As the group arrived in Yongzhou, news became more abundant, and they could understand the situation more clearly.

Currently, Liao and Song are in negotiations, so Xu Yun hasn’t been dealt with yet. He had prioritized the greater good, stationing troops in Hejian to check the Liao forces.

Although Liao seemed to have achieved an overwhelming victory, their internal situation was not optimistic, making prolonged warfare unfavorable. They had prepared for two scenarios: preferably reaching an agreement through negotiations, but if not, they were prepared to sustain the war through conquest.

Meanwhile, patriotic fervor swept through Song. Even wealthy merchants and gentry were donating money and supplies to the court, willingly following government directives to transport food and herbs northward for disaster relief. In such circumstances, even if Liao attacked, Song might still have a fighting chance.

The bargaining power between the two sides wasn’t too disparate.

Envoys from both countries had been deadlocked at the negotiating table for half a month, unable to conclude.

Liao was willing to withdraw its troops, but the condition was redrawing borders with the Qiong River as the boundary, including Zhending and Hejian prefectures becoming Liao territory. This was Liao’s final concession after half a month of negotiations.

This would push Liao’s borders several dozen li closer to Song’s heartland.

“Fight! I refuse to believe that Song’s million-strong army can’t repel the Liao forces!” a man in the tavern shouted, slamming his fist on the table. “We can’t let the tragedy of the Sixteen Prefectures of Yan and Yun repeat itself!”

An Jiu sat at a corner table, eating while listening to the commotion in the hall.

As soon as the man finished speaking, others chimed in agreement. The vast majority supported going to war.

If even such a remote place felt this way, one could imagine the sentiments in the north.

Some voiced concerns: “But I’ve heard that all three circuits of Hebei are suffering from severe drought. People can barely survive even without war. If we fight, the consequences… are unpredictable.”

This immediately drew opposition. “We still can’t cede two circuits of land! There’s a precedent for this. Since Emperor Taizu’s time, we’ve sought to reclaim the Sixteen Prefectures of Yan and Yun. What’s the result? After generations, not only have we failed to recover our lost territory, but now we’re giving away more. If we fight, we fight to the death. Unless the Liao can slaughter every last Song citizen, we won’t yield an inch of land!”

Another person argued, “There’s still hope. General Ling’s capture of Xijin Prefecture proves it’s possible. As long as we have our land, we have hope. It’s better than ill-timed stubbornness!”

The debate in the hall centered on these two viewpoints, with the pro-war faction ultimately prevailing.

“Should we fight this war or not?” Li Qingzhi whispered.

Sui Yunzhu replied, “Whether we fight or not is up to the court. What’s the use in overthinking it?”

An Jiu, however, felt that this war wouldn’t happen. Though she didn’t understand politics, her experience in carrying out missions taught her that when facing a formidable opponent, one doesn’t recklessly charge in for a kill, but waits patiently in the shadows for the perfect moment to strike. She believed nations should operate similarly.

Therefore, she thought Liao would continue to make concessions, and the negotiations wouldn’t drag on too long, as the Liao army’s prolonged deployment was a significant drain on resources. They would be anxious to resolve matters quickly.

As An Jiu predicted, on the twenty-fourth day, both sides finally reached an agreement:

Since the Treaty of Shanyuan, Song had been paying annual tribute to Liao of 100,000 taels of silver. Starting this year, it would increase to 250,000 taels, along with various grains, goods, and beauties. Additionally, Hejian Prefecture would serve as the new border, with Liao allowed to graze their herds north of it. All this was signed and sealed in official documents, with Song acknowledging itself as a “vassal state paying tribute” to Liao.

It took over a month after the treaty’s signing for news to reach Yongzhou.

The previously fervent populace fell silent. A brief moment of speechlessness swept across Song. No one discussed it, no one opposed it, and no one rejoiced. It was as if everyone was stunned.

In reality, this was already a relatively favorable outcome.

Previously, Song had treated Liao as an elder brother nation, paying annual tribute, which was essentially no different from being a vassal. Now it has just been made official. The increase in tribute by 150,000 taels of silver was something Song could afford. However, most scholars would have preferred to cede territory rather than accept the status of a “vassal state paying tribute.” This acknowledgment meant Song was no longer equal to Liao but a subjugated nation. This humiliation was even more unbearable than the various compensations!

Besides the annual tribute to Liao, Song also had to pay 50,000 taels of silver to Western Xia. Although nominally to pacify a vassal state, the nature was the same.

After the initial shock, a wave of grief and indignation swept through the country.

Scholars began to express dissatisfaction with reality, criticizing it covertly. Satirical folk songs spread throughout the populace. The court responded with military suppression, temporarily quelling these voices of opposition.

In mid-June, an imperial edict recalled Xu Yun.

Although Xu Yun was a valiant general on the battlefield, he was overly cautious as an official. While in Hebei, he had always been overshadowed by Ling Ziyue, naturally falling short in reputation. Coupled with the recent loss of 70,000 troops, few in court or among the people were willing to plead on his behalf.

Upon returning to court as ordered, Xu Yun immediately submitted a 2,000-word memorial pleading guilty. Afterward, he took his sword to the palace gates and committed suicide to prove his innocence.

When several grand councilors rushed to the scene, they found only his body lying in a pool of blood.

Looking at the whole incident, Xu Yun had merely fallen into a trap, leading to military failure. Normally, victory and defeat are common in war, but the consequences of his failure are too severe.

Liao’s stratagem eliminated two of Song’s military commanders and gained Song’s acknowledgment as a vassal state, achieving a great victory.

At this point, some couldn’t help but wonder: if they hadn’t stopped Ling Ziyue from continuing his campaign against Liao if Ling Ziyue hadn’t died, they might still have ended up at the negotiating table, but the situation would likely have been reversed.

The current emperor now deeply regretted his decisions.

The one silver lining was that due to the relatively low temperatures earlier, the epidemic in the three Hebei circuits hadn’t spread widely before being contained, much to the relief of the entire court.

After these events, the emperor suddenly fell ill.

Many court officials who had previously not taken sides began to secretly seek new patrons, creating a tense atmosphere between the crown prince and the second prince.

With one crisis after another at court, the hunt for Ling Ziyue and his companions was temporarily shelved, especially after the emperor fell ill, with no one mentioning the matter again.

Unable to leave immediately, Chu Dingjiang sent someone to Yongzhou with news.

An Jiu had left Bianjing in winter, and when she returned, it was winter again, with heavy snow falling.

She saw Chu Dingjiang standing in the snow, wearing a black cloak, and felt a sense of déjà vu, as if she had only been gone for a moment.

An Jiu walked through the snow, step by step until she stood before him. She smiled and said, “I’m back.”

Chu Dingjiang said nothing, simply pulling her into his embrace.

After a moment, he released her and said, “You should all go to Meihua Lane and find Sheng Changying first.”

“Alright,” Sui Yunzhu said, leading the others away, leaving An Jiu behind.

“I always knew you’d break your promise,” An Jiu said, reaching up to brush the snow from his hood. “You said it would be for one year, but if we didn’t return, you still wouldn’t have left, would you?”