A few days earlier, Yang Hong had been struck by a stray arrow while commanding the defense at Pipa Gorge, and he now stood bandaged and pale-faced, waiting for Li Xuandu. When Li Xuandu arrived, Yang Hong told him that the grain officer had just come to report again: the grain stores in the city were critically low, and the number of refugees was growing by the day. For now there were still a few gruel distribution points operating, barely managing to hand out rations. But in a few more days, once the provisions set aside for the refugees ran out, even if Pipa Gorge could still hold, things behind the lines would very likely descend into chaos.

As he spoke, though he struggled to control his expression, his deep anxiety was impossible to conceal.

Li Xuandu said nothing for a moment. He walked to the east window, gazed in the direction of Jingguan, and thought in silence. Then he turned his head abruptly. “Has Commander Yang ever considered taking Jingguan by force?”

Yang Hong stared at him.

If they seized Jingguan, they could allow those refugees to temporarily enter the neighboring commandery. Not only would this ease the severe overcrowding in the prefectural city — more importantly, it would give them access to the grain supplies of the nearby commandery, resolving their most pressing problem. It would have been ideal.

But Jingguan had been closed on the Emperor’s own personal order. Attacking it by force — what was the difference between that and open rebellion?

He had never before considered that such a possibility could exist. Hearing this proposal now from Prince Qin’s own mouth, after the initial shock, he fell silent and began to waver.

“Your Highness… this matter is of great gravity. This subordinate does not dare decide on his own…”

Li Xuandu said, “A fortress of gold and soup is only as strong as its grain supply. The relief force is far away and cannot arrive overnight. The refugees lack food, and for now a bowl of thin gruel a day is barely keeping them alive — but if the garrison soldiers’ rations run out, would the Commander really have them guard the city on empty stomachs? Extraordinary times call for extraordinary measures. I will handle this. I will go myself and take Jingguan by force. If the court questions it afterward, I will answer for it.”

As he spoke, his gaze was bright and fixed, and the resolve in his voice was sharp as a drawn blade.

Yang Hong’s heart steadied. He gritted his teeth. “Your Highness is worth ten thousand — how can you expose yourself to such danger! This subordinate will lead the troops to attack. Your Highness represents He Xi’s defense — I ask Your Highness to hold the line here on my behalf!”

Li Xuandu smiled slightly. “There is no need for Commander Yang to argue with me. Your wounds are not light — how would you manage an assault? And you have spent years in He Xi; you are better at defense than I am. Pipa Gorge still needs Commander Yang’s personal command to give the soldiers confidence. Leave Jingguan to me.”

The soldiers had long harbored deep resentment over the Emperor’s decision to seal the pass that day — among those burning with anger, not a few. The near-mutiny earlier had its root in exactly this. Now, hearing that Prince Qin intended to personally lead the assault on Jingguan, though they knew full well that attacking such a fortified pass would be extraordinarily difficult and near-suicidal, since Prince Qin himself was unafraid, every man’s blood ran hot, and they all clamored to fight at his side.

Jingguan was easy to defend and hard to attack. Its towers soared high, its terrain was like a natural barrier — it had always been regarded as the last and most impregnable gate on the western road into the interior commanderies.

A direct assault meant casualties.

Li Xuandu did not take this lightly. He organized the selection of volunteers willing to give their lives, worked out a meticulous attack plan to keep losses to a minimum, and labored through the night until dawn before returning to where she was staying.

He looked at the closed door and windows, and his footsteps gradually slowed, then stopped at the foot of the corridor steps. He stood there, uncertain how to proceed.

He had only just brought her back and steadied her heart, and now he was turning around to go and assault Jingguan by force.

He stood there for a moment, not knowing how to open this to her. Then suddenly he heard the door give a faint creak. He looked up and saw her appear in the doorway.

He had not returned all night. Though he had sent someone back with word not to wait for him and to get some sleep, how could she sleep when she was thinking about the situation in He Xi? She had dozed fitfully through half the night, waking and drifting off repeatedly, and woken early in the morning wanting to come out into the courtyard for some air. To her surprise, Li Xuandu was right there, standing at the foot of the steps. Seeing the dim early morning light, his figure motionless, she paused, then a smile rose on her face. She was about to step outside to go to him when Li Xuandu had already taken several quick steps up the stairs and reached her, taking hold of her arm.

“Why are you up so early? Your feet haven’t healed yet — why are you walking on them?”

He carried her inside and put her back on the bed.

Pu Zhu laughed. “I slept a long time yesterday during the day, and then all through the night as well — I’m not tired. My feet are more or less all right too; I can manage a few steps like that.”

As she spoke, she watched him in the faint dawn light coming through the window and noticed that he was silent — only reaching over to quietly and gently rub her calves, which had grown somewhat swollen with the pregnancy. She tilted her head slightly and studied him for a moment.

“You have something to tell me?”

Li Xuandu instinctively shook his head. He shook it once, then stopped, and held her gaze for a moment. At last he told her his decision about taking Jingguan by force.

“Zhuzhu — by my estimate, even if my aunt and the Protector-General’s Office relief force come at their fastest, it will still take at least half a month. If no new grain comes in before then, I fear we won’t be able to hold that long. This matter doesn’t necessarily have to be me — but Yang Hong is wounded and truly cannot manage it, and attacking Jingguan is tantamount to insurrection. If I don’t go in person, the soldiers may have misgivings and hesitate, and if their spirits aren’t high enough in an assault like this, taking it will likely be hopeless — nothing but wasting the soldiers’ lives. And Jingguan is formidably situated — it is the empire’s foremost western pass…”

Pu Zhu slowly sat up straight. The smile on her face faded.

He stopped speaking. He held her gaze steadily, and slowly took her hand in his — their fingers intertwined and held tight.

“Zhuzhu, don’t worry about me…”

He paused, and then suddenly smiled. His tone lightened.

“Didn’t you say that in your dream, I eventually became Emperor? I didn’t believe it at first, but the more I look at things, the more it seems to be the case. Think about it — attacking Jingguan is the same as raising a hand against the court. After that, whether I want it or not, Yang Hong and all those soldiers in He Xi who come with me to take that pass… they probably won’t let me walk away from it either…”

Pu Zhu suddenly scrambled up, got to her knees on his lap, reached out, and wrapped her arms tightly around his shoulders and back. She pressed her face against his shoulder.

He went still and let her hold him like that. Slowly, he reached out his arms and held her in return, hands encircling the waist that had grown daily more ample.

The two of them held each other in silence for a while. Then at last Pu Zhu released him and smiled. “When do you leave?”

He said, “The men are already selected and assembled. No time to delay — we set out tomorrow.”

Pu Zhu looked steadily at him, and said each word with deliberate care, “Good. Come back victorious, and soon. Your child and I will be waiting for you to return.”

…

The commander defending Jingguan was a man called Ma Yi. He was of distinguished family background, and had originally held the title of Fourth Rank Brilliant Valor General. After Li Chengyu gave the order to seal the pass, he was promoted on the spot to Third Rank Splendid Bravery General. It should be understood that without genuine merit, or the backing of a powerful family, a military officer hoping to cross from Fourth Rank into the Third Rank circle was, even if not quite impossible, far from easy. And yet now, he had been elevated directly past the subordinate third rank to become a full Third Rank general out of nothing — he was deeply grateful, and he had assessed the He Xi situation himself, reckoning that Yang Hong would not be able to hold on for much longer. That Yang Hong had endured to this day while still holding Pipa Gorge, never letting the Eastern Di reach the foot of Jingguan, was something Ma Yi privately admired.

But admiration was one thing. He had always looked down on Yang Hong’s origins, and defying the Emperor’s order was something he was absolutely incapable of. Ever since the He Xi war broke out, he had ordered his men to stand in strict and absolute defense — daily readiness, fully on guard — and had prepared sufficient fire oil, rolling logs, and other defensive materials for combat, all of it in preparation against the Eastern Di attacking and assaulting Jingguan.

Early on the fifth watch that morning, he was still in the midst of a dream when a battle report jolted him awake. Scouts had discovered a force heading for Jingguan, apparently carrying scaling ladders and other siege equipment. At first he assumed that He Xi had completely fallen and the Eastern Di were coming, but then he learned it was He Xi’s own soldiers — and then he was further informed that it was Prince Qin Li Xuandu personally leading the troops, coming to attack. He was thrown into panic and hurriedly summoned people to discuss countermeasures.

He was not ignorant of the Emperor in the capital battling Shen Yang’s occupying forces in the Eastern Capital, nor of the war flaring up on the northern frontier as well. Now that Prince Qin Li Xuandu had come personally to attack Jingguan, Ma Yi harbored not the slightest wavering. There could not have been. But in the end, a single remark from one of his trusted subordinates made up his mind.

That subordinate said, “If Shen Yang wins and takes the capital, General, submitting to him will not be hard, and in the future you might even advance further. But today, if the General submits to Prince Qin — even leaving aside that His Majesty the Emperor may well not be defeated — even if His Majesty were truly defeated one day and the realm passed to Prince Qin’s hands, the General sealed this pass for two or three months, sat by while He Xi fought and bled, and caused immense casualties among the soldiers and civilians. Prince Qin might spare the General’s life, but any hope of preserving your wealth and status going forward — impossible.”

These words threw Ma Yi into a cold sweat and thoroughly extinguished any thought of surrender. He issued a strict order for his five thousand troops to hold the gate with everything they had. He even moved all the fire oil and rolling logs he had prepared to use against the Eastern Di up onto the walls, to prevent the He Xi forces from storming the pass.

Li Xuandu led his troops to the iron gate at Jingguan, arrayed two thousand volunteers in formation, holding them at the ready outside arrow range, then sent out a soldier with a powerful voice to call for Ma Yi to come out and parley. The other side refused to show themselves for a long while. He gazed at the walls above — heavily fortified, a gleaming thicket of blades and spears, and between the battlements, the dark shapes of rolling logs already ranged in readiness. He knew that today it would come to a bloody siege, and ordered the battle drums to be brought forward. He himself took the lead, raised his great bow, and was just taking aim at the Ma-clan banner planted squarely in the center of the gate tower, about to shoot it in two, when from the opposite side of the gate — from within the wall — an iron-shafted arrow suddenly launched into the air, flying straight toward that same flagpole, and struck it dead center.

The force behind that arrow was tremendous beyond measure. Not only did it pierce completely through the flagpole — the explosive impact, with residual force that defied belief, sent splinters of wood flying in all directions. The wind gusted, and the upper half of the flagpole swayed drunkenly in the air a few times, until finally, amid cries of alarm from the soldiers on the wall, it snapped in two at the middle and toppled, bringing the general’s banner with it, and fell crashing to the ground at the base of the gate.

A commander’s standard is like the commander’s own head — not only a symbol of authority, but often regarded as an omen of how the battle will go. In the midst of a fight, a dedicated unit of soldiers is always assigned specifically to protect the banner from falling.

And yet today, before Prince Qin had even begun his assault, the banner on the wall had already been shot down by a single arrow — from inside the wall.

Ma Yi had only been too timid to show himself on the wall to parley with Li Xuandu, and had remained near the flagpole. Now he watched with his own eyes as his own banner was shot down by an arrow from someone inside the city — crashing down from the wall — and after the shock came fury. He turned to look and saw that along the road coming through the opposite gateway passage, a troop of men had appeared. The man at the front had a powerfully built frame and a commanding presence, leading approximately a thousand cavalry and infantry behind him, riding toward them.

He was greatly alarmed and, uncertain for a moment who this was, threw himself up onto the wall and leaned over to look. He could see the man wore a warrior’s helmet and battle armor, his bearing noble and impressive, his face as fierce and commanding as a hawk’s. The face seemed familiar, yet he could not quite place it. He was still staring when he heard the man suddenly call out in a thundering voice, “Ma Yi! This gate was built by the founding emperor to guard against enemy invaders. Today you turn it against your own He Xi comrades. That is precisely what a traitor to the nation does. If you do not open this gate at once, every man has the right and duty to cut you down!”

The man’s voice rang out like a clap of thunder, resonant and powerful, carried on the wind, entering the ears of every person above and below the gate.

Everyone was shaken. They could not help turning to stare.

“Jiang Yi!”

Ma Yi finally recognized him, and his face went white. He let out a cry of shock.

Jiang Yi rode forward like a shooting star, and in an instant arrived before the gate, pulling his horse to a halt directly in front, tens of zhang from the gate.

“He Xi is fighting with only a few tens of thousands against one hundred thousand Eastern Di marauders. You are a battle-hardened general — do you not know that when the lips are gone, the teeth feel the cold? If He Xi falls, Jingguan is next! Open this gate now! Make amends for your wrongs — there may yet be a road forward for you!”

Who among the officers and soldiers of these border commanderies had never heard the name of Jiang Yi, the God of War? Though he had fallen from the sky like a dying star these past years, no longer illuminating the Li dynasty’s heavens, his former reputation remained undimmed.

At the sight of this man — and the realization that this was the Jiang Yi of legend, the one who had gone white overnight — the men on the walls and below them erupted in a stir. For a moment they forgot entirely about what was happening at the gate, all craning their necks to stare, heads together, whispering furiously.

Ma Yi had not expected Jiang Yi — absent from the scene for so many years — to appear like a soldier dropped from the heavens on this very day. Pressing down his inner turmoil, he drew himself up and shouted back, “Jiang Yi! If I recall correctly, you are at present nothing more than a horse farm manager! On what authority do you come here issuing orders? Let me remind you — if you do not leave at once, do not blame me for what follows!”

Jiang Yi let out several great laughs. “Ma Yi — do you see that dent in the iron door three feet to the left of your foot? That was left there when I drove a serpent-spear through the chest of the Eastern Di king and pinned him to this very gate, the year I fought the Eastern Di in He Xi!”

He cut the laughter off abruptly. His gaze became sharp as a blade, sweeping over the officers and soldiers standing above and around Ma Yi.

“Every inch of ground beneath your feet is soaked with the blood shed by me, Jiang Yi, and the comrades who died fighting here beside me! Today the Eastern Di cavalry have come again — if you choose not to fight, so be it —”

He looked at the siege equipment set up on the gate tower.

“But you are turning those rolling logs and fire oil toward the very comrades still fighting back against them! I ask one question: are you people of the Li dynasty? Do I, Jiang Yi, have the standing to come here and speak to you?”

Every soldier whose eyes he swept with his gaze felt as though that stare passed directly through them. Confronted by his overawing presence and the righteousness blazing in his bearing, they could not help feeling shame, one by one.

Several soldiers who had already been ordered to raise the rolling logs and brace them atop the battlements slowly set them back down and stood with their hands at their sides.

Ma Yi called out with all the force he could muster, “I have the Emperor’s orders! Jiang Yi — how dare you defy the Emperor’s command and openly rebel?”

Jiang Yi replied, “The ruler is the least; the state comes next; the people are of paramount importance. When a ruler governs all under heaven through private desire, the subjects and the people need not obey.”

Ma Yi turned and ordered the archers to immediately shoot Jiang Yi — to shoot him dead.

The row of archers on the gate tower exchanged glances, hesitating. No matter how Ma Yi railed and commanded, not one of them moved to draw his bow first.

Ma Yi drew his sword and charged at the nearest archer, cutting him down with a single stroke. The man screamed and collapsed into a pool of blood.

“Shoot! If you dare defy orders — that is your fate!”

Under Ma Yi’s raving and threats, men began one by one to reluctantly raise their bows and release arrows — but the arrows were so weak and limp that the majority fell short and embedded themselves in the ground before even reaching Jiang Yi’s horse.

Ma Yi, seeing this, was beside himself, grinding his teeth, raising his sword to continue cutting down the archers — when Jiang Yi roared, “Ma Yi — soldiers are like sons. You slaughter them without restraint. What right do you have to call yourself their commander?” He led the soldiers behind him straight to the foot of the gate tower, dismounted, and strode up the steps of the wall.

Below the gate, the majority of Ma Yi’s soldiers only watched in silence. No one moved to block the way. Those of Ma Yi’s personal loyalists who drew their swords were killed swiftly by the soldiers who followed Jiang Yi. Jiang Yi moved forward without obstruction, mounted the gate tower, and with a single swift stroke, cut down Ma Yi — who had attempted to flee — right there on the tower. He raised his bloodied blade and swept his gaze over all those present. “Ma Yi is dead. Anyone who dares resist will be shown no mercy.”

He stood magnificent and commanding, like a god descended from heaven. The assembled soldiers were so awed by his presence that they laid down their weapons one by one. Only ten-odd of Ma Yi’s personal loyalists bellowed to their men to charge.

“Brothers — follow General Jiang’s command! Open the gate! Let us go together and kill the Eastern Di!”

In the ranks, several veteran old soldiers whose blood had been running hot all along charged forward, rallied their men, and cut down those ten-odd men in a storm of blades.

Quite a few among these gate-garrison soldiers were themselves men of hot blood, who had already long resented Ma Yi. Now, seeing Ma Yi killed by Jiang Yi, they turned sides one after another.

On the western side of the gate, Li Xuandu had sensed something unusual on the other side of the gate tower and had already ordered the soldiers to hold off the assault. While he was watching and waiting, a head was flung down from above and rolled across the ground.

Everyone looked at it, and recognized it as the head of Jingguan’s defending commander, Ma Yi. All were astonished.

From the sounds of shouting and battle that had drifted over from the gate tower with the wind just now, Li Xuandu had already half-guessed who had come. He was still gazing up when from the other side rose a burst of cheering, and the iron gate that had been sealed for months slowly swung open from within. A man with a smile on his face strode out through the gate, leading a great number of soldiers behind him, and paid his respects.

“Uncle Jiang!”

Li Xuandu swung down from his horse in one swift motion and walked quickly toward him, catching his arm just before Jiang Yi could bow fully to him and stopping the salute.

“Uncle need not stand on ceremony!”

But Jiang Yi was not to be dissuaded. He stepped back several paces and completed the bow in full, then said with respectful formality, “Jiang Yi pays his respects to Your Highness Prince Qin. He Xi is in peril today — thinking of my old ties to He Xi, I could not decline. I have come specifically to assist Your Highness in defending this land against the enemy.”

When his words ended, the multitude of soldiers following behind him followed his lead and bowed down before Li Xuandu, calling out their willingness to fight and serve together.

Li Xuandu helped Jiang Yi to his feet. The two men looked at one another. He clasped Jiang Yi’s hand tightly and gave him a solemn, heartfelt nod.

At Pipa Gorge, the Eastern Di forces, after several days of rest, had launched an attack of unprecedented ferocity that morning. Yang Hong was holding the line with his soldiers, fighting bitterly, when word suddenly came that Prince Qin had received the help of Jiang Yi — who had come out of his long seclusion — taken control of Jingguan, and was leading five or six thousand reinforcements to join the battle. The soldiers who had been near the end of their endurance erupted with renewed fighting spirit. After the forces joined up, they planned a counterattack. Under Li Xuandu and Jiang Yi’s joint command — though their numbers were still far fewer than the enemy’s — morale surged, and in battle after battle they won victories, steadily pressing the Eastern Di army back and pushing the defensive line all the way back to the Yumen Pass.

Half a month later, a great force came riding in from the west, beyond the pass — banners flying and spears flashing like bolts of lightning, ten thousand horses thundering forward. It was the troops from the Protector-General’s Office and the Western Di allies, who had crossed mountains and rivers to arrive at last. The two forces joined together and launched an attack from both within and without. They shattered the Eastern Di decisively. The enemy’s host collapsed and broke apart, and the various clans followed their respective kings in flight. The combined force gave chase. In this one engagement alone, they took over ten thousand heads. It was a complete and resounding victory.

When the news reached the prefectural city, the people inside and outside the walls celebrated. Pu Zhu heard of the great victory and was overjoyed.

On this day, accompanied by several maidservants, she was taking a walk in the courtyard when she saw Yang Hong’s wife, Madam Zhang, come hurrying in with a broad smile. “Princess Consort,” she called out, “look who has come!” Before her words had finished, Pu Zhu heard the sound of someone running in at a sprint, and turned around. Huaiwei had arrived.

She had already heard that Huaiwei had come to He Xi with the army on this expedition, but had not seen him until now.

Nearly two years had passed since they last met. The little prince she remembered had shot up dramatically in height — he was already taller than Pu Zhu by now — and bore no trace of the round and chubby figure she remembered. He had grown into a sturdy young boy, a gold-handled knife at his waist, full of spirited energy.

Pu Zhu barely recognized him at first. Then Huaiwei made that last leap forward, called out “Sister-in-law!” with a shout of pure delight, and from between his brows and eyes the expression that shone through was unmistakable. She came to herself then, called out to him in return, and hurried toward him.

“Sister-in-law, don’t move — I’ll come to you!”

He took a final great step to land in front of her, not even fully settled when his eyes locked onto her abdomen. “Sister-in-law, you have a little baby inside your belly?”

Pu Zhu couldn’t help laughing, and nodded.

He let out a sound of pure wonder. “Sister-in-law, you’re amazing! When the little baby comes out, if it’s like me, I’ll teach him to ride and fight. And if it’s a little niece, I’ll be the horse and let her ride me!”

His eyes sparkled with hopeful anticipation as he said this.

Pu Zhu laughed and gestured for him to sit, and had food and drink brought. He grabbed a delicate pastry and took a large bite, then let out a sigh of contentment. “The things here at Sister-in-law’s are just so much better! In Silver Moon City, I’m always thinking about food I’ve eaten here before. Sometimes I even dream about it, and then I wake up and it’s gone!”

Pu Zhu pushed the entire tray toward him, then asked about the Great Princess Imperial Jin Xi and how things had been with her.

Huaiwei said everything was fine.

“This time, when Fourth Brother sent people with the message, I wanted to come. Mother wasn’t comfortable with it — she didn’t want to let me, only wanted to send Shanyuan to lead the army. I told her: only lambs stay inside the pen. An eagle soars in the blue sky! I’m grown up now. Back in Silver Moon City, plenty of princes from the various clans who are about the same age as me have already taken wives! Mother finally agreed, and so I came. I’ve been wanting to come see Sister-in-law for a long time — it was just that the battle wasn’t finished yet, and it was only a few days ago that we finally chased the enemy away, so I came here right away. It’s just so much better at Sister-in-law’s. Here I can do whatever I want — over there, I can’t even smile freely…”

As he spoke, he couldn’t even eat anymore. He let out a long sigh, and sprawled back in his seat with a furrowed brow, grumbling.

Such a young age, yet already shouldering the responsibilities of a ruler — even with the Great Princess Imperial helping, for a boy with Huaiwei’s free-spirited nature, the hardship and pressure could well be imagined.

Pu Zhu offered him words of comfort, telling him that heaven had given great responsibilities to him as a great gift. They were still talking when Madam Zhang came hurrying in again, this time with another piece of news: the Lady Ningfu had also just arrived.

“What an auspicious day this is — one honored guest after another!” she said with a cheerful smile.

A burst of joy rose in Pu Zhu’s heart. Huaiwei was even more delighted, leaping up from his seat at once, shouting out that he would go and receive her, and bolting out like a whirlwind.

Pu Zhu went out herself to welcome her in person.

Jiang Yi’s ability to arrive in time this occasion, and cause Jingguan to open without a fight — Li Hui’er deserved much of the credit.

She had only just walked out to the covered walkway in the courtyard when she looked up and saw Li Hui’er walk in, a long coat draped over her shoulders, accompanied by Huaiwei.

It had been a long time since they’d seen each other. Her originally radiant and lovely face looked noticeably thinner and more drawn, and as she walked inside listening to Huaiwei’s happy reminiscing, though her face wore the smile of someone reunited after a long separation, there seemed to be hidden in that smile something that weighed on her mind. Then all at once she caught sight of Pu Zhu coming out to receive her, and she stopped in her tracks.

“Hui’er!” Pu Zhu called to her with a smile.

“Auntie!” Li Hui’er’s eyes brightened. She called out joyfully and lifted her skirts to run toward her. When she reached her, she called “Auntie” again, still smiling — but her eyes had suddenly gone red.

Pu Zhu had been told several days earlier by Li Xuandu, who had returned briefly during a lull in the fighting, that after the Empress Dowager Jiang passed away, Hui’er’s circumstances had changed drastically — she had been detained by Cui Xuan for a period of time. Seeing her like this now, her heart ached too. She took Hui’er by the hand, brought her indoors, held her, and spoke softly to comfort her.

Li Hui’er could no longer hold back. She buried her face in Pu Zhu’s embrace and silently wept. As she listened to Pu Zhu’s comforting words, she shook her head. “Auntie, it isn’t my own situation I’m sad about. I’m all right. It’s thinking of the Grand Empress Dowager and Nanny Chen that makes my heart ache. When the Grand Empress Dowager passed away, Nanny Chen followed her in death. I know it was all Empress Dowager Shangguan’s people who forced her to it. Empress Dowager Shangguan got what she deserved — she was killed by the rebel forces when Princess Imperial Li Lihua’s people stormed the palace. But Nanny Chen… she can never come back…”

Huaiwei came inside after them.

The news of the Empress Dowager Jiang’s passing had been passed along to the Great Princess Imperial by Pu Zhu, and Huaiwei had been told as well. Now, hearing Li Hui’er bring it up — and learning that even Head Lady-Official Chen, who had always been so kind to him, was gone — he could not help being overcome with grief too.

Pu Zhu also felt deep sorrow thinking of the Empress Dowager Jiang. But seeing the two before her, Hui’er and Huaiwei, both teary-eyed, she pressed down her own feelings, took out a handkerchief, wiped their tears away, and said, “Rest easy. Prince Qin and General Jiang — they will certainly fulfill the Grand Empress Dowager’s wishes. When the time comes, we will all see that her remains are laid to rest, along with Nanny Chen’s, in peace and with the proper honors.”

Li Hui’er nodded, eyes still red, but the tears finally stopped. Her face broke into a smile. Madam Zhang had already had a room prepared for the guests, and they were invited to stay over. That evening, after dinner, Pu Zhu and Li Hui’er — whom she had not seen in so long — shared a room for the night, and as they lay on their pillows chatting, she asked Hui’er about the time she had been imprisoned by Cui Xuan.

Li Hui’er said, “After he arrested me, beyond pressing me for the whereabouts of the list of names, he didn’t do anything else to me. Then several months ago, he was dispatched by the Emperor to fight in the northern frontier and took me along, keeping me confined there. One day, without explanation, he suddenly had me released — didn’t say anything, just had people escort me to find Uncle Jiang. When I found Uncle Jiang, I wrote out from memory the list of over a hundred names I had memorized. Uncle Jiang settled me in and then left. A few days ago, I heard that there had been a victory here and the enemy had been driven out. I was desperate to see Auntie, so I found my way here.”

The hothouse flower that had once grown up under the Empress Dowager Jiang’s protection had been through wind and rain, and was growing stronger and more resilient day by day.

Pu Zhu felt a quiet admiration. Then her thoughts turned to the news she had learned a few days earlier.

Here in He Xi, the crisis was resolved — but the situation in the northern frontier was still extremely tense. Moreover, it was said that Li Chengyu had recently issued yet another urgent edict commanding Cui Xuan to return to the capital. He had refused once again, citing the critical state of the battle. Li Chengyu was furious, and on the grounds that his motives were suspect, had ordered his grain supply lines cut off.

A heaviness settled over her heart.

Li Hui’er, who had appeared to have drifted off to sleep with her eyes closed, suddenly opened them. She asked quietly, “Auntie — that Cui person. You’ve known him for so long. Is he a good person, or a bad person?”

Pu Zhu met her gaze for a moment, then said, “Good person or bad person — it comes down to a single thought. I’ve always believed that no matter how he changes, he’ll still be the Cui Xuan I used to know.”

Li Hui’er seemed to half-understand. She fell silent, and gradually, she fell asleep.

Pu Zhu lay awake. Deep in the night, unable to help herself, she rose and wrapped a coat around her shoulders and sat down and wrote a letter. The next day she had someone dispatched with orders to deliver it to Li Xuandu as quickly as possible.

…

On the northern frontier, Cui Xuan led his soldiers and officers in fighting back and forth over that boundary river against the Eastern Di — back and forth, back and forth. In these several months, this had happened four or five times already.

The river ran red, then cleared. Cleared, then ran red again.

For three days he had not eaten a full meal.

On this day, the dying sun bled across the sky. Cui Xuan — soaked head to toe in red, even the whites of his eyes bathed in blood — was cut down by yet another stroke on that hellish battlefield.

He let the long-bladed saber in his hand — its edge dulled from all the killing — hang point-down against the ground, propped against it to support his swaying body, fighting with everything he had not to fall.

This time, he thought — it should be the last battle.

That thought surfaced in his mind.

How sad, that victory would ultimately not belong to them.

He, and those already dead, and those still remaining on this battlefield who had not run but would themselves be killed very soon — they were the losers in this struggle over the boundary river.

Their Emperor had given the order to sever their supply lines.

He felt life leaving him, flowing out with the blood that welled steadily from his body, disappearing moment by moment.

When all the blood was gone, he knew, he would die.

In this moment, at the end of his life, there was no fear in his heart.

He felt only a blankness.

What had he lived for — what had been the purpose of his life?

That thought drifted through his near-empty mind, and briefly, his past swept through it.

Was it not to rise above others — so that as long as he made it up and secured his footing at the heights, he could tread underfoot all those who had ever put him down, and damn the consequences for anyone who came after?

When the capital fell into danger, the Emperor had summoned him back multiple times. He ought, by rights, to have obeyed — to have gone back first and protected the capital.

If the capital fell, the great edifice he had built would crumble with it.

But he had not returned. He had driven himself into a desperate corner, all the way to this final moment.

He had, as he had predicted he would, lost his gamble.

But he felt no regret.

This had been his own choice.

Even though he himself did not know why he had made it.

Perhaps because he had not wanted to let down the boy from the borderlands — born there, raised there, who at fourteen had taken up a blade and stepped onto the battlefield and cut down the heads of invaders.

Or perhaps because he had not wanted his little liege lady, on some future day when someone mentioned his name, to let her expression go indifferent — perhaps even carry a trace of contempt — and say dismissively: oh, the one who abandoned vast stretches of frontier territory and retreated without a fight?

The boundary river turned wholly red. The surface of the water, piled thick with floating bodies in every direction, ran sluggish and slow.

One wave of enemies barely killed before another, even larger, came crashing in — closer and closer.

They had crossed the river, and were advancing in his direction.

He struggled, and finally managed to stand straight one more time. With the last of his remaining strength, he gripped the saber in his hand and dragged himself — step by step — toward one of the enemies charging at him.

The enemy was nearly upon him. The man was baring his teeth in a savage grin, raising his blade toward him, and Cui Xuan was about to throw himself forward — to take the other man down with him — when a sharp arrow flew from behind him and drove itself into the man’s throat.

He went still.

Faintly, he thought he could hear shouting and battle sounds rising from behind him.

The soldiers still alive around him, their bodies covered in blood, turned their heads. But he — it seemed as though even the strength to turn his head was gone.

He stood rigid and motionless, until his deputy commander’s voice of wild joy broke into his ears: “General! Prince Qin has come! Prince Qin has brought the Que people to reinforce us!”

Cui Xuan slowly turned his head.

Banners and battle-axes filled the hills, blocking out the sky.

Through the hazy red of the light before him, he saw a familiar figure, riding hard in his direction.

He fell back, face upward, and went straight down.

He thought he had died. But in the end, he found he had not.

He slept a sleep — long, long — and in its depths, dimly, he even began to dream. He dreamed of the boy, and of his little liege lady. When he had first met her — that boy who had grown up rough as the gobi and gravel of the borderlands — he had never seen, not in waking life nor in any dream, a girl in all the world so beautiful. She had no need to do anything, or to open her mouth and ask for anything. Only let those bright eyes of hers look at him — only let her stand at the roadside, the gentle wind stirring the hair at her temple, and wave her hand to him — and whatever she wanted, he would have given her. Heart and liver, a hundred deaths, and no regrets.

Nor had he forgotten how, that day, the boy had wanted to give her a hairpin. And when she had gently declined, he had said: one day, she would put it on of her own free will.

Later he had come to understand what an arrogant and presumptuous boy that had been.

There was no such chance now.

There would never be one again in this lifetime.

But if she sometimes thought of him in the days to come, if in her heart there still remained some small trace of that boy’s shadow — then it had been worth it.

He had always refused to let her think poorly of him.

“My little liege lady…”

From somewhere deep in his dream, a blurred murmur slipped from Cui Xuan’s throat. The sound startled the lean young man sitting at the campaign desk in the center command tent, bent over the candlelight reading the scroll in his hands.

Deep in the night. On all sides, silence reigned.

He lifted his brow faintly, glanced toward the figure on the bed — the young man who had not yet woken from his grave injuries — then let his eyes fall again, turned a page, and went on reading quietly.