The night had gone utterly black, and with no moon, it was nearly impossible for ordinary eyes to make out any movement in the distant wilderness.

But Zhao Huaizhu had the gift of exceptional sight. She squinted downward for a long moment, her voice dropping to nearly a whisper. “The column stretches roughly a hundred zhang or so. Every single person is wearing dark-colored plain clothing, and their blades and swords are all wrapped in cloth. They are less than a mile from the city gate.”

Chen Baoxiang’s heart gave a sharp lurch.

“Quickly.” She turned and instructed Fenghua, “Go tell the guards at the city gate below — no matter what the other side presents, they are not to open the gates. Then send someone to the Princess’s residence to report.”

“Yes.”

“Wang Wu, take my command token to the other three city gates.”

“Yes.”

With that, Chen Baoxiang made straight for the watchtower, intending to light the beacon fire.

“What are you doing?” The watchman was startled out of his wits and immediately moved to block her. “This is not something you light for amusement.”

“There are enemy movements outside the city. We need to alert the palace as quickly as possible,” she said coldly. “If there is any delay, your entire nine generations will not escape punishment.”

The watchman paused, poked his head out and looked down. He could see nothing.

He stubbornly shielded the fire source and shook his head. “Lighting the beacon fire without cause is what will doom my nine generations. Bring me a written authorization from the North Gate Recording Officer — otherwise I cannot light it.”

Unable to resolve the standoff, Chen Baoxiang descended with a dark expression to find the North Gate Recording Officer.

That man, for whatever reason — as though he had already received word — gave her a vague and evasive response: “This matter is no concern of yours.”

And so Chen Baoxiang understood. Whoever had come from below was almost certainly Song Juqing, and he had already reached an prior understanding with the Recording Officer.

Somehow he had slipped away undetected, leaving even his cavalry behind, and was now attempting to steal back into Shangjing without a sound.

The Grand Princess’s main forces were all committed to Nanzhou. The troops that remained within Shangjing barely sufficed to hold Emperor Li Shu’s side to a standstill — if Song Juqing were allowed to enter the city, the situation would become very grim indeed.

·

Even the Princess’s residence, upon receiving the news, fell into a rare moment of flurried panic.

“Li Shu’s treacherous scheme was never meant to probe us — he simply wants Song Juqing back in the capital to seize control of the situation.” Hua Lingyin said urgently. “Shangjing is easy to defend and hard to attack. If he gains the upper hand now, all of Her Highness’s prior preparations will have been for nothing.”

Li Bingsheng sat composed, though her expression was also visibly grave. “What about Nanzhou?”

“We’ve already sent word, but even if the full force rides back at top speed, they won’t reach Shangjing until the day after tomorrow.”

“Have Zhang Zhixu take the Western Camp forces to link up with Zhang Ting’an near the palace walls, and redirect three thousand cavalry to stand by near Heyue Ward.” Li Bingsheng considered carefully. “The city gate will likely fall before long — have Chen Baoxiang pull her people back.”

“Your Highness.” The words had barely landed when Zhang Zhixu strode through the door.

Li Bingsheng assumed he had come to decline out of fear, but instead the man took several swift steps forward and knelt at the foot of her seat. “I ask Your Highness to first dispatch forces to reinforce the city gate.”

Li Bingsheng blinked in surprise.

The attending official beside her frowned. “Outrageous. The city gate was already indefensible to begin with — how can we afford to send more people in?”

Civil officials who did not understand military affairs were one thing; offering unsolicited advice was another matter entirely. Song Juqing carried an imperial edict — the gate guards would not dare resist outright. With only Chen Baoxiang’s five hundred soldiers, if they did not withdraw, they would be wiped out in the very time it took to muster reinforcements.

What needed to be done now was to yield the gate, use the streets and alleys beyond it to wage a delaying engagement, and hold on until troops from other positions were ready.

“Once the gate breaks, chaos will spread across the city. The palace’s own imperial guard will then advance from within, and we will be caught between two forces,” Zhang Zhixu continued steadily. “Only by keeping them outside the walls is there any hope of victory.”

Li Bingsheng knew perfectly well that Song Juqing not entering the city was the ideal outcome — but given the present circumstances, she doubted anyone would be willing to go reinforce the gate.

After a moment’s deliberation, she asked Zhang Zhixu, “Would you dare to personally take command and go to the North Gate?”

“I thank Your Highness for the grace.” He agreed without a moment’s hesitation, took the command token straight from the attending official’s hand, and walked out.

The official stared blankly at his retreating figure, half-exasperated, half-amused. “Your Highness, this is far too reckless.”

Li Bingsheng stroked her chin. “He and the rest of us know nothing of what’s happening out there. Tell me — where do you suppose this unwavering confidence he has in Chen Baoxiang comes from?”

Shangjing had not seen true warfare in hundreds of years. The people within and without its walls had grown accustomed to a life of peace. At the first sound of battle cries, ordinary folk were already beside themselves with fear, scattering through the streets in all directions.

Even within the Princess’s residence, the attending official was busy arranging an escape route, and some of the household servants had taken advantage of the chaos to slip away.

And yet Zhang Zhixu — he seemed absolutely certain that Chen Baoxiang would be fine. He had not even entertained the thought of what would happen to himself if the gate truly fell and he arrived with reinforcements in tow.

Such inexplicably complete trust. She had not witnessed anything like it in a very long time.

Years of hard lessons had taught Li Bingsheng she could no longer extend that kind of trust to anyone herself.

But to watch someone else have it — she found it, surprisingly, rather heartening.

Zhang Zhixu took the command token to the Western Camp to conscript soldiers, but because he was not a military officer, there was considerable delay. By the time the troops were assembled and moving toward the North Gate, more than half a shichen had already passed since he had first received word.

His expression was grim. He left Ningsu at the rear to command the column and vaulted onto his horse, charging ahead at the very front.

The night was black and moonless, and the lanterns along the streets were sparse and dim. Zhang Zhixu strained to recall the layout of each road, forcing his way through by the most direct route he could piece together, head down and pushing hard.

In the distance, the dark city wall suddenly blazed with beacon fire.

He pulled up short, lifting his gaze.

The flames climbed high, fierce as battle standards whipping in the wind. One watchtower lit up, then the next, then the one beyond that — fire catching fire all along the city wall in rapid succession.

The soldiers of the Western Camp behind him all found their bearing from the light and broke into a faster march.

Zhang Zhixu’s eyes brightened. He found his path and pressed forward, grabbing hold of a guard at a checkpoint. “What is the situation?”

The guard had gone ashen, clutching his spear with both arms, and stammered, “Someone’s rebelling.”

Rebelling?

Zhang Zhixu had assumed he meant Song Juqing — but when he raised his eyes, what he saw was the North Gate Recording Officer strung up inside the city gate.

Stripped of his official’s cap, his mouth covered, the Recording Officer dangled against the back of the gate, making muffled, inarticulate sounds.

Zhao Huaizhu stood below him holding a blade. The moment she saw Zhang Zhixu, her fierce, cutting expression broke open into something clear and bright. “Master Zhang?”

He strode forward at once. “Where is Baoxiang?”

Zhao Huaizhu hesitated, glanced past him at the soldiers behind him, then cried out in delighted surprise, “You actually brought reinforcements — thank the heavens! Quickly, quickly, go out the gate and support them!”

Ningsu led the soldiers straight through. Zhang Zhixu made to follow, but Zhao Huaizhu blocked his path. “It’s dangerous out there. It would be better if you waited inside the city, Master.”

Zhang Zhixu fixed his gaze on her, his expression dark and still as water.

Zhao Huaizhu rubbed the back of her head and soldiered on. “Junior Sister’s orders. She said that if you came, she wanted me to try and talk you out of it.”

Beneath the weight of his gaze, she faltered, then mumbled quietly, “She also said… if you truly wouldn’t be dissuaded, then you could go up to the city gate tower. The view is clear from there, so it’s better than you running blindly out into that.”

Zhang Zhixu swept his robes aside and charged up the city gate tower.

In a battle for the city walls, there should by rights have been wounded soldiers along the parapets of the gate tower — but as he made his way up, every single guard standing along the ramparts was completely unharmed, with barely even two stray arrows to speak of.

Could it be that Song Juqing’s primary assault was not on the North Gate at all?