That evening, Liu Mu and Tan Qianshou invited Xiahou Zuo for wine, but Xiahou Zuo declined, saying he wanted to spend more time with his brothers. And only then did Liu Mu and the others realize that the insufferably full-of-himself young man might be someone of considerable standing.
Even when they had heard Xiahou Zuo’s name and known him to be Prince Yu’s son, Xiahou Zuo had just said the one surnamed Li was his brother, and Liu Mu couldn’t help musing with some amusement that Prince Yu truly had a prolific way of life to have so many sons.
If Prince Yu had known what Liu Mu was thinking in his muddled way, who knows what he would have made of it.
In an empty room inside the city, everyone scrounged together whatever food they could find. The place was bitter cold and resources sparse — cattle and sheep had been driven in, but if they helped themselves to those animals, others naturally would too, and these would have to be returned. The common people’s lives were already hard enough; those gathered below the border walls were barely getting by on food under the army’s protection, and if their cattle and sheep were used up, their livelihoods would be severed.
A large basin of corn buns. A few salted turnips. A plate of vinegar-dressed cabbage. A plate of stir-fried potato strips. A plate of pickled radish sticks. And a plate of the best accompaniment for drinking — roasted peanuts.
The four of them sat around this, each a little dazed, almost feeling as though they had stumbled back to over a year ago in Jizhou City.
Back then Zhuang Wudi had just arrived, Yu Jiuling had just returned, Xiahou Zuo was about to leave, and Li Chi was like a thread that wove all these people together.
Xiahou Zuo pinched a few peanuts and tossed them in his mouth, then poured down a mouthful of wine. His lips made a satisfied sound.
“Diudiu.”
Xiahou Zuo looked at Li Chi: “Head back to Jizhou tomorrow morning. The fighting on the battlefield — that’s soldiers’ business. Now that I’m here, you lot aren’t needed.”
Li Chi shrugged and said nothing.
Xiahou Zuo naturally knew Li Chi’s character. If he hadn’t come, Li Chi might have headed back once the battle reached a pause. Now that he was here, Li Chi would be even less likely to leave.
But this battlefield was too dangerous — especially once the Black Wu Khan Emperor arrived. This small border city would become a true hell. The fighting of the past few days already looked brutal enough, but it was nothing more than an appetizer before the main event that was coming.
Xiahou Zuo looked at Li Chi. Li Chi was looking at the plate of pickled radish sticks. The seasoning on these radish sticks was just right — not too salty, with a hint of sweet and sour, giving them a particularly crisp and refreshing taste. Li Chi’s eyes kept going to the plate without reaching for his chopsticks. After a moment Xiahou Zuo finally understood — the fellow was counting them.
“Here’s the thing.”
Li Chi pointed at the plate of radish sticks and said: “In this world there isn’t always enough of everything for everyone to share equally.”
He lifted his chopsticks, picked up one stick, and said: “I moved first and got one. The person who moves next will have one less. And I can’t count on everyone being like the brothers sitting here today, who’d be willing to give me a share if I didn’t take one for myself.”
Xiahou Zuo said: “Is it really that important to you?”
What he wanted to say was: you don’t have to rush for these things — wait a few years and I can give you whatever you want.
Li Chi seemed to see right through his thoughts and smiled: “Brother, a world-renowned hero doesn’t hide behind his elder brother’s back. If I want to eat this radish stick, I take it with my own hand.”
Xiahou Zuo said: “Then tell me — what is your actual goal?”
Li Chi smiled: “I just said it. I want to be a world-renowned hero.”
Xiahou Zuo fell silent. Zhuang Wudi offered: “A man ought to build his achievements and make his mark. Li Chi has his own aspirations in his heart, his own ideas — he should be allowed to go and pursue them. He was never born to live an unremarkable life.”
Xiahou Zuo shot Zhuang Wudi a look and said: “What were you doing when you were fourteen?”
Zhuang Wudi thought back. At fourteen he had still been farming at home, but his parents doted on him and didn’t really make him do much — he’d spent most of his time practicing martial arts, self-taught with no master to guide him, just fumbling along on his own.
“I wasn’t a match for him.”
Four words that left Xiahou Zuo with nothing further to say. Whatever he’d been about to say next wouldn’t come out, so after a long silence Xiahou Zuo nodded and said: “You can stay — but you have to stand at my side.”
Li Chi smiled immediately, and Yu Jiuling smiled along with him.
Xiahou Zuo looked over at Yu Jiuling and said: “I never had you come find me up at the northern frontier before — it was because the Black Wu were applying constant pressure and there was fighting up there day after day, people dying constantly. And you know my temperament — there’s no way I’d stay in the back. I couldn’t even look after my own life, let alone yours…”
Before Xiahou Zuo could finish, Yu Jiuling cut him off. He smiled and said: “Gongzi, it’s just like what Li Chi just said — if you want something, you have to go after it yourself.”
Xiahou Zuo laughed and said: “Birds of a feather really do flock together.”
The four of them talked and drank. Without realizing it, well over an hour had passed and a large jug of wine had been consumed, each of them with a slight flush of drink.
It was at that moment that warning horns sounded from the city wall. The four of them looked at each other, then nearly simultaneously grabbed their weapons and charged outside. The people resting throughout the city were jolted awake by the horn, converging from all directions toward the wall.
By the time Li Chi and the others reached the wall, Tan Qianshou was already there with a spyglass trained on the outside.
“General Tan, what’s happened?”
Xiahou Zuo asked.
“A massive Black Wu force has arrived. The torches go on and on — a river with no visible end.”
Tan Qianshou pointed outward, and in the distance the dense scatter of flickering points looked like the Milky Way upended to the earth.
“Kuokedi Dashi must have arrived.”
Xiahou Zuo said: “Originally the Black Wu were preparing to attack from north of Youzhou, and the border troops had already been moved to prepare for it. But after seven or eight days of no movement from the Black Wu side, I suspected they might be planning a feint — and it seemed very likely they’d shift their attack to Daizhou pass. Now it appears my guess was right. The Black Wu have evidently made a deal with the grassland peoples.”
Tan Qianshou nodded: “This winter is going to be hard to get through.”
Xiahou Zuo said: “Leave a third of the garrison in position and let everyone else go back to sleep. Kuokedi Dashi won’t attack tonight — he’s just arrived and hasn’t assessed the situation yet.”
Tan Qianshou agreed and turned to tell people to go rest.
But Li Chi and the others couldn’t possibly sleep. No one could be certain the Black Wu wouldn’t launch a night attack. And so they kept a vigil through the night, and only when Liu Mu’s people came up to relieve them at dawn did they go down from the wall to rest for a while.
Black Wu Camp.
Kuokedi Dashi, just past forty years old, in the full vigor of his prime, sat in that great chair draped in a complete tiger skin. His eyes were closed. Not a word passed his lips. Yet an aura seemed to radiate from his body in wave after wave of cold — everyone in the command tent stood with heads lowered, not one of them daring to lift their face, not daring to make a sound.
General Lü Chi knelt in the center of the tent, not daring to offer any explanation.
After a long silence, Kuokedi Dashi slowly opened his eyes and looked at Lü Chi prostrate before him.
“You lost over ten thousand elite troops and couldn’t even take one small border pass. Before you set out, I asked whether you had confidence. You told me to wait for you beneath the walls of Jizhou City when I arrived with the main army.”
Kuokedi Dashi’s fingers tapped lightly on the armrest of his seat: “Lü Chi — tell me, is that small border pass in front of us called Jizhou?”
Lü Chi kowtowed again and again, saying only that he had failed his lord and not daring to argue.
Everyone in the tent knew Kuokedi Dashi’s character: if he said you were wrong, you were wrong; if he said you were incapable, you were incapable. If you dared argue, your troubles would be severe.
Seeing this posture from Lü Chi, Kuokedi Dashi was slightly more appeased. He asked: “Who is the main commander in the city?”
Lü Chi hurriedly answered: “It may be that Dachu’s Prince Wu, Yang Jiju, has come in person.”
At the name Yang Jiju, Kuokedi Dashi’s fury eased somewhat. He had long heard the name of Dachu’s undefeated general Yang Jiju — by all accounts the man had never lost a battle in a lifetime of command, and his Left Military Guard elite were the strongest fighting force in the Chu army.
“Rise. Tell me the full details of the situation at Daizhou pass.”
“As Your Majesty commands.”
Lü Chi didn’t dare rise fully, kneeling there as he recounted the past few days of assaulting Daizhou pass — with considerable embellishment. He said nothing about the city’s defenders being mostly common people, claiming instead they were Left Military Guard elite fighters of extraordinary power. He also said the city had apparently received word early on, so defensive weapons were prepared in abundance — arrows flying thick and dense during the assault, with fire oil poured from above, making it virtually impossible to attack.
When Kuokedi Dashi had heard him out, he looked at his assembled subordinates and asked: “Who among you has a plan to take the city?”
Most present had just arrived and didn’t yet understand the battle situation, so they dared not speak rashly.
After a moment, a middle-aged man who looked about thirty-something stepped forward, turned to face Kuokedi Dashi, and bowed: “Your humble servant believes that for a place like Daizhou pass, massed frontal assault may not succeed. It would be better to select skilled fighters and mount a night raid — scale the city walls in secret, seize the wall, and then light a signal fire. Then when the main army attacks, it may have a surprising effect.”
The speaker had a face that looked permanently set in cold hardness, a man who never showed a smile throughout the year. He was Kanluo Sen, commander of the Black Wu Blue Bureau.
The Blue Bureau drew many of its elite members from among the Sword Gate’s best, and had also recruited large numbers of capable martial artists from throughout Black Wu’s civilian world. The Blue Bureau held absolute authority: within the Black Wu Empire, the Khan Emperor alone stood above it, with no other body able to constrain it. Put simply, the Blue Bureau could intervene in any other bureau’s affairs, but no other bureau could interfere in the Blue Bureau’s business.
“Then I’ll leave that to you.”
Kuokedi Dashi looked at Kanluo Sen: “You have many capable and extraordinary people under your command. Go select your people. I give you two days to prepare. On the night after tomorrow, your people will raid the border pass.”
Kanluo Sen bowed: “As Your Majesty commands.”
He bowed and stepped back to the side, not another word from him.
Kanluo Sen was one of the Sword Gate’s four Great Swordmasters, and also the senior disciple of the Sword Gate’s master. His standing at court was above that of even the imperial relatives, and within the Sword Gate he ranked only below the Gate Master and two Senior Counselors.
Kuokedi Dashi waved his hand: “While these two days of preparation proceed, casually send someone to call on the city with terms of surrender — and probe the situation at the same time. Find out whether it really is Yang Jiju holding the city.”
With that, he rose and walked outside. When he reached the front of the tent, he stretched out a hand, and an attendant immediately fitted his left arm with a sturdy leather gauntlet reaching to the crook of his elbow. Kuokedi Dashi gave a whistle, and a white-headed hunting eagle radiating a fierce presence plunged from the sky and landed on his arm.
Kuokedi Dashi strode forward, his bodyguards and attendants all falling into step around him. Among them, two attendants held ropes in their hands — and at the ends of those ropes were two great tigers.