The carriage depot.

Li Chi suddenly realized that at some point, without knowing when, he had developed a habit: whenever he had something to think over, he would climb up to the top of the wall and sit there, gazing out at the world beyond.

Then it occurred to him that this habit wasn’t really his at all — it was Gao Xining’s.

Gao Xining had always loved climbing to high places. When she wanted to space out, she would sit on top of the wall and space out.

Thinking of this, Li Chi couldn’t help but smile. That involuntary smile carried just the faintest little trace of sweetness.

Seated up high, Li Chi simply replayed the entire affair in his mind — a habitual review — and such reviews almost always yielded unexpected insights. He might look like he was daydreaming, but his mind was turning over a thousand threads, working through every detail more than once.

After running through the whole situation in his head, his greatest takeaway was this: he had seriously underestimated Zeng Ling.

Yu Jiuling walked over from not far away and called out: “Boss, food’s ready.”

Li Chi responded, then idly asked: “What are we eating?”

Yu Jiuling said: “If you don’t hurry up, probably whatever’s left.”

Li Chi said: “I am the head of this household.”

Yu Jiuling said: “And yet that counts for absolutely nothing.”

Li Chi sighed, said he understood, then jumped down from the wall. In that instant it struck him — sure enough, up top was far less solid than down below.

Fortunately, they now had the underground chamber.

The two of them walked back side by side. As they went, Yu Jiuling spoke: “Military commissioner Zeng Ling had someone send the silver over first thing this morning. The man who delivered it kept begging to see you. Why did you refuse to meet him?”

Li Chi said: “By refusing to see his man, Commissioner Zeng will probably understand what I mean.”

Yu Jiuling said: “Well, I don’t understand.”

Li Chi replied: “By not seeing his man, I’m saying I don’t want to deal with him anymore. He, on the other hand, seems very eager to deal with me — only that hundred thousand taels isn’t the kind of silver that opens those doors.”

Yu Jiuling understood. Li Chi thought the money was too little.

In the sitting room, everyone was chatting idly. Li Chi hadn’t arrived yet. The food and dishes were already laid out on the table, but no one had moved to eat. Without anyone noticing when it happened, Li Chi’s position as head of the household seemed to have earned the recognition of everyone present.

Li Chi laughed: “This is embarrassing — you all waiting for me like this makes it seem like my standing here is just the tiniest bit elevated. Truly mortifying, truly mortifying.”

He plopped himself down.

His master, Changmei the Daoist, shot him a look: “Go wash your hands!”

Li Chi immediately jumped back up: “Yes, yes, yes…”

Yu Jiuling sighed: “Hard to say what’s so impressive about it.”

When Li Chi returned from washing his hands, everyone ate and chatted together. It was then that the shop hand on watch came rushing in from outside, reporting that Commissioner Zeng had sent someone to deliver an invitation.

Li Chi rose and accepted the invitation. He opened it and looked it over — it was an invitation from Zeng Ling to dine at the military commissioner’s residence, three days hence.

Tang Pidi smiled: “He’s eager to connect with the Yanshan Camp.”

Li Chi gave a sound of acknowledgment: “Prince Yu is already dead. Whether or not Zeng Ling was the one who killed him, word won’t stay sealed for long. Once the news gets out, Qingzhou’s Cui Yanlai and Yuzhou’s Liu Li may very well make their move.”

“The cause they raise now doesn’t really matter — before, Liu Li claimed to be suppressing rebellion on behalf of the court. Now he can just as easily say he’s punishing those responsible for a prince’s death, since a prince has in fact died.”

Li Chi said: “With Prince Yu gone, those two will likely join forces to attack. Zeng Ling isn’t confident he can handle it, which is why he wants to bring the Yanshan Camp over to his side.”

Tang Pidi said: “He probably figures the Yanshan Camp is a force rooted in Jizhou, so pulling them in should be relatively easy.”

Yu Jiuling laughed: “He really thinks the Yanshan Camp is his to command — come when called, move when told, and do the fighting themselves to boot.”

Everyone turned to look at Yu Jiuling. Yu Jiuling immediately looked down.

Li Chi looked toward Zhuang Wudi sitting nearby and asked: “Elder Brother Zhuang, what’s your read on Zeng Ling wanting to rope in our Yanshan Camp?”

Zhuang Wudi thought for a moment, then answered earnestly: “We need money.”

Yu Jiuling said: “Naturally — he wants us to do the fighting and not even pay us?”

Everyone looked at Yu Jiuling again. Yu Jiuling chose to shut up.

“I asked Elder Brother Zhuang to send someone back earlier to inform the chief to hold off on marching over for the time being — that was precisely because I had this in mind.”

Li Chi continued: “Regardless of whether it was Prince Yu or Zeng Ling who died, once one of them was gone, the military morale inside Jizhou City would inevitably falter. Even if Zeng Ling came out on top, the Jizhou army would see some turbulence. If Prince Yu had won, the Jizhou army would have fallen into outright chaos. So the moment news got out, Cui Yanlai and Liu Li would certainly sense an opportunity.”

“That was when I had Elder Brother Zhuang send word back to the chief urging him not to be hasty. It’s still necessary to remind him once more.”

Li Chi looked toward Zhuang Wudi: “Once we’re done eating, I’ll write a letter. Elder Brother Zhuang, arrange for someone to carry it back to Yanshan.”

Zhuang Wudi nodded and said: “Understood.”

Li Chi glanced over the dishes on the table and said with a smile: “Why is everyone being so polite? I notice none of you have touched the few dishes on my side. Come on — let’s shift the dishes around and everyone try a bit.”

The moment he said this, everyone put their hands over the plates in front of them.

Yu Jiuling, risking life and limb, said: “Except for those three dishes in front of you, all the other food was made by Aunt Wu. Those three of yours were made by our dear Ning.”

Li Chi thought to himself: no wonder.

He looked toward Gao Xining sitting not far away. He let out a helpless sigh and said: “Everyone else pressed down on their plates and pressed them down they did. But this food in front of me is yours — so why are you pressing down on your plates too?”

Gao Xining, with an expression of absolute resolve: “I’ll press them down anyway!”

Li Chi said: “Press away then… But of everyone at this table, though they all pressed, none of them have your particular energy — holding down that plate as if your very life depended on it.”

Gao Xining, still resolute: “My dish tastes good!”

Li Chi finally understood.

This whole spread — when he had first come back, it had looked as though no one had touched a thing. In truth, hands had been all over it long ago.

The original situation must have been this: the majority of the dishes on the table were cooked by Aunt Wu, with only three made by Gao Xining, mixed in among the others. But these cunning people were sharper than monkeys, every last one of them, and so they had shifted the dishes they liked in front of themselves, while placing everything Gao Xining had cooked in front of Li Chi.

Li Chi asked: “Looking at these dishes from the outside, there’s no way you could tell which ones Aunt Wu made and which ones our Ning made. I would genuinely like to know — how did you figure it out?”

Everyone looked at Gao Xining. Yu Jiuling said: “She made the first move.”

Gao Xining turned her head and stared out through the door.

Li Chi assumed she felt a flicker of sheepish guilt and had gone red in the face. He turned to look — Gao Xining was grinning from ear to ear.

—

At that same moment, at the Yanshan Camp.

The chief, Yu Chaozong, sat behind his writing desk reading. His one and only pastime had always been reading — it had been that way since he was a child.

He had also always urged the people of the Yanshan Camp to read more and learn their characters. But no one ever truly wanted to learn.

Given the time, these men would far rather drink and talk, spinning grand tales about everything under the heavens. Who would choose to struggle with characters when that was an option?

He had long accepted this, and so there were times at the Yanshan Camp when he felt just a touch lonely.

This had led to one consequence: though he was exceedingly warm and on good terms with all his brothers, whenever he wanted a real conversation, he always sought out those in the stronghold who had studied.

Perhaps his reading sessions had grown overlong and he was tired. He set down the book and raised a hand to rub his eyes.

Then his gaze fell on the letter on the desk. It was the one Zhuang Wudi had sent back — the letter said that the situation in Jizhou City was changing from moment to moment, and that the chief should on no account be impatient and march out.

He had absolute faith in Li Chi’s abilities, and he had always felt that Li Chi was his lucky star.

The first time, Li Chi had saved his life. The second time, Li Chi had persuaded him to send troops to guard the frontier, earning him a prestige without equal.

Now, if the common people of all of Jizhou had to make a choice, they would rather stand with Yu Chaozong than choose the imperial court or the local authorities.

Just then, the eighth-ranking leader of the stronghold, Zheng Gongru, came from outside requesting an audience. Yu Chaozong had just been looking for someone to talk to, and Zheng Gongru was a man of learning with a talent for strategy.

“This is a letter the second-in-command sent back. Read it first.”

Yu Chaozong gestured toward the letter.

Zheng Gongru agreed at once, took up the letter and read. At a glance he recognized Li Chi’s handwriting.

He and Li Chi had been classmates at the academy. Of course he remembered exactly what Li Chi’s hand looked like.

In that instant, a surge of heat flared up inside him — but he suppressed it quickly. He had no intention of letting anything show in front of Yu Chaozong.

“This…”

Zheng Gongru finished reading and shook his head, as though he wanted to say something but hesitated.

Yu Chaozong said: “We’re all family here. Say what you mean. The Yanshan Camp has always spoken freely — you haven’t been with us long so you may not be used to it, but the other leaders all know this well enough.”

Zheng Gongru bowed quickly and said: “Chief, what the second-in-command writes here is very insightful. Only… my own thoughts differ somewhat.”

Yu Chaozong said: “Go ahead and speak.”

Zheng Gongru cleared his throat and said: “The second-in-command worries that with Jizhou City in such disarray, marching in would entangle us and lead to unnecessary losses. That’s understandable enough — only it feels somewhat passive. That is to say… it lacks a certain fighting spirit.”

He looked at Yu Chaozong and said: “Am I being disrespectful toward the second-in-command by saying this?”

He knew perfectly well that the letter was written by the third-ranking leader, Li Chi, yet he kept calling him “the second-in-command” — a deliberate choice, of course.

Yu Chaozong said: “Even if Wudi himself were standing before you, he wouldn’t take offense at words.”

Zheng Gongru said: “Then I’ll speak as I think. Chief, in my view — yes, Jizhou City is in chaos, with three factions locked in a three-way fight. But isn’t that chaos precisely an opportunity?”

“If we wait for those three forces to determine a victor, who knows how long that could take?”

Zheng Gongru glanced at Yu Chaozong’s expression. Seeing it remain composed, he grew bolder.

He continued: “The Qingzhou army is here, the Yuzhou army is here — which means Qingzhou and Yuzhou themselves are hollow. Prince Wu’s forces cannot possibly hold those two provinces in their entirety. If we simply wait like this, our march south becomes indefinitely delayed. And then Qingzhou and Yuzhou, the most prosperous lands under heaven, we won’t know whose hands they’ll fall into.”

At those words, something in Yu Chaozong’s expression visibly shifted.

Zheng Gongru said: “The second-in-command’s planning is meticulous — that much is beyond question. But mere waiting is no path to supremacy. The great affairs of the realm do not remain fixed forever.”

“If we don’t march now, the court may regain its footing and lock down both Yuzhou and Qingzhou entirely — or some other rebel force may seize them first. Those are the granaries of the realm. Whoever holds them, advances; whoever advances, takes.”

“What is Jizhou? Jizhou doesn’t matter. Jizhou is nothing more than a stepping stone.”

Zheng Gongru said: “Moving south is the most critical thing. If we don’t move south, what good is holding a corner of the north? Without the south, how can anyone speak of claiming the Central Plains?”

Yu Chaozong’s expression shifted once more.

Zheng Gongru knew his words were beginning to take effect. Growing even bolder, he offered one more probing remark.

“The second-in-command’s thinking being this conservative may have something to do with his background. I say this not to disparage his origins, but his vision is perhaps a little… near-sighted. After all… ahem…”

He let the rest trail off, knowing he had said enough.

—