close enough for Yan Xilai to make out his features, he immediately bowed. “This subordinate pays his respects to the Senior Advisor.”

Jiang Wei smiled thinly. “I was starting to wonder if General Yan didn’t recognize me.”

Yan Xilai hastily said, “I wouldn’t dare, I would never dare — how could I not recognize the Senior Advisor? I simply didn’t know you had arrived…”

Jiang Wei said, “Since you recognize me, do I still need to explain to the General what this operation is about?”

“No — absolutely not. I’ll go immediately.”

Yan Xilai bowed quickly and turned to leave.

“General Yan,” Jiang Wei said.

“Has your business been handled?”

Yan Xilai quickly said, “This subordinate plans to let out more line to catch a bigger fish.”

Why had he come running after them? Because he was worried that the big fish he intended to reel in might be scooped up in a net by Fang Biehan from outside the walls.

Jiang Wei said, “Then go manage your own affairs. I’m taking General Fang’s unit on a separate task.”

“Yes, yes, of course… this subordinate wouldn’t dare pry. I’ll take my leave.”

Yan Xilai nodded and bobbed as he spoke, then turned and hurried off.

Walking away, he thought: something is definitely wrong.

Jiang Wei turned to Fang Biehan. “Explain to me why you left town at dawn and haven’t made a single move since — if you’d acted earlier, Yan Xilai wouldn’t have come out here to question us.”

Fang Biehan said, “The person who infiltrated the town spent the whole night gathering intelligence on us. Just before dawn, they’ll find a place to hide and rest — so they won’t have seen the unit leave. The reason for no movement is that I’m waiting for the dead of night. Late in the last watch, the people they have outside the town will be at their lowest guard.”

He looked at Jiang Wei. “If you want to give orders, you can command me directly.”

Jiang Wei glared. “I won’t be commanding your unit. But next time, explain yourself to me beforehand.”

—