Between Wulei and Yutan lay a vast expanse of desert, connected north to south by a river called the Jade River.

Li Xuandu and his party traveled along the Jade River toward Yutan, making their way through the desert for four or five days. By noon that day, according to their guide, they would reach Yutan by the following afternoon.

Li Xuandu ordered his men to stop and rest for a while.

The soldiers spread out along the riverbank—some eating, some washing, some watering the horses. Zhang Zhuo eagerly offered Li Xuandu a bag of dried rations, struck up a bit of conversation, and then inquired about the plans for dealing with Baole Kingdom in the future, thumping his chest and vowing boldly: “Just give me the order, Your Highness, and even a dragon’s lair or a tiger’s den would not stop me!” Then, as if fearing Li Xuandu would doubt his motives, he hurried to explain: “A kingdom that big, and so close—only four or five hundred li away—if we don’t remove them early, none of us will sleep easy!”

The former prince of Baole Kingdom, along with the Princess Consort Ma Yena—who had once met Pu Zhu briefly at Madam Xiao’s Cheng Garden in the capital—had been living in exile in the capital for many years. The current king was a nobleman named Tuo Gan, raised to power by the Dongdi in an old coup.

For the Governor’s Office, this kingdom was indeed a constant threat, liable to cause trouble at any moment. But Zhang Zhuo’s eagerness was not only for this reason—in truth, he also harbored a private grievance that could not be spoken aloud to others.

The time he had fled and gotten lost was bad enough, but what happened to him afterward was truly a humiliation without equal—and in the end, the whole story had become common knowledge. Some time had passed since then and people were gradually forgetting it, but he himself could not shake it. The memory had settled into a kind of ailment. Every time he saw a group of people gathered and whispering, he immediately suspected they were mocking him, and he lived without peace day or night. He dreamed night after night of a battle where he could distinguish himself with some great achievement and wash away his disgrace.

Li Xuandu took the dried rations from him, smiled, and said: “No rush. When the time comes, you will be sent as vanguard.”

Zhang Zhuo had been a bit worried that Zhang Shishan might snatch the glory. With this promise given, he let out a breath and eagerly produced the water skin. Just then a soldier on watch came running up with quick strides to report to Li Xuandu: a party had come from the direction of Yutan, and they looked somewhat unusual—but being still far away, their identity was unclear for the time being.

Li Xuandu immediately ordered his soldiers to fall back, conceal themselves, and prepare for combat. He went to the front to observe, and sure enough, saw a column of approximately a dozen riders galloping toward them in complete disorder, their formation utterly without order.

His eyesight was keen as a falcon’s. After observing them for another moment, once the group had drawn somewhat closer, he recognized the figure riding at the very front.

His expression immediately turned grave. He ordered Zhang Zhuo to go and meet them, announcing his own name.

A moment later, Yutan Crown Prince Wei Chishengde was brought to him—his face smeared with blood, an arrow wound on his arm, his appearance disheveled, his expression urgent. When he caught sight of Li Xuandu, his eyes flared with wild joy. He came striding forward in great steps, but had barely covered a few strides before he fainted dead away and collapsed on the ground.

Everyone rushed about in confusion to revive him.

Wei Chishengde came to, drank a couple of sips of water, and gradually recovered his breath.

Over to one side, one of his attendants had already explained what had happened: the Shache Kingdom, in alliance with five or six neighboring small kingdoms, had mustered a combined force of nearly twenty thousand men and launched an attack on Yutan several days ago. Outnumbered, Yutan’s forces had finally fallen back entirely and were holding the Western City of the capital.

His father the king had previously received Li Xuandu’s calling card and knew he had established the Governor’s Office at Wulei. The night before, Wei Chishengde had taken a party of men and used the cover of darkness and the terrain to slip out, intending to go to the Governor’s Office to seek help. On the road, they had run into men from Yumi Kingdom and barely escaped capture. After fighting their way out, they fled here—only to have the pursuing soldiers of Yumi Kingdom still on their tail close behind. It seemed they would be overtaken before reaching Wulei. Just as they had fallen into despair, they had unexpectedly encountered Li Xuandu here, and the rush of excitement—combined with his wound—had been too much, causing him to faint.

“I beg Your Highness to save Yutan!” Wei Chishengde rasped out, prostrating himself before Li Xuandu and refusing to rise.

Li Xuandu immediately helped him to his feet and ordered his men to first bandage the wounds of Wei Chishengde and his attendants.

Conflict and annexation between the kingdoms of the Western Regions was commonplace—especially after the Li Dynasty had withdrawn its influence from the region. Wars of larger kingdoms bullying smaller ones broke out constantly. Shache Kingdom’s strength was roughly on par with Yutan’s in the southern route, and its king was a man of no small ambitions—he had long schemed to annihilate Yutan and dominate the southern route, but had never dared act rashly. His sudden emergence now to ally with other kingdoms and attack Yutan held unusual implications.

The Shache alliance numbered nearly twenty thousand. On this side, there were only a hundred or so men—even if they turned back immediately and summoned every last soldier from Wulei and Shushu Kingdom combined, the total would come to no more than two or three thousand.

He had never expected to encounter such a situation in the middle of the road.

How was Yutan to be saved?

Everyone’s faces were deeply grave. They all looked at Li Xuandu. The scene fell into silence.

Zhang Zhuo’s face fell too. He was stunned for a moment, then upon hearing that there were still some pursuing Yumi soldiers coming from behind—and learning that Yumi Kingdom was a tiny state with only three or four thousand people, yet daring to behave so audaciously—he could not help but explode in curses. He was about to lead his men out to meet them and slaughter them all cleanly, when Li Xuandu called him back. He took a branch, and on the sandy ground by the river, drew a rough map of the surrounding region and gave his instructions.

Zhang Zhuo listened to his plan, and his eyes lit up. The gloom of a moment ago swept away completely. He burst out laughing: “A brilliant stratagem, Your Highness—what a splendid use of their own force against them! Your subordinate will set off at once! Your Highness need not worry—if I fail to complete the mission, I will bring my own head back to report!” With that, he took all one hundred men Li Xuandu assigned him and charged out to meet the Yumi pursuers—totaling fifty or sixty in all—and fell upon them in a slash of blades. Those Yumi men were the type to bully the weak and fear the strong. Hearing the shouts from the other side declaring that the newly arrived Li Dynasty Governor of the Western Regions had learned of the siege of Yutan and come to its relief—that a great column of troops was about to arrive—they were so terrified their souls nearly left their bodies. Forgetting all about Yutan, they immediately turned and fled back toward Yumi. Zhang Zhuo pursued relentlessly, chasing all the way to the gates of Yumi City.

A small state like this never took the initiative on its own—it had only followed this time because Shache’s king had given them a little benefit, and they were greedy for their promised share of the spoils after Yutan was broken. Their total military force was little more than a thousand, and they had sent out half. Now, with only five hundred left in the city, when they met Zhang Zhuo’s hundred battle-hardened warriors—men forged in blood and fire—it was like a flock of sheep meeting wolves. They fought while retreating. Zhang Zhuo’s unit drove straight in and soon came pressing near the royal palace. Word spread inside the palace that this was only the Governor’s Office advance guard and a great main force was right behind. The king, shaking with fright and full of regret, soon came out under escort of his ministers to surrender, saying he had been deceived by Shache’s king, that he had been momentarily foolish and done wrong, that from this day forward he would never again dare to betray the Li Dynasty, and that in proof of his sincerity he was willing to send his crown prince as a hostage.

Zhang Zhuo detained both the king and the crown prince and had them sent to Li Xuandu. He then took command of the five hundred soldiers, not pausing for rest but marching straight toward the neighboring Pishan Kingdom. Outside the city walls, making use of the terrain, he spread his five or six hundred men out and ordered them to wave flags and raise battle cries. The Li Dynasty warriors, in full armor, came galloping forward from below, raising a great cloud of yellow dust, their murderous air filling the sky. When Pishan’s king heard that the newly arrived Li Dynasty Governor of the Western Regions had sent a force of a thousand men to seek retribution, he went to the battlements to look out—and seeing the flags flying, the war cries rising, a unit of Li Dynasty soldiers in gleaming helmets charging forward—and learning further that the neighboring Yumi Kingdom had already surrendered, he did not dare to resist and hastily followed their example in begging forgiveness.

Zhang Zhuo treated them the same way, sent the king off to Li Xuandu, took command of Pishan’s forces, and immediately led this army—growing larger by the day—in another forced march to put the next small kingdom to the threat.

Three days later, Li Xuandu appeared outside Yutan’s Western City, accompanied by five or six kings and some seven or eight thousand soldiers following behind.

When the forces of the various kingdoms who had been besieging the city saw their kings appear to order a retreat, they were thunderstruck one and all, and fell back in confusion. In the end only Shache’s five or six thousand troops were left—seeing how things stood, they dared not continue fighting and retreated in haste as well. Zhang Zhuo, riding high on his momentum, led his men in a full pursuit. Overtaking them, he plunged into the mass of retreating soldiers with his great saber swinging, cutting them down like melons and vegetables, sending Shache’s men fleeing in utter rout. Not only that, but luck was also on their side—he even managed to capture the Shache crown prince who had traveled with the army. And so they returned in triumph, singing songs of victory.

Meanwhile inside the Western City, Yutan’s soldiers had been holding on grimly for many days and were on the verge of collapse. Just as despair was setting in, divine soldiers descended from the heavens and the siege was lifted. Everyone was wild with joy.

The Yutan King was immensely grateful. He came out of the city in person to welcome Li Xuandu into the royal palace and received him as an honored guest with a great banquet. After the feast, when all extraneous people had been dismissed, Li Xuandu went straight to the point and proposed a formal alliance between the two sides to face whatever lay ahead.

When he finished speaking, the old king seemed hesitant and did not respond at once.

Zhang Zhuo was half drunk. Seeing this, he flared up, riding the courage of his wine: “If not for Prince Qin’s timely rescue, this Western City of yours might well have been divided up by now! Your palace would probably have become someone else’s place to drink and carouse in! This time, thanks to His Highness’s brilliant strategy, things went smoothly enough—but do you know how many of our men were wounded on our side? Our brothers are still recovering! When you are in trouble you come begging for help, and once things are safe you simply hang back with a high-and-mighty air! Mark my words—if Yutan faces danger again, don’t expect the Governor’s Office to lend so much as a finger of help!”

Crown Prince Wei Chishengde hastily apologized to Li Xuandu: “Please do not misunderstand, Your Highness. Setting aside the great favor Your Highness has shown us today, even without this, if Your Highness gave any command, my father the king would willingly obey and serve. Only at present there is one difficulty…”

“Another difficulty? What now?” Zhang Zhuo snapped impatiently.

Wei Chishengde quickly replied: “It is my elder brother. My father has only two sons—my elder brother and myself. Several years ago, we were compelled to send our elder brother to Baole Kingdom as a hostage. Now that my father is aging and wishes to pass the throne to his elder brother, he has made many requests to ransom him back, offering heavy gold, but Baole Kingdom refuses to return him. Just now it was not that my father was unwilling to follow Your Highness’s command—it is that he is anxious for the safety of my elder brother…”

The old Yutan King stopped Wei Chishengde, and with an expression of shame, walked before Li Xuandu and apologized: “I gave offense just now—I hope Your Highness will forgive me. Baole has oppressed us for years, and now Shache has come with an army to attack. I know all too well that Yutan is weak and isolated—without Your Highness to rely on, I fear it will be hard to preserve ourselves in the days ahead. Thanks to Your Highness’s favor today, I have made up my mind: from this day on, all of Yutan, high and low, will follow Your Highness’s command and serve at Your Highness’s disposal.”

Li Xuandu remained seated behind the table, and he did not speak immediately. He deliberated for a moment, then said slowly: “Your Majesty need not worry. I will do my utmost to rescue the Crown Prince first. Once the person is brought back, we can speak of other matters.”

The old Yutan King was greatly surprised—and even more deeply moved and grateful at heart. For a moment tears streamed down his aged face, and with trembling hands he prostrated himself before Li Xuandu, saying: “Years ago I pledged allegiance to the Li Dynasty because I admired the bearing of General Pu, the Left Zhonglang Commander. Many years later, I am fortunate today to meet Your Highness in person, and I find myself once again moved to willing submission. Your Highness has not only saved Yutan from the brink of catastrophe today—Your Highness’s magnanimity of heart surpasses mine by far. Please accept my bow, Your Highness. Rest assured—regardless of whether my elder son can ultimately be rescued, on the strength of Your Highness’s words alone, Yutan will serve Your Highness faithfully and follow you with a willing heart!”

Li Xuandu helped the old Yutan King to his feet.

Wei Chishengde was overjoyed, and ignoring the wounds still on his body, immediately volunteered to accompany Prince Qin to Wulei and place himself under his command to help rescue his elder brother.

Li Xuandu remained in Yutan for several days, assisting the Yutan King in selecting locations outside the capital for building beacon towers, and instructing them in how to use simple and effective signal fires to warn of approaching enemies—strengthening the defenses against surprise attack. Before departing, he released all the kings of Yumi, Pishan, and the other small kingdoms, but kept all their crown princes—along with the Shache crown prince that Zhang Zhuo had previously captured—with the Yutan King as hostages.

With all arrangements settled, he set out on the return journey, and finally arrived back at Wulei one evening.

This day was five full days later than the date he had promised that young woman he would return.

After he departed, Pu Zhu had felt as though she had taken ill. In the daytime her mind wandered; at night she burned with restless heat, alone with a pillow, tossing and turning unable to sleep.

In two lifetimes, this was the first time she had ever fallen sick in this way.

It was entirely his fault—if not for the inexplicable things he had suddenly said to her before he left, how could she possibly be like this?

She could only keep herself busy so as to get through each day of waiting quickly.

She and Princess Ruo Yue grew increasingly close and visited each other often. She continued treating the sick among Wulei’s residents and helping them settle in. She also helped Li Xuandu finish the paperwork he had left undone—recording the service histories and compiling registers one by one for every soldier.

It was a curious coincidence: on the day she was doing the registrations, among the dozen or so men who had been rescued back with Zhang Shishan, she came across a young man called Qin Xiaohu. Not only did his name match that of the son of the family where she and Li Xuandu had once lodged at a farmhouse outside the capital—the hometown on his record matched as well. She immediately called the man over to ask, and sure enough, he was the second son of that old couple. According to Qin Xiaohu, not long after enlisting, he had been sent out here as an advance scout—and had been here for nearly ten years already. All those years, he had never stopped thinking of his parents back home. Hearing from Pu Zhu that both his mother and father were well, only that they missed him greatly, he wept on the spot, and turned to face his homeland, kneeling and kowtowing several times. The sight was so moving that even the soldiers who were normally joking and laughing carelessly all turned away to wipe their eyes.

Pu Zhu’s heart was full of feeling too. She quietly hoped for the day when the Western Regions would be pacified—and if the chain of beacon towers from Wulei to Yumen, idle for so many years, could be restored, it would at least allow these ordinary soldiers stationed beyond the frontier to send letters, and their families at home could receive word that they were safe.

Days thus passed one after another. Half a month was not long, yet it was not short either. That day—the last day he had promised her he would return—she bathed and dressed early and waited for him in the rear courtyard. She waited until the sun set, until the sky grew dark, until deep in the night, until the meal laid out under the grapevine trellis had gone completely cold—and still there was no sign of his return.

That night she lay awake long into the darkness, not because she was angry at him for breaking his promise, but out of worry—deep, profound worry.

She would not give up: when A’mu had fallen asleep, she slipped out alone late in the night, climbed the observation tower of the fortress, and sat hugging her knees, watching the direction of Yutan in the pitch-black night, waiting until the sky began to grow faintly gray—then, afraid of being seen, she descended from the tower and crept back.

If not for some unforeseen event, there was no way he would have agreed on a date and then not returned.

She had never hated waiting so much as on that night—waiting while she could do absolutely nothing.

Even if the road ahead were a mountain of blades and a sea of fire, as long as she could share the burden with him, she would not be afraid. She would have rushed into it with him—in fact, she longed to rush into it with him. Even if it was only as a small foot soldier waving a flag and shouting his battle cries.

That would be better than useless waiting.

In the days that followed, on the surface she seemed as if nothing was the matter—busy and occupied during the day. One day she even played a few rounds of polo on the newly cleared ball field with a group of soldiers who were clamoring to see her play. But after nightfall, she could not sleep, losing sleep night after night.

The scouts Ye Xiao had sent out to gather news had not returned so quickly either.

She waited in torment, going on in silence, until finally—this particular evening—while she was indoors, she heard the sound of familiar footsteps outside.

She stepped out.

At last, she saw Li Xuandu.

He was back. Five days after breaking his promise, he had come back.

Pu Zhu had imagined, more than once, what the moment of reunion would be like. She had thought she would leap up and fly toward him, and then throw herself into his arms and hold him tight.

But when the moment truly came—when she had truly waited and he had come back—she found she only stood there at the doorway, watching with a smile as he walked toward her in long strides, came to stand before her, and held her in his arms. He held her for a while, then lowered his head and kissed her deeply.

She closed her eyes. Her arms slowly climbed his shoulders, and at last, she held him tight.

After a long moment, when this passionate kiss finally ended, he smiled and explained: “Shuzhu, I’m sorry to have kept you. Something unexpected happened on the Yutan side and I was delayed a few days. Are you all right?”

Pu Zhu gazed at him, and a smile spread across her face again. She nodded: “I am fine. You are back safe—that is all that matters.”

He kissed her again. After a moment, he took her hand and led her inside, pressing her against the door, kissing her passionately again for a while—whispering against her ear, cheek pressed to cheek, and then he asked: “Did you miss me while I was gone?”

She said yes—she had missed him.

He seemed very pleased. He grinned broadly, scooped her up in his arms, and carried her to the bed.

At that moment, from outside came Luo Bao’s halting voice, saying that Deputy Governor Ye was looking for him and that it was something important.

Li Xuandu slowly rolled off her, lay back on the bed with eyes closed, one palm pressed over his face. After a moment, he let out a long breath, opened his eyes, reached over as if to comfort her and touched her cheek, told her to wait for him to come back, and then hurried out.