Bai Sensen searched through ancient texts and discovered that the poison afflicting Luowei was named ‘Clear Tears.’ This poison had a subtle fragrance and was not easy to detect even when mixed with incense. If inhaled continuously over a long period, it would inevitably permeate the five viscera, causing them to fail and leading to death.

Fortunately, Luowei had been very cautious about burning incense, lighting it only when Song Lan came and the two were alone together. Since Song Lan was well aware that he too would inhale it, he had been extremely restrained and sparing in his use of it. After sleeping beside her, he would bathe in medicinal broth the following day in an attempt to counteract the poison.

Though ‘Clear Tears’ was potent, it required years of prolonged exposure to weaken a person to the point of near death. When Bai Sensen discovered it, he exclaimed in outrage that Song Lan was utterly deranged. Although the medicinal bath could alleviate it somewhat, without an antidote, it would ultimately cause great harm to the body and even damage one’s mental faculties.

Luowei obtained Song Ling’s blood as a medicinal catalyst and found considerable relief — at least she would not be confined to a sickbed for half a month from a mere cold, as she had been in recent times. But Song Ling’s mood had lately improved, and after coughing up blood repeatedly, he had almost entirely expelled the poison from his body. When Luowei embraced him, she no longer found the man terrifyingly cold to the touch.

So the removal of her own poison was progressing somewhat more slowly.

Song Ling was worried about her health and had not allowed her to join the advance assault at the front lines. Luowei followed a day’s march behind him, accompanying the main army as its strategist.

That night when the camp was being set up, Luowei suddenly conceived a plan and dispatched a dozen cavalrymen to probe the strength of Wumang’s rear supply convoy. Having marched through the Yinshan range at night, they would have been pressing ahead at speed the entire way, and the supply train was certain to be exhausted — both men and horses.

Qiu Xueyu then led troops in a night raid and burned Wumang’s supply lines.

Wumang received the news while playing chess against Song Ling. Long wary of his opponent, he immediately sounded the gong to call a retreat, and in the end did not engage in battle with Song Ling outside Chang’an’s walls.

Wumang had extensive knowledge of Great Yin’s internal affairs. Bypassing Chang’an to take Biandu, he must have assumed that Song Ling, upon entering Chang’an, would hold his troops in check for a period of time.

After all, if one wished to reap the fisherman’s rewards, the optimal moment to strike would be when he and Biandu had been fighting long enough to exhaust each other.

Luowei could probably also guess Wumang’s thinking. He and Chang Zhao must have an arrangement of internal cooperation and external response.

If they did not know about Chang Zhao’s treachery, they would only feel that Wumang’s army was too small in number and vastly outnumbered by Biandu’s forces, making any assault on the city a grueling battle.

But what if, at the moment the battle reached a stalemate, Chang Zhao were to suddenly bring his troops back under the banner of ‘serving the sovereign’?

Even with General Li present, Chang Zhao was ruthless and merciless — he only needed to eliminate the two commanders at the top, suppress the military reports, and advance slowly. The entire army would inevitably be implicated in the charge of ‘defying the imperial decree’ along with him.

Failing the battle opportunity at both Biandu and Youzhou was a grave crime. Under such compulsion, the long-idle soldiers of the Biandu camp might very well defect to Chang Zhao and return with him to encircle Biandu together — that was entirely possible.

When the time came, Chang Zhao would lead his troops to receive Wumang, while Youzhou would be unable to spare forces to fight. This game would then be won in a sweeping victory.

No one knew what Chang Zhao had promised Wumang — most likely tribute, ceded territory, money, grain and provisions. If Wumang occupied Biandu, he would have no trouble making good on his promises.

Song Ling entered the city and stayed for a day, and after Luowei arrived, he ordered the entire army to disperse and advance by night, reassembling at the confluence of the Bianhe River and the great river outside Biandu.

Wumang was taking a roundabout route to reach battle as quickly as possible, and their own discreet departure was also for the purpose of a surprise attack.

Although Song Lan had prepared for battle, he may not have anticipated that Wumang would arrive so swiftly. Battle opportunities change in an instant — even though Biandu’s city defense was reasonably strict, Wumang’s surprise attack was fierce. If he broke through Biandu’s city gates before Song Ling arrived, countless citizens would suffer.

Song Ling did not trust Song Lan, and was unwilling to gamble. So the entire army moved at extreme speed, arriving at the confluence of the Bianhe River and the great river nearly on the same day as Wumang, reassembling and positioning themselves no more than ten li behind Wumang’s forces.

By this point, fewer than fifteen days remained before the deadline of Luowei and Chang Zhao’s wager.

When Song Lan learned that Wumang’s great army had arrived five li outside Biandu’s walls, he was reading the military report that Chang Zhao had sent back.

Yan Ji burst in from outside the hall and called out: ‘Your Majesty, they have arrived — three days faster than we anticipated!’

Song Lan did not respond. Yan Ji boldly raised his head and saw the Emperor stroking the military report in his hand, his face deathly pale, yet slowly breaking into a smile.

In the preceding period, Song Lan had been greatly agitated, triggering the brutal nature buried in his bones, and everyone in the inner palace had fallen silent with fear. The last time he read the line that Ye Tingyan and Su Luowei had left behind — ‘the skills of the prodigy are not yet exhausted’ — he had been driven to vomiting blood and falling gravely ill.

After recovering from that illness, upon hearing that the northern tribal coalition had launched an attack, Song Lan had grown considerably calmer.

In recent days, Yan Ji had followed him and watched him at morning court several times when the veins at his temple throbbed violently, yet at the last moment he held himself back with great effort. To fortify military morale, Song Lan personally rode out to oversee the deployment of the Imperial Guards, rewarding and penalizing the generals fairly and clearly. If Yan Ji had not seen this man kill with his own eyes, he would almost have joined the Imperial Guards in crying out ‘Long live His Majesty!’

Today Yan Ji found Song Lan in the Hall of Zishang.

Summer had come again, and outside the hall, the tender green banana plants stood as tall as a person, warmed to a slight heat by the sun. The little Emperor sat before the antique lacquered garden-style window, sunlight filtering through the gaps in the banana leaves and casting dappled shadows on his face.

‘Chang Zhao says that in the extreme summer heat, the great army is utterly exhausted and cannot march even at forced speed.’ After a long silence, Song Lan spoke, his tone musing. ‘Do you know what this means?’

Yan Ji stammered: ‘He — he dares defy the imperial decree!’

Song Lan smiled: ‘He defies the imperial decree now, and We are a thousand li away — what can We do? Only I do not know, whose man is he — Wumang’s, or…’

He did not continue, and suddenly said quietly: ‘Listen.’

Yan Ji said in confusion: ‘What does Your Majesty wish me to listen to?’

Song Lan’s answer bore no relation to the question: ‘We visited the Directorate of Astronomy today.’

Without waiting for Yan Ji to speak, he said: ‘Divide the Imperial Guards among all four city gates, form battle arrays to meet the enemy, draw bows but do not shoot.’

Yan Ji said: ‘But the city garrison’s combined strength is barely enough to fight the northern army. If we scatter them to four locations, each gate will be under-defended. How can we hold against them?’

Song Lan set down the military report in his hand, gave him a long look, and Yan Ji immediately fell silent and went to carry out the order.

He and Yan Ping had originally been the Imperial Guard commanders Song Lan trusted most, but times had changed. In the past, they earned his trust because their sister Yan Yu, as a palace attendant to the Empress Dowager, had served faithfully for so many years, and Song Lan would at least recall some sentiment from those days. Now that the Empress Dowager had died under murky circumstances and Yan Yu had fallen from favor, Song Lan had not moved against him simply because there was no one else available.

As Yan Ji walked away, he could not help but feel both fear and resentment — the Emperor, ensconced in his deep palace, naturally did not know the consequences of dispersing his forces. If the northern army launched a concentrated assault on one gate, would he be expected to die defending it?

Surrendering with his troops before a battle to the death was not out of the question. After all, he had no family left in the city except his younger sister, and in following them during the pillage he might still be able to profit somewhat.

Song Lan naturally did not know the thoughts winding through his mind. After Liu Xi’s death, the palace attendants at his side all trembled with fear, and few could answer him without shaking.

He stood for a while in the shadow of those banana plants, then suddenly as if remembering something, he rummaged through the dust-covered bookshelf before the desk. After a long search, he found the handwritten notes Yu Qiushi had left behind when he first came to give him lessons.

Song Lan blew away the surface dust and read through them page by page.

Su Zhouduo had lectured on governance in the Hall of Zishang; Fang Hezhi lectured on Confucianism; Yu Qiushi admired Shang Yang and Han Fei, and lectured on legalist philosophy. At that time, Su Zhouduo and Fang Hezhi were already renowned throughout the world, while Yu Qiushi was completely unknown, so those two taught his elder brother, and Yu Qiushi became his own foundational teacher.

It was said that these three men had similar experiences at the Imperial Academy — when Fang and Su lectured, the halls were packed to overflowing, while Yu Qiushi’s sessions drew no one.

Even this teacher whom no one had attended — Song Lan had waited in respectful attendance and handled everything personally in order to invite him to come.

Yu Qiushi had read Han Fei to him in the shadow of these banana plants, and had also lectured on Sun Tzu’s Art of War. These thick handwritten notes bore traces of ink at various stages, and even included a map of Youzhou’s defenses and a distribution chart of the various border tribes that he had drawn from memory.

He had spent his entire life fearing the invasion of the northern tribes, anxious about an ‘age of chaos’ that had not yet arrived.

Yet before the northern armies even launched their attack, he had died an untimely death. If not for today’s sudden impulse, who would have remembered the painstaking notes he had written here?

All those years immersed in court intrigue — even Yu Qiushi himself had probably forgotten the original intention with which he had supported him.

Song Lan gave a cold laugh, tossed aside that notebook, and only then stood up. From outside the window, he heard a suppressed, silent rumble of distant thunder.

The wind blew the banana leaves swaying in all directions, and a drop of water splashed onto his eyelid.

Two hours after Yan Ji’s departure, a torrential rain fell on Biandu.

Biandu’s city walls were extremely high, and beneath the downpour, mist and fog rose up. When the northern army launched their fierce assault in the rain, visibility was poor, archery was impossible, the siege ladders were slippery, and catapult stones could not be aimed — pressing forward to take the city in one determined effort became difficult.

Once the rain fell, Wumang would certainly call a temporary halt and encamp around Biandu.

For shelter from rain and relief from the summer heat, where was most suitable?

In the mountains, naturally.

If they could drive the army into the mountains, then set fire when the weather cleared — no matter how large his army, they could all be consumed in flames.

The rain grew heavier. Song Lan stood at the window without moving out of its way, letting the rain soak a patch of his front garment. He felt cold, and reached up to touch his own heart, closing his eyes.

‘Heaven’s will, in the end, favors me.’

*

Before Song Ling and Luowei reached the great river, they could already see the dark clouds gathering over Biandu’s sky.

The air here was thick with moisture, and rain had not yet fallen, but looking into the distance the sky was dark, and lightning could vaguely be seen. Someone came riding back from the city gates, his hair slightly damp: ‘Your Highness, I have led people to investigate thoroughly. Song Lan has dispersed his troops among all four city gates to resist the northern army’s attack. But just as they finished forming their defensive positions, rain suddenly fell from the sky. Wumang led his army in a circle around the east gate and then turned toward Mount Luyun — they must be planning to encamp on the mountain.’

He paused and continued: ‘Our people noticed that some soldiers disguised themselves and slipped out of the city, and caught one of them. From him, they found fire-striking stones and lamp oil, wrapped up and concealed.’

Luowei let out an ‘ah’ at Song Ling’s side: ‘He divided his forces because he was uncertain which direction Wumang would march from. Now rain is about to fall and Wumang is encamping on the mountain. After the rain stops, in the scorching summer heat, the mountain forests will be easy to ignite — these men must have been sent ahead to ambush and prepare for a fire attack!’

At Song Ling’s side was Sun Rui, a subordinate general who had followed him for many years. Sun Rui was a ferocious fighter who, when the Thorn-of-Tang case broke, had sensed something was deeply wrong and quickly shed his armor in the chaos to return to farming in Yangzhou. Later Song Ling encountered him again in Yangzhou city and entrusted him with money and grain, asking him to work together with the newly appointed prefectural judge — following Shen Sui’s death — to garrison troops in the city.

Sun Rui listened to Luowei’s words and offered a word of praise: ‘That is indeed an ingenious plan. Given favorable weather and terrain, fire attack is the supreme strategy.’

He rode his horse forward in a circle, then suddenly said: ‘But…’

Song Ling furrowed his brows deeply: ‘Sun Rui’s concern is correct. The fire attack plan is nothing but armchair strategy. Song Lan has never engaged Wumang in battle — how could he be certain Wumang would encamp on Mount Luyun?’

Luowei looked up at the sky: ‘Summer brings sudden heavy rains. If it rains continuously through the night, it could truly drive Wumang onto the mountain. But what if this rain doesn’t last even an hour? If I were Wumang, I would send a few thousand troops to feign climbing the mountain, then wait for the rain to stop…’

Song Ling and she exchanged a glance, and he finished her sentence: ‘Wait for the rain to stop, and I would help Song Lan set the fire myself. Mount Luyun is not high to begin with, and is so close to the inner city — if the weather clears quickly and the fire spreads to the inner city, there would be no need to attack the walls at all, the city would first fall into chaos from within. Then attacking the city gates would require only half the effort for twice the result.’

He pressed his fingertips to the center of his brow: ‘There is too little time to investigate the enemy’s true disposition. Nomadic peoples are fond of battle, but Song Lan has never been to the front lines. Wumang will not yield to him in military strategy. Transmit the order —’

He called out: ‘Use bamboo hats against the rain, advance quickly to the northeastern city wall — the entire army in complete silence, do not alarm the enemy!’

Luowei turned to take one last look at Biandu, wrapped in lightning and dark clouds, and sighed: ‘I can only hope we are faster than Wumang.’