Thinking from the enemy’s perspective—this was one of the things Li Chi did best. He was best at many things, including eating, which was also a genuine skill of his. He was still not old, and perhaps in time there would be more things he was best at; but being best was one thing, and being proud of it another. He was not proud of most of them.

The one he was most pleased with was his gift for coaxing Gao Xining.

Some might say this made him look rather small. But what was greatness? A man who could not manage to make the woman he cared for feel cared for might have even less to recommend him. Of course no single measure applies to everything—there are some people who simply cannot be coaxed, perhaps because no one in the world was ever going to be able to coax them.

On the way back, Li Chi had been thinking. If the entire granary leadership had already been effectively taken over by the Cui family, then some of his earlier assumptions might have been somewhat off. Still, the trip had not been wasted.

In the carriage, Li Chi said a few words to Yu Jiuling. When he finished, Yu Jiuling’s eyes lit up. He said leave it to me, then got out at a crossroads along the way and disappeared.

Jiang Ran found, as a result of those instructions, that his admiration for Li Chi had deepened further. When he first encountered Li Chi, he would have been lying to say there was no small measure of condescension in him—first because of Li Chi’s humble origins, which he felt ruled out any proper education; second because of Li Chi’s youth, which he felt ruled out any real depth of thought.

The ancients said a man’s speech and bearing carry half a lifetime’s experience and learning. In Li Chi’s speech and bearing, there dwelt something like a demon who had been cultivating in secret for a thousand years.

Jiang Ran also felt a certain gratitude for his own luck—that in the most desolate moment of his life, he had crossed paths with Li Chi, and at the time he had not given Li Chi much thought at all, had simply been drifting along. But now he felt the real luck was in the meeting itself—this band of young people who, for all their apparently humble origins, might be ancient spirits reborn into the world to walk in borrowed skins. Look at each one of them: was there a single one whose age didn’t seem like a fabrication?

All of it a facade.

Jiang Ran had even, in a fleeting moment, wondered whether if he reached out and grabbed Li Chi’s face and pulled, he might peel away a mask to reveal some creature underneath—some demon or spirit’s true face.

“Jiang Ran.”

He was in the middle of this reverie when Li Chi said his name.

Jiang Ran snapped to attention. “Yes—go ahead, whatever you need.”

“There is something for you as well,” Li Chi said. “Jiuling is going to look into something connected to the granary side. I’d like you to go and investigate the Sanyue Tower. Are there likely to be familiar faces there? Might anyone recognize you?”

Jiang Ran shook his head. “Back when I was in office, I had my vices, but the Sanyue Tower wasn’t to my taste. I preferred establishments where the prices were a bit lower. My standards for quality, I have to say, are not particularly high—it was always quantity that concerned me more.”

Li Chi: “Oh…”

Jiang Ran gave an embarrassed grin. “I’ve grown a beard since those days, and my skin is quite a bit darker than it was, so I shouldn’t be recognized.”

“Good.”

Li Chi took out some banknotes and handed them to Jiang Ran. “Go to the Sanyue Tower and see what you can find out. I keep having the feeling that if the Cui family wanted to hide someone, they might have placed a person at the Sanyue Tower. Take this—if it isn’t enough, come back and I’ll put more on account.”

Jiang Ran’s eyes lit up. “And there’s… this kind of assignment?”

Li Chi said with a smile: “Don’t mention it to Jiuling. Otherwise he’ll say something.”

Jiang Ran slapped his chest. “You have my word. Not a syllable out of me. I’ll go to the Sanyue Tower this very afternoon.”

“This afternoon?” Li Chi said. “There’s no need to be quite that… eager.”

“Urgent! It’s absolutely urgent!”

Jiang Ran said: “This is a matter of the greatest importance—how could we not move quickly?”

Li Chi: “Oh…”

He opened the window and looked out, then lowered his voice. “The Cui family will hear about our visit to the granary soon enough, which means their precautions will become significantly tighter. If I am not mistaken, they will make their move within a few days. The granary cannot afford any mishap.”

He said to Jiang Ran: “I’ll get out at the bend up ahead. Have the carriage go straight around to our rear courtyard.”

Jiang Ran acknowledged this, understanding that Li Chi was probably going to see Xiahou Zuo and the others.

At the bend in the road, a few small street vendors had set up their stalls. Li Chi opened the carriage door and jumped out, used the crowd to cover his movement, and slipped quickly into a nearby shop. He moved around inside, then emerged onto the street going the opposite direction.

A little more than half an hour later, Li Chi had reached the south wall of the city.

Tang Pidi had been on duty through the night and had not slept. When Li Chi arrived, he was lying stretched out beneath a battlement, asleep on a bed of straw with no pillow or blanket—a position that looked anything but comfortable. Li Chi did not disturb him. Evidently, in only two or three days, Tang Pidi had built up no small reputation among the soldiers—no one was making noise, everyone keeping as quiet as they could, unwilling to disturb him.

Xiahou Zuo was out making his rounds of the walls. Li Chi waited a full hour before he returned. The two of them put their heads together and spoke quietly for a long time—no one else knew what was said. But when Li Chi finally left, Xiahou Zuo looked noticeably lighter, as though some problem had been resolved.

Meanwhile, in Daizhou City.

In the large compound of a prosperous-looking estate in the city, a considerable number of people had gathered. This was the home of the wealthy Zheng family, who in Xinzhou were not particularly well known, but who had spent many years in commerce and accumulated a comfortable fortune.

The Zheng family’s ease of living had to do with a former general of Daizhou—a garrison commander of the local troops who had run away when the Black Wu forces came last year and had not dared return since.

After that general fled, the Zheng family had kept an extremely low profile, rarely having much dealings with anyone.

At this moment, more than two hundred people were gathered in the compound courtyard—mostly able-bodied men in the prime of life—all of them looking at the woman standing before them, waiting for her to speak.

After a moment, she turned to the steward beside her. “Is this all of them?”

The steward bowed. “My lady, the master took some with him when he left Daizhou. These are all the staff that could be summoned from the branch offices and shops. This is everyone we can make use of.”

The woman let out a quiet sigh. “Not many, as these things go—but I suppose it is what it is.”

She raised her head and looked at the assembled men. After a pause she said: “What you are to do is this: protect the young master at all costs. No matter what happens, the young master must not come to harm. I will pay each of you two hundred taels of silver a year. In the second year, that amount doubles.”

A stir ran through the courtyard. These men—shop assistants, long-serving workers, some with martial training hired as guards, others simply strong-bodied laborers—earned almost nothing in a year under normal circumstances. Two hundred taels, and four hundred the year after—that was a temptation very difficult to refuse.

“Rugong.”

The woman looked at the young man beside her. He was not very tall. His appearance was somewhat unfortunate, perhaps a result of a serious injury in the past that had stunted his growth—he was slight and small. What was most striking was his head, which was slightly oversized, and even somewhat larger on one side than the other, which gave him an odd appearance. Even if Li Chi had been standing in front of him at that moment, he would not easily have recognized him. This was Sun Rugong, formerly of the Four-Page Academy.

Hearing his mother call, Sun Rugong quickly bowed. “You have only to tell me, Mother.”

The woman was Sun Rugong’s mother—the daughter of the previous Daizhou garrison commander, who had married into the Sun family of Jizhou. Her maiden name was also Sun. The Zheng family’s holdings were managed by the Sun family’s steward Zheng Qiufu, but in truth they were Sun family assets, the Zheng name serving only as a cover.

She said to Sun Rugong: “When you survived your ordeal, I swore in my heart to have revenge—but how revenge would come, and when, had to depend on you and on Heaven. Now word has reached us that the Qingzhou army is nearly at Jizhou, and whether Jizhou can hold is uncertain. So the plan I had set out before—returning to Jizhou for vengeance—must be set aside for now.”

“Whatever you decide, Mother,” Sun Rugong said.

“I have spent all these days thinking,” the woman continued. “With Jizhou’s fate uncertain, the path to advancement there is not through the official establishment but through the Yanshan Camp and the Green-Banner Army.”

She looked at Sun Rugong. “I have already staked a considerable portion of our family’s assets to have Steward Zheng establish a connection with a man of some standing in the Yanshan Camp—not one of their major figures, just a mid-level officer, but enough to get you inside. I believe in your abilities. Once you are within the Yanshan Camp, your intelligence and resourcefulness will make Yu Chaozong see you in a new light very quickly, and you will find your footing soon enough.”

“I will make something of myself in the Yanshan Camp,” Sun Rugong said. “You have my word.”

“I trust you.” The woman continued: “Go there with the men, and they will be your guard. Divide them into two groups—one visible, one hidden. The hidden group will still be inside the Yanshan Camp; they will simply appear to have no connection to you.”

“I understand.”

She went on: “I have already worked out a plan for you. Yu Chaozong has the ambition to contend for the realm—Dingzhou is nominally under Prince Yu’s authority and assigned to his governance, but he has been unable to truly consolidate his hold on it. Once you are in the Yanshan Camp, if you can orchestrate a way to help Yu Chaozong take Dingzhou, he will make use of you. I have heard that Yu Chaozong is hungry for capable men and knows how to employ talent—if you can help him, he will give you standing and advancement.”

She drew a slow breath, then said with quiet seriousness: “All that I have been able to arrange for you, I have arranged. What comes next depends entirely on you. I will stay in Dingzhou and continue to help you plan. Taking Dingzhou will be your first accomplishment in Yu Chaozong’s eyes, and it will secure your footing.”

“From today, you will go by the name Zheng Rong’ru. The name Sun Rugong—forget it for now. When the day comes that you have achieved what you set out to achieve, you can take it back.”

Sun Rugong stepped back one pace and dropped to his knees, pressing his forehead to the ground once, and then again and again.

“Mother—I am about to leave Daizhou. Please… take care of yourself.”

“My son.”

The woman crouched down and held him. “I know the pain you carry inside. If you cannot take your revenge, you will never be at peace. But revenge is not the work of a single day—and so above all else, do not rush. Take it one step at a time.”

Sun Rugong said yes, and helped his mother to her feet. “Don’t worry, Mother. I know what I am doing. I know how to take revenge. And I know how to make something of myself.”

He straightened, and raised his voice.

“All of you—kneel to my mother. Then we go.”

More than two hundred men dropped to their knees as one and bowed their heads, then rose and followed Sun Rugong out of the Zheng family compound. Their destination: the Yanshan Camp.