After Pei Jinglun emerged from the hidden chamber, he glanced at Yang Sanxi waiting nearby. His gaze was mild, yet Yang Sanxi instinctively tensed.

Pei Jinglun paused for a moment, then said, “Go in again in a little while.”

Yang Sanxi bowed. “Understood.”

Then he immediately corrected himself. “A slip of the tongue — truly a slip. *This subject* understands.”

Pei Jinglun gave a small smile. Whether it was a smile of faint satisfaction at Yang Sanxi’s reaction, or something more bitter, was impossible to say.

When Pei Jinglun had first intuited that his father was growing desperate to proclaim himself emperor, he had known: Shu could no longer hold.

The news of Yao Zhiyuan’s surrender had not been enough to shake Pei Qi. But when word arrived in Mei City that Gao Guangxiao had surrendered — his father would be afraid. Afraid in the marrow.

Gao Guangxiao’s prestige within the army was simply too great. Among Shu soldiers between the ages of thirty and fifty, too many were his disciples.

In the Tong Province region — three prefectures, more than a dozen counties — it was probable that if Gao Guangxiao stood before a city gate and called out once, the gate would open in answer.

In truth, from the day Han Feibao had betrayed and stabbed Pei Qi, Pei Qi had not known a single peaceful day.

Han Feibao had been an ally, and when he drove the knife in, he struck harder than any open enemy could have.

Had that knife never come, Shu could have relied on the formidable Leaning Mountain Pass to keep the Ning army at bay for a long, long time. Once that pass opened, Shu’s door was thrown wide.

Yao Zhiyuan, in whom Pei Qi had placed such hopes, had surrendered. Xiu Mountain Camp had collapsed without a fight. Then Tiger Wall Pass, and even Gao Guangxiao — the one man who had seemed capable of holding — could not resist the King of Ning’s advance. And then he too had gone over.

From the moment Pei Jinglun received that news, he knew Shu could not last much longer.

Not even the Mei Mountain Camp he was holding, not even the strong walls of Mei City — none of it would hold for long.

Why had he asked Yang Jing that question?

Because he knew that very soon he would come to understand what Yang Jing had felt in Da Xing City. There would likely be no difference between them.

Back then, Yang Jing, as the Emperor of Great Chu, had held nothing but a solitary Da Xing City.

And within Da Xing City, how many people had been silently praying for the armies outside to break through the gates?

The officials who served him — surrender had cost them nothing. Only the emperor himself had been unable to surrender.

If Gao Guangxiao brought another Ning army column sweeping through half of Shu with unstoppable momentum, what would the situation facing Pei Qi and Pei Jinglun look like, if not exactly what Yang Jing had faced?

Pei Qi could proclaim himself emperor in Mei City. Even if the Ning army spent long weeks failing to crack the Mei Mountain Camp and the city, they could simply abandon the direct assault. Leave half the Ning army here to besiege without attacking. Send the other half northwest. Perhaps before long, the whole of Shu would remain in their hands only within Mei City’s walls and Mei Mountain.

At that point, Pei Qi would be an emperor inside a solitary city, and Pei Jinglun would be a crown prince atop a solitary mountain.

A little better than Yang Jing’s days as Crown Prince, perhaps. After all, Mei Mountain was considerably larger than the Eastern Palace.

Pei Jinglun was very, very intelligent. And so he would sense the pain earlier than anyone else.

Right now, in Mei City, all those officials — his father’s devoted followers — were still dreaming their spring-and-autumn dreams.

His father would continue, as ever, painting great visions for those who followed him. It could be summed up in eight words: *the future is bright, the road ahead is glorious.*

And a good many of them would be overjoyed that his father had proclaimed himself emperor in Mei City — convinced their own days of fortune had finally come.

Yes. They were indeed coming.

Many of them would be entrusted with positions of great importance, ennobled as marquises, appointed as generals. Mei City would be thick with high officials and ministers, packed with princes and lords.

When Pei Jinglun thought of all this, it was as though a thorn was working itself slowly into his heart, pushing deeper with every beat.

What the future held — Pei Jinglun could already see most of it.

About an hour later.

Yang Sanxi emerged from the hidden chamber. He reached out and accepted a towel from one of his men, then wiped his hands. There was blood on them, but it did not dampen his mood.

He stepped out to find Pei Jinglun still standing there, and quickly approached to bow. “Your Highness — the matter is done.”

Pei Jinglun looked at the blood on Yang Sanxi’s hands.

Yang Sanxi immediately explained, “He was stubborn. Refused to drink the wine no matter what was said, so this subject had to do it by hand.”

Pei Jinglun’s gaze made Yang Sanxi uneasy.

Pei Jinglun said, “I have heard that you carry blood of the Yang imperial lineage. That your ancestors once held a title.”

Yang Sanxi dropped to his knees with a thud.

“This subject severed all ties with the Yang family long ago. After the late Emperor put my ancestors to death, those of us fortunate enough to survive ceased to be subjects of Chu.”

Pei Jinglun smiled. “Rise. I said nothing. You may go back and report to my father.”

Yang Sanxi quickly got to his feet. “This subject obeys.”

Pei Jinglun said with a smile, “When you return, tell my father — no, tell *His Majesty* — that I am unable to return in time for his coronation. I am at Mei Mountain, and I offer from afar my wishes that the Imperial Father unite the realm, and reign for ten thousand years.”

Yang Sanxi said, “Yes, yes. This subject will carry Your Highness’s words faithfully.”

Pei Jinglun made a sound of acknowledgment, then turned and walked away.

No one understood the meaning behind his smile — only he knew that he might as well smile now while he could. It might be a very long time before he smiled again.

—

Six or seven days later.

As Li Chi stood outside the camp studying Mei Mountain, he noticed that the flags at the Mei Mountain Camp had changed.

Li Chi pointed at the new banners and said to Xiahou Zhuo and the others, “Pei Qi has run out of patience.”

Xiahou Zhuo made a sound of agreement. “Changing flags — Pei Qi must have proclaimed himself emperor in Mei City.”

Li Chi said, “So Yang Jing should be dead by now.”

Xiahou Zhuo paused, then nodded. “Yes…”

Zhuang Wudi said, “They’ll probably claim we killed him when we attack.”

Xiahou Zhuo said, “What ‘out there’ is there left? The only place still refusing to submit is Shu. Can Pei Qi make that claim stick? It’s nothing but self-delusion — a high-minded pretext for himself, and a way to fool what’s left of Shu’s population.”

He paused, then continued, “As things stand, that news only gets out if we let it out. Can it even leave Shu if we don’t allow it?”

Li Chi had gone quiet after his earlier remark. Xiahou Zhuo waited for a while and, hearing nothing, asked, “What are you thinking about?”

Li Chi smiled. “Their new flag is hideous.”

Xiahou Zhuo and the others laughed.

Zhuang Wudi asked Li Chi, “Should we hold off a little longer?”

Li Chi understood what he meant: should they delay the assault on the Mei Mountain Camp?

They were coming up on the coldest stretch of the year around Mei City. The Ning army also needed time for resupply, and needed to wait for word from two other fronts — Tantai Yajing and Tang Pidi.

“Yes. We’re in no hurry.”

Li Chi counted the days. They were well into the twelfth month.

“It must be nearly the eighth day of the twelfth month. Pass the word down — on *Làbā*, the whole army takes part in one thing and one thing only: making dumplings together, every man for himself.”

Li Chi turned and walked back toward the command tent. “Speaking of dumplings — I miss Auntie Wu.”

Xiahou Zhuo smiled. “Auntie Wu is right here in the army.”

Li Chi said, “Then what are we waiting for? Let’s eat dumplings tonight first.”

He pulled his great cloak tighter around him. “On a cold day like this, what on earth could beat a hot plate of dumplings?”

—

Ten days after that, a military report arrived from the southwest.

With Gao Guangxiao and Yao Zhiyuan’s assistance, Tantai Yajing’s army had taken the three prefectures and more than a dozen counties under Tong Province’s jurisdiction in half a month.

There had been no fighting to speak of. In some places, Gao Guangxiao went in person; exactly as Pei Jinglun had predicted, one call from him at the gates was enough to open them. In others, he had not even gone himself — a handwritten letter sent ahead, and the city surrendered.

If the news had already reached Li Chi, it would not be long before Pei Qi in Mei City received it as well.

At that moment, atop the walls of Mei City, the banners that now hung there had been changed to the Zhou banner.

Pei Qi had proclaimed in Mei City that he was heeding the mandate of Heaven, accepting the abdication of the Chu Emperor Yang Jing, and assuming the supreme throne.

The dynastic name was changed to Zhou. The Zhou sage-kings were declared ancestors.

It was, in its way, somewhat pathetic — Mei City had no building that could properly be called a palace. They had simply repainted the old Military Governor’s mansion.

The colors throughout the compound had been freshened up, enough that it at least gave the right impression from a distance.

Pei Qi, who now styled himself the Zhou Son of Heaven, proclaimed on his coronation day that he was establishing Pei Jinglun as Crown Prince.

He also announced a general amnesty for the realm…

Whatever was said of it, the formalities had all been observed, the proper procedures all followed, at least on the surface.

The mansion’s study had been renamed the Imperial Study. A single character added — but how much grander it sounded.

Wearing an imperial robe of bright yellow, Pei Qi sat behind his writing table staring in a daze at the handful of memorial documents on the desk.

“Report!”

A man entered from outside and knelt. “Your Majesty — a military dispatch from the southwest. Tong Province… has fallen entirely.”

Pei Qi’s expression shifted slightly, but he did not flare up. He simply waved a hand. “We know. You may go.”

The messenger rose and backed out, quickening his step as he left.

Pei Qi stared into space for a moment, then addressed the door: “Has there been any word from the Crown Prince?”

The eunuch outside answered, “In reply to Your Majesty — none.”

Pei Qi asked, “Has there been any word from the northwest?”

“In reply to Your Majesty — none either.”

Pei Qi let out a slow breath, then murmured to himself, “Nothing… is good news.”

If word arrived from the northwest, it would mean Han Feibao had been completely broken. That Tang Pidi’s forces had swept through all of Yongzhou, and were now threatening Shu from the northwest.

But counting the days, he reckoned it couldn’t be so. Even Tang Pidi couldn’t fly across the whole of Yongzhou.

“Report!”

Someone came running urgently from outside, dropping to their knees at the door. “Your Majesty — a military dispatch from the northwest.”

At those four words, Pei Qi leapt to his feet.