The Military Commissioner’s Residence.

Zeng Ling had always been an extraordinarily self-disciplined man. He had been this way since youth, and he had maintained it for decades.

This formidable discipline touched every aspect of his life. The rigor with which he held himself to account was less like self-imposed constraint — less like a man laying down rules for himself — and more like the operation of natural law.

Barring something of great importance, everything was fixed without variation: what hour he read, what hour he trained, what hour he played the zither, what hour he played chess.

This discipline persisted until he entered officialdom, at which point it was inevitably interrupted — yet whenever time permitted, he would make it all up.

After entering office, Zeng Ling added one more daily discipline: he required himself to contemplate three things every single day.

How should I conduct myself? How should my subordinates conduct themselves? How should my superiors conduct themselves?

In truth, the very reason he had come to Jizhou as military commissioner was that he had read people’s hearts to perfection — a single sentence had caused the grand eunuch Liu Chongxin to hand him this most critical of posts.

At the time, Liu Chongxin was contemplating having a pleasure palace built in his hometown. It went well beyond an estate in scale; in grandeur it was hardly inferior to the imperial palace itself, so “pleasure palace” was the only fitting name. Whoever supervised its construction for Liu Chongxin would profit immensely, and in a single instant, a great many eyes turned toward Jizhou.

Liu Chongxin’s devoted followers scrambled over one another, each desperate to kneel before him and beg for the commission. Yet Liu Chongxin found himself genuinely at a loss.

In principle, the ideal choice was naturally to appoint someone personally loyal to him as Jizhou military commissioner. But Prince Wu was still at court then, and Liu Chongxin dared not be too brazen.

It was at this moment that Zeng Ling found a way to let Liu Chongxin hear one sentence about him.

That sentence was: Zeng Ling is a man who knows his limits and understands what matters.

Liu Chongxin already knew of Zeng Ling — a man who never went out of his way to flatter anyone, yet who, regardless of which superior assigned him a task, always completed it flawlessly and without a single opening to criticize. Prince Wu also knew of Zeng Ling, because at a time when seemingly every official at court was boasting of being Liu Chongxin’s disciple and wearing it as a badge of honor, Zeng Ling alone aligned himself with neither side.

Among the entire civil and military officialdom, the one man who could satisfy both Liu Chongxin and Prince Wu was this single individual.

After arriving in Jizhou, Zeng Ling did not come across as forceful, which was precisely why people like the prefectural administrator Lian Gongming assumed he could be pushed around.

Lian Gongming was Liu Chongxin’s man. He had also wanted to be Jizhou’s military commissioner, only to have Zeng Ling dropped in from above — of course he was disgruntled.

Zeng Ling could be gentle when gentleness was called for, and when the moment came for thunderous fury, it came without fail.

By the time people came to their senses, they found that in just a few short years, Zeng Ling had already firmly grasped all civil and military authority in Jizhou in his own hands — and every person who had stood against him came to a bad end, without exception.

A man like Zeng Ling looked at everyone around him as a piece on his board.

Luo Jing was a piece. Prince Yu was a piece. Li Chi was a piece as well.

At this moment, Zeng Ling sat behind his desk, eyes fixed without moving on the chess board before him. Many stones had already been placed, and so each move from here on was of critical importance.

Seated across from him was another person — though this person was not playing. He was watching Zeng Ling play both sides himself.

After a long while, Zeng Ling slowly exhaled and tipped over his own stone in resignation.

In that very moment, the one who had been sitting in perfect quiet across from him — Luo Jing — smiled and said: “A man like Commissioner Zeng must never know what boredom feels like.”

Zeng Ling smiled and said: “In life, is there really so much time to be bored?”

Luo Jing replied in an even tone: “I’m different from you, Commissioner. I have no particular interests. Every day, other than training and drilling soldiers, I have nothing to do — so I find myself with a great deal of time to be bored.”

There was something in those words that seemed to carry a point — as if telling Zeng Ling: I have all the time in the world to wait you out.

Fortunately, Luo Jing had not been made to wait long. He had come to call precisely to see what kind of explanation Zeng Ling would give him. Yet Zeng Ling had only now seemed to remember what Luo Jing had come for.

“Yesterday’s affair — it wasn’t convenient for me to appear directly.”

Zeng Ling set down the chess piece in his hand and lifted his teacup for a sip, using those brief moments to review the phrasing he had just worked out.

“There are many in the Jizhou army who were planted there by the Prince. General Luo should be aware of this.”

“I’m aware.”

“So if I had stepped in directly, the Jizhou army would have been thrown into disorder.”

Zeng Ling glanced at Luo Jing: “Which is why I ordered the Jizhou army to confine itself to barracks. General Luo should be able to appreciate my thinking.”

The Jizhou army was confined to barracks — but the Tiger-Leopard Cavalry did not belong to the Jizhou army, so the confinement had nothing to do with them.

“I must truly thank the Commissioner for that. I came today to pay my respects and express my gratitude.”

Luo Jing said this with an expression that was neither quite a smile nor quite not one.

Zeng Ling let out a soft sigh and said: “If I were to tell you that yesterday’s affair had little to do with me — that both you, myself, and Prince Yu were all played by a single young man — would you believe it?”

Luo Jing smiled: “I have always held Commissioner Zeng in high regard, and I know full well how much the Commissioner has looked after me. Speaking one heart to another, whatever you say, I believe it.”

Zeng Ling gave a sound of acknowledgment: “I know that young lord Yang Zhuo has been growing more and more insufferable of late. So I entrusted Li Chi with removing him. How was I to know he would end up using you…”

Not even yesterday could Luo Jing have imagined that such a convoluted chain of events lay behind it all.

In that instant, the name Li Chi surfaced in Luo Jing’s mind. He thought of that time on the fighting stage — Li Chi had not lost to him.

After that, with the business of sending out troops, he and Li Chi had had no further dealings. Yet learning that the person behind it was Li Chi hadn’t been difficult. He had later heard that Li Chi helped Xiahou Zuo hold the line in Jizhou, and so had come to regard him with more weight.

“To have been used without even knowing it.”

Luo Jing smiled: “There’s nothing to say.”

Zeng Ling privately thought: if Li Chi could use Luo Jing to remove young lord Yang Zhuo and Prince Yu, then he ought to be able to use Luo Jing to remove Li Chi as well — only the timing wasn’t quite right yet.

Though of course, if Luo Jing were to go looking for trouble with Li Chi on his own right now, Zeng Ling would be perfectly happy to watch.

And if Luo Jing, in a moment he couldn’t control himself, accidentally killed Li Chi — that would shift the conflict straight to Youzhou’s doorstep.

Li Chi was the Yanshan Camp’s third-ranking leader. The Yanshan Camp was formidable now; Zeng Ling understood this clearly. He himself wanted to draw in Yu Chaozong — did that mean Youzhou’s Luo Geng hadn’t thought of it too?

“Such a gifted young man.”

Zeng Ling chose his words and continued: “This Li Chi’s abilities are genuinely alarming. It has been a very long time since I last found a young person frightening.”

Luo Jing said with a light laugh: “A young man’s danger lies on the surface — you can see it at a glance. An older man’s danger lies in what cannot be seen. According to the art of war, youth is like an open stratagem, old age like a hidden one — so it’s the older ones who are more frightening in the end.”

Zeng Ling turned over the implied meaning of those words. Luo Jing was probably telling him: I’ve seen through what you’re up to.

So Zeng Ling immediately changed the subject.

Zeng Ling said: “In the end, this was my failing. I will write a letter to your father explaining the matter.”

Luo Jing smiled: “There’s no need. My father taught me that the process rarely matters; so long as the outcome isn’t bad, that’s enough.”

Zeng Ling nodded.

After a moment he said: “I’ve invited Li Chi to drink with me here at the residence in three days. Would General Luo care to join?”

“I’ll pass.”

Luo Jing rose: “I’ll take my leave. If I want to drink with Li Chi, I can go find him myself.”

Zeng Ling laughed as well. He assumed Luo Jing had finally taken some interest in Li Chi — praising another young man at length in front of someone like Luo Jing, if he could stay perfectly comfortable with that, that would be strange.

That he said he’d go find Li Chi for a drink — Zeng Ling thought that sounded like it would make for a rather entertaining gathering, and even found himself wanting to follow along and watch.

Zeng Ling personally saw Luo Jing to the front gate. He looked around curiously and asked: “Odd not to see your personal guard commander Luo Zhijie. He never leaves your side — yet today he’s been nowhere in sight.”

Luo Jing said: “He was injured yesterday and is resting at home.”

Zeng Ling said: “Then I’ll have my physicians stop by to take a look?”

Luo Jing nodded: “I’ve already had my own physician examine him — nothing serious. If the Commissioner feels it’s necessary, another physician may of course be sent.”

Zeng Ling smiled: “Since you’ve already had your physician look, there’s no need for me to send someone and disturb his rest.”

In that brief exchange, both men had played a small hand.

Zeng Ling was curious about where Luo Jing’s personal guard commander had gone, so his offer to send a physician was genuine — if Luo Jing had said don’t bother, then that physician absolutely had to be sent.

But Luo Jing seemed perfectly composed, so Zeng Ling had no need to make Luo Jing feel he was being distrusted.

“Farewell.”

Luo Jing clasped his hands.

He had not come on horseback but by carriage.

The carriage moved slowly into motion and made its way down the broad street. Zeng Ling watched until the carriage was completely out of sight before turning back inside, the light gone from his face.

“Jinzu — have someone keep a close watch on Luo Jing. He may well have already sent someone back to Youzhou. Luo Geng is unpredictable. If he comes to stir up trouble again…”

At that thought, Zeng Ling felt wave upon wave of headache.

For the first time, he felt a twinge of regret. He should have shown himself last night. At the time he’d thought not showing himself was the better choice — looking back now, that had been a bad move.

Inside the carriage.

Luo Jing looked at the young man sitting across from him and couldn’t help but sigh: “He did just what I expected — pushed everything onto you.”

The person seated across from him was, remarkably, Li Chi.

Li Chi smiled: “He’s not wrong to push it onto me. After all, I did do it.”

Luo Jing said: “So what I’m curious about is: where do you get the nerve to scheme against me, then come knock on my door and tell me to my face that you schemed against me? Weren’t you afraid I’d kill you in a fit of rage?”

Li Chi said: “It’s precisely because I was afraid you’d come looking for trouble that I came to find you first. That seemed slightly more likely to go well.”

“Hahahaha.”

That admission of being afraid you’d come looking for trouble satisfied Luo Jing’s pride enormously.

He laughed: “So even you’re afraid of me?”

Li Chi replied: “I’m afraid of more than just you. Mostly I’m afraid of dying.”

Luo Jing laughed and shook his head: “The things you do look nothing like things a man afraid of dying could pull off.”

Li Chi smiled and said nothing more.

Luo Jing asked: “So the main reason you came to find me was to tell me that arrow was shot by Zeng Ling, not you?”

Li Chi said: “The main reason I came to tell the General is: grievances have their proper source, and debts their rightful owner.”

Luo Jing burst out laughing again, rocking back and forth.

When he had laughed enough, he shook his head with a sigh: “Such a blatant, low-grade attempt at sowing discord — it’s the first time I’ve ever seen it done this openly and shamelessly. You really are a fascinating person.”

He asked Li Chi: “Did it never cross your mind that if I wanted to kill you, how would you protect yourself?”

Li Chi replied: “It did.”

Luo Jing asked: “And?”

Li Chi replied: “That hundred thousand taels — I’d split it with you, half each.”

Luo Jing roared with laughter for a third time. He genuinely found Li Chi entertaining — the matter-of-fact way he offered to divide the money was something no so-called man of dignity and propriety could ever have said.

“Forget the silver.”

Luo Jing said: “Agree to two things, and I’ll drop this whole matter.”

Li Chi asked: “Is money involved? Anything involving money might give me some difficulty.”

Luo Jing blinked.

He laughed and shook his head: “One involves it, one doesn’t.”

Li Chi said: “Tell me the one that doesn’t first.”

Luo Jing replied: “Fight me again.”

Li Chi fell silent for a moment, then asked with great sincerity: “Any chance we could swap that for two things that both cost money?”

Luo Jing froze.

“Hahahaha…”

He laughed loudly: “You really are something, you really are one hell of a something.”

—