Youzhou.
This great city with a thousand years of history was so significant that every single year, it could be found mentioned in the chronicles.
A few sparse lines might speak of rivers of blood; a few understated words might speak of waves that shook the heavens.
For north of Youzhou lay the national border, and beyond the border lay the Black Martial Empire, which had pressed down upon the Central Plains for a thousand years.
This thousand-year history of Youzhou was also a complete and entire thousand-year history of resistance.
From the Great Zhou to the Great Dachu of the present day, through all those thousand years, Youzhou had stood like a brace behind the northern gate.
The border pass was the northern gate of the Central Plains. Youzhou was the brace that held it shut.
Beyond these stirring histories of resistance destined for the chronicles, Youzhou served another purpose: it was the artery connecting northern and southern commerce.
Pastoral peoples from beyond the frontier came to Youzhou to trade, which to some degree fostered harmony between the steppe peoples and the people of the Central Plains.
Gong Luo Lane.
The residence at the very back of the lane was large — once the home of a wealthy merchant.
In the days when Great Dachu’s regulations were strict, a merchant no matter how rich, no matter how expansive his holdings, would not dare build a house beyond his station.
But as Dachu crumbled, those who should have enforced such things no longer enforced them, and so the estates of wealthy families began to be built without regard for the rules.
Intricately carved beams and painted rafters were commonplace. Some had even secretly added decorative ridge figures to the rooftops of their inner buildings.
In truth, not only this residence but the entire lane — both sides, left and right — all belonged to that merchant.
But he had not dared make it known. Such things invite envy, and left unchecked, all was fine; but if someone chose to take notice, the Youzhou prefecture could have dealt with him at any time.
At the lane’s entrance, a dozen or so servants in green robes and black-topped boots were chatting idly. The passing residents all knew these were the men of the Chen household.
After the former Youzhou General Luo Geng had died of illness and Luo Jing had moved south, the banner flying over the city had changed to one bearing the character for Ning.
Many in the city had begun to feel unease. With Youzhou changing hands, much of the carefully cultivated goodwill that many had built up was severed.
The merchant who had originally lived in this lane chose to leave, moving his whole family back to their ancestral home in Qingzhou.
The property was bought by a merchant surnamed Chen.
He was an outsider. The neighbors along the nearby streets knew nothing of him.
All they knew was that this merchant surnamed Chen rarely showed his face, and that every entrance to the house was guarded.
But this man had a wide circle of acquaintances, and every day saw a steady stream of visitors coming to call.
At midday, there were few people left on the main street — scattered here and there, sparse and thin.
The teahouses and taverns on both sides of the street were well-attended, though. People drank tea and listened to music, ate and drank their wine.
Across from the lane entrance, in one of the teahouses, a young girl was singing. Now and then the customers broke into applause.
The young attendant standing at the entrance was somewhat at loose ends. The songs the customers loved so much — he heard them every day, saw them every day, yet they felt far removed from him.
In his boredom he had even wondered: a girl as striking as this, where would she end up in the end — taken as a concubine by some powerful man.
And so he felt the world wasn’t quite so fine after all, because the fine things of the world had nothing to do with him.
He’d been thinking these gloomy thoughts for quite some time before his eyes settled on a carriage.
In the midst of this boredom, he noticed a black carriage come to a stop on the main street.
The carriage bore no insignia, so there was no way to read its origins. The driver wore a full suit of black silk, with a very wide bamboo hat pulled down over his head.
Even the driver wore silk, so this carriage with no markings piqued the young attendant’s curiosity.
Then he saw the carriage window open. A hand reached out and gestured toward the lane.
The hand was fine-looking — fingers slender, clean and immaculate.
The young attendant instinctively glanced into the lane. That was the Chen household — so he supposed this was someone expected who had arrived?
But in the very next breath, his eyes went abruptly wide.
From both sides of the main street appeared a large number of people clad in black silk, wearing black hats, their mouths and noses covered by black cloth, leaving only their eyes visible — and on that covering cloth, half a skull’s face had been drawn.
Seen at a glance, it gave quite a start.
Because that half skull’s face, combined with the living eyes above it, composed a visage that was half human, half skull.
As the hand reached from the carriage and pointed, a great mass of black-robed figures converged on the lane entrance.
The green-robed servants guarding the lane entrance noticed them and grew immediately tense.
Among them, some turned and ran back inside. The rest drew short blades from their sleeves — one in each hand.
“Attack.”
One word, brief and forceful.
The black-robed figures, hands kept behind their backs, were all carrying repeating crossbows.
They raised the crossbows and aimed. Bodies lowered slightly, they activated the mechanisms, and the dozen or so green-robed servants were swiftly brought down.
The servant who had turned to run back and report had not gotten far before he was taken down from behind by black-robed figures entering the lane.
The Chen household’s gates were tightly shut, secured inside by heavy bars. Breaking through the gate would be extremely difficult.
But these black-robed figures had no intention of battering through it.
They slung the crossbows back to their waists and surged forward. Reaching the gate, four or five of them immediately dropped into a half-crouch, lacing their hands together with palms facing up.
Another four or five came sprinting over in turn, and each stepped into those cupped hands and launched upward, floating lightly over into the courtyard.
While still in midair, the crossbows came off their waists again in short, targeted bursts.
A moment later, several muffled thuds came from inside the courtyard — clearly people struck by bolts and falling.
Then, with a creak, the gate was pulled open.
A great wave of black-robed figures surged in and swept rapidly through the Chen household’s main compound.
Before long, the residents on the main street had gathered in numbers to watch.
There had been very few people on the street, yet somehow once a spectacle appeared, all these watchers seemed to materialize from nowhere.
The young attendant at the teahouse swallowed nervously, though he wasn’t afraid — there was something in his eyes that others wouldn’t quite understand: a flicker of excitement.
Inside the teahouse, the lean and slender Yu Jiuling stepped out the door. His man draped a cloak over his shoulders for him.
Yu Jiuling walked out and glanced at the young attendant, smiling: “If you’re willing, you could come work at my side someday.”
The young attendant’s eyes lit up at once. He grinned from ear to ear.
Yu Jiuling asked: “What’s your name?”
The young attendant hurriedly bowed: “Answering the General — I’m called Zhang Tang.”
Yu Jiuling adjusted his clothes and strode quickly to the black carriage, bowing low: “Paying respects to my lord.”
The carriage door swung open, and Li Chi stepped out. In the moment the young attendant saw Li Chi, his eyes seemed to blaze with a light that could almost be seen shooting out from them.
That was Prince Ning?
That was our lord?
Li Chi glanced back at the young attendant and gave him a small nod, then turned and walked into the lane. Yu Jiuling followed closely at his heels.
That single small nod made the young attendant suddenly overwhelmed with excitement, his palms breaking out in a sudden sweat.
From the excitement, even his shoulders were trembling.
Inside the courtyard, the Tingwei agents surged forward in a swift advance. The resistance there was no match for the coordinated assault of the Tingwei Army.
Clear formations, covering and relieving each other in turns, the crossbow covering fire eliminating every dead angle in the courtyard.
Li Chi stepped through the gate and walked through a landscape of bodies.
All the way to the back courtyard — where the black-robed Tingwei had already formed a full perimeter. In the center of the courtyard, a hundred or more people knelt.
From the moment the assault began to the full seizure of the Chen household compound — no more than a quarter-hour in total.
Li Chi walked to the center of the courtyard and stopped. Two Tingwei agents brought a chair and placed it behind him.
Li Chi swept his gaze over the mass of kneeling people and sat down.
“Your Highness — shall we question them now?”
Tingwei Army Qianban Du Yan bowed to ask.
Li Chi shook his head: “There’s no rush.”
He sat there and said nothing more, nor did he look at the kneeling people again. He closed his eyes to rest — the long journey had apparently left him somewhat fatigued.
Just then, a column of border cavalry appeared outside the lane. Xiahou Zuo pulled up short and looked at the black-armored Tingwei at the lane entrance.
“Li Chi’s really here?”
He said it to himself, then swung down from his horse and walked over, asking as he went: “Has Prince Ning arrived?”
All the Tingwei bowed: “Greetings, General Xiahou. Prince Ning is inside — he only entered the city a short while ago.”
Xiahou Zuo thought to himself: what has happened? How did Li Chi just appear out of nowhere — and without sending anyone to give him word in advance.
He walked in the door and was startled — already at the lane entrance he’d counted a dozen or more bodies, and here in the courtyard he could see no fewer than a hundred.
Li Chi had arrived without warning, and arrived to a slaughter.
This kind of scene was something Xiahou Zuo had never encountered with Li Chi before. Something must have happened — something terrible enough to ignite this killing fury in him.
So Xiahou Zuo quickened his pace. He wasn’t worried about anything else — he was worried that Li Chi might be grieving inside, in torment, in pain.
Whatever it was that had driven Li Chi to this, it was likely that some brother had met with misfortune.
When he reached the back courtyard, at a glance he saw Li Chi sitting there. Though it was only a back view, it made Xiahou Zuo’s heart ache.
That was Diudiu’er — always so sunny, so warm, so easy to love.
He quickened his steps, and they were urgent.
Li Chi heard the approaching footsteps, stood, and turned. When he saw it was Xiahou Zuo, the corners of his mouth had just begun to turn up into a smile — he hadn’t even had time to speak before Xiahou Zuo pulled him into a tight embrace.
Xiahou Zuo’s hand moved in gentle pats on Li Chi’s back. One at a time. Soft, and soft.
“Diudiu’er — it’ll be all right.”
Li Chi slowly closed his eyes. The smile at the corner of his mouth — natural as it was, though it had cost him effort — was gone.
Tingwei Army Qianban Du Yan raised his hand in a sweeping gesture. All the Tingwei turned to face away.
Because Du Yan had seen tears on the face of Prince Ning. He was their lord — and they could not let others easily witness their lord in tears.
He was held in Xiahou Zuo’s arms, standing there, and the tears ran down his face in silence.
After a moment, Li Chi wiped his tears and snot on Xiahou Zuo’s shoulder, drew a long breath, and another.
He raised a hand and gave a few pats on Xiahou Zuo’s back in return: “That’s enough.”
Xiahou Zuo released him, and asked: “Someone’s been lost?”
Li Chi nodded: “Gang Gang and Chen Dawei were killed. Fang Xidao, the Tingwei Army Qianban, came very close to being killed as well.”
He lowered his voice: “I didn’t send word to you in advance — because in Youzhou city, large and small officials, many of them have likely been bought and are being secretly controlled.”
Xiahou Zuo’s eyes went wide: “Youzhou? Many?”
“Many.”
Li Chi turned to look at the people kneeling in the courtyard, paused a moment, then said: “You’ll see something that surprises you shortly.”
Xiahou Zuo asked: “What?”
Just at that moment, Yu Jiuling came out of the back rooms of the courtyard at the head of a large group — every two of them carrying a large chest between them.
They filed out in a steady stream; seen from above, the procession would have looked like an enormous centipede.
Yu Jiuling said: “There’s an underground chamber. We did a rough count of the silver stored there — each chest holds five thousand taels, and the vault contains no fewer than three hundred chests.”
Xiahou Zuo was well and truly startled.
“That much silver!”
His eyes had gone enormously wide.
Li Chi said: “This may not even be all of the hidden silver in Youzhou. Xiahou — help me with something.”
Xiahou Zuo said: “Give the order directly. You are the lord.”
Li Chi gave a sound of acknowledgment: “Seal all nine gates of Youzhou. Let people in — but none out.”
Xiahou Zuo immediately turned: “I’ll go give the order now and mobilize troops to stand by throughout the city.”