The Yongning Tongyuan Carriage Inn.

Xiahou Zuo sat there with a look of great internal struggle on his face — a face that broadcast suffering, the look of a man who desperately wanted to do something but didn’t dare, and was growing increasingly miserable because of it.

“Do you want to rub it?”

Li Chi leaned in and murmured.

Xiahou Zuo nodded. “Heaven knows, Earth knows, you know, I know.”

Li Chi said, “That you know is fine — it’s not exactly anything to be proud of… If it really hurts that much, go out back and put some medicine on it yourself.”

Xiahou Zuo asked, “It’s probably broken skin, raw and stinging. Where’s your medicine chest?”

Li Chi said, “My room. There’s a medicine chest on the table with six bottles inside. The largest bottle has the wound salve.”

Xiahou Zuo gave a sound of acknowledgment, then got up and headed to Li Chi’s room to find the chest. The truth was, going through the Flowing Cloud Formation hadn’t been so bad — but if he hadn’t had such long legs, it wouldn’t have come to…

A short time later, a sound like a pig being slaughtered came from Li Chi’s room.

Li Chi stood up, heaved a sigh, and then went pattering off at a run.

A moment after that, Xiahou Zuo came out gripping the doorframe, walking with his legs braced apart. He shot a furious glare out at the courtyard.

“Where’s Li Chi!”

Li Chi had already retreated to the front of the inn and was crouching beneath the moon-gate arch between the front and rear courtyards. He watched Xiahou Zuo staggering in agony, and expressed his profound sympathy with peals of laughter — his conscience had apparently been devoured whole by dogs.

The large bottle was not, in fact, wound salve. It was a gift Xiahou Yili had given to everyone some time ago — originally in a small jar, but a jar was inconvenient to use, so Li Chi had decanted it into a bottle. The neck was narrow, which made pouring it out in modest amounts much easier.

Xiahou Yili had said the substance was for mouth-cleansing — a secret recipe from her sect on Yunyin Mountain. Use it every morning to rinse the mouth and clean the teeth, and it guaranteed no bad breath, while also refreshing the mind and sharpening the senses.

The primary ingredients were peppermint and cloves.

At this particular moment, Xiahou Zuo’s nether regions felt as though a glacier had taken up residence — a glacier with the capacity to flow freely.

Not only icy cold, but needle-sharp.

Xiahou Zuo pointed at Li Chi. “Get over here.”

Li Chi shook his head. “I won’t. If I do, you’ll beat me to death.”

Xiahou Zuo said, “I absolutely will not beat you to death.”

Li Chi said, “I still won’t go over. Best if we keep some distance for now — your expression at the moment is somewhat ferocious.”

Xiahou Zuo: “…”

The medicines of Yunyin Mountain were without equal in the world. Xiahou Yili said she had only learned a fraction of it, as her focus had been more on the killing arts — she had wanted revenge. Yet though her killing arts had not advanced so well, her talent for healing medicine was exceptional. Her master had said it too: if she devoted all her energy to medicine, her attainment might even surpass her mother’s.

But Madam Xiahou had long since stopped treating patients. She said that the hands that could accurately prescribe medicine were no longer hers, nor were the eyes that could see through an illness. What had changed, in truth, was the heart — she had always believed that a healer’s heart could not be tainted, and she felt she was no longer a pure physician. She feared that instead of saving people, she might harm them.

She said her eyes were no longer as clear as they once were.

After receiving the peppermint and clove balm, Li Chi had a sudden inspiration and fashioned a toothbrush. Using a brush to scoop from the jar was a bit wasteful, so by decanting it into a bottle with a narrow neck, you could tip just the right amount onto the bristles. He made one for himself, found it useful, then made one for Gao Xining, and eventually everyone had one. Using it each morning to clean the mouth was genuinely more convenient.

Making a toothbrush wasn’t particularly hard, though the divine boar had been somewhat reluctant.

The bristles were made from the boar’s coarse hair. When Li Chi trimmed them, he gave the divine boar a large basin of food — but even so, he had felt a twinge of guilt holding the scissors. The boar was already ugly; leaving it shorn and patchy would probably make it uglier.

Though the divine boar likely had no idea it was ugly.

Li Chi, troubled by his conscience, delegated the trimming to Yu Jiuling.

Xiahou Zuo had no interest in chasing Li Chi — the sensation of a flowing glacier was simply too invigorating. He sat down on the steps, glaring over at Li Chi, who crouched beneath the moon-gate arch and pretended to be minding his own business, swaying side to side and whistling softly.

Not far away, Xiahou Yili looked at her brother, then looked at Li Chi, then leaned in and murmured to Gao Xining: “What are they doing?”

Gao Xining glanced back. “Showing affection.”

Xiahou Yili: “Ugh!”

Gao Xining said, “Never mind those two. When they’re apart they both seem reasonably mature and sensible. Put them together and their combined mental age comes to about five — one is three and the other is two.”

Xiahou Yili asked, “Who’s three and who’s two?”

Gao Xining said, “Li is three, Xiahou is two. Why do you care about the difference between two and three?”

Xiahou Yili let out a snort of laughter. “Combined they’re only five, so of course the difference between two and three matters. Xiahou-Two — I kind of like that name. Very fitting.”

Just then Tang Pidi came back from the front courtyard carrying the grain he’d been out buying. Grain had been growing harder to come by lately — every granary under official oversight, almost every one effectively controlled by Prince Yu’s people. If not for fear of sparking a popular uprising, they probably wouldn’t have sold a single grain.

Tang Pidi saw Li Chi crouching under the moon-gate arch bouncing up and down. He had no idea what Li Chi was up to. He walked over and crouched down beside him, then started bouncing in the same rhythm.

Xiahou Yili asked Gao Xining: “And this one?”

Gao Xining said, “This one’s a bit better — this one’s four.”

Xiahou Yili thought it over: all three of them together didn’t even make ten years old. And yet a whole crowd of grown men revered these three as though they were immortals.

One had already built his reputation in the frontier army, making a name for himself in battle. One was held in enormous esteem by Yu Chaozong, the Greenband Heavenly King of Yanshan Camp. And one, still young, had ridden across the steppe without a single defeat.

Put that way, it did seem a little hard to believe.

Tang Pidi asked Li Chi, “What are you bouncing for?”

Li Chi answered, “A bit itchy. The up-and-down motion helps with friction, gives some relief.”

Tang Pidi heard this and stood up. He gave Li Chi a sideways look. “Immature… Can’t you just go rub up against the corner of a wall?”

Li Chi thought he had a point, but didn’t do it — that would be slightly undignified.

Just then an inn worker came from the front courtyard to say that someone outside was asking for Xiahou Zuo. Li Chi asked, “Who?”

The worker shook his head — said he didn’t know them. The visitor only said it was urgent.

The moment Li Chi heard *urgent* he already suspected it probably wasn’t anything actually urgent. Xiahou Zuo’s friends — Ruan Chen, Ruan Mu, Ye Zhangzhu, Liu Ge — whenever they said urgent, they all had that same certain look on their faces.

The worker went to tell Xiahou Zuo, who rose stiffly and made his way to the front courtyard with legs held apart. As he passed, Li Chi scrambled further away. Xiahou Zuo glared at him the whole time; Li Chi studied the sky.

In the front courtyard, sure enough — a friend of Xiahou Zuo’s had come to find him. It was Liu Ge, a general serving under the military commissioner.

Xiahou Zuo saw Liu Ge and couldn’t hold back a smile. “How did you know to look for me here?”

Liu Ge said, “Figured you’d be here. The Commissioner wants to see you — the personal guard company they’ve selected for you is assembled at the camp and waiting for you to inspect them.”

Xiahou Zuo nodded, then laughed. “The worker said someone was here with urgent news. I thought it was…”

Liu Ge: “Have you no shame?”

Xiahou Zuo: “Whether I have it or not, isn’t that my own choice?”

Liu Ge burst out laughing, and as they walked he said, “In a few days the army marches south. You don’t seem to care at all.”

The smile faded slowly from Xiahou Zuo’s face. He shook his head. “There’s nothing for me to be concerned about. I’ll hold the home front for him, that’s all. You know as well as I do — he takes the army south, and he won’t get much farther than the Nanping River.”

Liu Ge went quiet.

After a pause, Liu Ge asked, “Then why don’t you try to dissuade him? The Prince does listen to you.”

Xiahou Zuo said, “He listens to me — depends on the subject. If I try to talk him out of raising troops, he’ll never hear it… Leaving aside the fact that there’s no clear word from the court — whether the Crown Prince Yang Jing was actually injured, real or staged, no one knows for certain. And the Yuwen family will have its own doubts.”

“But the main thing is: the general holding Anyang Prefecture at the Nanping River, Meng Kedi — a celebrated commander, once Prince Wu’s most capable subordinate. No defeats in battle, ever. I don’t believe the Jizhou army can take Anyang Prefecture.”

He walked and talked. “Anyang has natural barriers to rely on, and tens of thousands of battle-hardened soldiers. All they have to do is hold for a month, and Jizhou’s forces will have broken morale. By then the court’s relief troops will have arrived too. Most likely my father returns empty-handed.”

Liu Ge fell quiet again. He had considered all of this too — but Prince Yu would not hear any counsel against his march. He was certain this campaign would end in overwhelming victory.

“Perhaps the Prince has already thought it through.”

Liu Ge let out a slow breath. “I’ve heard that long ago the Commissioner sent someone to make contact with Meng Kedi. Perhaps there’s a way.”

Xiahou Zuo shook his head, noncommittal.

Liu Ge smiled. “Never mind all that. Yesterday I heard that Sanyue Tower has had quite a few new arrivals — more than ten of them, bought from the Western Regions, every one of them reportedly a peerless beauty. And apparently some were even managed somehow to be trafficked over from Black Wu in the north — Black Wu women, they say. Quite an impression.”

Xiahou Zuo sighed. “You know me — I’ve always been a man of one devotion.”

Liu Ge: “Pfft! As if Shuangxing Tower were so special.”

Xiahou Zuo said, “But I’m not a completely inflexible man either…”

He glanced back at the carriage inn — far enough away now that no one could hear. He smiled. “If you’re buying, let’s go have a look at those Western Region women.”

Liu Ge asked, “A thing like this, and you still want someone else to pay?”

Xiahou Zuo said, “I invited you to fight the great Black Wu enemy. You invite me to the Western Regions.”

Liu Ge thought it over, then nodded. “Fair enough, I suppose.”

Xiahou Zuo said, “You hold off the Black Wu menace alone — and I’ll take on the Western Regions coalition!”

Liu Ge: “…”

—

At the same time. The Nanping River, Anyang Prefecture.

The emissary sent by Jizhou Military Commissioner Zeng Ling had now been there for many days. Anyang Prefecture General Meng Kedi treated him as an honored guest.

Of Dachu’s thirteen great provinces, Anyang Prefecture fell under the jurisdiction of Yuzhou. The Yuzhou Military Commissioner was named Liu Li — once a general under Prince Wu, who had served in his campaigns twenty years ago, and nine years prior had been appointed as Military Commissioner of Yuzhou.

Yuzhou was considerably more prosperous than Jizhou. It was one of Dachu’s three great grain-producing regions — and though it had its share of rebel forces, Liu Li was an able commander with a man like Meng Kedi under him. So the unrest in Yuzhou was considerably more contained than in Jizhou.

In the general’s residence at Anyang Prefecture, Meng Kedi looked at Zeng Ling’s emissary and smiled. “I want nothing else. Go back and convey my words to the Prince: as long as the Yuzhou Military Commissioner’s position is mine, the tens of thousands of troops in Anyang Prefecture will answer to the Prince’s command.”

The emissary’s face lit up with delight. He rose. “General, rest assured — your words I will carry faithfully to the Prince. The Prince cherishes talent, and especially a great talent such as yours. You may set your mind at ease.”

Meng Kedi rose as well. “Then I shall rely on you. The day the Prince’s army arrives, I will open the gates and welcome him in.”