Bao Zhu had made up her mind. She immediately took Yuan Shaobo, Lü Qiao, and four personal guards, a group traveling light with simple equipment, to scout the terrain outside.
Using Shiyi as their center, they rode horses to survey each suitable ambush location in the surrounding area one by one, analyzing and discussing tactics. The four personal guards—the brothers Xu Lai and Xu Xing, Shi Jing, and Changsun Ming—served as lookouts and guards for the commanders.
Shi Jing observed the serious attitude of Yuan and Lü, and quietly asked his companions: “Not counting those prisoner soldiers, we only have fifty men total. Does the princess really think we can fight one against a thousand? It’s one thing for a young girl to be so naive, but how can Captain Yuan and the others indulge her in this folly?”
Xu Lai glanced at him and said unhurriedly: “Right, you only joined the household just before leaving Chang’an, so you’ve never hunted with the princess.”
Xu Xing laughed and continued: “The naive one is you. When nobles and royalty go hunting, they take at least two to three hundred men, sometimes thousands. And it’s not about seeing prey and swarming toward it on horseback—they scout the terrain in advance, and based on the type of prey, they direct their retainers to scout, lure enemies, and encircle, driving large numbers of prey into traps before capturing them all in one net. The tactics employed are no different from those used in battle, except they’re hunting animals instead of people.
The princess has served as ‘hunt commander’ since age seven. First boars, second bears, third tigers—she’s personally killed countless numbers. Spring hunts, autumn hunts, winter hunts—His Majesty has taken her along every time. Calculated this way, her experience commanding troops in battle is actually longer than Captain Yuan’s.”
Shi Jing, born into a poor family, had never participated in such upper nobility activities. He couldn’t help but ask in surprise: “Why take his daughter along? Shouldn’t he bring the princes instead?”
Changsun Ming shrugged and explained: “Noble hunting is originally for practicing warfare. If sons are skilled in battle, they’ll threaten their father’s position when they grow up, so precautions must be taken everywhere. Daughters are different—no matter how much they’re doted upon, they ultimately have no inheritance rights. Take Princess Pingyang Zhao for example—in the end, didn’t she still lay down her arms and return to civilian life, obediently handing over military authority to her father and brothers? The one whose achievements were recorded in the Lingyan Pavilion was her prince consort.
The princess is intelligent, beautiful, and skilled with bow and horse. His Majesty gains much face bringing her out and can show her off with confidence. But the princes in the Ten Princes’ Residence at most just play polo and cockfighting—they could never be allowed to take large numbers of imperial guards hunting.”
Xu Lai coughed lightly and reminded: “Explain if you must, but don’t gossip about the Great Prince behind his back.”
Bao Zhu seized every moment, working day and night to explore every location around Zhengding suitable for ambushing Wang Chengwu. However, after two hurried days passed, no matter how she racked her brains and searched her mind, she couldn’t think of a plan to avoid his elite cavalry. She couldn’t help but miss assassins like Tuoba Sanniang who were martially skilled and worked for money.
When the moon reached its zenith, the group rode horses near Jingxing Pass.
The cold wind pierced to the bone. Bao Zhu’s knuckles gripping the reins turned white from the cold. Yuan Shaobo advised: “Princess, please return to camp to rest and have a meal before continuing.”
Without turning her head, Bao Zhu asked: “Do you have dry rations with you?”
Lü Qiao hurriedly responded: “Only flatbread, sauce, and pickled cloth—all military rations that the princess wouldn’t be used to eating.”
“I can eat anything. Hand it over.”
Lü Qiao had no choice but to take out month-old dry biscuits and pass them to her. Bao Zhu, while riding her horse, broke the biscuits and put them in her mouth while concentrating intently on the terrain of the distant pass fortress.
Suddenly, inspiration struck: “Jingxing Pass is one of the nine great strategic passes under heaven. If we could take Jingxing, Chengde would have no natural barriers to defend on the Taihang Mountain border, and Hedong forces could attack from central Shanxi at any time, driving straight in to attack Hebei. Wang Chengwu, this vicious tiger, would become a caged beast.”
Yuan Shaobo nodded in agreement: “Indeed so. During the Tianbao Rebellion, Prefect Yan Gaoqing and his son cleverly took this pass to resist the rebel army.”
Bao Zhu frowned: “Afterwards, the two were defeated, captured by An Lushan, and cruelly tortured to death. I have copied Duke Yan’s ‘Requiem for My Nephew’ and know exactly how they fought. Without follow-up reinforcements, even if you capture it, you can’t hold it.”
She pondered for a moment, then murmured to herself: “What if we coordinate from inside and outside, making him worry about both fronts, unable to focus on either?”
Thinking of this, Bao Zhu immediately perked up. She brushed the crumbs from her clothes, spurred her horse around, and ordered: “Go! Let’s return and discuss with Madam Yu.”
Seeing her rough, bandit-like bold manner, Yuan Shaobo and Lü Qiao exchanged glances, secretly puzzled.
Returning to the Daoist temple camp, Yu Ninghua came forward to report on matters Bao Zhu had previously assigned: “The people sent to search the mountains for the Qingyang female Daoist have returned, saying they found no trace of any hermit. But Zhijing is quite resilient—he just regained consciousness.”
Bao Zhu immediately dismounted and ran over quickly to check on him.
Though Yang Xingjian had regained consciousness, he wasn’t fully lucid, speaking nonsense as if drunk or mad, repeatedly begging Bao Zhu to find the farewell poem in his luggage and send it to his family.
Bao Zhu knew this man had an obsession, and it was precisely because of his loyal minister’s character that the white silk he had prepared for martyrdom in Luoyang had instead saved her life. To comfort Yang Xingjian, she specially searched through his luggage and polished his masterwork by changing two characters.
Afterwards, she convened a military council with several people.
“Madam Yu, go immediately to find Liang Shiji. Use the position of Chengde Military Governor as bait, tell him the opportunity to overthrow his superior has come, and have him prepare to replace Wang Chengwu.”
Yu Ninghua asked in confusion: “This opportunity refers to?”
Bao Zhu explained with clear logic: “Compared to Youzhou, this place is much closer to the Zhaoyi border. Chengde and Zhaoyi have been in confrontation for a long time. As soon as Zhaoyi sends troops, Wang Chengwu will certainly dispatch cavalry to meet them in battle. Once the elite forces leave, Liang Shiji, this Regional Military Commissioner in charge of the inner city, can overthrow his superior and easily eliminate the Wang family.”
Yuan Shaobo thought briefly, then raised a question: “This plan is excellent, but how do we convince Zhaoyi to join? Lu Xuanfu claims loyalty to the court, but he’s actually quite cunning. Every time the court orders him to send troops for suppression, it costs over a million coins in rewards, or else he procrastinates.”
“We don’t need him to launch a major attack, just a feint to lure the enemy and draw Chengde cavalry away from Hengzhou. Coincidentally, I have some past dealings with Han Jun, the border commander of Zhaoyi. The Han family owes me greatly, so if I personally go to request aid, he must give me this face.”
Yu Ninghua and Yuan Shaobo both thought this plan feasible, but seeing that the princess hadn’t rested since leaving Fenglong Temple, with bloodshot eyes and a haggard appearance, they advised her to nap briefly before departing.
Bao Zhu returned to her quiet chamber and saw Shisan Lang still chanting scriptures, so she told him to go rest as well. Then she lay down fully clothed beside Wei Xun. Shisan Lang was shocked to see this and quickly pulled her back: “You can’t lie down with a dead person!”
Bao Zhu shouted: “Why can’t I? He was mine in life and my ghost in death!”
Shisan Lang’s eyes reddened with urgency: “I’ve seen with my own eyes how madmen go mad. Once consumed by hatred and crossing the boundary between yin and yang, one is not far from madness. This cannot be forced—you must stay clear-headed!”
Bao Zhu was forcibly dragged from the bed. Due to mental excitement and extreme fatigue, her thoughts were in complete chaos.
She staggered to the center of the room, stroking the simple, crude coffin prepared for Wei Xun back and forth. Suddenly she lifted her leg and climbed inside, lying down face-up.
“Then I’ll sleep in here.”
Shisan Lang was momentarily speechless, closing his eyes in despair. The dead lying in a living person’s bed, while the living lay in a dead person’s coffin—such scenes he had witnessed often in the past.
Madam Yu came in to attend to the princess’s rest. Seeing her lying in the coffin, she was greatly alarmed and quickly tried to pull her out.
Bao Zhu remained calm and said lightly: “This is the resting place where he will sleep peacefully for a long time. I’m testing whether it’s comfortable. All of you withdraw.”
Madam Yu suspected she was overcome with grief and had lost her senses. Not daring to provoke her further, she could only silently withdraw.
After sleeping for just two short hours, Bao Zhu awoke from her dreams. Not daring to delay a moment, she took several personal guards and set out at the same time as Madam Yu. Yu Ninghua headed north to handle the defection of Liang Shiji, while Bao Zhu galloped south, intending to persuade the Zhaoyi border commander to send troops. Both rode at full speed toward their respective destinations, leaving dust clouds behind.
Bao Zhu traveled day and night rushing back to Zhaoyi, her warhorse exhausted to the point of foaming at the mouth. She held Han Jun’s personally issued travel pass and smoothly passed through checkpoints. However, the doorkeeper at Zhongqiu County offices was a sycophant who, seeing this young woman travel-worn and wearing a dirty coarse cloth headscarf, refused to help deliver messages.
Bao Zhu took out a jade comb carved with the characters “Wanshou” from her saddlebags and said proudly: “Go ask Han Zhu how his father is doing in Fengxiang.”
The doorkeeper looked down at the jade’s quality, then looked up to examine the young woman’s appearance, feeling puzzled in his heart. Only then did he take the token and go inside to report.
When Han Jun saw this jade comb, he was both surprised and delighted. He hurried all the way to the main gate to welcome her. But he saw the princess had brought several personal guards, her face covered with travel dust, looking haggard and worn, with a blue kerchief wrapped around her head.
In just a few short days, compared to their last meeting when she had that ethereal, fairy-like mysterious demeanor, she seemed like a completely different person. Adding the chipped corner of the jade comb, he speculated that the princess had probably encountered bandits on the road. He quickly invited her into the residence, escorted her to the seat of honor, and personally served tea.
Bao Zhu didn’t exchange pleasantries but stated her purpose directly: “The bandit Wang Chengwu sent troops to attack me, subjecting me to the humiliation of imprisonment and having my hair cut. I’ve already sent people to contact my brother and won over Chengde’s fierce general Liang Shiji, planning to gather the forces of two military regions to kill this bandit. You should lead your three thousand border troops and immediately cross the border in a feint attack to lure the enemy, drawing Chengde cavalry away from Hengzhou to create an opportunity for Liang Shiji’s rebellion. Once Wang Chengwu dies, Chengde will inevitably decline, which can resolve Zhaoyi’s border troubles.”
Han Jun first looked confused, then extremely shocked: “Princess, you’re ordering me to privately send troops to attack Chengde?”
Bao Zhu said impatiently: “I spoke clearly—I don’t need you to actually fight Chengde forces, just take on the task of luring the enemy.”
Han Jun said hastily: “Military and political affairs are no small matter. I must report the details to Military Governor Lu and obtain troop movement orders before I can act.”
Bao Zhu said: “Chengde rebels and claims dominance. Wang Chengwu is a rebellious minister and bandit whom everyone should punish—why need official judgment? Opportunities are fleeting; don’t delay the timing. I will also personally lead Lulong forces to attack the bandit and seek revenge.”
Han Jun said anxiously: “Princess, it’s not that Jun fears death. Zhaoyi forces are imperial troops—sending troops without military orders is equivalent to rebellion! Military Governor Lu extremely detests this. In his headquarters hangs a fish tally—evidence of a guerrilla general who privately stole tallies to move troops fifty years ago. Every time he summons commanders for meetings, he has people pass around that fish tally one by one as a warning not to repeat such crimes.”
Bao Zhu stood up, her face cold as frost, each word falling like stones: “Imperial troops are the Son of Heaven’s army; the realm belongs to the Li Tang. You are a subject of the Li family. Does my order as Princess Wanshou Li Baozhu not surpass that of a mere regional military governor?”
Han Jun anxiously knelt down: “Princess, I’ll immediately go to Xingzhou to request Military Governor Lu formally issue orders. Once I obtain the fish tally, I’ll immediately send troops to avenge the princess!”
Bao Zhu laughed coldly with disdain. After a moment, she said softly: “Your sworn promise that ‘to die by the princess’s hand would fulfill my wish’ was apparently just casual talk. You neither want to take risks nor intend to act. Surname Han, this is the second time you’ve refused me. For noble families, the greatest failure isn’t choosing the wrong side, but being indecisive and not daring to choose sides at all.”
Seeing Han Jun’s reaction, Bao Zhu understood clearly that he couldn’t possibly agree to lend troops. The aid mission had failed completely. Extremely disappointed, she turned and left.
Han Jun called after her: “If I cannot secure formal military orders, I’ll lead thirty household guards to Chengde to die for the princess!”
“Thirty men.” Bao Zhu paused, turned back and said: “When you die, stay far away from me, lest actors and entertainers fabricate more scandalous rumors about me.”
She directly abandoned the exhausted horses in Zhongqiu, commandeered new mounts from the county office, and galloped back to the secret base in Shiyi. After one day and two nights of non-stop riding, even the personal guards following her were so exhausted their legs went weak and they couldn’t stand.
Yu Ninghua had gone to a closer location and arrived earlier. Seeing the guilty expression on Madam Yu’s face, Bao Zhu knew her response was equally unpromising.
“This servant is ashamed. Liang Shiji claims he’ll only act if he sees Zhaoyi or Youzhou send troops.”
Bao Zhu said quietly: “Madam, you’ve worked hard.”
She returned to her quiet chamber and slowly sat beside the bed, gazing at Wei Xun’s peaceful remains as tears burst from her eyes. Both the Chengde rebel general and Zhaoyi forces remained coldly aloof, waiting for opportune moments before willing to act.
“Seeking favor and fortune, worrying about gains and losses—this is human nature. No one can be blamed. People like you who treat life lightly and promises seriously, whose words are trustworthy and whose actions are decisive, are truly rare in this world.”
She wept and spoke to herself: “Since childhood I’ve idolized Princess Pingyang Zhao. When she gathered seventy thousand troops in Guanzhong, Emperor Gaozu had just begun his anti-Sui rebellion in Jinyang. At that time she wasn’t yet a princess, just an ordinary wealthy woman whose father, brothers, and husband were all away. I take pride in inheriting their bloodline, yet I don’t possess their extraordinary talent for command and rallying support.”
Through her blurred vision, she noticed a broken door plank propped up by stones beside the bed, with several pages of paper on it—apparently Buddhist scriptures.
Hearing that the princess had returned from Zhaoyi, Shisan Lang hurried into the room to see her. He saw that after days of long-distance travel without a protective hat, her face and hands had both been tanned dark. Shisan Lang lowered his eyes, silently collected the pages, and said softly: “Having nothing to do, I borrowed brush and ink from Secretary Yang, wanting to copy scriptures to pray for my senior brother’s blessing. His life has been too bitter.”
Bao Zhu also wanted to copy a few pages for him, but at this moment, physically and mentally exhausted and unable to continue, she could only drag her heavy steps to the coffin and again climb inside to lie down.
Only she, Shisan Lang, and Wei Xun remained in the room. Bao Zhu tossed and turned for a long time, unable to sleep. She began speaking: “Just like when we set out from Chang’an, it’s still just the three of us.”
Shisan Lang sighed softly: “I never expected we would travel so far together.”
Bao Zhu lay face-up, murmuring: “Chen Shigu liked sleeping in coffins while alive—there’s indeed some wisdom in it. Serving death as one serves life, treating life as one treats death. Lying in a coffin with walls on four sides makes one feel safe. Unable to see surrounding objects, the mind doesn’t become chaotic either.”
When she was buried alive that time, she had no awareness. Now experiencing this feeling personally—lying in the coffin with limited vision and walls on both sides—she remembered when their group passed through Jingxing Pass and looked up at the sky; the perspective was remarkably similar to this moment.
“Do you still remember when we played the echo game in the valley? Everyone shouted their wishes toward the valley, but only Wei Xun didn’t participate. Now there’s no way to know what his heart’s desire was.”
Shisan Lang softly advised: “Senior brother was very happy to meet you in the end, and I… I am too. We all hope you can safely reach Youzhou and reunite with your family—that was our original intention when we agreed to escort you. Some things are beyond human capability. Please stop obsessing over revenge.”
Bao Zhu slowly closed her eyes. Everything she had seen and heard traveling with him along this journey appeared before her eyes one by one like a panoramic lantern show. The mountains were distant, the waters remote, but voices and faces remained vivid.
Was this the end of everything? When things are beyond human capability, must one submit to a despairing fate?
Valuing life and fearing death is ordinary human nature, but brilliant historical records have always been written by extraordinary people.
Suddenly, Bao Zhu opened her bloodshot eyes, her gaze incomparably resolute: “The coffin lid hasn’t been sealed yet. My story is far from over!”
Author’s Note: After Li Longji came to power through a coup, his wariness toward his children and grandchildren reached its peak. He built the Ten Princes’ Residence and Hundred Grandsons’ Compound to confine all heirs, forbidding them from associating with external ministers. The Tang royal family of the middle and later periods had no experience in external governance, no contact with people’s livelihood, much less military talent. The rulers’ short-sightedness and superficial knowledge were closely related to the Tang’s decline.
Because the emperor was wary of his sons usurping the throne, and because of her mother’s deliberate cultivation and support, Bao Zhu, who had no inheritance rights, instead found a loophole and received the education that a crown prince should have received.