Seeing Xiahou Zuo and Liu Ge bow in apology, Tang Pidi quickly reached out and lifted them both up. He laughed and said, “In our official capacity, you are both generals. In terms of seniority, you are both elder brothers. If you say such things, I am the one who feels awkward.”
He looked at Xiahou Zuo. “Especially you — appearing out of nowhere to bow at me is one thing, but then you went and stole my mantou. You stole it and that was that, but can you at least make it up to me with a proper meal?”
Xiahou Zuo immediately said, “Of course, of course. A good meal it is.”
He turned and instructed those nearby, “Go and summon the two cooks who prepare my meals. From today forward, those two are to cook exclusively for Tang Pidi.”
Xiahou Zuo looked out at the soldiers who had not dared come closer, and called out loudly, “Someone has said that Tang Pidi is not one of the Jizhou soldiers, and therefore should not receive food. Do you all know who that person was?”
For a moment, those soldiers did not dare answer directly — which spoke clearly enough to what Tao Qingqian had been like in ordinary times.
The soldiers on the wall were all Jizhou military men, part of Military Governor Zeng Ling’s army. Naturally they had not dared to offend Tao Qingqian lightly.
“If you won’t say it, I’ll tell you myself.”
Xiahou Zuo said loudly, “Before I came up here just now, I had a hundred and more men hanged at the base of the wall. Tao Qingqian was among them. Tao Qingqian said Tang Pidi was different. Very well — I tell you all today that Tang Pidi is different!”
He swept his gaze across the assembly. “So long as I, Xiahou Zuo, stand here, he ranks above every one of you. Not only above all of you — he ranks above me as well. His meals are to be better than mine!”
Tang Pidi looked at Xiahou Zuo, and in that moment he understood why Li Chi had said that Xiahou Zuo was his eldest brother — that even a true blood brother might not do what Xiahou Zuo had done.
And so in that moment, Tang Pidi, for the first time, told himself in earnest that Li Chi’s eldest brother was also his eldest brother.
Xiahou Zuo looked at Tang Pidi and said, “If Li Chi hears about this, I don’t know what kind of state he’ll be in.”
Tang Pidi shook his head. “You’re wrong about that. Even if Li Chi hears, he won’t lose his temper. He won’t blame you. Because he knows that with you here, I was never truly wronged.”
Xiahou Zuo was taken aback for a moment, and then something warm stirred in his chest.
Just then, Li Chi arrived. He looked tired, the whites of his eyes laced with red threads.
He had brought Zhuang Wudi and Yu Jiuling with him. All three carried packs on their backs.
Li Chi walked to Xiahou Zuo and asked, “All those people hanging at the base of the walls — what happened?”
Xiahou Zuo said, “Those were—”
Tang Pidi smiled. “Those who disobeyed military orders.”
Li Chi was sharp enough to catch it immediately — Xiahou Zuo had started to speak and stopped himself, while Tang Pidi had stepped in with “those who disobeyed orders.” He sensed that whatever it was, it likely had something to do with Old Tang. So he simply smiled and let the matter go.
If he pressed, the one made uncomfortable would be Xiahou Zuo.
Whatever had happened, Tang Pidi was standing here alive and well, and over a hundred people had already been hanged at the base of the walls. Li Chi had no reason to ask any further.
“What happened to your eyes?” Tang Pidi asked Li Chi. “So much red in them — it looks like you haven’t slept properly in a long time.”
Li Chi smiled. “A son goes far, and a mother’s heart follows. Every thread in the traveler’s coat was sewn by his mother’s hand… You’re up here on the walls preparing to face the enemy, and your Mother here was worried you might be cold in your armor, so she sat up through the night to sew each of you a fitted inner wrap, and had my master affix a protective talisman, personally consecrated.”
Tang Pidi laughed. “In that case, many thanks to the Daoist Master and to you. If that thing can actually protect what it’s meant to protect, would you mind getting me one in a larger size?”
Li Chi said, “Even that you’re trying to show off?”
Tang Pidi said, “It stems from sincere confidence.”
Li Chi: “Get out of here.”
He opened his pack. Inside was the armor they had found in the underground chamber. Its material was unknown, yet even after what must have been a thousand years, it remained extraordinary in its durability. Li Chi had already tested it — he had shot it repeatedly with a repeating crossbow and the bolts had not been able to penetrate, leaving only faint marks on the plates.
He had been worried about Tang Pidi and Xiahou Zuo, and for the past several days had barely slept. Not wanting others to lose sleep on his account, he had waited for everyone to fall asleep before carefully taking out the armor pieces and quietly reassembling them.
Beyond what he had brought, Zhuang Wudi and Yu Jiuling also each carried a set. Days of work, and only three sets had been repaired.
Tang Pidi did not take the set Li Chi held out to him. Instead he took the one Yu Jiuling was carrying, examined it closely, and said with some regret, “Why do they all look the same size? There’s nothing here to set me apart.”
Yu Jiuling said, “Greatness within means it all looks full on the outside.”
Tang Pidi found himself genuinely impressed by Yu Jiuling for this remark — as someone who was himself quite skilled at that sort of thing, even he would not have been able to say it.
He accepted the armor. Its remarkable quality lay also in how light it was. With the enemy not yet arrived and the scouts not yet returned, there was no urgency to put it on.
Xiahou Zuo took the set Li Chi handed him and found that, tucked inside, there was indeed a protective talisman.
Li Chi smiled. “I told you all, and none of you believed me. Written in my master’s own hand, consecrated by him in person.”
Xiahou Zuo said, “If not for the fact that we all know the Daoist Master so well, these talismans would actually be rather exciting to receive—”
Li Chi smiled. “Faith is what makes it work.”
Xiahou Zuo asked, “Can you make a wish on a talisman?”
Li Chi smiled again and said, “Faith is what makes it work.”
Xiahou Zuo addressed the talisman earnestly, “Bless me with more — I also want greatness within, so that everything looks full on the outside.”
Li Chi said, “I don’t think my master deals in that department. By the look of his repertoire — a bit of sleight of hand, round and round the same few tricks, more or less… one, two, gone!”
Xiahou Zuo: “Pfft—”
Yu Jiuling said, “Li Chi didn’t tell any of us — every night he was quietly repairing the armor for the three of you by himself. It was Gao Xining who noticed something was off about him, so after that she stayed up each night to help.”
Xiahou Zuo looked at Li Chi, then raised his hand and gave him a clap on the shoulder. Between brothers, there are times when no words are needed.
From that single clap Li Chi understood everything, and so he conveniently let himself fall sideways and sit down on the ground. “Without five taels of silver this matter isn’t over.”
Liu Ge had already been carrying a weight of guilt toward Tang Pidi, and now, with the armor Li Chi and the others had brought laid in his hands, that guilt deepened further. He felt unworthy of receiving it — he did not have the same closeness with Li Chi that Xiahou Zuo had, and his conscience genuinely troubled him. He had barely begun to say something when Li Chi looked at him and said, “I can see in your eyes that you’ve been wanting to treat me to a basket of pork-and-chive buns, and the feeling is exceptionally fervent. Honestly, I haven’t eaten breakfast or lunch — I rushed to finish these armor sets first. Liu Ge, I accept your kind offer. Let’s have the pork buns, shall we?”
Out here on the northern frontier, when a man was ravenous with hunger, there might be nothing more enticing than the fragrant, piping-hot pork buns that flooded your mouth with broth at the first bite.
Liu Ge understood exactly what Li Chi meant, and so he had no graceful way to refuse the gesture. He turned immediately and ran off to give orders for food — pork buns, nothing else.
He had gone a few steps when he called back, “Roughly how many should I order?”
Xiahou Zuo said, “You kicked over my pot of meat, and I still haven’t eaten either. Pork buns as big as fists — I’m not full without seven or eight of them.”
Yu Jiuling said, “About the same as Eldest Brother Xiahou.”
Zhuang Wudi nodded. “About the same.”
Tang Pidi smiled. “About the same for me.”
Liu Ge looked toward Li Chi, who said with mild embarrassment, “Me too — about the same as all of theirs put together.”
About half an hour later, soldiers carried up two enormous bamboo steamers. Each layer held dozens of pork buns as big as a fist, and when both layers arrived at once, steam rose in thick clouds and the smell struck them all at once.
The group sat down cross-legged on the city wall, and they ate one by one, shoving buns into their mouths — one in hand, one down the throat, the broth running from the corner of your lips with every bite.
No one spoke. One bun taken, then another — these were men of large appetites who put away a bun in three or four bites.
When everyone was full, they lay back on the wall. The stone was cold beneath them, and no one minded. Someone started laughing — no one knew who or why — and the laughter spread from one to the next, until they were all laughing helplessly, great peals of it rolling off the city wall.
—
About half an hour later, when Li Chi and the others were preparing to leave for the carriage depot, Tang Pidi said to Xiahou Zuo and Liu Ge that there was no need for them to see the others off — he would walk them out himself. Xiahou Zuo and Liu Ge understood at once that Tang Pidi was thinking of their feelings and wanted to spare them the awkwardness.
It was easier, after all, for Tang Pidi to say certain things to Li Chi directly than for Xiahou Zuo or Liu Ge to bring them up themselves.
“Nothing worth making a fuss over.”
Tang Pidi said as they walked. “A minor official in charge of provisions named Tao Qingqian decided to make trouble. When Xiahou heard about it, he hanged a hundred-odd men on the spot — including Tao Qingqian, who apparently was a kinsman of Military Governor Zeng Ling.”
Li Chi made a sound of acknowledgment. “Xiahou couldn’t bring himself to say it because he felt he’d failed you.”
Tang Pidi said, “He’s a good eldest brother.”
Li Chi gave an affirming sound, then slowly let out a breath and said, “Actually this has nothing to do with Xiahou. What you went through is exactly why I would choose the Yanshan Camp — and not do the bidding of the court, or of Prince Yu.”
Tang Pidi said, “Put your mind at ease.”
Li Chi said, “Fortunately this world is not made up entirely of Tao Qingqians. There will always be those who are different. There’s Liu Ge. There’s Xiahou.”
Tang Pidi said, “And there’s you.”
Yu Jiuling suddenly let out a sigh from somewhere beside them. He said to Zhuang Wudi, “Big Brother Zhuang, shouldn’t you and I be making ourselves scarce? The way these two are going, it’ll be all tender whispers and clasped hands in another moment.”
Zhuang Wudi glanced at Yu Jiuling, then after a pause said, “Not you.”
Yu Jiuling said, “You, then?”
Zhuang Wudi nodded. “You.”
Yu Jiuling said, “Why you and not me?”
Zhuang Wudi: “You’re ugly.”
Yu Jiuling: “…”
Tang Pidi said, “Actually, when Big Brother Zhuang says ugly, he doesn’t really mean ugly. Look at Little Ninth’s brows and eyes — quite delicate. The nose is rather well-set. The chin is acceptable enough. And yet somehow, when it all comes together, it just looks so… contemptible.”
Yu Jiuling: “…”
He looked at Li Chi. Li Chi returned the look with an expression that said clearly, *and you were hoping I’d add something?* Yu Jiuling promptly glared.
Zhuang Wudi suddenly produced, out of nowhere, a single sentence: “He went.”
Li Chi was momentarily confused — that abrupt utterance of *he went* was not easy to parse. But Tang Pidi understood it immediately. Those three words from Zhuang Wudi were, of course, referring to the fact that Yu Jiuling had gone to the place he had always wanted to go.
So Tang Pidi smiled and asked, “And how was it?”
Yu Jiuling’s face went red. Something appeared there that hadn’t been seen since before he was five years old — a sort of bashful, shy uncertainty.
He had not yet answered when Zhuang Wudi, in the same muffled, flat tone, added three more words.
“He lost.”
Yu Jiuling’s eyes went wide. “You’re the one who lost! I won — a complete victory! Do you even know what it means, *suspected to be the Milky Way falling nine thousand feet*?”
Zhuang Wudi looked up at the sky.
Tang Pidi asked with curiosity, “Little Ninth, what made you suddenly want to go there?”
Yu Jiuling was quiet for a moment, then slowly let out a breath, and smiled as he answered. “Because the battle is almost here. This one’s going to be hard. Tens of thousands of enemy soldiers… I don’t actually have any attachment to Jizhou. If it were just me here on my own, I would have slipped away already, or at least hidden somewhere safe. I’d never put my life on the line for Jizhou — there isn’t a blade of grass in this whole place worth dying for.”
He looked a little sheepish as he said, “And I still didn’t know what it felt like… What if I’d died in battle and gone to my grave never having—I’m not going to fight to the death for Jizhou. But I’ll fight to the death for all of you.”
—