Three days.

That was all Changsun Wuyou needed to produce the Ning Army’s campaign plan for the march south — and he did not dash it off carelessly. Thirty thousand characters, all told.

How to take Anyang. How to feign deployment against Yuzhou. How to break through Qingzhou and Xuzhou. How to watch the tigers fight from the mountain. How to strike into Jingzhou — all written out in thorough detail.

He had even noted what complications might arise at each stage and how to respond to them.

The battlefield changes in an instant — the fact that he could think through this many possible variations in advance was already extraordinary.

Writing ten thousand characters by hand in a single day is no ordinary feat. Three days, thirty thousand characters, is even more remarkable. Clear structure, smooth reasoning, well-supported arguments, discernment between substance and illusion, natural transitions between advance and retreat — to maintain all of this and still produce ten thousand characters a day — this was the work of a near-immortal mind.

Indeed: ten thousand characters a day — a near-divine calling.

Li Chi read the plan carefully from beginning to end, sat with it for half an hour’s thought, then read it a second time.

After finishing the second read, Li Chi placed the plan in a case. “Deliver this to the main camp, and present it to the Supreme Military Commander, Tang Pidi.”

The attendant received the case with both hands and, not daring to delay, hurried off immediately to the camp.

Li Chi glanced over and saw that Changsun Wuyou, who had been sitting nearby waiting for a response, had actually fallen asleep.

Li Chi beckoned quietly, and in a hushed voice had someone bring a blanket. He went over and tucked it carefully around Changsun Wuyou.

He signaled for everyone else in the room to leave, so as not to disturb Changsun Wuyou’s sleep.

He went outside himself and stood at the doorway. The temperature difference between the warm room and the outside air hit him, and he became sharply awake.

When the cold wind hit, certain places drew involuntarily tight.

That was the heart — the stirring of the heart.

Li Chi tilted his head back and looked at the sky. Heavy and gray, as though snow was imminent.

Snow before the new year was a good thing. A heavy snowfall blanket over the winter wheat — and when the warmth came and the snow melted, the fields would receive their first watering of the season.

With that first watering, there was no need to worry so much about whether the heavens would send spring rain. The harvest, at the very least, would not be too poor.

He was still thinking through all of this when Dantai Yajing came in through the courtyard gate. Li Chi gestured toward him and moved to meet him.

“Let’s talk outside.”

Walking out, Li Chi said: “Changsun Wuyou pushed through three days straight and put together a thirty-thousand-character campaign plan for the march south. He just fell asleep in there.”

Dantai Yajing said: “That’s a superhuman person.”

Li Chi said: “At the very least, no ordinary person. You came to find me — something on your mind?”

The two stood talking in the courtyard. Without their noticing, snowflakes had begun to drift down, quiet and unhurried.

Dantai Yajing said: “I heard Prince Ning gave the vanguard commander’s post to Luo Jing. That didn’t sit right with me.”

Li Chi laughed aloud. “You want to be the vanguard too.”

Dantai Yajing said: “Who in this army doesn’t want to be vanguard?”

Li Chi said: “Luo Jing has old scores to settle with Anyang. Don’t compete with him over the Anyang matter — it’s not as if Anyang is the only thing left to fight.”

Dantai Yajing’s eyes lit up. “Is there somewhere else to attack?”

Li Chi glanced back, then said: “Changsun Wuyou’s strategy is to take Anyang, feign pressure on Yuzhou, then split forces to attack Qingzhou. He wants to request this command — but the man is newly arrived, and it’s not yet time to entrust him with heavy responsibility. So the detachment to strike Qingzhou will most likely fall to you.”

Dantai Yajing’s eyes grew bright.

Qingzhou — now that was far more interesting.

Dozens of kings and warlords, large and small. Each battle extinguished one of them. The thought alone was invigorating.

Capture a whole load of prisoners, load them into carts — a cartful of kings, great and small, all at once.

Li Chi said: “The Qingzhou campaign will determine the entire strategic picture of the southern push. If we take Qingzhou, we can form a half-encirclement of Yuzhou. Changsun Wuyou has a precise mind and strong grasp of the bigger picture. If you go to take Qingzhou, I’ll assign him to you.”

At that same moment, inside the room.

The moment Li Chi stepped out, Changsun Wuyou opened his eyes.

He glanced at the blanket laid over him, and the corner of his mouth curved faintly.

Seeing that the room held no one else, he rose and went to the window, nudging it open a crack to look outside.

He saw Li Chi and the general called Dantai Yajing deep in conversation. He turned his ear and listened closely.

A moment later, the smile at Changsun Wuyou’s lips deepened — it seemed he was pleased that Li Chi had adopted his campaign plan for the southern push.

This was Li Chi’s study. Having listened for a while, Changsun Wuyou began to grow curious about the room itself.

On the table sat a stack of dossiers. With one part of his mind still tracking the conversation in the courtyard, Changsun Wuyou began to leaf through them — a skill that belonged to him alone, the ability to focus completely on two things at once, something no ordinary person could manage.

Flipping through the dossiers, his eye caught on the one at the very bottom.

He glanced at the label on its cover, and his movements quickened as he opened it.

What was inside: the Ning Army’s defensive deployment map for Jizhou.

He moved through it quickly, page by page — appearing to skim, but retaining everything.

This ability to read ten lines at once and forget nothing — there were precious few in the world who could do it.

Then he heard footsteps. Instantly he replaced the dossiers precisely as they had been, returned to his seat, pulled the blanket back over himself, and assumed the exact posture he had held before.

Li Chi and Dantai Yajing entered to find him still asleep.

“No telling how long he’ll sleep,” Li Chi said. “I won’t introduce you to him yet — let’s go out for a walk.”

“Agreed,” said Dantai Yajing. “When Changsun Gongsun wakes, I’ll ask him about the situation in Jingzhou and elsewhere.”

The two turned and left.

Changsun Wuyou waited a good while until he was certain no sound remained, then quietly let out his breath. He opened his eyes and, performing naturally, wore an expression of genuine guilt and surprise — as though he were appalled that he had fallen asleep.

—

That night.

Changsun Wuyou looked at his escort captain Zhanli. “Bring the men you’ve arranged.”

Zhanli turned and left at once, and returned shortly with four men.

“The four of you are to head back to Jiangnan immediately.”

Changsun Wuyou looked at them, then pointed to the sheepskin map on the table.

“Take this map with you.”

He picked up the small knife from the table and cut the sheepskin map into four pieces.

“Each of you take one piece.”

He said to the four: “The Ning Army will certainly still have their suspicions about us. So anyone who leaves Jizhou will be watched.”

“You will leave the city in three days’ time. In those three days — Zhanli, arrange for people to go out hunting every day.”

Zhanli understood immediately.

Now that Changsun Wuyou had taken a post at the Prince Ning Residence, the escorts and attendants had nothing obvious to occupy them. Three days of going out to hunt would seem entirely natural — it would lull the Ning Army’s covert watchers into complacency, and raise no suspicion.

When the men finally left on the fourth day, no one would think to associate it with a covert departure.

“Above all else — when leaving the city, show no sign of haste. Keep calm.”

Changsun Wuyou finished his instructions and waved a hand. “Go. Think through yourselves where best to conceal the pieces of the map so they won’t easily be found if searched.”

“Yes!”

The four bowed and filed out.

Zhanli asked: “Young master, when will you be leaving Jizhou?”

“No rush.”

Changsun Wuyou said: “I overheard today that Li Chi intends to have me assist Dantai Yajing in taking Qingzhou. There will be time to leave when that moment comes.”

Zhanli’s expression changed. “Young master, there are at least three months before the Ning Army marches south. If something goes wrong in the interim…”

“It won’t.”

Changsun Wuyou said: “Just keep calm. Starting tomorrow, go out every day — until the day we leave Jizhou.”

Zhanli bowed. “Understood… though I still worry about the young master’s safety.”

“No need.”

Changsun Wuyou said: “There is only one thing you need to remember. Whatever happens, keep her safe.”

He glanced at the small page boy Moke.

Moke’s face went slightly pink. “I’m right here with the young master anyway — what danger could there be? And even if there were, there’s always the young master.”

“I told you not to come,” Changsun Wuyou said, “and you refused to listen. You’ve come, and now you distract my mind. You should be punished.”

Moke’s face grew a shade pinker.

Zhanli — not clever, but clever enough in this moment — bowed immediately. “If there’s nothing else, I’ll take my leave.”

“Go.”

After Zhanli departed, Changsun Wuyou looked at Moke. “These past few days have been busy, and I haven’t had a moment to walk around with you. I promised to show you Jizhou and didn’t keep my word. Today on my way back, I asked Li Chi for one day’s leave — tomorrow I’ll take you out and we’ll explore properly.”

Moke gave a small sound, pretending to be cross: “It’s already been so many days. The mood is gone. I don’t want to go out anymore.”

Changsun Wuyou said: “Then I’ll go back to the Prince Ning Residence to attend to things tomorrow.”

“Don’t you dare!” said Moke, suddenly alarmed. “How can you trick me like this?”

Changsun Wuyou smiled faintly. “I was only teasing you. Every time you fall for it — and every time, I love that you do.”

“You be quiet,” said Moke. “Stop talking nonsense.”

She was a girl underneath the page boy’s disguise — the costume only for convenience of travel. She drew herself up straight and said with great solemnity: “I’m a page boy right now. What propriety is there in a young master teasing his own page boy?”

Changsun Wuyou looked at her, and sighed: “There’s a reason your disguise as a page boy fools everyone so thoroughly.”

Moke, still standing straight, didn’t follow his meaning. Instinctively she looked down at herself — then immediately understood, and her face went from pink to scarlet.

She turned and walked out: “Young master is a scoundrel!”

Changsun Wuyou said, with complete earnestness: “But did I say anything wrong?”

He looked down at his own chest and thought: yes — you really do make a very convincing page boy. If anything, perhaps even flatter than me.

He smiled to himself, thinking about his days ahead in Jizhou and what they might bring.

Then he thought about how Li Chi had already extended three parts of his trust, and felt more pleased still.

—

After that, Changsun Wuyou settled into Jizhou City, arriving early at the Prince Ning Residence each day.

Li Chi seemed genuinely to enjoy talking with him, and the two would often fall into conversation that went on and on.

Li Chi asked him about many things regarding Jiangnan — not only the various factions and how the court was managing them, but also local customs, regional differences in ways of life, all of it asked in thorough detail.

Changsun Wuyou answered in equal thoroughness. Whatever Li Chi asked, he held nothing back.

Three months passed quickly. From Changsun Wuyou, Li Chi had come to know far more about Jingzhou and its surroundings.

Changsun Wuyou came from a distinguished line, and was deeply versed in the many noble clans and great families of Jingzhou — Li Chi asked extensively about these as well.

—

Late in the second month.

The first warmth of early spring had begun to stir, and sending the army south was nearly ready to be set in motion.

Yet Tang Pidi could see that even now, Li Chi had no clearly crystallized ambition for what lay beyond.

Even having made all preparations for Tang Pidi to lead the march south, something in Li Chi still seemed to resist.

Tang Pidi knew that Li Chi was afraid.

The throne — those who had no deep understanding of what it meant to govern a realm felt no fear of becoming emperor.

Li Chi feared it precisely because he understood how difficult it truly was to do it well. He was not afraid of war, not afraid of defeat. What he feared was what came after victory — whether he would be capable of ruling well.

An emperor who rules poorly condemns ten thousand people to suffering.

Li Chi had tasted that suffering himself, long ago. That was the source of his fear.

And so Tang Pidi was growing quietly anxious, turning over in his mind how to make Li Chi understand that there was no one in this world who could do it better than him.

Look at every so-called hero and strongman the realm had to offer — was there a single one who had cared for his people as Li Chi had cared for Jizhou?