Before a successor commander for New Gorge Pass had even been decided upon, an eight-hundred-li urgent dispatch arrived from Yinshan Pass to the north: the northern nomadic tribes had invaded the border, and their momentum was fierce. Fortunately, Commander Wu Yong had been prepared and had managed to hold the line.

Hard on that came calamitous news from the west: Moon Mountain Pass had been breached. Commander Pan Hong had gone missing. The enemy had swept through as though unopposed and had already seized two cities in succession.

No one had anticipated it — that Moon Mountain Pass would be the first to fall.

“The west must be stabilised.” The Crown Prince looked out over the assembled military commanders. “Who is willing to relieve this prince of this burden and go?”

Duke An’guo stepped forward. “This official is willing to go.”

The Crown Prince’s hand balled into a fist beneath his sleeve. Duke An’guo was already fifty-seven years old and had not taken up sword or spear in many years. Going now — how was that different from going to his death?

“Has the Qing dynasty truly no one left?”

At last a military commander stepped forward. “This official is willing to go.”

His beard and temples were streaked with white, but his eyes were resolute. Hua Zhi recognised him — it was General Lin, who had hung up his seal of command years ago. The Lin of Hualin Lane — the two families had been neighbours for years and, though the civil and military seldom mixed closely, they had never had any quarrel between them.

Something stirred in her chest. She looked toward the military commanders’ side of the hall — and saw that of those who occupied nearly half the court, the majority were already well on in years. The Qing dynasty truly had no commanders to spare.

In the inner hall of the Qingxin Palace, the Crown Prince could not find a moment’s peace. He paced back and forth, his brow so furrowed it seemed to drag the rest of his features along with it.

Young as he was, and having not been raised with a crown prince’s education, Hua Zhi did not reproach him for this failure to maintain his composure. She set her own mind to calculating quietly.

The west had already fallen — someone truly capable was needed to arrest the decline. If they sent one person and lost that person too, and a few more cities fell with him, morale would be impossible to restore. The south needed a commanding general dispatched as swiftly as possible; if the south fell as well, the Qing dynasty would be entirely on the back foot. And if at that point the Chaoli people concealed within the Qing dynasty began spreading rumours, the people’s hearts would turn to chaos. And besides — she had a feeling the south was not as simple as it appeared.

But the very thing they lacked was a commanding general.

As for the north — Hua Zhi bit the tip of her tongue lightly. That border should at present be the most stable. Wu Yong was skilled at attack; her grandfather had studied military strategy extensively; and with her Fourth Uncle there to assist, defending the city should not be beyond them. Working in concert, they ought to be able to hold for some time — provided the Chaoli tribe did not concentrate their full force there.

“Does the Grand Tutor have any strategy to break through this?”

At those words Hua Zhi raised her head. “Even if this official had some plan to counter the enemy, there is no way to conjure capable commanders from thin air.”

Indeed. A plan could be devised; people could not be created out of nothing. The Crown Prince felt like throwing back his head and letting out a long sigh himself. What a mess of a situation his imperial father had left him.

“All the more reason the Crown Prince must keep a steady head. Do not let the situation become chaotic from within. The war has only just begun — if panic sets in now, what will become of things from here on.”

The Crown Prince took the cloth Lai Fu offered, pressed it over his face for a moment, then lowered it — the emotion had cleared from his expression. “If there is truly no other option, the only path is to send Duke An’guo and General Lin each to one front. Arrange for a number of younger commanders to accompany them — with veterans to lead the way, there is at least something to be gained.”

“The Crown Prince is right.”

At that moment Lai Fu came to report: “Your Highness, Grand Tutor — the sand table is ready.”

The Crown Prince was on his feet at once. “Come — let us see it.”

Built at Hua Zhi’s specifications, the sand table was enormous, occupying nearly half of the side hall. The Crown Prince went forward with undisguised delight and ran a hand across it, his eyes filling with something nostalgic. “This is much larger than the one at the Hua household.”

Hua Zhi took up the long pointer and began to trace the landscape. The map was long since imprinted in her memory — from the first mark she made she did not pause once. The Crown Prince murmured a quiet word to someone, then stood silently beside the Grand Tutor, watching her work.

The outside world praised the Grand Tutor’s immeasurable depth of knowledge, never knowing that those praises did not capture even a fraction of her true ability. In terms of scholarly learning, the Grand Tutor could not compare to the great scholars of renown — but in terms of applying knowledge to living reality, there was no one who could match her.

From the capital at the very centre she traced out to the nine provinces, then to all four frontier passes at north, south, east, and west. Then the Yan Kingdom to the south, the nomadic tribes to the north, the Lì Kingdom to the west, the Chaoli to the east — each rendered in a few spare strokes, yet recognisable at a single glance.

She rubbed her aching arm, lifted her head to speak, and only then noticed that the hall had filled with people without her realising. She swallowed what she had been about to say and let them look.

The Crown Prince personally handed her a cup of tea. “The Grand Tutor has worked hard.”

“This official thanks the Crown Prince.” Hua Zhi took it with both hands, turned away, and drank it down in several swallows. She had not had a single sip of water since entering the palace; she was genuinely parched.

Lai Fu, ever attentive, was immediately at her side to take away the empty cup.

Duke Dingguo gave a light cough and was the first to speak. “For the Grand Tutor to make such a sweeping gesture — is there something to be said?”

“This official would not presume to call it anything grand. The Crown Prince was anxious to understand the present situation, and this official thought words alone would not make things clear — so this sand table was assembled. One glance, and everything becomes plain.”

Was it truly only for the purpose of a lesson? Duke Dingguo studied her for a long moment, then let his gaze settle on the vast sand table. He was of course familiar with such things — his own household had one — but as he was not a military man, he had never delved deeply into their use. He had not known they could be used like this.

“Would we be permitted to listen from the side?”

Hua Zhi turned to the Crown Prince with an expression of complete indifference as to which way it went. The Crown Prince had had this very intention in summoning them; naturally he was not going to refuse.

Present in the hall were civil officials and military commanders alike — senior officials of the calibre of Duke Dingguo, and young officials like Shen Qi and Yu Xiasheng whom the Crown Prince had singled out for attention. All of them were now silent, looking toward the one woman at the centre of the room.

Hua Zhi displayed not the slightest trace of timidity. She gathered her thoughts briefly, then began: “Four kingdoms have made their moves simultaneously — this is no coincidence. Their intent is transparent: to join forces and swallow the Qing dynasty whole. The Yan Kingdom and the Lì Kingdom and the nomadic tribes have all moved with open swords, yet the Chaoli tribe, after their sudden attack on General Sun, has taken no further action. Where they are now, and what their next move will be, remains unknown.”

The long pointer came down on where the Lì Kingdom currently stood, then shifted to the south. “The west may appear to be sweeping all before it — but I believe the south is more dangerous. The south is closer to the capital, and its terrain is open and flat. The west, in contrast, has great mountains blocking the way, and the enemy faces the disadvantage of a smaller population. If the supply line stretches too long, they will have no one to defend their rear. This official therefore believes that though they are charging fiercely, the true danger lies in the south.”

The Crown Prince mused: “Does the Grand Tutor mean that this is their strategy? To make us believe the west is in danger and draw our forces there, so that we neglect the south?”

“It is not impossible. The Yan Kingdom alone would not dare entertain ambitions of marching on the capital. This official suspects there are Chaoli fighters embedded within the Yan Kingdom’s army — otherwise General Zheng would not have fallen so quickly.”

“Indeed. Does the Grand Tutor have a strategy?”

“It can hardly be called a strategy. It is more a matter of using brute force.” Hua Zhi looked at that small patch on the map that represented the Yan Kingdom. “The Qing dynasty is in urgent need of a granary to ensure the supply of provisions to the front-line troops. What if we simply take the direct approach and capture the Yan Kingdom outright?”