Some hundred li to the northwest of Que’s capital lay a stronghold known as Qinglong Fort. This was the only passage leading northward to the capital, and a crucial gateway protecting Que from direct attack by northern enemies.

Li Sida had been building up this position for many years, with the goal of making Qinglong Fort an impregnable rampart. When word arrived today that Dongdi’s Left General was sending ten thousand cavalry from the north, he arranged for the noble general of the He clan to lead a separate force out of the city to hold position on the flank, then personally led his troops racing to Qinglong Fort to intercept the enemy. The two sides’ cavalry converged — on the open plain, a great battle was about to erupt.

The Di kingdom’s cavalry were fearless and ferocious, every one of them like a bloodthirsty hungry wolf. But the Que fighters were equally fierce and valiant, fearing nothing.

The two sides met head-on in a direct clash, blades flashing and blood flowing, locked in a brutal fight — and then another piece of news arrived. Bad news.

The Que kingdom forces had not anticipated that the Guo kingdom would also send five thousand troops, sweeping around Qinglong Fort and heading straight for the capital.

The Guo kingdom lay to the northeast of Que. To the north were tall mountains and dense forests — Di cavalry could not cross over them — and so in the long years of warfare and conflict, Guo had managed to survive, becoming the only small state still standing in this region besides Que. One might say they existed by leaning on Que. Once Que fell, the Di cavalry could pass through Que territory and strike directly at Guo — hence, for generations, the two had been mutually dependent like lips and teeth. Decades ago, when the Que people had sent troops to help the Li dynasty in the great battle against the Di kingdom, the Guo people had also joined the fight alongside them.

Just a few days before, on the King of Que’s birthday, the Guo kingdom had sent an envoy to present birthday gifts. Not in anyone’s wildest expectations had it turned out that in reality Guo had already turned to the Di side, and today they had coordinated with the Eastern Left General, driving a blade in from the flank!

Li Sida was furious and astonished.

With Di cavalry pressing in from this side and the battle growing desperate, he could not pull troops away to fight the Guo forces on the northeast front. He was grateful to have left behind the He clan’s army as a reserve — and could only hope the He clan could hold the Guo forces back.

Very soon, more bad news came.

The He clan had been completely unprepared for the Guo forces’ surprise attack. Their response was poor, and when the two sides clashed, the situation was passive. Not only that — the He clan’s general himself was seriously wounded, leaving the troops without a decisive leader. Forced to fall back, they had already retreated several tens of li.

Any further retreat and they would be at the gates of the capital.

Though the mountain pass served as a natural barrier, relying on a single city gate and natural obstacles for defense alone was too dangerous.

Li Sida was red-eyed with rage, grinding his teeth. He had finally made up his mind and was just about to issue the order to pull his troops back into Qinglong Fort — switching from a front interception to a determined defensive hold — and to divert part of his forces to rush back and reinforce the capital, when another rider came galloping up with a third report.

Prince Qin Li Xuandu had arrived in time, taken over command from the He clan, steadied the line, and stopped the Guo forces. The capital was safe for the moment.

Li Sida remembered clearly — when Li Xuandu had come to Que’s capital at age fourteen, they had also encountered a raid by Di cavalry. Several hundred riders at the time, led by a unit commander, had passed through Que territory and conducted a raid, killing more than ten people, seizing several Que women and valuables, then departing like a whirlwind. By the time the King of Que received word, those few hundred riders had already re-entered Di territory — fearing that rashly charging in might encounter the main force, he had to swallow his fury and let it go. Li Xuandu had been playing mounted ball with several dozen Que cavalry he had personally selected, and when the news reached him, he flew into a fury, drove his mallet straight through the leather ball, wheeled his horse around, and leading just the few dozen cavalry on hand, set off in pursuit. By the following morning, he returned with the women who had been abducted.

Later, according to the cavalry who had accompanied him, after catching up with the enemy he had used their disorganized formation against them — charging into their ranks alone, riding at the forefront, breaking into the cavalry formation and making straight for their unit commander, whom he cut down from his horse. The rest, terrified, abandoned the women they had seized and scattered in all directions.

Becoming a general of the Northern Bodyguard Falconer Corps at sixteen was not a position one could hold simply by virtue of being an imperial prince.

Li Sida trusted this nephew of his implicitly. Hearing that he had arrived and taken command of that right flank force, he finally allowed himself a small measure of relief. He gathered his focus and threw himself back into dealing with the enemy before him.

Darkness fell completely. The Di cavalry’s tide-like onslaught finally stopped. Li Sida seized this moment of respite to rest his men. Into the next day, he repelled several more assaults launched by the Di cavalry, never giving a single step of ground — but both sides had suffered no light losses. The open ground outside Qinglong Fort was littered in every direction with corpses.

Li Sida was deeply shaken.

The Di kingdom’s Khagan was growing old. His reign had accumulated little military achievement or glory by the standards of the Di people, who venerated strength — his standing among them had collapsed completely, and he was gradually losing control of the situation. These past few years, the Crown Prince and his younger brother, Prince Sushuang, had been locked in a contest for power.

Prince Sushuang had once secretly sent envoys to win Li Sida over, hoping he would lead the Que people to defect and jointly oppose the Li dynasty. The Left General who had attacked today was under the Crown Prince’s command, with his territory not far from Que. Over the years he had often sent small forces to raid and plunder — mostly in small numbers, not posing a great threat.

Since the great battle Jiang Shi had led against the Di kingdom decades ago, this was the first time in all those years that the Di people had launched such a fierce and large-scale attack against Que.

Was this a signal — that the Di Crown Prince had already crushed Prince Sushuang, seized power, and was now ordering the Left General to make an example of Que to intimidate the Li dynasty?

Li Sida fought on tenaciously, leading his brave warriors, while desperately waiting for new reports from the right flank.

By dusk, the Di cavalry’s assault had not only failed to weaken — a new batch of reinforcements arrived. Though their numbers were small, for the Que warriors it was nonetheless a heavy blow to morale.

Across from them, battle cries shook the heavens. A formation of a thousand Di cavalry arranged themselves in a wing-shaped horse array — surging like a mighty wave on the sea, poised to charge into the Que warriors who had been compressed all the way back to the front of Qinglong Fort.

Li Sida stared hard at the opposing line and gave the order to form up for a counter-charge. At that moment, in the middle of the opposing horse formation, a hundred paces away, there appeared a skilled archer wearing the plumed hat of a senior officer. The archer loosed an arrow straight at Li Sida.

By the time Li Sida perceived it, the arrow was already nearly upon him. He threw himself violently sideways and barely managed to dodge the arrow aimed at his throat — but felt a sharp pain in his shoulder as he did, and looked down to see the arrow had pierced through, protruding out the other side. Before he even had time to react, two more arrows came in rapid succession, striking the two officers beside him — one through the chest, the other through the face.

Li Sida felt cold sweat pouring down his back. He bellowed an order to watch for arrows from a distance. His personal guards surged up in response, quickly forming a protective barrier of shields around him.

From the opposing side came a burst of contemptuous cheering, accompanied by the thundering rumble of a thousand galloping hooves. On the flat ground it was as if a bolt of lightning had struck — truly chilling to the core.

Li Sida felt the fighting spirit draining away from his position, moment by moment. He snapped off the arrow shaft protruding from his shoulder with one slice of his sword, continued barking orders to hold the line, and at the same time issued commands to form up rapidly and meet the charge head-on.

Then suddenly, from behind him, an arrow was released — carrying a ferocious, devastating force — and shot toward the opposing formation, a hundred paces away, straight at the senior officer sitting high on his horse, who was accepting the cheers of his men with his head thrown back in great laughter.

The laughter had not yet ceased. The arrow arrived without a sound, and in an instant passed clean through his throat. His airway was severed on the spot.

With an arrow piercing his neck as if seized by the throat, he sat rigid for a moment — then his body suddenly pitched sideways, and amid the horrified cries of those around him, toppled headfirst from his horse to the ground.

The Que soldiers’ spirits soared immediately. They answered with even louder jeers back at the opposing side.

“It is Prince Qin! Prince Qin has arrived!”

Li Sida heard a new burst of cheering erupt behind him. He turned — and saw Li Xuandu riding forward with a bow slung over his arm. The arrow just now had been his. And behind him came an army — the very reserve force formerly under the He clan’s command.

Li Sida was overjoyed. He rode hard to get close and asked about the situation on the Guo front. Only then did he learn that last night Li Xuandu had laid a siege trap and sent a detachment to use the cover of darkness to strike at the Guo people’s pasture encampments, making a great display of force.

With deep winter fast approaching, for the Guo people — who lived primarily in nomadic encampments — cattle and sheep were as precious as gold. Believing Que had mounted a large retaliatory force to punish them for invading, the Guo forces were terrified, and immediately wheeled their troops around to defend their home. Halfway back, they ran straight into an ambush by the Que forces and were routed into a rout. Not only had the right flank been relieved — a great quantity of cattle and sheep livestock had been captured as spoils of war. With the crisis on that flank resolved, Li Xuandu left some troops behind and then immediately led the remainder racing to Qinglong Fort to reinforce.

Li Sida ordered this good news spread throughout the ranks, then burst into delighted laughter facing his own soldiers: “His Highness’s valor — back in the day, the young men of Que witnessed it with their own eyes! And today, His Highness’s wisdom and resourcefulness — you have all seen it for yourselves too! Form up! Let these men of yours display their own valor and show His Highness what they are made of!”

The war drums beat, battle cries shook the mountains, and the Que warriors formed their line and charged at the enemy opposite. The two sides collided once more in fierce combat.

Li Xuandu rode at the forefront and charged into the battle line, swept his blade, and with one stroke cut away half the shoulder of a Di warrior who was swinging his sword to cut him down.

The warrior’s face contorted in agony. Clutching his severed arm, just before he fell from his horse, the blood from his body sprayed out in a hot crimson burst — onto Li Xuandu’s face, drenching him head and face.

He wiped his face with a sweep of his hand, opened his eyes — expression blank — and continued driving forward, cutting into the center of the battle line.

All around was blood, severed limbs and dismembered bodies, and his ears were full of the agonized moaning of the wounded and dying — Di soldiers and Que soldiers alike — the scene so catastrophic it was as if he had fallen into a living hell.

Yet here, on this battlefield of slaughter and stalemate, all of this had become the ordinary.

Li Xuandu felt as though he had once again caught the scent of that familiar smell of blood — the smell from the Chang’an palace coup when he was sixteen years old, a smell that had never fully dissipated.

His eyes red as blood, he became as one with the killing blade in his hand. Blind to everything around him, biting down hard, his entire heart and mind reduced to a single word: Kill. Kill. Kill.

This brutal slaughter continued until nightfall. The sky turned overcast, dense clouds massing as if snow or rain were about to fall. The remaining Di cavalry, unable to hold on, used the cover of dusk to hastily withdraw and flee.

Before Qinglong Fort, victorious cheers rang out in wave after wave. After the battlefield was cleared, the remaining troops from the right flank also came marching in with great quantities of cattle and sheep spoils and a triumphant song. The two forces merged. Li Sida had his shoulder wound roughly bandaged, then gave the order to make camp on the spot, slaughter cattle and sheep, and reward the army after their hard-fought battle.

The Que warriors, high and low alike, competed with one another to drink toasts to Li Xuandu.

He had drunk a great deal and was bleary-eyed and hazy when he noticed the officer who had come to find him with a report the day before rushing over, leaning down to murmur something quietly in Li Sida’s ear.

Li Sida’s expression turned grave. He shot a quick glance at Li Xuandu, then immediately mounted his horse and rode off in the direction of the capital.

While Li Xuandu was mulling this over, a Que noble general who was already thoroughly drunk came up, warmly pressing wine on him and saying with a thick tongue: “Today we relied entirely on the Fourth Prince — when the day comes that the Fourth Prince takes the King’s granddaughter as consort, then he will truly be one of our Que family, and we will fight for the Fourth Prince through fire and water, whatever it takes…”

Li Xuandu’s expression darkened. He shoved this general aside with one hand, then stepped forward to stop the officer before he left, bringing him out of the camp and asking what had been reported just now.

The officer at first refused to say, hedging and hemming. Li Xuandu narrowed his eyes and slowly drew his sword, running a thumb along the blade. He drove it forward in a single thrust.

The officer was greatly alarmed and rolled out of the way, barely managing to dodge. Seeing that His Highness appeared to have drunk himself into a state, his eyes red and his expression turning ferocious, staggering forward with sword raised to stab again, the officer was terrified beyond measure and dared conceal it no longer. He fell to his knees: “Your Highness, spare my life! The news just arrived — the Di kingdom’s Prince Sushuang killed the Crown Prince two days ago and has been acclaimed as the new Khagan of Dongdi. The Left General refused to submit and took his troops in rebellion — which is why he attacked our Que kingdom, trying to seize territory. Just now Prince Sushuang sent a secret envoy here, sending the heads of the Left General and his son, saying that the ones who had masterminded the assassination attempt against His Highness Prince Qin on the road were also this father and son. He sends their heads specifically as an apology to the King of Que…”

Li Xuandu gazed in the direction of the capital, sheathed his sword behind him, mounted his horse, wheeled around, and galloped hard toward the capital.

Though it was deep in the night, the lamps in that sealed chamber of Que’s royal palace still burned bright.

Dongdi’s newly installed Sushuang Khagan had dispatched under cover of night a Han official who had surrendered to them to serve as secret envoy, seeking an audience. Not only had he brought the still-bloody freshly severed heads of the Left General and his son, but also a generous gift list, by way of apology to the King of Que. He proposed a joint alliance against the Li dynasty, pledging that as long as he held power he would never make war on Que.

After the envoy withdrew, Li Siye and Li Sida’s two brothers broke into fierce argument once more over this matter.

Li Sida believed they could observe things for a while and did not need to refuse outright.

Li Siye was firmly opposed, arguing that the reason the Sushuang Khagan was making overtures was that, newly come to power, he urgently needed prestige — which was why he was going out of his way to court Que, long regarded as an important vassal state of the Li dynasty.

“Second Brother — setting aside for the moment whether the Di people will keep their word — if our Que were to go over to the Di side, how would that leave the Fourth Prince? Wouldn’t his position in the Li dynasty be all the more precarious?”

Li Sida stopped short: “Do you think I want this? The Di people may be untrustworthy, but is the Li dynasty’s Emperor any better than the Di people? I truly cannot understand — why does Xuandu yield this far!”

Li Siye said: “Rebel or not rebel — when the day comes, I trust the Fourth Prince will have his own considerations. For now I still advocate making arrangements for the westward migration first. As for the rest — once we get through this difficulty, planning for later will not be too late!”

He paused for a moment.

“Save the people and lose the land, and both people and land are saved. Save the land and lose the people, and both people and land are lost! Besides — the Fourth Prince’s ability, today all of Que from high to low has witnessed once again. As long as he and our Que people are of one heart, why fear that we cannot restore our fortunes in future? If the tide turns against us, to retreat is to advance — advancing is not as good as retreating. Such a simple principle — why can you not take it to heart, Second Brother?”

Li Sida raged: “I will not migrate west a single step. I was born here and I would rather die here! My warriors will not go either!”

He brought his hand up and broke off the arrow shaft still in his shoulder with a sharp crack, ignoring the blood seeping out without stopping. He flung himself down in a prostrating bow before the King of Que, kowtowing until the floor rang, crying out with blood in his throat: “Father King! To have me abandon in this way the great heritage our Que people have built over hundreds of years — I am not reconciled to it. I truly am not reconciled!”

His words fell. The inner chamber was utterly silent.

Li Siye was also silent.

Candlelight played over the King of Que’s gaunt and aged face.

He sat quietly upon his throne, eyes half-closed, as if in a trance.

Then all at once, the door to the inner chamber was pushed open. The two Li brothers turned — and saw Li Xuandu walk in.

His robes were stained with blood. His complexion was pale as paper. His eyes were red. He strode straight to the King of Que and knelt before him, bowing his head to the floor in a deep and respectful bow, then said: “The Que people ought to have been able to live and work in peace. Yet today they face such a terrible dilemma, forced to struggle merely for the chance to survive. Not only that — I have caused my grandfather and uncles so much grief, every consideration given for my sake, constrained and maneuvered at every turn. I am filled with shame and guilt. I have always regarded you all as my blood and bone. That will not change — for as long as I live, it will not change!”

“I, Li Xuandu, swear to heaven — as long as there is a breath of life left in me, I will give everything I have to fight for Que’s sake, even if my body is shattered and my bones ground to dust. If that day truly comes when the Que people must migrate west to escape disaster, I will go with you — every single step, not one step apart. If you must fight to survive, though I have only a handful of useful, motley soldiers — at least they are still loyal to me — when the call comes I will answer, and I am willing to serve as vanguard!”

He paused. His two eyes, stained as if with blood, turned toward the two bloody heads still dripping before the King of Que’s table, and then slowly he continued: “But there is one thing I must say clearly — even if it is disrespectful to my elders, I must say it today. If Que intends to submit to Dongdi, from the day that is done, even if it means being unfilial, I can only draw my own boundary and cannot in conscience comply. Though my body carries the blood of the Que people, I am nonetheless of the Li surname. As long as Dongdi does not extinguish its wolfish ambition to devour our Central Plains, they are my great enemy. For the rest of my life — we shall never coexist!”

His voice was not loud, but every word hit the ground with the weight of iron.

Li Sida’s expression suddenly flushed dark red. He stared at Li Xuandu, words rising to his lips and then stopping there.

Li Siye quickly stepped in to smooth things over, going to help him up: “Fourth Prince, please do not misunderstand. I absolutely do not agree to it — your second uncle has a temperament like this, speaking in the heat of the moment, not truly meaning to make things difficult for you. Besides, how could Father King agree? Rest easy.”

Li Xuandu rose and turned to Li Siye, then knelt again before him, performing a full prostrating bow.

Li Siye was astonished and quickly moved to support him again: “Fourth Prince, what do you mean by this?”

Li Xuandu did not rise, but continued to kneel and said: “Uncle raised a matter with me a few days ago. I failed to give an answer promptly — causing Uncle to wait long. That was my fault. In our youth, though there was no formal marriage pledge between myself and my cousin, it was as if there were. I understood this in my heart. If I were still the Xuandu of before, I would certainly take my cousin as wife. But now I cannot. I am a man with no future, whose life may not be guaranteed from one morning to the next. I earnestly ask Uncle to withdraw this kind intention and to find a suitable match for my cousin without delay. She must not be delayed further on my account — I dare not accept this!”

Li Siye had not expected he would truly open his mouth and refuse the marriage. His expression went slightly desolate. He hesitated for a moment and said: “Your Highness — Tanfang has waited for you until now. She surely would not fear what lies ahead…”

Li Xuandu said: “My cousin’s deep feelings and devotion, the years she has spent waiting for me — I am moved beyond words, and deeply ashamed. I am only a man without ability. Though I will do everything I can to shoulder the responsibilities I ought to bear toward Que, I absolutely refuse to let my own failings bring even more catastrophe upon Que. I have nothing to repay already — I cannot continue ruining her life as well. I ask for Uncle’s understanding!”

When he had finished, he turned to the King of Que — who had sat in silence throughout without uttering a word — and bowed again in deep and reverent kowtow. Then he rose from the ground, turned, and walked out.

The biting night wind met him head-on. The snow had grown heavier — like torn-apart cotton, falling in chaotic swirls from the ink-black sky overhead.

He walked with great strides through the snow, snowflakes striking his face in a steady stream, cold to the touch of skin. Yet he felt something burning in his chest, and at both temples a throbbing pounded, his head splitting with pain.

Who was he, truly? And in others’ eyes, who ought he to be?

In his late father’s eyes, he was a disobedient, disappointing son.

In the Emperor’s eyes, he was a man harboring treasonous ambitions, plotting usurpation.

In his mother’s clan’s eyes, he was their natural ally. Their hope — and of course, his responsibility, too. From the very beginning he had never thought of declining it.

And in her eyes…

Li Xuandu’s mind surfaced the scene of her and Li Tanfang — like a transaction.

Strangely, toward the cousin who had gone behind his back to arrange his future, he felt not the slightest resentment. In that moment, his heart had not stirred in the slightest.

All of it was understandable — he could comprehend everything behind his cousin’s decision and all the difficulty that had driven her to it.

But thinking of her…

Her expression in that moment had been so utterly calm — not a ripple of emotion. As if he were not a person, only a tool of hers.

Even though he had long since known this about her — even though just the night before, he himself had rejected her overture — that moment, when he witnessed her treating him in this way again, he could not control it. His heart in that instant seemed once again to freeze, blood once again going cold.

She was just that sort of person — from the very first moment he had known her, she had never concealed her ambitions before him, her thoughts, her pursuits.

She lived, it seemed, for that singular purpose alone.

Even during the autumn hunt when the two of them had been lost in tender feeling — had there been no doubt in the depths of his heart? But he had let himself accept her goodness, and had enjoyed her goodness — and then when the truth finally descended upon him, what right did he have to blame her?

It was nothing more than his own self-deception, using his hopes to project onto her, to demand from her — and nothing more.

This cold, snow-falling winter night, Li Xuandu walked through the snow — and yet the blood all through his body burned scalding hot. Beneath his skin it felt as if needles were pricking everywhere. No longer like his younger days, when he would run barefoot through the snow to let it out — for fear that at any moment now, his veins would simply explode.

Pu Zhu had learned two days ago, after returning from outside the city, that he had gone to help in the battle against the Dongdi forces. She had waited a day and a night. Today she had finally heard the news that the Di cavalry had been repelled — yet he still had not returned here after all this time. By now it was so late, and the snow had started falling. Though her heart had grown calm as still water, she still felt somewhat worried. She hesitated for a moment, draped a snow-white fur cloak over herself, and was about to go out and find Madam Wu to ask for news, when she opened the door — and found Li Xuandu standing right outside.

Snow had fallen on his head and shoulders. His complexion was white as the snow itself. But his eyes were red as blood — they fixed upon her. His whole person, from head to foot, radiated a strange and unsettling aura. She had no idea how long he had been standing there like that.

He was like… a ghost, standing just beyond the threshold of her door.

She was startled, steadied her nerves, then with a calm voice said: “What has happened to you? Come in.”

He said nothing, did not move — just stared at her with those unblinking eyes.

Pu Zhu grew more unsettled in her heart. She looked toward Luo Bao beside him. He kept his head bowed in silence.

Something was clearly wrong with him — he looked as if he had fallen ill.

Pu Zhu hesitated, then finally reached out and gently moved to press her hand to his forehead. At her touch: burning hot.

He had truly fallen ill!

Pu Zhu was just about to withdraw her hand and call Luo Bao to fetch a physician, when she felt her wrist suddenly tighten — he had seized it with one hand.

He stepped inside, lifted her off the ground, and with great strides carried her into the inner chamber. He deposited her on the bed.

Pu Zhu sat up and turned her head. She saw him looking at her with dark, shadowed eyes, his hands working at his sash and his robes — undoing them one by one, tossing them aside. Not a word spoken, he came over her and pressed her down onto the bed.

Everything happened so suddenly.

This was the first time since the autumn hunt that he had again done this with her.

Pu Zhu was completely unprepared.

At first she felt a kind of alarm. This version of him was unlike any she had ever encountered before.

She had no idea what had happened to him. Just the night before he had rejected her approach — so why had he returned tonight, his attitude completely reversed, pressing himself upon her like this?

When his body pressed down over her, she distinctly smelled the blood on him — a smell full of aggression. She felt a wave of dizziness, and very quickly stopped struggling.

That door had still been open — struck by the night wind, it banged and slammed against the doorframe. In the pitch-black snowy night, mingled faintly in with the sound of the door was something else — what sounded like a man’s heavy breathing, and a woman’s soft, barely audible moans.

Outside the door, Luo Bao carefully drew it shut, stood outside without moving, eyes forward, nose downward, mind inward — and waited patiently for it to end.