For those living in the underground palace, the days that followed held nothing to do but wait — and this enforced idleness felt far from peaceful.

To keep everyone from sinking into deepening fear, and to keep the tedium at bay, Yu Jiuling racked his brains and gave his all.

He dug up every game he had never even played as a child and taught himself from scratch — shuttlecock, beanbag throwing, tile-skipping — then pulled everyone in to play along.

Knowing that Li Chi was in low spirits, he made a point of dragging him out early one morning to the main hall of the underground palace, along with a great many others.

Everyone formed a circle and looked at Yu Jiuling, because he had announced there was a major matter to declare — something he called a great invention that would reshape the way things were done.

“I have just discovered the correct way to play beanbag throwing.”

Yu Jiuling swept his gaze across the assembled faces and said with great self-satisfaction, “Every game of beanbag throwing you have ever played before was a fake version.”

Everyone looked at him the way one looks at an idiot. The unspoken message in their eyes was plain: *this is the great matter you woke us all up to announce?*

“Could you not show even a shred of the eagerness to learn that I embody?” Yu Jiuling said. “I am either in the midst of learning, or on the way to learning.”

He pulled Li Chi into the center of the crowd and declared loudly: “I will now demonstrate for everyone — with our own chief here to bear witness.”

Li Chi smiled. He knew Yu Jiuling was trying to cheer him up, and so he nodded along. “Let’s see, then, just how remarkable a version of beanbag throwing you’ve come up with.”

Yu Jiuling spun around and trotted off, returning moments later carrying a beanbag roughly the size of a rice bowl.

He swept his gaze around with great pride again, raised the beanbag, swung it in a wide arc — then, with his own mouth supplying a whooshing sound effect — hurled it squarely at Li Chi.

Li Chi felt he ought to play along and made no attempt to dodge.

He stood there, looked at Yu Jiuling, and asked: “And then?”

Yu Jiuling blinked several times, then asked in a baffled tone: “You don’t think this is fun? You, standing here — who are you? You’re Diudiu’er — and I threw the bag — get it? *Diu* — throw — ha ha ha ha…”

Everyone stared at him. With expressions of undisguised contempt.

Yu Jiuling wilted under all those stares, and asked hesitantly: “It’s… it’s not funny?”

He ran over to Li Chi’s side. “Never mind, I’ve got another version.”

With that, he scooped Li Chi up in his arms and ran sideways. Li Chi, cradled in his grip, felt rather like a plank of wood.

A short distance away sat a far larger beanbag — roughly the size of a millstone. Yu Jiuling, carrying Li Chi, tossed him onto it.

“Look! Throwing the beanbag!”

He struck a grand presentational pose.

Everyone stared at him. The contempt on their faces deepened considerably.

Li Chi climbed back to his feet, gave Yu Jiuling a pat on the shoulder, and said: “I can tell you tried your best.”

“Was it incredibly awkward?” Yu Jiuling asked.

“I’d say spectacularly awkward,” Li Chi replied.

“Not even the tiniest little bit novel?”

Li Chi gave him another pat on the shoulder, then walked away. Yu Jiuling stood there looking bewildered and wounded, and called out to the crowd: “Does anyone think this is fun?”

Everyone turned and walked away, shaking their heads.

Yu Jiuling watched them go, as crestfallen as a child.

Then someone — nobody could say who it was that cracked first — burst out laughing, and the first laugh was all it took for everyone else to lose control.

Even Dantai Qi — a man as refined and well-bred as he was — ended up on the ground, laughing and slapping the earth with his hand.

“What the hell kind of beanbag-throwing is that… ha ha ha ha ha…”

Some distance away, Shen Rujian didn’t even notice that the corners of her mouth had curved upward.

She was only thinking: what sort of people are these?

Especially Li Chi — he had kept up the blank, indifferent act for all of two steps before he couldn’t hold it anymore and crouched down laughing, his mouth splitting wide open.

Shen Rujian found herself thinking again: so this is who Li Chi is.

Tang Pidi suddenly came charging over, launched himself onto that millstone-sized beanbag, and called out:

“Look — ‘Pidi-bag’!”

He got up; Ruan Chen came sprinting over, flung himself at the great beanbag with a crash, and yelled: “Look — ‘Chen-bag’!”

“No, no, no.”

Jia Ruan, senior disciple of the Hanging-Blade Sect, grabbed Ruan Chen and hauled him upright. “You’re a soft bag.”

“Get out of here, you’re the soft bag,” Ruan Chen shot back.

Jia Ruan flopped down onto the beanbag with a booming laugh: “Guess again — I’m a Jia-bag! Ha ha ha ha ha!”

Ruan Mu came running over: “Me, me, me — I’ve got a good one.”

He sprawled out on the beanbag. “Soft bag!”

Then he yanked Ruan Chen down beside him. Both of them lay there, and Ruan Mu called out: “Two soft bags!”

Then he hauled Jia Ruan down too, all three of them sprawled across it.

“Three soft bags!”

Yu Jiuling stood there, turning the tables on those people with the same contemptuous expression they had given him moments ago. That was precisely how he now stared back at them.

He watched the three delirious figures in silence, then said: “Three soft idiots…”

Ruan Mu shot up with a whoosh, grabbed Yu Jiuling, shoved him down onto the great beanbag, and sat on top of him.

He asked Li Chi: “Chief, do you know what this is?”

Without waiting for Li Chi to answer, Ruan Mu burst out laughing: “Ha ha ha ha ha — twenty-seven soft bags!”

Li Chi: “…”

And this time, even Shen Rujian lost her composure entirely — she laughed until she doubled over. Laughing, she suddenly understood.

This was the finest state these people could be in. Compared to all those who had gathered together out of shared interest, Li Chi’s people — this was the truest, most perfect way to be.

Pressed beneath the pile, Yu Jiuling kept up his look of disdain to express his view of the proceedings.

Disdaining and disdaining — and then he snorted, and burst out laughing himself. “What in the hell is all this — what in the hell are twenty-seven soft bags…”

For a moment, the underground palace was filled with laughter.

—

Meanwhile, in the main encampment inside Jizhou City, it was as though storm clouds had descended. A heavy pall seemed to hang over every person there.

The military commissioner Zeng Ling sat in the seat of command, his expression dark and sunken. He could find no way to ease his own mood. From the moment the gates were sealed, he had known that what might be called the end was perhaps not far off.

Sealing the gates would not seal out the enemy outside.

Before long, all those factions beyond the walls would, under someone’s mediation, come together once again into a single coalition. Jizhou City was a vast and tempting prize — they would not keep fighting each other before they had even laid hands on it.

Take the prize first, then debate the division. Of course the division would go badly, because every one of them wanted it all — and when that happened, the fighting would break out again, as sure as sunrise. But their immediate goal was to seize this prize first — and Zeng Ling could see clearly who would step forward to broker that peace. It would certainly be Luo Geng.

Everyone thought Luo Geng was a fool — that off the battlefield, he was a man anyone could swindle. In this moment, Zeng Ling at last understood: perhaps that had been an image Luo Geng had deliberately constructed for himself. A persona like that would deceive more people.

All this time, everyone had thought they were swindling Luo Geng — but in truth, it was Luo Geng who had them all spinning in his palm. How well must Luo Geng be laughing now?

It was like that joke common folk often told — about a village fool.

People would hold out a single copper coin in one hand and a string of a thousand copper coins in the other and let the fool choose. Every time, the fool would pick the single coin, and do so with a satisfied smile on his face.

This became a daily game, because everyone found tormenting the fool endlessly amusing.

And it wasn’t just the coin game — it spread to all manner of things. Someone might hold out a bowl of meat and a bowl of plain vegetables and ask the fool which he wanted. The fool would immediately choose the plain vegetables, and eat them with evident relish. The fool was happy; the people tormenting him were happy.

They thought they had made sport of a fool — never knowing how delighted that supposed fool was, because he had been making sport of a crowd of fools, and walked away with something to show for it every single day.

Luo Geng was that fool.

And only now that Zeng Ling had seen the truth did he understand how pathetic his own position was — as pathetic as Luo Geng was delighted.

“The words I spoke yesterday — have you all passed them on to your men?”

Zeng Ling asked.

The generals gathered in the tent bowed and replied in unison: “We have.”

Yesterday Zeng Ling had told them to relay his message through the ranks: going forward, they would stand and die with Jizhou City. Every man must prepare himself to fight to the last.

“I have put you through much.”

Zeng Ling rose. He took a steadying breath, and said: “I had believed I could lead you all to great heights — to stand at the summit and look down upon all creation, to survey the rivers and mountains spread below. But now we have met tigers on the road upward. Not one tiger — many.”

“If we survive this — if we are not devoured by these tigers but instead strike them down ourselves — then we can stride in a single bound to that summit, and look down not only upon rivers and mountains, but upon the corpses of our enemies.”

“At worst, we lose our lives. They will stand over our remains and say: ‘Look — these are the defeated.'”

Zeng Ling raised his voice. “But if we win, we point at their remains and say: ‘Look — these are the stepping stones beneath our feet.'”

Liu Ge shouted at once: “We will follow you to the death, my lord!”

The assembled generals raised their voices together: “We will follow you to the death, my lord!”

“Brothers all.”

Zeng Ling said: “I have heard it said that a carp leaping the dragon gate must face heaven’s trials. What we face now — is this not precisely that trial? Endure it, and what can heaven do to us?”

“Kill!”

“Kill!”

“Kill!”

The men thrust their fists into the air and roared.

Zeng Ling looked out at them, knowing he had once again stirred their resolve — and yet inside himself, he was afraid.

He did not know whether he would have another chance to raise their spirits again. If the battle turned against them, if the city fell, what could he then say to them? However fine his words, however rousing his cries, they would count for nothing compared to the gleam of the enemy’s blades.

In this moment, Zeng Ling’s thoughts drifted, unbidden, to something else entirely — where in the world had Li Chi hidden himself?

If he knew where Li Chi was hiding, could he perhaps use that knowledge to spare himself from this fate?

As for the loyal soldiers and officers under his command — let them fend for themselves. They would die in battle, but as long as he himself survived, there would be future opportunities to rise again. He would find another corps of men like these.

After everyone had left the tent to make ready for battle, Zeng Ling held Liu Ge back alone.

Liu Ge bowed. “Do you have orders for me, my lord?”

Zeng Ling glanced around in all directions, then lowered his voice. “You’ve taken a wound — for now, stay off the city walls. Rest and recover. In the meantime… quietly look into where Li Chi might be hiding in the city.”

Liu Ge was taken aback. He looked at Zeng Ling.

He could not have explained why — but quite suddenly and without warning, the lord he had respected for so many years began to look repulsive to him.

“What is it?”

Zeng Ling noticed the change in his expression and asked at once.

“Nothing, my lord. I will obey.”

Liu Ge replied, bowing. “I will take men out to search immediately.”

Zeng Ling added a few more words of instruction. “Keep it quiet. I am only sending you — you should understand my thinking, and understand how much I value you.”

Liu Ge nodded. “Your servant… understands.”

—