A river meandered faintly through the mountain ridges and valleys, making a wide turn at the foot of the slope. At the bend, yellow earthen walls and ruins stood grimly, barely showing the rectangular shape of what was once a fortress with barbicans.

Li Yuangui, accompanied by Yang Xinzhi and two servants, set out on horseback from Qin Prefecture. After riding for half a day, they gradually approached the ancient city of Chengji. Looking at it, they understood why the escort official had arranged to house the prisoners in these ruins—in the seventh month of the Longshang region, autumn winds were already fierce. While the days were manageable, at night, without thick walls to block the wind, relying solely on curtains for warmth would be extremely difficult for the elderly, young, and women to endure.

The city of Qin Prefecture was cramped, and as a military pivot during wartime, its several inns and hostels were mostly occupied by special envoys delivering military reports and grain transport officials. This time, there were over a hundred prisoners brought from the Tuyuhun king’s city, and they refused to be housed separately. After much discussion and debate, the escort supervisor left the prefecture and brought the prisoners here, “also to avoid disturbances from the passing soldiers.”

This escort supervisor was also an acquaintance of Li Yuangui. When he inquired about the supervisor’s name and position in Qin Prefecture, his scalp tightened as he secretly thought this was trouble.

The original Right Guard General, Commander of the Seven Northern Palace Guards, Duke of Guo, Zhang Shigui, had been demoted earlier that year due to frequent palace disturbances and negligent guard duty. He was sent to the frontlines to seek redemption through military service, now only holding the position of “Deputy Commander of the Western Sea Campaign,” tasked with escorting the Tuyuhun royal prisoners back to the capital. General Zhang’s demotion was primarily due to the treachery of Li Yuangui—truly a narrow path for enemies, and their meeting would likely be particularly bitter.

Zhang Shigui was stationed in the ancient city of Chengji. Right against the earthen walls, banners fluttered as tents and screens marked out an open-air meeting area, quite modest in arrangement. As Li Yuangui approached the enclosure with his men, guards came forward to inquire about their identity and purpose. Just as Yang Xinzhi was taking out the fish-shaped wooden token to announce their arrival, Li Yuangui suddenly heard voices from within the screened area and gestured for them to wait.

Inside, someone was pleading desperately, sounding like the local Granary Assistant Director responsible for managing Qin Prefecture’s food storage. Repeatedly calling out “Commander’s mercy,” he explained that the granaries were empty. Too many able-bodied men had been conscripted this year, affecting spring plowing with fields lying fallow. Even now at harvest time, there was still a severe labor shortage, making it impossible to bring in the crops. They had been relying on grain reserves from previous years’ charity granaries to sustain the prefecture’s people and supply passing troops, barely avoiding starvation. Now that Deputy Commander Zhang needed to provide for this large group of prisoners temporarily, he couldn’t scrape together even a few grains of millet…

“That’s not my concern!” Zhang Shigui was angry. “I’m following Commander Li’s military orders to wait here in your Qin Prefecture with the prisoners until that batch of tribute horses arrives, then we’ll proceed together! I dare not disobey military orders. If your Qin Prefecture refuses to supply the army and provide food, letting the prisoners starve to death, you can go explain that to Commander Li and the Emperor yourself!”

So Zhang Shigui’s group was waiting at the ancient city of Chengji for the horses that Kong Sumi had targeted, planning to escort them together back to the capital. This would save considerable manpower for escorts, presumably Li Jing’s intention as well. Indeed, there was a shortage of able-bodied laborers everywhere now…

“General, please be patient. I’ve inquired, and that batch of tribute horses will arrive in a few days. You won’t be delayed long, and you’ll soon be able to dispatch the prisoners. However, when the military horses arrive, we’ll also need to supply a large amount of fodder… ah, your humble official is worried to death… Who knows how long this war will continue? When will our conscripted men return to the farm? If there’s still no one to work the fields by next spring, we’ll truly face another great famine…”

Li Yuangui heard the two men inside the tent going back and forth arguing about these matters, and decided not to delay any longer, signaling the guard to announce them. When the two inside heard that a prince was passing through on an imperial mission, they immediately fell silent, and Zhang Shigui straightened his clothes to come out and receive them.

After several months apart, the harsh frontier winds and sand had left General Zhang both darker and thinner. Li Yuangui had prepared some apologetic words, and while Zhang Shigui verbally maintained humility, his expression remained cold, clearly still harboring resentment. The Granary Official took his leave, leaving Zhang and Li to speak privately.

The enclosed area was simply furnished, with several folding chairs around a wooden table piled with documents. Li Yuangui was invited to sit in the main chair, and after some pleasantries, he stated his purpose: he wanted to select one or two cooperative Tuyuhun noble prisoners, give them certain instructions, and have them secretly sent back to Chang’an first.

He was still planning for the matter of the false prince. In his view, the biggest challenge facing the fake prince Zhou Twelve after being sent to Tuyuhun territory would be that the tribal chiefs and herders wouldn’t believe or accept him as Murong Shun’s legitimate son. Things would be manageable while Tang troops were there to maintain order, but once Li Jing and his forces withdrew, leaving the Murong Shun father and son to rule on their own, the situation would be precarious. Better to take advantage of having these noble prisoners now, select one or two compliant ones, and first send them to Chang’an to help train Zhou Twelve to make the deception more convincing, then have them accompany Zhou Twelve beyond the frontier to Fushi City, leading their tribespeople to help the father and son secure the Khan position.

The trouble was, he didn’t want to explain to Zhang Shigui that he was “manufacturing a false prince,” only vaguely referring to it as “a secret matter under imperial command.” However, General Zhang, having already suffered at his hands, was full of suspicion and rejected him firmly with no room for negotiation:

“Prince Wu, please don’t take offense. I received direct orders from Commander Li, and military orders are like mountains—I must escort all prisoners one by one to the capital, with none lost or dead along the way, or face military punishment. If Your Highness has arrangements to make, they must wait until these people have been delivered to the capital. For now, I dare not let Your Highness enter nor allow the prisoners to speak privately with anyone.”

The karma of harming innocent people has come around… Li Yuangui sighed inwardly, then tried persuading further, but while Zhang Shigui maintained outward courtesy, he remained adamantly unmoved. He further complained: “We’re already short on guards. A few days ago, an imperial edict arrived from the capital specifically requesting several prisoners to be quickly transported there for the Emperor’s interrogation, and I had to dispatch ten men to escort them. Now including myself, we have fewer than sixty men guarding over a hundred prisoners—what kind of situation is this? And Your Highness wants to separately send two more people? Where would I find the men to spare?”

I’d like to escort two people back to Chang’an myself, but I fear I’d be executed for “defying imperial orders and fleeing” the moment I entered the city gates… Li Yuangui swallowed his frustration and argued with Zhang Shigui at length, finally proposing: “Then at least let me go up on the wall to look at these prisoners, surely that’s acceptable? I’m heading to Gaochang, and I might encounter scattered Tuyuhun tribes along the way—I should at least be able to recognize these people.”

Zhang Shigui pondered for a moment, finally nodding: “Very well. My back is stiff from sitting today anyway, I’ll accompany Your Highness up the wall for a walk.”

The city gate of this ancient fortress had been built who knows when with half of it already collapsed. The right earthen mound still barely showed traces of an arch and watchtower foundation, which was the highest point of the entire ruins. Li Yuangui and Zhang Shigui followed a small path, using both hands and feet to climb to the top of the earthen mound, where they looked down into the broken walls to see colorful tents spread before them.

These Tuyuhun prisoners were nobles and their servants, most having brought some brocade and thick fabric materials. They had now set up dozens of tents against the ruined walls for shelter, with many people moving about carrying items, fetching water, and delivering food. Zhang Shigui pointed to the largest tent by the wall and told Li Yuangui:

“That’s where Murong Fuyun’s primary wife, the Queen, lives—she’s a Tibetan woman, and she has three children with her. Murong Fuyun fled in such disarray under our army’s pursuit that he abandoned his wife and children, taking only twenty-some personal guards as he escaped on lightweight cavalry into the Great Desert. Commander Yaoshi ordered Qibi Heli to lead the Xue brothers in pursuit—who knows if they’ve caught up yet.”

“How is the Tuyuhun army’s fighting capability?” Li Yuangui asked. Zhang Shigui shook his head with a smile:

“Far inferior to our army. These barbarians rely solely on geographical advantage! Our troops are unfamiliar with the roads and climate, falling ill as soon as they reach high ground, and suffering terribly before battle even begins. But once actual fighting starts, these barbarians can’t withstand a single blow! They have no tactics in battle, relying only on fierce cavalry charges, with no formation or coordination. Once their vanguard loses a few rows to arrows, those behind panic and try to flee on horseback—how could they possibly succeed? That’s why on the Qinghai route, our troops don’t fear actual battles and engagements, they only fear getting worn down chasing their main force in circles in that cursed place, ah…”