A few days into the westward journey, news arrived from ahead.
Relentless snowstorms had blocked Dudeng Mountain Pass with accumulated snow, and the convoy transporting military grain could not pass through, stranded before the pass.
The distance from there to Jincheng was not very far — only a few hundred li remained.
Just when they were about to reach their destination, they had been stopped by the blizzard before the pass. Her anxiety was easy to imagine.
Xie Changgeng quickened his pace, pressing hard in pursuit, and within ten or so days, he had caught up to Dudeng Mountain.
The snowstorms had fallen intermittently, stopping only a few days prior. The grain convoy was still waiting there.
But Mu Fulan was no longer here.
The garrison commander stationed there by order reported to him: more than ten days ago, when the Princess had traveled to this point and found the mountain road blocked, she had grown extremely anxious. Upon learning that apart from this military road, there was another small path some tens of li to the west that wound out through a valley — though far longer, treacherous, and impassable for troops — it could nevertheless bypass the pass and continue westward. She had demanded to be guided along it.
Heeding her words, the garrison commander had dispatched guides familiar with the route and a protective escort to travel with her. She had already been led ahead and departed by that alternate road.
“How much longer before this pass can be opened?” Xie Changgeng asked.
“The snow these past days was truly overwhelming, and it has only stopped two days ago. Though I have already led men to clear the road with all our strength, by my estimate, opening it completely will take at least seven or eight days…”
Xie Changgeng turned around, walked to his horse, and patted a large leather sack hanging at the side of the saddle.
The leather sack was stuffed full. With his pat, a small child’s head suddenly popped out from the opening.
The child’s hair was disheveled, his face dirty — it was unclear how many days had passed since he had last washed his face or combed his hair — yet his pair of eyes were round and bright, black and white clearly defined, glancing about like two glistening jewels.
Throughout this westward journey, every day aside from the necessary rest for men and horses, the party had traveled without pause, day and night. For adults this posed no problem, but a child was another matter. Xie Changgeng had devised a solution: he tucked Xi’er inside this sack sewn from old lambskin, using it as a sleeping bag hung on the horse — both warm and safe. The only drawback was the jolting. Fortunately, within a few days, the child had adapted remarkably well. No matter how the horse bounded and galloped, sometimes after a long stretch of travel when Xie Changgeng stopped to rest and opened the sleeping bag, he would find the child still fast asleep inside, impossible to rouse even when called.
Xi’er had assumed that today he would finally see his mother here. When the garrison commander had been speaking just now, he had been hiding inside, ears pricked to listen.
“Lord Xie, I am not tired at all!”
Without waiting for Xie Changgeng to ask, he popped his head out and announced loudly.
Xie Changgeng was momentarily startled, then smiled, and out of habit ruffled the small head, then immediately pressed it back down into the sack, and turned to give orders: “I have urgent business — send someone familiar with the roads to guide me. I too will take the alternate route, heading to Jincheng!”
The garrison commander and the others had initially assumed the leather sack hanging from the Military Governor’s saddle contained some important personal belonging. When suddenly a child’s head poked out from the opening, clearly on intimate terms with the Military Governor and resembling a father and son, yet calling him “Lord Xie” — they were all astonished, though it was not appropriate to ask. As they stood staring at the two, they heard these orders and immediately went to summon a guide.
That same day, after a brief rest and replenishing some food, Xie Changgeng ordered the garrison commander to strengthen vigilance against northern tribesmen exploiting the harsh weather to launch a surprise attack, then set out with Liang Tuan and thirty attendants to continue on their way.
The terrain of that valley was extraordinarily rugged, buried under accumulated snow — in the deepest places it reached to one’s waist — and horses could not be ridden. The party could only dismount and lead the horses on foot through the struggle, trudging for three days before finally bypassing the pass and returning to the main road to continue forward.
If all went well ahead, another two or three days of travel would bring them to Jincheng. From there, the Tianshan Mountains would be within reach.
At noon, as they were passing through a snow-covered forest, Xie Changgeng saw that men and horses alike were weary and ordered a temporary rest where they stood.
These thirty attendants were all battle-hardened warriors capable of fighting ten men single-handedly, yet after completing those three days of travel, they too showed signs of exhaustion as they stopped. Everyone sat down on the spot, lit fires to heat food, and seized the chance to rest and recover their strength.
The child no longer needed Xie Changgeng to lift him up and down — he crawled out of the leather pouch himself, slid down the horse’s flank with practiced ease, scooped up a handful of snow, not minding the cold, and scrubbed it roughly over his face as a stand-in for washing, then ran to Xie Changgeng’s side. He took a piece of freshly heated flatbread, bit into it a few times, and turned his head to gaze at what lay ahead, saying: “Lord Xie, are we almost there?”
Xie Changgeng gazed into the distance ahead, took the child with him, and climbed up to a nearby elevated spot. He held the boy high and pointed with one hand toward the towering snow peak at the far edge of their vision — like a white dragon cloaked in silver — and said: “Do you see it? That snow peak is the summit of the Tianshan Mountains. And at the foot of that peak lies Jincheng.”
Xi’er followed the direction he pointed, staring intently, and urged with excitement: “My lord, let us go quickly!”
Xie Changgeng smiled and nodded, withdrawing his gaze from the distance. Just as he was about to turn away, his gaze shifted slightly and settled on an old pine tree some ten or more zhang ahead. He fixed his attention on it for a moment.
He quickly looked away, his expression betraying nothing, and carried Xi’er down, setting him back into the sleeping bag. He then took up his bow and arrows, returned to the high ground from before, drew the bow, nocked an arrow, aimed at that old pine, and loosed a shot.
The arrowhead left the bowstring and cut through the air. With a thud, it drove deep into the trunk.
The branches trembled slightly, and a fine dusting of snow — like powder — sifted down from the treetop.
The person hiding behind the tree was startled, knowing they had been discovered, and turned at once to flee — but how could they escape? The moment they left the cover of the trunk, before they had run more than a few steps through the snow, a second arrow came in pursuit from behind.
The powerful and sharp arrowhead caught up in an instant, plunging into the back of the knee, shattering the kneecap.
The arrowhead tore through flesh and bone and emerged from the other side of the leg.
The person let out a miserable cry and collapsed into the snow — yet proved remarkably tenacious, quickly scrambling up from the snowdrift, and dragged a wounded leg forward, limping onward in a desperate attempt to flee.
Liang Tuan and the others were stirred by the cry, seized their weapons, and leapt to their feet.
“They should be a northern tribesman. Capture them and interrogate on the spot!”
Xie Changgeng set down the bow and said lightly.
The men rushed forward and quickly captured the northern tribesman still struggling to flee through the snow. Knowing the Military Governor did not wish for the young lord to witness a scene of bloodshed, they followed his orders and conducted the interrogation on the spot.
The distance was considerable — the interrogation itself could not be seen — but the agonized screams the man emitted still reached Xi’er’s ears.
Xi’er’s small hands gripped the horse’s back tightly, his gaze darting again and again toward that direction.
Another round of piercing cries carried over.
He seemed somewhat unsettled. He turned his small face around and stared silently at Xie Changgeng, who was feeding the horse, seemingly wanting to say something but holding back.
Xie Changgeng lifted his head, glanced at the child, walked to his side, and while straightening the boy’s crumpled collar, said gently: “Xi’er need not be afraid, nor need he feel pity. That person is our enemy and wishes us harm.”
Xi’er turned his head, looked toward the direction from which the screams had come, and asked softly: “Lord Xie, you have never even met that person — how do you know he is our enemy?”
Xie Changgeng said: “Just now that person was lurking behind the tree, skulking and spying on us. My first arrow was a warning. If he had no ill intent, he would have come out to explain himself. But he turned and ran immediately — a clear sign of a guilty conscience, which means he bore us ill will. Bearing ill will toward us makes him an enemy.”
He paused, and added with added weight:
“Xi’er, remember this: showing mercy to an enemy may mean that the one who ends up harmed is yourself — and those you wish to protect.”
“Is that what you want?”
Xi’er shook his head immediately. “The person I want to protect is my mother. I have remembered your words, my lord!”
“When you encounter an enemy, what should you do?”
“Kill them!”
Xi’er thought for a moment, then raised his voice — still carrying a trace of childish inflection — and declared loudly.
Xie Changgeng nodded in approval.
Over there, Liang Tuan had finished the interrogation and came sprinting back, reporting: “My lord, it is indeed a northern tribesman spy — he has confessed! Something has happened! A northern cavalry force of several thousand is most likely attacking Dudeng Garrison at this very moment!”
This spy came from a cavalry unit that had long patrolled the border zone between Hexi and the Tianshan Mountains.
They had previously been active in the Tianshan region, watching for an opportunity against Jincheng. Knowing they had no realistic chance of seizing it, and with heavy snow cutting off the land and grain supplies running short, they had planned to return to the royal court. Several days ago, passing through this area, they had learned that a shipment of military grain from Hexi was heading to Jincheng. As fate would have it, a great blizzard had descended, stranding the grain convoy before the pass at Dudeng Mountain, cutting off east-west communication entirely. They had identified this as a heaven-sent opportunity, improvised a plan on the spot, and decided to seize the moment — committing all available forces to a surprise assault on Dudeng Garrison to capture the military grain.
If the gamble succeeded, Jincheng — an isolated city deep in enemy-bordered territory — would be left without winter provisions for its troops, leaving them no path but death. Moreover, and more critically, severing this military road that the Hexi Military Governorate had built up over recent years would deliver everything west of Dudeng Mountain — the entire Tianshan region and the passage to the Western Regions — into northern hands.
“This spy had used the cover of the heavy snow to slip into this area to locate the exact positions of the signal fire beacons. In addition to the surprise attack on Dudeng Garrison, they have also dispatched men with plans to destroy the nearby beacon towers to prevent messages from being relayed and reinforcements from being summoned. And this is not the only spy sent out to find the beacons!”
When Liang Tuan finished his report, the thirty attendants all gathered around, dozens of eyes fixed intently on Xie Changgeng, awaiting his command.
Xie Changgeng gazed in the direction of Dudeng Garrison.
After the snowstorm, the sky had cleared. The sky in that direction was brilliantly clear, without even a trace of warning smoke.
Two possibilities. Either Dudeng Garrison had not yet come under attack, and the garrison troops were completely unaware. Or — the other possibility.
That was: shortly after they had departed, Dudeng Garrison had already been hit by a northern surprise assault, and the beacon towers had already fallen into northern hands.
“The next beacon tower to the west along the route should be Moli Beacon. Do you know the way?”
Xie Changgeng knew every beacon tower along the westward military road like the back of his hand, and turned to ask the guide.
“I do! It is thirty li from here!”
“Go immediately to Moli Beacon — get there and light the signal smoke before the northern tribesmen arrive and seize it!”
Once the Moli Beacon’s signal smoke rose, the next beacon tower would receive the relay and pass it on — and so within three hours, the news of battle would reach Jincheng in succession. Within three days, troops would certainly come to reinforce Dudeng Garrison.
Given the garrison commander’s capabilities, even without a numerical advantage in troops, holding out for three days should not pose much of a problem.
The situation was urgent. The party immediately set out, making haste toward Moli Beacon. Yet when they finally arrived, Liang Tuan and the others were struck dumb by what lay before them.
Beacon towers were built on elevated ground so the signals could be seen from far away — Moli Beacon was no exception, sitting atop a mountain ridge.
Several days prior, what appeared to have been an avalanche had struck the area.
A massive quantity of snow had slid down from the steep slope above the beacon tower, burying almost the entire towering base of the structure beneath it.
The few beacon soldiers who had previously been on guard here were nowhere to be seen — in all likelihood, they too were buried under the snow.
Liang Tuan immediately led men to dig through the accumulated snow, trying to carve an opening to reach the tower base so they could enter and light the signal fire. After a good while of digging, they uncovered two beacon soldier corpses that had long since frozen stiff, but the entrance to the beacon tower’s base remained hopelessly out of reach.
With snow piled up like this, even working without sleep through the night and digging until tomorrow, they might still not be able to break through.
With a clang, a guard’s blade — being used to dig through snow — lodged in the crack of a boulder that had rolled down with the avalanche, and when force was applied, it snapped in two.
“My lord! There may not be enough time. I fear that before we can break through, the northern tribesmen will find their way here. It would be faster to press on to the next beacon tower!”
Liang Tuan, drenched in sweat, stopped and urged.
Xie Changgeng was gazing toward the direction of the next beacon tower, deep in thought, when suddenly he heard a child’s voice from behind him say: “Lord Xie, I can crawl inside and help you light the fire.”
Xie Changgeng turned around to see Xi’er pointing to the top of the beacon tower, addressing him.
Liang Tuan also turned, staring at the ventilation openings at the top of the beacon tower — those few smoke outlets and side vents that had not yet been buried by snow — and it struck him like a flash of sudden clarity. He leaped to his feet in wild elation.
“The young lord is right! Those openings — we cannot fit through them, but the young lord is small enough to try crawling inside. As long as the firewood and wolf dung are stacked, soaked in fire oil, and lit…”
His words trailed off, as he himself realized something was wrong.
Even if this child could truly crawl in through a smoke vent and light the fire, he would at that point be like a person inside a furnace. Whether he could safely make it back out the way he came — no one could guarantee.
He quickly fell silent and glanced at the Military Governor.
Xie Changgeng’s expression was grave.
He was silent for a moment, then slowly crouched down, and looked steadily at the child standing before him — the same child who just moments ago had been earnestly hacking at the snow with a dagger — gently ruffled his head, and said: “No.”
With that, he stood up, ordered them to leave, and set out immediately for the next beacon tower.
“My lord! I can do it! I truly can! Trust me!”
But the child was extremely stubborn. He tilted his face up and stared at him, gripping his sleeve tightly with both hands, refusing to let go.