After Yu Jiuling finished speaking, Tang Pidi reached over and gave him a clap on the shoulder. “Don’t think so much. No matter how many the enemy are, worrying about that isn’t your job. It’s my job. Have you ever seen me worried? If you haven’t, then it means this is a fight we can win. If you ever do see me worried — that’s because there’s no worthy opponent.”

Yu Jiuling was struck into silence.

Li Chi sighed. “I genuinely respect that.”

Tang Pidi laughed out loud, then turned and headed back to the city wall.

Zhuang Wudi watched Tang Pidi’s retreating figure and thought: although both his name and Tang Pidi’s contained the character for *enemy*, and his own name even meant *unrivaled*, when placed beside Tang Pidi, he felt himself lacking in every regard.

In martial skill — lacking somewhat. In strategy — lacking somewhat. In the art of carrying oneself with that particular kind of studied nonchalance — lacking enormously, enormously, enormously, enormously.

“Once Old Tang says there’s no problem, there’s no problem.”

Li Chi smiled. “You all know Old Tang puts on an act, but when have you ever seen him put on a useless one? The moment he commits to a performance, it means he has it in hand.”

Yu Jiuling was still worried. “The Qingzhou forces will be here soon. The Yanzhou forces are probably already on the road. When they come at us from two sides, with the Qingzhou alone numbering at least two or three hundred thousand, and the Yanzhou forces likely no fewer…”

Li Chi said, “Old Tang said the Yanzhou forces are nothing to worry about. Then they’re nothing to worry about.”

“Why?” Zhuang Wudi asked.

Li Chi smiled. “Just wait for the news.”

He murmured to himself as he walked, “Though the way Old Tang pulls that off, the method and manner of it — that’s genuinely worth studying. There’s something to it.”

Yu Jiuling said, “That’s natural-born.”

Zhuang Wudi said, “You were born without it.”

Yu Jiuling: “…”

—

After they returned to the carriage depot, Li Chi found a quiet corner and dozed off for a short while. He had barely fallen asleep when one of the depot workers came looking for him, saying that Cui Tai, the owner of the Three-Month River Pavilion, had come to call in person.

Li Chi couldn’t help but smile. Every move that old fox made had been within Old Tang’s calculations. That alone made it clear enough — the Cui Family had something to hide.

Li Chi told the worker to bring the man to the reception hall, then went to wash his face and change his clothes, as there were bits of straw on them.

Some habits formed in childhood were still difficult to shake entirely, and he found himself puzzled by his own nature. For instance, even now that he had a comfortable home and a proper bed, he would find himself, after a time, growing more and more restless in it.

Especially when he was exhausted — the more tired he was, the harder it was to fall asleep in a comfortable bed. He’d lie there turning over and over, growing more awake the longer he lay.

And so he would slip quietly out to the back courtyard of the depot, bury himself in the pile of straw, and sleep more soundly than he had any right to — as though sealed inside some fortress of copper walls and iron barricades where not even a blade falling from the sky could reach him.

Sometimes, when no one could find him, they had no idea where to look, but his master Changmei the Daoist always could. Every time he came to find him, Changmei never allowed anyone to follow — because Changmei knew that Li Diudiu’s standing now was different, and if word got out that he still burrowed into straw piles to sleep, it would affect appearances.

Li Chi had thought it over himself, and decided this was probably nothing more than him being ridiculous.

After changing his clothes, Li Chi walked unhurriedly into the reception hall. Cui Tai, who had been waiting, rose at once with a broad smile. “Master Li.”

Li Chi returned the greeting with a cupped fist. “Master Cui.”

He gestured for Cui Tai to be seated, and Cui Tai settled back in the guest’s chair.

Li Chi said, “You’ve come in person, Master Cui — is there something urgent?”

He had very nearly let a second line slip out — something along the lines of: *the Three-Month River Pavilion is where the important things happen. My carriage depot is nothing like your establishment.* Fortunately he held it back.

Cui Tai smiled. “I came specifically to offer my apologies to Master Li and Master Tang. When Master Tang came to call at the Three-Month River Pavilion last time, the staff conducted themselves very poorly. I have dealt with them severely. This visit, I—”

Li Chi said, “Old Tang isn’t at the depot right now. Xiahou had him go over to assist with things, so he’s been in the military camp.”

Li Chi said this deliberately, and watched closely for Cui Tai’s reaction.

Cui Tai quickly replied, “Master Tang’s talent — both civil and martial — is truly admirable. To have been brought into General Xiahou’s command is a fine thing indeed.”

“He just went to lend a hand.”

Li Chi smiled. “Xiahou pays too little over there — Old Tang didn’t want to go.”

Cui Tai froze. He was beginning to feel that there was genuinely not a single normal person in this Yongning Tongyuan Carriage Depot — what manner of assorted oddities had been gathered here.

To enter the military — and under Xiahou Zuo’s command, no less — and yet refuse to go, on the grounds that the pay was too low. That was something else.

“This—”

Cui Tai smiled. “Heroes do emerge from the young.”

Li Chi said, “You’re too kind, Master Cui. If you came on account of Old Tang’s business, there’s no need to say more—”

Cui Tai quickly said, “My thanks to Master Li for your forbearance, and to Master Tang as well.”

Li Chi said, “You may have misunderstood me. When I say there’s no need to say more, it’s because Old Tang isn’t here. You came to apologize to him. Saying it to me serves no purpose. If Master Cui truly feels uneasy about it, you are welcome to go to Xiahou’s camp and say it to him in person. I am Old Tang’s close friend, but that doesn’t give me the authority to accept an apology on his behalf.”

Cui Tai’s expression shifted. Without meaning to, he thought again of those words Tang Pidi had spoken as he left the Three-Month River Pavilion — that he truly hoped he would not see Master Cui at the carriage depot, because if that happened, neither of them would look good. Cui Tai’s face would genuinely not look good. As for himself, he was a shallow sort of person, and he’d probably be unable to resist laughing — laughing too freely, which would hardly look good either.

Right now, Li Chi’s manner was leaving Cui Tai’s face looking exactly as Tang Pidi had predicted.

“Master Li.”

Cui Tai maintained his smile. “There is wisdom in being magnanimous. There are friends to be found along all the roads ahead.”

Li Chi said, “When Old Tang came back, he told me that the Cui Family had very good manners. Now I see it goes beyond manners — the family’s upbringing must be excellent.”

Cui Tai’s expression darkened further. Tang Pidi had given him no face at all at the Three-Month River Pavilion, and he had assumed Tang Pidi was simply crude and unrefined. Li Chi, being so close to Xiahou Zuo, ought to be somewhat different — ought to have at least some of the polish of those in elevated circles.

Apparently not. This Li Chi and that Tang Pidi were cut from exactly the same cloth.

Cui Tai said, “Master Li’s manner of speaking is rather lacking in courtesy as well.”

Li Chi set down his teacup and said in a flat tone, “My brother walked into your establishment and was insulted the moment he stepped through the door. Do you think that because you’ve walked through mine, I would receive you courteously?”

He smiled. “In fact, Master Cui should have taken Old Tang’s advice. If you shouldn’t come to my carriage depot, then don’t.”

Cui Tai rose. “Very well then, I’ll take my leave first. If Master Li feels that having one more friend is unwelcome, I cannot force the matter.”

Li Chi said, “Won’t you stay and talk a little longer?”

Cui Tai gave a cold sound and turned to leave with a sweep of his sleeve.

Li Chi stepped to the doorway. “Master Cui, haven’t you forgotten something?”

Cui Tai turned back. “What do you want now?”

Li Chi said, “My brother was forced to use his hands back at your Three-Month River Pavilion.”

The man beside Cui Tai — Wei Xianzhen — stepped forward at once. He stood facing Li Chi and said, word by word, “If you dare to show disrespect again, do not blame me for showing no mercy.”

Li Chi looked at Wei Xianzhen’s stance and thought that Old Tang’s guess was probably right — this man was without question from a military background.

He asked, “Were you the one on the rooftop with the iron-stave bow, aiming at my brother?”

Wei Xianzhen was quiet for a moment, then replied, “What if I was?”

Li Chi walked slowly down the steps. Wei Xianzhen stood guarding Cui Tai, ready to move at any moment. Li Chi stopped in front of him and asked, “Where is your bow?”

Wei Xianzhen said nothing.

Li Chi said in an even tone, “Go and get your bow. I’m not the type who likes to threaten people — I prefer doing things directly. If you don’t go and get it, Master Cui will not be leaving through the gates of Yongning Tongyuan. You’re welcome to try.”

Wei Xianzhen asked, “If I get the bow, what then?”

“I’d like to see what you’re made of.”

Li Chi answered.

Cui Tai gave a slight nod. He felt that Li Chi had been altogether too arrogant, and that if this lesson were not given, Li Chi might become even more unbridled in the future.

And so Wei Xianzhen stepped away first, while Cui Tai’s remaining bodyguards spread out and took up positions around the courtyard. Shortly after, Wei Xianzhen came running back from outside the depot, already carrying the iron-stave bow he had retrieved from the carriage.

Li Chi looked at the bow. *Not as fine-looking as mine*, he thought.

He walked to stand in front of Wei Xianzhen, stopping at a distance of perhaps three or four chi, then said to him, “I’ll wait until you draw an arrow before I move. If you can get the arrow off, I’ll go to the Three-Month River Pavilion myself and offer an apology at the door.”

Wei Xianzhen’s eyes sharpened. “You are arrogant beyond all bounds!”

Li Chi made a gesture of invitation. “Please.”

Wei Xianzhen looked at Cui Tai. Cui Tai gave another slight nod, signaling that he could give Li Chi a lesson.

So Wei Xianzhen’s hand snapped up. From the quiver strapped to his back, he drew an iron-feathered arrow — the speed of it defied the eyes of any ordinary person. Arrow in hand, he set it to the string, pulled back with full force—

And drew nothing but air.

Li Chi had stepped in. Just as promised, he moved only after the arrow was drawn and the bow raised. In the instant Wei Xianzhen drew back the bowstring, Li Chi’s left hand came around and seized the iron-stave bow, putting his full strength into a single twist that wrenched the upright bow into a horizontal position.

Li Chi gave a turn and a pull, and the bow was in his hands. Wei Xianzhen reached forward to grab it, his body pitching toward Li Chi — and Li Chi’s right hand reached behind him into Wei Xianzhen’s quiver and drew out a second iron-feathered arrow.

Li Chi’s left foot stepped back, his body shifting away from Wei Xianzhen’s grasping hand. He drew the bow to full moon, and loosed. The arrow hissed past Wei Xianzhen’s ear and struck with a solid *thunk* into the stone wall not far distant, burying itself deep.

The wind from the arrow’s passing stirred the hair at Wei Xianzhen’s temple. Several strands were severed. They drifted down slowly. On his earlobe, a very faint and narrow red line appeared. Gradually blood seeped through — a single drop forming at the tip of his ear, hanging there, never falling.

“The bow is already ordinary. The man behind it is less than the bow. So what were you so bold for?”

Li Chi drew back suddenly. Both arms flung wide. Power flooded down through his palms. A sharp crack — and the iron-stave bow snapped. The bowstring held; the iron bow broke.

Li Chi dropped the broken bow onto the ground and looked at Wei Xianzhen. His tone was flat. “The next time someone draws a bow on one of my people, I’ll string the shooter’s head to the bowstring and loose it.”

Wei Xianzhen stood rigid, as though in the span of a single moment he had been emptied of all seven souls and three spirits. And Cui Tai’s face had gone to a color impossible to describe — he could not begin to imagine what kind of strength it took to snap an iron-stave bow like that.

Nor had he anticipated that here, in the Yongning Tongyuan Carriage Depot, he would be humiliated once again — just as he had been at the Three-Month River Pavilion.

“See our guest out.”

Li Chi turned and went back inside the reception hall.

In the courtyard, Wei Xianzhen still stood in that indescribable state of shock, and beyond the shock was an indescribable sense of defeat. He had held a bow all his life and had never met his match — yet today he had not even been able to hold on to his own bow.

Cui Tai called his name several times before Wei Xianzhen seemed to come back slightly to himself and looked at Cui Tai with a blank stare. What he saw was Cui Tai’s face — burning red with shame and fury.