Wei Daga raised his right hand to adjust the front brim of his rain hat as if this would help his piercing gaze penetrate the curtain of rain to catch sight of the fugitives. This sudden downpour couldn’t have come at a worse time.
Their elite cavalry unit had left the city under cover of night and quickly discovered the Crown Prince’s party’s movements. Those fools were truly laughable – thinking they could shake off their pursuers by using the northern marshlands. Did they believe the Shandong Command’s knowledge of Jinan City’s terrain would be inferior to theirs? Wei Daga’s unit had been tracking them silently, almost close enough to snap at the Crown Prince’s heels. Who could have predicted that the weather would change so suddenly in the fifth month? One moment the stars were sparse and the moon bright, the next a torrential rain came pouring down, turning the northern marshlands into a complete quagmire.
The rain before them had almost formed solid lines, with countless bubbles rising from the muddy ground. If they galloped at full speed, the horses’ hooves would easily get stuck. As anxious as Wei Daga was, he could only order everyone to don rain hats and oil cloaks and proceed at a slower pace.
Wei Daga consoled himself that the rain was fair – it would cause just as much trouble for the fugitives. The other party had two people on one horse; traversing the rainy marshland would only be more difficult for them. Best if they rashly pushed forward and got stuck in some mud pit, waiting for him to collect them. As these thoughts crossed his mind, Wei Daga ground his back teeth.
He had followed Jin Rong for many years, stubbornly refusing to be posted elsewhere as a Hundred-Household Commander, preferring to remain by his side as a close attendant. Political struggles, conspiracy theories – Wei Daga understood none of it. He was certain of only one thing: the suffering his Master Jin had endured tonight would be repaid in full to each of those fugitives.
The thirty-some riders in Wei Daga’s unit shared the same mindset. Each had witnessed Jin Rong’s miserable state, and each was eager to avenge their master. With only four targets, they worried there wouldn’t be enough to go around. Harboring murderous intent, this elite cavalry unit cut through the marshland with fierce speed, breaking through curtains of rain, crossing streams, and kicking up splashes of mud from the soggy ground like a pack of hungry wolves traversing a forest.
This rain-soaked pursuit continued for about an hour before they seemed to reach the other end of the marshland. Wei Daga wiped the water from his face, sensing the rain had weakened slightly, and called out to the others: “Where are we now?”
“Should be Qihe County,” replied a rider familiar with Jinan’s geography.
Qihe County lay northwest of Jinan, with a northwest highway cutting diagonally through it, passing through Yucheng, Pingyuan, and Majia River, meeting the Grand Canal at Dezhou. All communication between the capital and Jinan relied on this major road. Wei Daga let out a cold laugh – the Crown Prince was certainly planning to flee to Dezhou. This was perfect; he had feared they might wander.
Wei Daga dispatched several riders skilled in tracking to focus their search along the route to the northwest highway. Though the heavy rain had washed away most traces, these veterans with eagle-sharp eyes still discovered several piles of fresh horse droppings saturated by the rain.
“This isn’t the direction of the highway,” said the guide rider, looking puzzled. “They’ve veered slightly west.”
“What’s over there?”
“Nothing much, just the Zhao-Niu River. It’s quite short, flowing from Lianyang Dam in Changqing straight to Yu County before it ends.”
Wei Daga stroked his chin, equally puzzled. At first, he thought the Crown Prince planned to abandon their horses and travel by boat, but this river didn’t reach Dezhou. Moreover, with the heavy rain, riding along the riverbank would be dangerous – what was the point?
Try as he might, he couldn’t make sense of it. But that didn’t matter – what mattered was that the Crown Prince had gone that way, and there were tracks from two horses with no sign they had split up. Wei Daga slapped his rain hat and snarled, “Who cares! Let’s catch up to them first!” The riders responded in unison, and under Wei Daga’s leadership, they charged forward, following the trail of horse droppings.
It seemed the Crown Prince’s mount might have had stomach trouble – every hundred paces or so, more droppings were left behind, forming an unmistakable trail of markers.
In the dark night, the rain fell as sharp as an ambush of arrows. The rain hats and oil cloaks had long since become useless – everyone was soaked through, and even the horses’ manes were saturated, flinging water with every bounce. Just as they were about to leave Qihe County’s borders, suddenly the forward scout called out: “Movement ahead!”
Everyone looked forward – two horse-shaped shadows seemed to flash through the rain, desperately racing westward. Everyone’s spirits lifted; after such a long chase, they had finally caught sight of their quarry. All surged forward with renewed vigor.
As they gave chase, they unknowingly entered an enormous earthen trench. This trench was about fifteen paces wide and two zhang deep, with steep slopes on both sides and a winding channel in the middle, shaped like an inverted trapezoid. The bottom of the channel had long been abandoned, scattered with either wild shrubs or vegetable plots secretly cultivated by local farmers. The cavalry had no choice but to advance in a single file, like a straight sword slowly being sheathed.
While guiding his horse, Wei Daga asked the guide rider, “What is this place? Why is it so strange?” The rider replied, “This used to be a river called Limin River, which often flooded. During the Hongwu years, a County Magistrate surnamed Zhao and a County Deputy surnamed Niu dug a new river and diverted all the water, so the common folk called it the Zhao-Niu River. This old riverbed was abandoned and became known as the Limin Trench.”
Upon hearing this, Wei Daga relaxed, dropping his last traces of vigilance. Since it was a dried-up riverbed, a little rain surely wouldn’t cause any problems. With only four people, the other party couldn’t possibly set up an ambush. The Crown Prince’s group had probably panicked and run in here without thinking. This terrain was quite comfortable for the pursuers – they just needed to keep moving forward.
“Full pursuit!”
Wei Daga issued the final assault command. This meant they no longer needed to conserve their horses’ strength or worry about injured hooves – achieving their goal was all that mattered. The riders let out a unified shout and spurred their mounts forward. The sound of hoofbeats in the trench bottom suddenly rivaled the sound of the rain itself.
The Limin Trench wasn’t particularly straight; its course meandered like a snake’s body. Fortunately, the bottom was relatively flat, and the cavalry thundered forward at lightning speed. Soon, at a sharp bend, they caught up with the fugitives. Strictly speaking, there were two horses but only one fugitive, whose clothing identified him as the Crown Prince. He reined his horse to a stop at the bend as if waiting for their arrival.
When Wei Daga saw his enemy, his eyes immediately turned red. Without pause for thought, he kicked his horse’s belly, drew his sword, spurred forward, and issued commands all in one fluid motion. His subordinate riders also drew their weapons, extending from Wei Daga’s center along both flanks, clearly forming a crane-wing formation for a three-sided encirclement.
These riders were quite skilled – even in the confined space of a rain-filled trench at night, they could still execute such a swift tactical deployment. Their distance from the Crown Prince was rapidly shrinking – thirty zhang, twenty zhang, fifteen zhang… They were almost within arm’s reach of capturing him. The Crown Prince finally moved. He pulled his reins to turn and flee. Wei Daga was about to order his capture when two warning signs inexplicably arose in his mind.
The first was the Crown Prince’s build. The Crown Prince wasn’t particularly tall, rather short and stout, but this “Crown Prince” before them was tall and thin. From far away it hadn’t been clear, but up close, the difference was easily discernible.
Even if he was an impostor, it didn’t matter. Because both horses were here, meaning the real Crown Prince had abandoned his mount and escaped on foot. He couldn’t have gotten far, and certainly couldn’t reach the capital in time – either way, it was a loss. But before Wei Daga could think it through, the second warning sign came from behind.
It was a strange sound, low as thunder, rushing like horses, accompanied by intermittent roars and crashes. It came from afar but approached rapidly, becoming clear to the ear almost instantly. Wei Daga’s hair stood on end – his instincts told him this sound was far more dangerous than the fake Crown Prince. Their horses were charging too hard to rein in quickly; he could only turn his head to look back.
Then Wei Daga saw a dragon.
It was a dragon made entirely of water, its head surging with waves, muddy water reaching to the sky, particularly fearsome in the night. It twisted its body, rushing rapidly along the narrow channel of the Limin Trench. Wherever it passed, the trench filled, grass was submerged, small trees and sheds were swept away – everything on the trench bottom was carried off by the flood.
In just that moment of shock, the last few riders in the formation had no time to cry out before being swallowed up, horses and all, by the flood. Only then did Wei Daga react, screaming at the top of his lungs: “Don’t stop, ride forward!”
True to his years of experience as a veteran commander, he immediately grasped the key point. The Limin Trench’s riverbed was over two zhang deep – in such an emergency, there was no way to climb up, and they would be swept away by the flood in moments. The only escape route was to gallop along the trench bottom, staying close to the slope, running while gradually cutting upward – only then might they barely manage to climb the bank before the flood caught them.
The riders had been absorbed in the joy of catching the Crown Prince, only to suddenly find themselves in extreme panic. Those who reacted slowly were immediately submerged. The others were so frightened they spurred their horses forward frantically, instantly throwing the formation into chaos. Ahead of them, the fake Crown Prince also began to accelerate.
Thus, what had just been a murderous pursuit suddenly became a race for survival. No one could spare attention for anyone else; all were bent over their mounts, wildly whipping them forward. Behind them, the water dragon surged and roared, advancing with an inescapable presence, swallowing up the unfortunate stragglers one by one. This drove the survivors into even deeper despair.
Wei Daga had reacted fastest and had the finest mount, so he ran ahead of the others, almost able to see the fake Crown Prince’s back. He clenched his teeth, forcibly suppressing his desire to swing his sword, and continued urging his horse forward. Suddenly, he saw the fake Crown Prince make a strange movement.
The impostor sharply pulled his reins and squeezed his legs, making his mount leap high forward. Wei Daga instantly understood and hurriedly made the same motion, barely managing to jump over. But the riders behind him had no time to react. There was only the sound of horses crying out in pain, their front hooves seeming to catch on something, bending forward to kneel, throwing their riders off.
And the riders behind maintained their high speed, crashing hard into the horses in front. One crashed into another, continuously, humans and horses colliding into a large, panicked mass of flesh. Those surviving riders hadn’t even gotten up before being swept away by the instantly arriving flood. It turned out that in this position, a tree trunk had been placed across the trench bottom beforehand. The trunk was very long, almost spanning the entire trench bottom, like a fishbone stuck in the throat. Moreover, the area was full of tall grass – unless one knew beforehand, no one would have suspected a trap was hidden there.
A mere piece of wood had destroyed two full squads of elite cavalry.
Without a doubt, this was no accident, but a carefully constructed trap. The fake Crown Prince had led them into the Limin Trench and set up obstacles ahead, waiting for the flood to rush in and eliminate all these riders. But what Wei Daga couldn’t understand was how those people could be so familiar with the local waterways. How could they set up such an elaborate scheme in such a hurry?
Looking at the fake Crown Prince’s back not far ahead, a desperate rage erupted from Wei Daga’s chest. He now cared for nothing else – even if it meant drowning himself, he would drag this hateful person down with him.
Wei Daga released his stirrups, barely managing to arch his body, his thighs coiling with stored energy. Then he drew a short dagger from his waist and viciously stabbed his mount’s neck, drawing blood. The horse suddenly jerked in pain, using all its strength to surge forward another half-body length, closing the distance between the two to five chi. At the same time, Wei Daga kicked off with all his might, using the momentum to leap toward the other’s back.
If he could knock him directly to the ground, they would perish together; even if he couldn’t, the sudden addition of a person’s weight would surely prevent the other’s mount from outrunning the water dragon behind them. But what Wei Daga never expected was that at that very instant, the fake Crown Prince jumped upward.
What was he trying to do?
Wei Daga didn’t know, but he had already leaped, and could only spread his arms in mid-air, suddenly grabbing the other’s legs. In the occasional flash of lightning, he recognized the face—it was the one who had first burst into the training ground and ruined Master Jin’s plans. He vaguely remembered hearing someone call his name… Wu Dingyuan, was it?
Whatever his name was, you’re dead now!
Wei Daga roared as he clutched the legs tightly, but immediately realized the man wasn’t falling—could he fly? Looking more carefully, he saw that Wu Dingyuan’s arms were tightly gripping a thick vine rope, its other end extending to the top of the right riverbank.
The water dragon rushed forward ferociously, directly sweeping away their horses. Wu Dingyuan held the vine rope while Wei Daga clung to Wu Dingyuan’s legs; the two men swayed precariously like grasshoppers on a string in the violent current. Wei Daga felt the other trying to kick him off, so he held the legs even tighter.
But then something strange happened—Wu Dingyuan’s kicking suddenly paused, then went still, as if caught in hesitation. Wei Daga couldn’t understand what there was to hesitate about at this life-or-death moment, but this was his final chance. He twisted his body desperately, determined to drag this bastard down to the Dragon Palace with him.
Within moments, for some unknown reason, the other released the vine rope, seemingly giving up resistance completely. Wei Daga’s heart leaped with joy: “Got him! He’s dead!” He pulled down hard, and they both plunged toward the river. But at that moment, two figures appeared on the riverbank. One raised a flying stone, smashing it viciously toward Wei Daga, while the other threw another vine rope that looped around Wu Dingyuan’s neck.
The stone was sharp and hard, directly crushing Wei Daga’s nose bridge, blood spraying everywhere. He cried out in pain, releasing his grip on the legs. Meanwhile, the new vine rope had wrapped around Wu Dingyuan’s neck, pulling him upward. The two men separated, one up and one down—just as Wu Dingyuan managed to grab the riverbank, Wei Daga fell into the surging water with a “splash” and quickly vanished.
The vine rope continued to drag upward, and though it was only a few zhang, Wu Dingyuan felt as if he were being hanged. When he was finally pulled to the top of the slope and the rope loosened, he collapsed on the ground, one hand clutching his throat as he gasped desperately for air, his face as ghastly as a hanged ghost.
“Sister Su, you guessed right,” Zuoye He laughed, putting down the stone and clapping her hands.
Su Jingxi sighed helplessly, crouching down to rub Wu Dingyuan’s back. After a long while, he finally recovered somewhat. Su Jingxi looked directly into his eyes: “No lying. Just now, for a moment, did you think it would be better to just die?”
Wu Dingyuan, like a shop boy caught stealing sweets, nodded guiltily.
“Did you think that compared to the troubles ahead, death would be simpler?”
“Yes…”
Wu Dingyuan expected Su Jingxi to offer words of comfort, but she merely shook her head: “First the Crown Prince, now you, and even Magistrate Yu. You men, why are you all so fragile, so confused? When you can’t handle something, you just give up—more willful than three-year-olds.”
“Then what do you want me to do!” Wu Dingyuan pounded the ground, splashing mud.
“This matter, others cannot decide for you,” Su Jingxi’s tone remained calm, like a teacher scolding a wayward student. “You don’t know what to do because you haven’t figured out who you are. This can only be decided by you, not anyone else. Not me, not the Buddhist Mother, not the Crown Prince, Wu Buping, or Tie Xuan, and yes, not even Heaven—stop thinking about solving everything by tossing coins. The Way of Heaven is inconstant; your fate is self-determined.”
She stood up again, looking down at Wu Dingyuan unflinchingly. The heavy rain continued to pour from the night sky, Su Jingxi’s wet hair hanging down to cover half her face, only her eyes still gleaming brightly.
“Alright, alright, this is no place for talk. If we don’t leave soon, the Crown Prince will die,” Zuoye He urged from the side.
Su Jingxi grabbed Wu Dingyuan’s arm, slowly helping him up, and together they walked to the other side of the earthen slope. There was a half-collapsed thatched hut where the Crown Prince was huddled under the remaining roof, looking pale but still conscious.
“Wu Dingyuan, you’re back?” he raised his head at the sound.
“Mm.” Wu Dingyuan replied with just one syllable.
“The pursuers?”
“Sent them to the Dragon King.”
The Crown Prince was overjoyed—those were two full squads of elite cavalry! He glanced around, seeing Zuoye He nearby, and said, “You… also contributed greatly.”
Zuoye He knelt halfway, lowering her head: “The White Lotus Society previously made grave mistakes. If we don’t serve wholeheartedly now, how could we face Your Highness’s clemency?”
The Crown Prince pursed his lips, then asked, “How did you come up with this plan so quickly?”
“The Buddhist Mother had foresight,” Zuoye He explained.
It turned out that when the authorities dredged the Zhao-Niu River years ago, they diverted the water, abandoning the old riverbed into a trench. However, Qihe County, considering future flood diversion needs, had left a sluice gate between the new and old riverbeds, with a gatekeeper in charge. If the new river’s flow became too strong, they could open the gates and divert water into the Limin Trench. The Buddhist Mother had investigated various potential resources around Jinan, and this was included as one of their assets, with the gatekeeper developed into a White Lotus follower. Zuoye He remembered this detail, which allowed her to set up the trap so swiftly.
After hearing Zuoye He’s explanation, the Crown Prince was stunned for a while before blurting out: “Your White Lotus Society is truly calculating…” He swallowed the last word, feeling it inappropriate.
“Mere insects trying to survive,” Zuoye He pretended not to hear, looking up at the sky. “How are Your Highness’s injuries? We need to get moving.”
Although the trap had eliminated their pursuers, they had also lost their only two horses. They were now in Yu County territory, with over a hundred li to go before reaching Dezhou—impossible to make it on foot alone. Since their enemy was the Prince of Han, all of Shandong territory had become extremely dangerous; they needed to leave quickly.
Su Jingxi examined the Crown Prince again—no immediate danger, but medicine was urgently needed, or it would become problematic later. After some discussion, they could only return to the northwest highway from the Limin Trench and head north to Pingyuan County first. Pingyuan County had a White Lotus altar; they could ask the altar master for a donation, solving both the mount and medicine problems.
The Crown Prince couldn’t help but purse his lips again when he heard about the White Lotus followers’ stronghold in Pingyuan County.
Today was the twenty-eighth day of the fifth month; counting on their fingers, less than six days remained until June 3. Everyone knew time was precious and they couldn’t afford any more delays. When the rain lessened slightly, they hurriedly set out again, first seeking the northwest highway. This official road was extremely wide and prosperous, with a constant stream of merchants and travelers raising dust. Before the Grand Canal was opened, north-south traffic all passed through here, so the road surface was broad and firmly packed, with drainage ditches on both sides. Last night’s downpour hadn’t left much mud; it was a fine Grade A road segment.
After walking several li, they finally found a roadside mule shop, only to discover they had no money.
The bag of Hepu pearls from Hong Yu had mostly been used to hit Liang Xingfu in Huai’an, and the remaining few had been spent on the way to Jinan. Zuoye He’s bag had plenty of food but not a single note of currency. Finally, Su Jingxi checked the pulse of the mule shop owner’s wife and exchanged the consultation fee for a skinny mule. The mule was naturally given to the injured Crown Prince to ride. As he lay on the mule’s back, he pondered about the Prince of Han. Learning that his two brothers weren’t involved in this plot somewhat relieved Zhu Zhanji, but having his uncle as the opponent made his heart even heavier.
Others didn’t know, but he knew his uncle too well—ambitious, fierce, and cruel, far worse in temperament than the Hongxi Emperor. But Zhu Zhanji had also heard the Taizong Emperor mention during the northern campaign that in terms of military command and warfare, the Prince of Han far surpassed the Hongxi Emperor. Just looking at the attitudes of Zhu Buhua, Jin Rong, and the various guards of Shandong showed this man’s prestigious standing among the military.
Can I defeat Uncle? If I lose, how will he treat my mother and brothers? If I win, how should I deal with him? These questions kept surging through Zhu Zhanji’s mind until he dozed off.
Wu Dingyuan walked alone in front, leading the mule, letting its neck bells jingle. Su Jingxi and Zuoye He walked side by side behind the mule, occasionally whipping its rump. Looking at the two men ahead, they thought they looked like peasant brothers going to market—the lazy brother tired and napping, the helpless older brother exhausted.
“The Crown Prince, raised in silk and jade, has never experienced such hardship. It’s good for him to understand the common people’s suffering,” Zuoye He commented sharply.
Su Jingxi replied: “Thanks to you all, he’s experienced plenty on this journey—played the zither, soaked in a water prison, even worked as a boat tracker.”
Zuoye He clapped lightly, suddenly realizing: “So that’s… how he escaped from Huai’an.”
Now that former enemies had become allies, there was no need for secrecy, so Su Jingxi also told the story of the Crown Prince and Kong Eighteen. Zuoye He said: “I’ve heard of Kong Eighteen too—he was a capable veteran soldier, just not very obedient, didn’t get along well with the Huai’an altar—but it doesn’t matter now. If the Crown Prince can understand why our White Lotus Society arose and gathered, that would be his merit.”
After speaking, Zuoye He rummaged in her bag for a while, finally finding a lotus seed forgotten at the bottom, and popped it into her mouth.
“What does your White Lotus Society plan to do next?”
Zuoye He understood Su Jingxi’s meaning. The White Lotus Society had turned to support the Crown Prince under pressure, but what their relationship would be after he ascended the throne was a thorny problem. Zuoye He looked toward the figure ahead: “That’s not for a lowly servant like me to worry about—let the Master worry about it. He has plenty to worry about anyway, what’s one more thing?”
Su Jingxi shook her head: “Actually, with your abilities, not just among women, but even among men, few could match you. The Buddhist Mother is also a woman and can be Master—why do you belittle yourself so?”
Zuoye He said: “Sister, you flatter me. As you said before, the name Zuoye He comes from the humble roof moss. The Buddhist Mother gave me this name to make me know my place.”
“Have you read the ‘Ode to Roof Moss’?” Su Jingxi suddenly asked.
“What’s that?” Although Zuoye He had been educated in poetry and literature, she couldn’t immediately recall such an obscure text.
“It’s an ode by Cui Rong from the Tang Dynasty, specifically about roof moss. I can’t recite the whole long piece, but there are some lines I quite like.” Su Jingxi walked slowly, softly reciting: “No need to flatter in advancement, no desire for profit in dwelling, fragrant not for others’ sake, growing regardless of place. Though humble in substance, natural without pretense; though thin in shade, sufficient for self-shelter…”
“No need to flatter in advancement, no desire for profit in dwelling, fragrant not for others’ sake, growing regardless of place.” Zuoye He repeated softly, looking thoughtful.
“Exactly. Cui Rong’s piece praises moss like Zuoye He, which though rooted in humble places, maintains its pure fragrance, not trying to climb like vines on cypress, preferring to stand alone in mud and sand—when we reach the capital, I’ll find a bookshop and copy the full text for you.”
Zuoye He sighed: “Sister Su, you do like teaching others voluntarily—what benefit is there in it for you?”
“Everyone has heart ailments; I’m simply eager to diagnose and treat them when I see them.”
Zuoye He suddenly grinned: “Sister, you’re working so hard to persuade me to become Master—actually, you just can’t bear to part with Young Master Tie, right?”
Su Jingxi slowed her steps, turning her head: “Whether he becomes Master or not is his own business. As an outsider, how could I comment?”
“But you care about him very much.”
Su Jingxi looked toward that figure ahead, her lips curving slightly: “Because he is an important part of my revenge plan.”
After half a day’s journey, they finally reached the outskirts of Pingyuan County. They found a tea stall to rest while Zuoye He went to the local altar to ask for donations. Only then did the Crown Prince have the energy to ask Wu Dingyuan about his experiences in Jinan and how he had turned Liang Xingfu.
Wu Dingyuan had discussed this with Zuoye He and Su Jingxi beforehand—it would be best not to let the Crown Prince know about Tie Xuan before reaching the capital. So he only said that the Prince of Han, dissatisfied with the White Lotus Society’s inefficiency, had shot the Buddhist Mother by West Lake. The Buddhist Mother, on her deathbed, had ordered the White Lotus Society to fully support the Crown Prince’s ascension to atone for their past wrongs, and Liang Xingfu was following these final orders. As for Wu Dingyuan’s background, he didn’t mention a word.
After listening, Zhu Zhanji coldly snorted without comment. For a Crown Prince whose treasure ship had been blown up by the White Lotus Society, this reaction was already quite restrained.
“But why did the White Lotus Society specifically bring you to Jinan?” Zhu Zhanji wasn’t stupid and quickly caught onto a question.
Wu Dingyuan had no choice but to vaguely answer that Liang Xingfu had an old grudge against the Wu family, and being mentally unstable, had insisted on slowly torturing and “delivering” the entire Wu family one by one. In short, he attributed everything difficult to explain to Liang Xingfu’s insanity. After hearing this, Zhu Zhanji drew in a sharp breath, thinking this man’s madness was truly severe—fortunately, he had died in the training ground.
“I have always been clear in rewards and punishments. Whether the White Lotus Society receives leniency will depend on their actions going forward,” the Crown Prince finally concluded. Wu Dingyuan secretly sighed in relief—at least he was no longer pursuing the matter of why Wu had come to Jinan.
The Crown Prince suddenly remembered that Pingyuan County was where Liu Bei had once served as a magistrate and wanted to look around. Su Jingxi gently but firmly advised that His Highness’s arrow wound was serious—if he didn’t rest properly, his arm would be permanently damaged.
The Crown Prince was helpless against Doctor Su; when she spoke, he felt he could only obey. After pacifying the Crown Prince, Su Jingxi went out to find medicine. Zhu Zhanji stared at her graceful departing figure but noticed that Wu Dingyuan’s gaze was also fixed on the departing doctor. He seemed to understand something and sighed softly, saying nothing more.
The local altar was quite poor; Zuoye He searched for a long time but only collected a handful of scattered silver, just enough for Su Jingxi to exchange for a package of medicine, which she hurriedly applied to the Crown Prince’s wound. The Crown Prince had never experienced such dire straits and muttered something about this poor place. After Su Jingxi finished treating the wound, the four continued their journey toward Dezhou.
After another hour or so, the sun had shifted slightly westward from overhead, reaching the hottest time of day. Since this place was called Pingyuan (flat plain), it was naturally completely flat—forget about mountains or dense forests, there wasn’t even a single tree for shade. The scorching heat poured down on travelers like a waterfall, and after just a few steps, their mouths were dry and their heads dizzy.
Fortunately, Zuoye He had been thoughtful enough to ask the Pingyuan altar for two water skins filled with well water, which the four could drink when their mouths became too dry. However, the well water had been heated by the sun, and drinking it only made them sweat more. The mule couldn’t stand the heat and walked even slower than usual, requiring constant whipping to keep moving.
As they walked on, estimating they were approaching the Majia River, they suddenly saw a light yellow city appear on the plain ahead—no, more accurately, a series of cities. As the four drew closer, they could see more clearly: each city had a similar structure, with four walls forming a hollow square, creating a small fortress with battlements and gate towers, doors to both north and south. However, these outer walls were made of rammed earth without brick facing, exposing layers of yellowish horizontal stripes that contrasted sharply with the surrounding wheat fields.
There were many such small cities, spaced about a li apart, linked together in a line, vaguely showing the shape of a large military camp.
“Have we reached Dezhou already?” the Crown Prince asked from atop the mule.
“No, not that fast.” Wu Dingyuan frowned. As a man from Nanjing, he couldn’t understand when a military city had appeared between Dezhou and Jinan. He observed for a while: “There’s lots of weeds on the walls—it must have been abandoned for a long time.”
Zuoye He smiled and said: “This place has connections to the Crown Prince and Wu—” Su Jingxi pinched her arm hard, and she quickly corrected herself: “—and the unknown Taizong Emperor.”
“Oh?” The Crown Prince didn’t notice her forced correction.
“This place is called the Twelve Connected Cities, though it’s more than twenty small fortresses connected along the south bank of the Majia River. During the Jingnan Campaign, the Southern Army Commander Sheng Yong, to protect the grain transport and Jinan City, worked with Jinan Counselor Tie Xuan to build this defense line. Li Jinlong’s army of 500,000 also departed from this string of fortresses before attacking White Ditch River.”
At the mention of this battle, the Crown Prince became animated: “The Battle of White Ditch River! I remember that was a victory comparable to Guandu and Sishui! After White Ditch River, those southern army cowards never dared march north again. From then on, Grandfather’s southern campaign was unstoppable, with enemy forces fleeing at the mere sight of him. One battle determined all—it was Heaven’s mandate. Even though Sheng Yong and Tie Xuan built these Twelve Connected Cities, they couldn’t avoid defeat.”
After Zhu Zhanji finished speaking, he found it strange that everyone had fallen silent, the other three seemingly wearing odd expressions. Su Jingxi suddenly asked, “Your Highness, what is your assessment of Tie Xuan?”
Hearing this name, Zhu Zhanji’s expression became somber: “Among the Southern Army generals, he was the only one with backbone.”
Su Jingxi glanced at the silent Wu Dingyuan and said softly: “Pity his entire family was destroyed.”
The Crown Prince clicked his tongue: “Grandfather’s actions were indeed overly harsh. That’s why after my father ascended the throne, he always spoke of balancing severity with mercy, pardoning all the family members of Southern officials implicated in the Jingnan Campaign to show the court’s benevolence. I remember father even asked my opinion before issuing the decree.”
“What did Your Highness say then?”
“Uh… I was busy cricket fighting at the time and casually answered: ‘Since they did wrong, they deserved what they got.'”
As soon as he finished speaking, Zhu Zhanji felt the atmosphere grow even more silent. He continued: “Later, my imperial tutors scolded me severely, saying I should have answered: ‘When the emperor sets an example for the world, if he rewards rebels, everyone will want to be a rebel; if he honors loyal officials, everyone will wish to be loyal.'”
He wrinkled his nose, sensing something was off. Su Jingxi’s eyes flickered, Zuoye He’s lips held a trace of mockery, and Wu Dingyuan had turned his back, seemingly refusing to look their way.
Zhu Zhanji suddenly remembered that Hong Yu had been sent to the entertainment bureau during the Jingnan Campaign. He slapped his head and quickly added: “Of course, I thought the same way, I just hadn’t figured out how to express it.”
Just as he finished speaking, the sound of hoofbeats suddenly reached their ears. The sound came from behind them, starting far away but quickly drawing near. The drumming of hooves echoed between the Twelve Connected Cities, particularly urgent. Wu Dingyuan frowned, looked back, and his mouth twitched involuntarily. In the distance, a black line was stretching toward them—more than twenty riders approaching at lightning speed.
Had the rebels sent more than one pursuit team?
This was entirely possible. The Crown Prince’s identity was too important—the rebels must have dispatched over ten teams, spreading out like a vast net covering an extensive area to ensure no escape.
“We need to get into the Twelve Connected Cities quickly!”
Wu Dingyuan called out in a deep voice. The terrain here was too flat, without even a place to hide. Ahead, the Connected Cities consisted of more than ten large rammed earth fortresses with extending partition walls, trenches, watchtowers, and other facilities, forming an intricate crisscrossing layout—only there would they have a chance to shake off their pursuers.
Just as they were about to enter the Twelve Connected Cities, the cavalry unit finally caught up. The four held their breath, pretending to be two couples returning from the market, walking slowly forward with lowered heads. The lead riders merely glanced at them and continued, with the following riders passing by in succession.
Wu Dingyuan’s heart had just begun to settle when he raised his head slightly, his gaze meeting directly with one of the riders.
The man had a large piece of cotton wrapped around his nose bridge, his right arm in a sling, his eyes sharp as knives—Wu Dingyuan felt as if he’d fallen into an ice pit. Wasn’t this the cavalry leader who had been swept away in the Limin Trench? How was he not dead?
Wu Dingyuan secretly cursed their luck. To save time, they hadn’t changed their clothes. Other pursuers might not recognize them, but they couldn’t fool Wei Daga, who had fought with them half the night. Wu Dingyuan quickly tried to lower his head, but it was too late. Wei Daga’s gaze was firmly welded to this man’s face, unable to contain his wild joy.
After being swept away by the flood, he had desperately grabbed a branch extending from the trench’s edge. Though it cost him a broken arm, he had miraculously survived.
Knowing his entire unit had been lost, Wei Daga had sought out another pursuit team’s search route. After joining the other pursuers, he had reasoned the Crown Prince would be rushing to make time and directed them to race along the northwest highway. Sure enough, they had intercepted their target before entering the Twelve Connected Cities.
“The Crown Prince is here!”
Wei Daga’s voice was extremely excited, and the entire cavalry unit immediately converged, quickly surrounding the four so tightly that not even water could seep through.
So close to Dezhou, yet they had fallen at the threshold of success. If only they had another hour—no, half an hour… Zhu Zhanji sighed softly, though without much regret. From the Southern Army Camp to the Twelve Connected Cities, they had already done their absolute best. If they were still caught by the rebels, it must be Heaven’s will that he not ascend the throne.
Wei Daga drew his sword with his good hand. He didn’t plan to take the Crown Prince back, nor did he plan to waste words—killing him here and now would thoroughly eliminate future troubles.
Fighting through the piercing pain from his nose bridge, he raised his sword, considering which angle would bring the Crown Prince the most suffering. Suddenly Wei Daga’s ears twitched as he heard a very familiar sound—the whistling of an arrow cutting through layers of wind resistance.
For a soldier, this sound meant extreme danger. Wei Daga instinctively turned his neck, trying to determine the direction, but in that brief moment, the arrow had already reached his throat, passing through without pause. This fierce commander under Jin Rong looked down in disbelief before falling straight off his horse.
The cavalry immediately erupted in chaos. The other riders couldn’t understand how an arrow had suddenly appeared. But before they could react, more arrows came flying toward them, and within moments, more than ten men had fallen from their horses, raising clouds of dust.
Only then did the surviving riders see a group of horsemen charging out from the direction of the Twelve Connected Cities. The leader wore a short moon-white robe with a headband, wielding a Great Yuan bow with indescribable grace and vigor. He was incredibly steady on his galloping horse, legs lightly gripping, robe hem fluttering, drawing and releasing arrows like strings of pearls, alternating left and right, each shot dropping a rider, like Li Guang reborn.
His followers, except for one, also practiced mounted archery. Arrows flew like locusts, targeting high positions. Although the rebel pursuit team was well-equipped, last night’s heavy rain had forced them to remove their bowstrings and hang them on their saddles. Now, suddenly attacked, they didn’t even have time to rest their bows and were thrown into complete disarray.
In contrast, the Crown Prince’s group, being on foot at a lower position, wasn’t hit by a single stray arrow. The commander’s precise control was breathtaking.
The team continued shooting while advancing, and by the time they drew near, all twenty-plus elite riders had been eliminated, leaving bare horseback. The leader didn’t even glance at the carnage, riding straight to the Crown Prince and dismounting. Zhu Zhanji first stared blankly for a moment, then let out a hoarse cry: “Uncle!”
The man knelt on one knee, clasping his hands: “Your subject is late in protecting Your Highness—a crime worthy of death!”
Only then did Wu Dingyuan realize this must be Zhu Zhanji’s maternal uncle—Marquis Zhang, Zhang Quan. With Zhang Quan here, then… he shifted his gaze and indeed saw Yu Qian at the end of the group.
Yu Qian was half-hanging on his horse, headband askew, looking completely disheveled. It was already a miracle he had kept up with the group’s pace without falling off. This was their reinforcement. Wu Dingyuan let out a long sigh of relief, his muscles finally relaxing. However, he wondered how Zhang Quan and Yu Qian had arrived at such a perfect time.
Zuoye He explained: “Before we acted last night, I sent a carrier pigeon to the Linqing altar, asking them to contact Yu Qian and have him come to assist.”
“How would he trust the White Lotus Society?”
Zuoye He glanced at Su Jingxi beside her, speaking with faint mockery and admiration: “Sister Su said Yu Qian was extremely loyal—if he heard the news of his lord, he would rush to help without thinking. So I had the altar deliberately leak information that the Crown Prince was approaching Linqing and all White Lotus followers were to intercept him. Yu Qian wouldn’t believe the truth but would deeply trust lies, naturally finding a way to leave the city to rescue him.”
Wu Dingyuan couldn’t help but laugh—Su Jingxi’s move was brilliant, saying the opposite of what was true, showing a perfect understanding of human nature.
Su Jingxi said quietly: “I only intended it as a backup plan, never expecting it to become our lifeline.” She looked toward Zhang Quan, who was being helped up by the Crown Prince: “Also didn’t expect Yu Qian to find Marquis Zhang.”
Wu Dingyuan followed her gaze. This long-rumored Marquis Zhang was indeed elegant, with fine eyebrows, a straight nose, a long face, and a narrow forehead—a refined gentleman. Standing opposite the dark-complexioned Zhu Zhanji, one could hardly tell they were uncle and nephew.
Zhu Zhanji hugged Zhang Quan, sobbing loudly. Since leaving Nanjing, he had been fleeing in desperation while worrying about his parents in the capital, accumulating much sorrow. Now, seeing his relative, he could no longer contain his emotions. Zhang Quan held him, a bitter smile on his face, just patting his nephew’s back repeatedly saying, “Your Highness is alive—that’s what matters, that’s what matters.”
Yu Qian finally stumbled onto the scene. Seeing the Crown Prince, he was overjoyed and about to approach, but Su Jingxi grabbed him: “Magistrate Yu, show some discretion—let the uncle and nephew have their moment.” Yu Qian made an “oh” sound, straightened his clothes, and hurried over to their side.
“Little Almond, long time no see.”
Hearing this nickname, Yu Qian’s face stiffened, the joy of reunion almost frozen. He coughed several times, trying to sound serious: “Wu Dingyuan, you’ve caused His Highness great trouble!”
Wu Dingyuan looked him over—this minor official had bags under his eyes, a tangled beard, and looked much more haggard than before. Clearly, since parting in Huai’an, Yu Qian hadn’t had a moment’s rest. He had to avoid the Xuan’er Prince’s interception, find ways to contact Marquis Zhang, and worry about the Crown Prince’s safety in Jinan—his pressure was no less than theirs.
“What trouble? His Highness chose to rescue me, I didn’t ask him to.”
Yu Qian’s eyes bulged, about to explode, when he noticed a woman beside Su Jingxi: “This righteous hero… no, the righteous lady is?”
Being able to accompany the Crown Prince, she must be a loyal subject—Yu Qian thought this was reasonable logic. Wu and Su remained silent, but Zuoye He gracefully bowed: “This humble woman is Zuoye He, Right Protector of the White Lotus Society, paying respects to Magistrate Yu.”
Yu Qian began with a casual “mm” and was about to return the gesture when his hand froze halfway—What? White Lotus Society? Right Protector? As if prodded by a hot poker, he suddenly jumped back, trying to warn the Crown Prince. Wu Dingyuan, already prepared, stepped forward and held his shoulder: “Little Almond, don’t jump around.”
Yu Qian was uncertain and breathing rapidly: “White Lotus Society… you colluded with them?” Wu Dingyuan’s mouth twitched slightly, unsure how to explain.
Zuoye He seized the moment: “The White Lotus Society previously made grave errors, but now we’ve seen the error of our ways and wish to atone by ensuring the Crown Prince’s safe return to the capital.”
Yu Qian’s eyes remained fixed on Zuoye He until Su Jingxi advised: “The details can wait—the important thing is the Crown Prince is now safe. Magistrate Yu needn’t panic—with Wu Dingyuan and me here, surely you can rest easy?”
“You two… I’m not so sure!” Yu Qian argued, though his shoulders weren’t trembling as much as before.
The Crown Prince had finished crying and released his uncle, eyes red and swollen. Zhang Quan noticed his arrow wound and sighed sympathetically: “Those riders were all from the Shandong Command’s banner army—has Jin Rong rebelled too?”
“Indeed.” Zhu Zhanji nodded. He suddenly remembered something, pushed away from his uncle, and walked to Yu Qian. Yu Qian tensed and quickly straightened up.
“Your subject failed to escort Your Highness properly—a crime worthy of death.”
“I didn’t heed Magistrate Yu’s loyal advice and nearly caused disaster.”
They spoke simultaneously, then both froze, looking embarrassed. Yu Qian had always felt responsible for the Crown Prince personally risking danger in Jinan; while in Jinan, Zhu Zhanji had discovered that Yu Qian’s warning against revealing his identity had been wise counsel. This lord and minister apologizing simultaneously fell into awkward silence, neither knowing how to continue. Zhang Quan stepped forward: “We shouldn’t linger here—let’s discuss further after returning to Dezhou.”
The riders who had come with Zhang Quan and Yu Qian had finished clearing the battlefield, leaving no survivors. Wu Dingyuan noticed their attire differed from the uniformed banner troops—it was a mishmash of worn battle jackets, narrow-sleeved red coats, hemp cross-collared shirts, and some even wore tiger skin around their waists, half-bare—more like a band of outlaws than an army.
Had Zhang Quan somehow persuaded a mountain chief? Wu Dingyuan wondered, glancing at Su Jingxi, knowing she had noticed too, and nodded.
Though the pursuit team was eliminated, they left behind many horses. The Crown Prince could finally abandon that mule, and everyone else got a mount. The other equipment was divided among the warriors. Zhang Quan organized the troops and ordered their return—several dozen riders escorted the Crown Prince’s group, hurrying through the Twelve Connected Cities toward Dezhou.
The remaining dozens of li were covered instantly by this elite-mounted unit. Before dark, they had reached Dezhou’s outer city. However, Zhang Quan didn’t enter the city, instead circling halfway around the northwest river bend.
As they rode, Zhu Zhanji faintly heard the sound of rushing water. Looking up in the last rays of sunset, he saw a broad river like a silk ribbon ahead, with boats crisscrossing its surface and dense buildings covering both banks.
These were independent two-story buildings, identical in structure, all with through-tenon construction and hanging mountain skylights. Single buildings weren’t remarkable, but their vast number, packed tightly together like printers’ clay type, touching eaves and connecting beams, created an impressive sight.
Zhu Zhanji realized these must be the Grand Canal warehouses—he had returned.
He had passed through here on his way to Nanjing, though then the Crown Prince had spent most of his time playing with birds and crickets in the cabin, not paying attention to the scenery.
Zhang Quan explained that this section of the Grand Canal from Linqing to Tianjin was called the Wei Canal, with Dezhou exactly in the middle—a crucial hub with enormous cargo volume, requiring two separate docks: an Upper Dock and a North Factory Dock. They were heading to the North Factory Dock. This area had originally been wild grassland; during the Hongwu years, the canal was renovated, and straightened, and a new waterway was opened here. A garrison city was built on the eastern bank of the river bend, filled with transfer granaries, called the “North Factory.” Grain tribute from Jiangnan, Huguang, Shandong, Henan, and other regions all gathered here before being transported to the Northern Metropolitan Area and the capital.
To Zhu Zhanji’s surprise, upon reaching the North Factory, Zhang Quan didn’t go to the canal administration office but went straight to a small dock by the granaries and boarded a five-hundred-liao double-masted pointed-bottom ship.
Such ships were rare on the canal, mostly used for sea transport, and private construction had been banned since the Yongle years—who knew where Zhang Quan had found it. The ship was extremely dilapidated, with many parts rotting, looking like an old, unmaintained temple. Besides Zhang Quan and the Crown Prince, only Yu Qian, Wu Dingyuan, Su Jingxi, Zuoye He, and about a dozen guards boarded. The other riders saluted Zhang Quan and disappeared into the vast night.
The journey was certainly rushed, but the Crown Prince realized with time running short, they couldn’t reach the capital without such haste. Just as everyone settled in the cabin, they felt the ship sway, slowly being pushed away from the dock. Sailors ran about on deck, some untying ropes, others handling sails. Wu Dingyuan and the Crown Prince noticed many things piled on deck, covered with tarpaulins, their nature unclear.
Normally ships should carry less cargo to travel faster, and cargo should be stored in the hold below deck, not piled on deck so inconveniently. However, Zhang Quan had no time to explain, busy giving orders to get the ship underway.
They didn’t press for answers, obediently retreating to the cabin to wait. Zhu Zhanji found a place to lie down, and Su Jingxi checked his wound again, frowning deeply. The wound had nearly healed, but the Crown Prince’s forceful arrow removal had torn the flesh, and yesterday’s ordeal had caused visible swelling and redness—signs of impending infection, not a good situation. She felt his forehead, which seemed to be developing a fever.
“How does Your Highness feel now?”
Zhu Zhanji mumbled: “Fine, I can manage.”
Su Jingxi knew he wouldn’t sleep without answers, so she quickly prepared some medicine paste for him to take first. Only after the ship had steadily entered the main canal channel and headed north did Zhang Quan return to the cabin, sweating profusely.
“What exactly happened in the capital?” Zhu Zhanji asked eagerly, despite his weakness.
The cabin was dimly lit with only a few candles, casting uncertain shadows on Zhang Quan’s face. He wiped his forehead with a wet handkerchief and said gravely: “Your Highness, please lie down and let me explain everything slowly.”