Pu Zhu finished readying herself, fastened her long cape, slipped out through the side gate of the palace, and under cover of night made her way once again to the tent she had only just left that morning.
She had not expected to find it empty.
Luo Bao told her that Prince Qin had been summoned by the Crown Prince in the middle of the night to step in at short notice for Chen Zhude and participate in the planning of the two-army training exercise.
As mentioned before, the court had mobilized tens of thousands of troops and come north to the hunting grounds — and apart from holding the great autumn hunt, another major purpose of the gathering was to conduct military drills and training exercises for the army.
This occasion was no exception.
The autumn hunt had entered its second half. Beginning several days earlier, ten thousand carefully selected soldiers had been deployed to a designated training ground and divided into two forces. Whichever side could be the first to seize a hillside that had been pre-selected to represent a city stronghold would be declared the winner.
The commanding general of one of the two forces was Crown Prince Li Chengyu; the other was commanded by Grand General Chen Zhude.
The formal battle exercise was to take place the following day, at which time the Emperor himself would be present at the training grounds to observe the drill. But General Chen had unexpectedly fallen ill that very day and vacated his position. No suitable replacement could be found at short notice. In the end it was the Crown Prince himself who spoke up and recommended his imperial uncle, Prince Qin Li Xuandu. The Emperor approved.
“The Prince was summoned not long ago — you and the Prince just missed each other by a step or two. Tonight there will likely be a military council with the generals — whether he will return or not is uncertain…”
Luo Bao knew this Princess Consort had no great fondness for him, and kept careful watch on her expression as he delivered his report.
Pu Zhu was deeply disappointed.
Since she had already come all the way here, she went ahead and entered the tent. She sat there in a dull, deflated state for a moment, then suddenly remembered something important. She promptly called Luo Bao in and ordered him to move the writing table out of the way and shift the bed to the spot where the table had been.
Last night, Luo Bao had spent the night in the small adjoining tent nearby, effectively listening through the wall the whole time. Even though he was a palace eunuch who had entered the palace as a child and was used to keeping his mind clear of such things, he had spent the entire night blushing and sleepless. This morning after the Princess Consort left and he tidied the space, he had found the brush, ink, paper, and ink stone on the writing table all in complete disarray — nothing in its proper place. He had quietly suspected that the writing table might have been put to rather different use the night before. Now, receiving this particular instruction, he dared not ask a single question. He immediately called in another attendant, and together the two of them moved the writing table away and shifted the bed to the position the Princess Consort had specified. After considerable bustling about, the task was finally done.
…
Li Xuandu received the imperial summons, changed his clothes at once, brought one or two attendants with him, and headed off to the training grounds. He was walking along the road when he heard the rapid thunder of hoofbeats behind him.
It was Ye Xiao, who had caught up.
He dismounted and stepped forward quickly, speaking in a low voice: “I heard that Your Highness has been summoned at short notice to enter the training grounds. I feared Your Highness might need men, so I came after you — I am ready to serve at Your Highness’s command at any moment.”
Li Xuandu said: “You have followed me for many years. Do you or do you not know what it means to obey orders?”
Ye Xiao paused.
How could he not know what Prince Qin meant?
That evening, when the little prince went missing, he had seen the Princess Consort in distress and shown himself to ask what had happened. Upon learning the situation, afraid the little prince might come to harm, he had received the Princess Consort’s orders and hurried off to find Prince Qin.
At the time, Prince Qin had already been displeased. Ye Xiao knew this perfectly well.
His departure that evening had been a lapse — he had failed to do as Prince Qin had instructed: to guard the Princess Consort every step of the way until she returned to the Western Court each day.
But his pursuit of Prince Qin now was deliberate.
The Princess Consort mattered greatly, it was true — but speaking honestly, in his own heart, Prince Qin’s safety came first.
Standing in as a replacement for General Chen in the training exercise was no small matter. And given Prince Qin’s sensitive position and difficult circumstances, he feared the other men present might not be trustworthy enough — and so he had come after him.
Hearing Prince Qin open with such a pointed question, he was not greatly alarmed. He only said quietly: “I thought Your Highness’s side might be more in need of men, so I took the liberty of disobeying. And before I left, I arranged for another man to guard the Princess Consort.”
Li Xuandu said coldly: “I told you to protect her during the autumn hunt. Throughout that time — even if the sky were to collapse, even if word reached you that I had died — you are not to leave her side for a single step. You have been with me for many years. There are things I should not need to spell out. I trusted you to understand.”
The words were extremely grave.
Ye Xiao was drenched in cold sweat and overcome with shame. He answered quietly, then turned and strode away at once.
Li Xuandu watched his retreating figure, then turned and entered the camp gate, presented his identity to pass through the guard post, and went directly to a large central tent in the middle of the barracks.
This was the command center for the training exercise. Inside, the lamps burned as bright as daylight. Crown Prince Li Chengyu was standing before a large sand table with a group of commanders from both sides involved in the next day’s exercise, debating tactics. He heard a guard announce that Prince Qin had arrived, looked up, and sure enough, there he was walking in.
Li Chengyu parted the crowd and came forward personally to meet him, smiling: “Grand General Chen fell suddenly unwell, and the other side cannot be left without a commanding head. Someone recommended Imperial Uncle, saying Imperial Uncle possesses the strategic vision to decide the outcome from a thousand li away — I agreed completely. For the position of commander of the other side to replace the Grand General, no one is more fitting than Imperial Uncle. I took the recommendation to His Majesty myself. Knowing Imperial Uncle is newly wed and must be deeply in love — like glue and lacquer — I feel I have imposed on Imperial Uncle. I offer my apologies!” He clasped his hands and made a show of begging forgiveness.
Li Xuandu broke into a smile and immediately caught the Crown Prince’s arm with his uninjured hand, stopping him from completing the bow, and said: “Your Highness flatters me. I have not half a measure of real ability — being listed here is an immense honor for me. I only hope I do not disappoint Your Highness and all those present.” He then exchanged greetings with each of those who came forward to meet him.
After the introductions, he stepped to the sand table and took a brief look at the positional arrangements for the following day’s exercise. He familiarized himself with the key personnel, took formal command of Chen Zhude’s side and its officers, then bid farewell to Li Chengyu and went into the large command tent that had originally been Chen Zhude’s.
Once he had entered the tent, he issued no new orders at all regarding the following day’s training plans. He simply told them to carry out the exercise according to Chen Zhude’s original plan. Then he went into a partitioned sleeping area at the rear of the tent, lay down fully clothed, closed his eyes, and slept.
For this training exercise, Chen Zhude had served as the commander of the second force, directing operations from the central command. Under him were generals who would actually lead the soldiers in the following day’s action; below them in turn were the deputy commanders and staff officers and others.
Seeing the Prince Qin arrive, issue a single instruction to continue with the original plan, and then immediately go to rest, everyone exchanged glances.
In fact, everyone understood perfectly well: although the Emperor had issued repeated orders that both sides should compete with full effort, with no laxness permitted, and that anyone who neglected their duty would be dealt with under military law — the training exercise the following day was, for the second force, essentially a sparring session to give the Crown Prince a win. It was a match they were required to lose. And yet devising a strategy for how to lose was no simple matter. Too perfunctory a performance, losing too obviously, would constitute dereliction of duty. The troops had to be maneuvered, put on a show of giving everything they had, and make it appear to the observers that they had simply been outmatched and outfought by the Crown Prince’s side — only then could they justify a defeat.
It was a thankless and difficult task: they could not disappoint the Emperor, nor could they give offense to the Crown Prince.
Chen Zhude had pleaded illness to escape the duty, and before leaving had provided no clear tactical plan whatsoever. The staff officers had been arguing among themselves in private. Now their new commander — Prince Qin — had arrived and was plainly there to fill a seat, going straight to sleep the moment he walked in.
The general beneath the command tent was named Liu — a third-rank Illustrious Valor General at court. He too had no desire to shoulder responsibility. Seeing everyone turn to look at him, he simply pushed the matter onto the deputy commander — a fourth-rank Cavalry Commandant — and found an excuse to leave as well.
This Cavalry Commandant was named Jiang Zhao, a distant relative of the Jiang family. Long ago he had served in the Northern Palace Guard under Li Xuandu’s command. After Li Xuandu’s downfall he left the Guard, transferred to the field army, and had worked his way up through years of hard campaigning to reach this rank. From the moment he heard the news that Prince Qin was stepping in to replace Chen Zhude as commander of the second force, he had felt anxious on Prince Qin’s behalf. Now, with the responsibility being passed down layer by layer until it finally landed on him, he saw no way out. He thought for a moment, then dismissed everyone and went to the rear tent himself.
Prince Qin lay resting on the bed, apparently asleep.
Jiang Zhao dropped to one knee and said quietly: “Lieutenant Jiang Zhao takes the liberty of disturbing Your Highness. May I greet Prince Qin. Has Your Highness been well these years? Does Your Highness still remember this subordinate?”
Li Xuandu opened his eyes, turned his face, and gazed steadily at this former subordinate officer of his. He did not speak at first.
The candlelight in the tent fell across his face. His expression was still and distracted, as if his thoughts were somewhere far away in the past. Then, after a moment, a faint smile touched his face, and he said: “No need for formality, General. I am no longer your commanding officer — I am merely a man of leisure these days. Please rise.” He closed his eyes again.
Jiang Zhao gave a deep, formal bow of his head to the ground before obeying and rising. He said: “Illustrious Valor General Liu has followed General Chen’s example in avoiding responsibility and pushed the command over to me. With no other option, I have come to disturb Your Highness’s rest. If I could receive even a word of guidance from Your Highness, this subordinate would be deeply grateful.”
Li Xuandu was silent for a moment, then opened his eyes and slowly sat up. “If I remember correctly, you were quite capable in the old days. Do you truly have not even a single thought about tomorrow’s battle?”
Jiang Zhao hesitated, then drew the sword at his side and crouched by the bed, tracing a rough terrain map on the ground with the blade. He pointed to one of the paths leading to the contested hillside position and said: “This is a shortcut known as the Eagle’s Path. If I am not mistaken, the Crown Prince’s force will march through here, intending to reach the hillside position quickly and seize the flag. Our side could lay an ambush here and surround them…”
He paused.
“If we are required to lose, we can only pretend to be outmatched. When the two armies meet face to face, we give an agreed signal, then retreat and allow them to pass. But such a retreat, if it looks too deliberate, I fear we would face accountability afterward and be unable to justify ourselves.”
Li Xuandu studied the terrain map on the ground, raised his hand, and gestured for him to hand over the sword.
Jiang Zhao quickly offered it up.
Li Xuandu took the sword and with the tip drew a mark in the northwest corner of the map. “Our side has a stretch of water here. Crossing the river by a circuitous route will bring us to the hillside position from the other direction. Give the order to reduce our defenses there — leave them a gap to pass through. As for the ambush position you just designated — fight for it with full force. Don’t let them through easily.”
Jiang Zhao’s eyes lit up. Then he hesitated again. “Your Highness’s plan is brilliantly conceived. Only — this subordinate worries that this water route is too unremarkable, known to very few. If they fail to survey the terrain thoroughly enough and overlook it entirely, with no intention of passing through that way, what then?”
Li Xuandu smiled faintly. “You are overthinking it. The ranks of the military have never lacked talent hidden among the common soldiers — what they lack is only the chance to make themselves known. This training exercise is precisely such a chance for the capable to distinguish themselves. For anyone with a sense of the larger picture, this route is not difficult to discover. And on that note — setting aside the very unlikely scenario where no one on the other side thinks of it — do you truly have no one capable of being useful on that side?”
Jiang Zhao felt it like a flash of lightning illuminating his mind. His admiration for the man before him — this fourth son of the late Emperor — swelled until he fell again to the ground in a deep bow of gratitude: “This subordinate understands! I will go and make the arrangements at once!” He began to rise, then suddenly recalled something else, hesitated, and said quietly: “This strategy is Your Highness’s. This subordinate would not dare take the credit. If my men ask who devised it…”
Li Xuandu held the sword by the blade, offering the hilt back to him. Jiang Zhao came forward and received it respectfully with both hands. He saw him pull his robe around himself and lie back down, and heard him say mildly: “Tell them it was something you and the staff officers worked out together.”
Jiang Zhao knew all too well what difficult circumstances the Prince had been navigating all these years. Thinking back to the days when Li Xuandu had ridden through the capital in magnificent splendor, and comparing it to his present constrained position — the contrast was doubly moving. He suppressed the emotions welling up inside him, answered respectfully: “This subordinate understands. Your Highness, please rest well. This subordinate takes his leave.”
He hurried out of the main tent, gathered everyone back together, and after staging a mock discussion — as though listening to proposals from the group — put forward the plan himself. The staff officers praised it without exception. He informed Illustrious Valor General Liu. General Liu, delighted to find such a sound approach, finally returned and began dispatching troops, making urgent preparations through the night for the next day’s action.
The following morning around the hour of Si, out on the open plain the warhorses were neighing, the soldiers grim and armed to the teeth, two armies drawn up face to face. On a ridge near the final contested hillside position — a ridge that commanded a panoramic view of the entire field — a viewing platform had been set up.
Banners bearing the Blue Dragon, White Tiger, Vermilion Bird, and Black Tortoise snapped and rippled in the wind. Emperor Xiaochang presided in person. Shangguan Yong and Lord Yao — the two highest-ranking officials among those in attendance — flanked him on either side; the other ministers took their seats in their proper order.
Because the two commanding generals were not directly involved in the fighting, their command positions had also been set up on the viewing platform.
Crown Prince Li Chengyu and Prince Qin Li Xuandu were each dressed in full battle armor, seated opposite each other on the left and right. At intervals, swift scouts came and went with urgent reports, relaying the real-time status of both sides’ engagement.
The Emperor led the assembled company in the rites of sacrifice to heaven, then declared the engagement begun. The atmosphere grew tense.
Not long after the fighting started, a report arrived from Crown Prince Li Chengyu’s side: according to the original plan, half the force would draw the enemy’s attention and pin down the main body, while the remaining troops quietly moved toward a secret shortcut they had scouted earlier. Once they passed through successfully, the final hillside position would be theirs for the taking.
Li Chengyu’s mood was excellent.
He had prepared meticulously for this training exercise, giving it everything he had. For the past several days he had not even returned to the palace — he had eaten and slept at the barracks and personally overseen every tactical detail. His confidence was sky-high.
Receiving the report, he had the message relayed to the signaling officer.
The signaling officer went quickly to the large sand table spread before the Emperor’s seat and ordered soldiers to mark the first force’s route of advance on the sand table.
Shangguan Yong, Lord Yao, and the others gathered around the side of the sand table, pointing things out and nodding in approval.
Li Chengyu glanced across at Li Xuandu, seated opposite him.
His expression was serious. He was listening to a scout conveying a report.
Li Chengyu could not suppress the fierce jealousy surging up in his chest. He clenched his fist quietly; the veins on the back of his hand bulged and stood out like cord.
He was the Crown Prince — second only to the Emperor, ten thousand above everyone else — yet he could not protect one woman he loved. He was forced every day to watch her side by side with his own imperial uncle, while he swallowed all his feelings and kept them buried.
The intensity of that anguish had completely erased whatever warm memories had once lingered in his heart from the years of his childhood, when he had followed his imperial uncle Li Xuandu through the capital on horseback, hunting and riding.
Now all that remained was jealousy and a burning sense of ill-directed grievance. At times he even thought: if only he did not have such an imperial uncle — what would everything look like today?
Just as Li Chengyu was sinking into his own tangled thoughts and beginning to drift, the reports from the field suddenly changed. Out on the open plain, the engagement between the two sides had shifted.
New word arrived: the first force, in its effort to seize and break through a key position, had walked into an ambush laid by the second force. The other side was holding the line without yielding an inch. Both armies were at a standoff.
Li Chengyu’s expression changed slightly. He tensed.
A moment later, more troubling news arrived.
The detachment originally sent to pin down the second force’s main body appeared to have had its plan seen through as well. The second force had avoided engagement and drawn away troops to rush reinforcements to the other side. The first force’s main body, caught in the encirclement, was now in dire straits and struggling to hold on while waiting for relief.
No one had anticipated such a turn in the battle. The ministers who had moments earlier been praising the first force’s tactical arrangements all fell silent, waiting for further news.
Li Chengyu could not help looking across at Li Xuandu again.
He was gazing into the distance at the vast expanse of forest, his expression entirely calm.
Li Chengyu forced himself to collect his composure, urging the scouts to go and gather the latest intelligence.
Out on the plain battlefield, along the route through the forest that the first force had designated as the key passage to fight for, the scene was one of chaos. More and more first-force soldiers were being daubed with red paint.
This was the mark of death — it meant they were eliminated from the contest.
When the second-rank Dragon and Tiger General Shangguan Yao, who was directing the first force’s combat operations, learned of the situation at the front — encircled, the forward path blocked, and the enemy continuing to bring in reinforcements to strengthen their resistance — he was stunned. And furious.
He had not anticipated the other side mounting this kind of effort. It looked as though they were fighting seriously. If his own side lost — if the enemy seized the hillside position in the end — how would he face the Crown Prince?
He dared not be negligent. He immediately issued the order to call up the remainder of the main body for an all-out push. No matter what, they had to break through the encirclement. Even if only one man was left, as long as he could reach the designated hillside before the enemy, that would be victory.
The order passed down through the chain of command until it reached a century commander in the first force’s ranks — and stopped.
This century commander was Cui Xuan.
For this two-army training exercise, troop selection had not been restricted — in addition to regular military soldiers, Imperial Guard and Eagle Feather Corps troops were also eligible. Cui Xuan had passed the selection and entered the Crown Prince’s force, becoming a soldier of the first army.
Because he had previously survived the Ten-Man Gauntlet in the Eagle Feather Corps and earned a promotion, he had been given the rank of century commander for this exercise, leading a hundred men.
The officer who had come to deliver the order was a sixth-rank Cloud Cavalry Commandant. Seeing Cui Xuan make no move to obey, the Commandant raised his riding crop to strike — only to find it snatched from his hand. Cui Xuan yanked it and the man toppled forward off his horse and crashed to the ground.
The Cloud Cavalry Commandant was furious. He scrambled up and ordered his men to bind Cui Xuan. The soldiers around them hesitated. The Commandant grew angrier still, drew his sword, and lunged at the young officer who had defied his order — only to have the sword kicked out of his hand and to find himself knocked to the ground again. He came to his senses, was about to unleash a torrent of abuse — and found himself staring at Cui Xuan holding a blade against his neck, his expression utterly deadly. The Commandant swallowed his fury, forced himself to speak: “Cui Xuan — what do you think you’re doing? This is insubordination, open defiance of orders! If you delay the military situation and let the second force seize the hillside, ten heads of yours wouldn’t be enough! ” He shouted for his own men at the same time.
Cui Xuan turned his sword around and struck with the hilt — a hard, precise blow. The Cloud Cavalry Commandant crumpled with a split skull, unconscious.
Everyone looked on in shock, startled by how hard he had hit.
Cui Xuan casually sheathed his sword, swept his gaze around the men under his command, and spoke: “Terrain like what lies ahead is exactly what draws you into a trap. The second force has set their positions and they’re just waiting for us to walk into them. I warned of this yesterday — you all know it — but with my low rank, no one in charge paid it any mind.”
Everyone voiced their agreement, and the bolder ones began cursing the superiors who had led them wrong.
Cui Xuan gestured for silence. Once they quieted, he said: “You all come from the same background as me — Eagle Feather Corps, Imperial Guard. In the eyes of ordinary people you’re above them, naturally. But to men of rank and privilege, what do common-born soldiers like us amount to? Today we’re fortunate it’s only an exercise. If those were real blades, and we were facing a real enemy — we’d be sent to die for nothing! And when we died, would any of them blink an eye?”
The men were still silent, but resentment had begun to show in their faces.
Cui Xuan continued: “I’m a newcomer to the Eagle Feather Corps — you’ve been here longer than I have, and you know better than I do: every man of higher rank in the Corps, without exception, is the son of a great family or a noble clan! I fought my way through the Ten-Man Gauntlet with everything I had, and here I am — a paltry century commander. You give your flesh and blood in service to the court, and in return you’re put down and looked down on by those bloodsucking noble sons. Where is the fairness in any promotion here?”
Everyone nodded in agreement, the resentment growing stronger.
Cui Xuan went on: “And right now there is an extraordinary opportunity. I’ve been studying the terrain these past few days, and I know of a route that leads to the hillside position. It’s a detour, and the going is hard — but it gives us a better chance of success than what we’re being asked to do now. If you come with me and we break through and take the position first — that’s a tremendous chance to distinguish yourselves. Rest assured: if there is credit, I will not take it alone. If it fails and there are repercussions afterward, I will take full responsibility. You were only following orders.”
The soldiers exchanged glances with one another.
Cui Xuan was young, but since the day he passed the Ten-Man Gauntlet he had commanded considerable respect among the lower ranks of the Eagle Feather Corps. Hearing him speak like this, many were already itching to act. Those who were more cautious raised a question: “What if the second force has set defenses there too?”
“That’s exactly why we strike by surprise — catch them off guard. Fortune favors the bold. Do I need to say more?”
He had one of his trusted men gag and bind the Cloud Cavalry Commandant. Then he drew his bloodied sword and shoved it back into the scabbard, swept his gaze across the assembled men: “The Crown Prince is desperate to win. As long as we win in the end, the means don’t matter! Anyone who wants to make something of himself — follow me!”
The men’s blood ran hot with excitement. Not a voice of dissent remained. They kicked the Cloud Cavalry Commandant into the roadside grass and immediately set off.
Through the afternoon, the fighting between the two sides remained locked in a grinding stalemate.
Li Xuandu sat calmly throughout. Li Chengyu also managed to look composed on the surface, but inwardly he was agitated and restless. When yet another report arrived saying that the number of first-force soldiers daubed with red paint and forced to withdraw had already exceeded half, while the second force’s losses were not even a third, his face changed — he could no longer conceal it — and grew increasingly hard to look at.
The reports kept coming in, every one of them unfavorable to the first force.
Watching the first force’s situation on the sand table growing more and more disadvantaged, the expressions of Crown Prince Li Chengyu’s uncle Shangguan Yong and the others grew increasingly grave as well.
The Crown Prince was perspiring.
The heavy armor was stifling; the clothing beneath pressed tight and damp against his back. Just as he was seething with frustration and sinking into despair, he suddenly saw, in the distance at the contested hillside, a burst of red smoke rising into the air.
The smoke spread and bloomed across the sky — like a great flower opening wide.
This was the signal that someone had seized the hillside position.
At once a stir ran through the viewing platform. Without regard for the Emperor seated nearby, people stood up, talking in low voices, guessing at the outcome and speculating which side had won.
The Emperor gazed at the distant red smoke, his expression taking on a subtly grave cast.
A cold sweat broke out in the Crown Prince’s palms.
For a moment he could not rise. He looked across at Li Xuandu once more.
His imperial uncle was still sitting just as he had been — calm, composed, showing none of the elation that a victor should display.
He had lost again.
In a military training exercise of this importance, he had been beaten by him.
Li Chengyu felt a dull oppression in his chest, as though his armor had grown impossibly heavy — pressing the breath right out of him.
Below the ridge, a lone horseman was riding hard toward them, a pennant flying from the head of the horse fluttering in the wind. In an instant the rider was close, bearing the news of the outcome. The message was relayed upward level by level, and finally reached Shen Yang.
An expression of faint pleasure came to Shen Yang’s face. He immediately stepped briskly to the front of the Emperor’s seat and announced in a loud voice: “Your Majesty — the first force arrived first. They are victorious!”
The Emperor’s face broke into a faint smile, and he asked how it had come about.
Shen Yang said: “The first force made a show of trying to force through the Eagle’s Path in plain sight — but this was a feint, designed to draw the second force’s main body. Once they had successfully pinned down the second force’s main strength, they dispatched a separate surprise unit of approximately one hundred men, led by a century commander named Cui Xuan. This unit took a detour and attacked the second force’s water fortress in the northwest using fire. After breaking through the water fortress, they crossed and arrived first!”
The Emperor nodded. Shangguan Yong and Lord Yao, standing nearby, were overjoyed, clapping their hands and heaping praise on the Crown Prince’s brilliant planning.
Shen Yang turned to face Li Chengyu — who had not yet fully absorbed the news — and bowed with a smile: “Congratulations to Your Highness the Crown Prince! Your Highness’s brilliant command, leading the first force to seize victory!”
Li Chengyu’s heart was hammering. He watched as people came forward one after another to offer their congratulations, came back to himself quickly, and let the smile come to his face.
The Emperor had been watching the exercise all day and was somewhat fatigued. He ordered honors to be awarded for the meritorious, and personally offered a few words of consolation to the defeated Li Xuandu, then departed for the palace.
Li Chengyu saw the Emperor off, then immediately had that century commander brought to him, and promptly caught up with Li Xuandu who was about to leave, saying with a smile: “The engagement today was splendid to watch — thank you, Imperial Uncle, for your generosity in conceding!”
Li Xuandu said with a smile: “His Highness commanded with divine skill and won in the end — that was entirely as it should be. This minister dares not claim any credit.”
Li Chengyu waved his hand. “Imperial Uncle is too modest. My nephew recalls that some time ago, Imperial Uncle and I made an agreement to hunt together again. With each of us busy these past few days, the autumn hunt is almost over and I have not forgotten. If Imperial Uncle has a free moment in the coming days, might my nephew trouble you for a lesson or two?”
Li Xuandu agreed.
At this moment, one of the Crown Prince’s attendants came forward to report that the century commander named Cui Xuan had arrived.
Li Chengyu’s face lit up. He immediately ordered the man brought forward.
Li Xuandu turned his head and saw the young man from He Xi swing down from a galloping horse.
Sword-sharp brows, long narrow eyes.
It had been only a few months, yet his complexion was darker than before, his face leaner and more gaunt. His gaze had become utterly cold.
On that face, every last trace of the boyish youth Li Xuandu had seen when they first met in He Xi at the start of the year was gone.
His bearing now carried the killing weight of blood.
Li Xuandu was not unfamiliar with that quality.
Cui Xuan came forward in long strides, stopped briefly before him, dipped his head in a respectful greeting — “Your Highness” — then walked toward Crown Prince Li Chengyu.