In the middle of the army camp the flames rose high, and She Wanlin stood frozen, staring blankly up at the sky.
His mother had leapt down from what looked like a mountain peak, and the ground barely raised a speck of dust when she landed. This boulder — surely it was fake? Even if it were made of cotton wadding, a mass that large should still carry some weight, shouldn’t it?
A child never mistakes his own mother. Even now, with her face roughly covered by a cloth, She Wanlin could recognize his mother from nothing more than the brilliantly colored embroidered shoes on her feet.
Among all the noble ladies of Daliang, only the Commandery Prince’s heir’s wife — his mother, Huo Qiqian — dared to pile every loud color imaginable onto herself. No matter how expensive the fabric, if his mother took a notion, she could turn it into the most tasteless, most vulgar outfit under heaven.
According to A’Ye’s words, his mother could be sleeping in a dragon palace and would still somehow prove herself an unsophisticated country bumpkin who’d never seen the world — she truly had no idea how to dress herself. But A’Ye never dared say so openly, only grumbling about it behind closed doors.
For years, She Wanlin had actually been puzzled. As the Fuyui Commandery Prince’s household grew more powerful in Daliang, his mother — the heir’s wife — seemed to grow ever more conspicuous for her thin family background.
She was the daughter of a servant family from the former dynasty’s imperial household, and a concubine’s daughter at that. Her natal family had all died out, leaving only a half-sister born of a different mother, who had also fallen into disreputable ways.
And yet she held her position steady — as long as she lived, no one could hope to slip another woman into the household to become his father’s concubine.
Actually, his mother wasn’t a great beauty — at best passably pretty — and she was small and thin. As a child, She Wanlin used to worry: if his mother didn’t eat well, might the wind simply blow her away?
His father had told him that then An’er would just have to soak in medicine and train hard, building the greatest strength under heaven, so that if his mother were ever blown away, he’d have the strength to snatch her back.
Hmph! Greatest under heaven? Not happening in this lifetime!
All you elders are just old liars!
Straight ahead, as if in a dream, a boulder suddenly appeared and startled the armored cavalry’s horses. A chorus of neighing rang out as the lead horse reared, throwing its armored rider to the ground.
Huo Qiqian turned to survey her surroundings, and among the ruined walls she saw countless hanging corpses, and many faces she recognized as once belonging to Choutou’s group… Her eyes turned to ice, murderous intent filling her heart.
She had arrived in Jindian that morning. After parting from Huang Qiao’e, she’d found the right place and tracked down Old Chou. Old Chou naturally didn’t dare deceive her — he poured out every last detail of the Tan family’s atrocities in this place, and told her that over the years, at least tens of thousands of children had died on Kangna Mountain.
Across two lifetimes, Huo Qiqian had never much cared for her husband, and cared even less for wealth and glory. But her children — those she treasured beyond anything.
A single life: ten months carried in the womb, born crying into the world, held against a mother’s chest, never too cold, never let go when it’s hot, watching him stumble his first steps, watching him babble his first words calling for mother. One couldn’t say every parent in the world was good, but this life — it never comes easily!
An old swallow builds its nest before an old woman’s door; even when her sleep is disturbed, she won’t let anyone touch that nest. Why? Because even a small fledgling swallow’s life is still a life — this is a woman’s compassion, born of empathy.
With ten thousand wandering souls unable to rest, thinking of this filled her chest with fire. She gathered her skirts, gathered all her strength, and kicked flat against the boulder with her foot.
Who in this world could stand against the wrath of Mother Elm?
No one.
Huo Qiqian knew this too. In the past she had always held back — ever since her training had gone down an unorthodox path, she never dared to seriously cross hands with anyone, most afraid of standing out as different from ordinary people and bringing a demon’s reputation down on her children. Content with what she had, her greatest ambition had only ever been for her children’s peace and safety. But today, that peace — gone!
Besides, in all these years, nothing in this world had ever been worth Huo Qiqian using even fifty percent of her strength.
Now, it was worth it. It was as if she had been reborn for this very day — to stand as a mother and avenge these innocent children.
A mother’s strength was always immense. Even without risking her own child’s life, Huo Qiqian still ached for them.
With this, she used her full strength to kick the boulder flat along the ground. In an instant the massive stone spun off like a ball struck by a polo mallet, flying out as fast as a skipped stone across water — swift as lightning. No one had imagined such a thing could happen. Everything the stone met — people and objects alike — crumbled before it like bean curd dregs. The stone could be heard cracking and crashing… booming as it finally landed far in the distance.
The cracking was ancient trees snapping in the forest; the booming was the stone crashing into a deep ravine.
In an instant countless vultures burst into panicked flight, and jackals howled mournfully from the ravine below, making the scene feel even more like hell itself.
The long blade in She Wanlin’s hand clattered to the ground, his legs going weak.
Huo Qiqian let her skirts fall, turned and reached out as if to strike him. She Wanlin immediately shut his eyes — but what met his face instead was a palm full of warmth.
His mother’s voice came at his ear: “I meant to hit you, but my son’s grown thin.”
In that instant, She Wanlin suddenly felt wronged, and cried out, “Mother~!”
Having gotten her son back after fearing she’d lost him, Huo Qiqian finally answered, helplessly, “Aiya~ Mother’s here. Was my foolish son scared?”
Wanting to seem brave, thinking of the mountain-sized boulder, She Wanlin nodded anyway: “A little, a little bit~!”
Huo Qiqian drew a breath and seriously patted her son up and down again, checking that all ten fingers were there, seeing how thin he’d grown beyond recognition, and anger rose in her heart: “My son, hide yourself away — let your mother settle this score for you.”
Only then did She Wanlin’s legs give out and he stumbled back a few steps. He thought he’d need to recite a whole passage of the Dao De Jing, then a passage of the Diamond Sutra — no, ten times over!
The camp was utterly silent now. Of the eight columns of armored cavalry, the five on the left had all been crushed, flung aside — in short, killed swiftly, painlessly, without a sound.
Was this a nightmare?
Who could believe it?
These were the Tan family army’s armored cavalry? How could they fall as easily as paper horse-men from a funeral procession?
This had already gone beyond the realm of human imagination.
She Wanlin couldn’t imagine it either, even knowing this was his own mother.
His mother could cook the finest food under heaven, could work an abacus louder than anyone else… His mother had killed people?
Aside from not being especially beautiful, not coming from a great family, and having no idea how to dress or groom herself — it hadn’t been so obvious while they lived in Qingfeng, mainly because everyone she socialized with then came from similar backgrounds.
Back then, everyone praised his mother for how well she managed the household and raised her children, for being filial and generous, and her looks were passable too.
But once they entered the Commandery Prince’s household in Yanjing, everything changed. At every palace banquet or grand family occasion, it was always his mother who wore the most riotous colors, seemingly with no awareness at all. No matter what anyone thought, she simply dressed as she pleased — dare you say it to her face? You wouldn’t. So as far as she was concerned, she looked good!
Auntie Tong had tried to advise her once, but his mother had only said: “Aiya, you haven’t grown old yet. When you do, you’ll regret it — the best years of your life, and you never wore anything bright and beautiful…”
But hadn’t his mother not grown old either? She Wanlin never understood how his mother could hang so many bright colors on herself.
In any case, whenever those aristocratic sons heard the women of their households mock his mother, they would sneer about it behind her back. Every time She Wanlin heard of it, he’d get into a fistfight over it, and so would his older brother — they became the notorious troublemakers of the Imperial Study.
Children don’t know their own strength, and once they really hurt someone badly, breaking an arm. Anyone who could study in the Imperial Study came from no ordinary background, so His Majesty himself had to personally oversee their punishment — twenty strikes each on the palm, until their small hands swelled up like risen flatbread.
That night he felt like it was raining, and opening his eyes he saw his mother crying. He’d said, Mother, don’t be afraid, it doesn’t hurt.
His mother had cried until her nose ran.
From then on his mother never dressed so garishly in public again — she only secretly wore her brilliantly colored shoes, hidden beneath her skirts.
Under the night sky, the colorful butterflies on her embroidered shoes seemed to fly — one kick shattered a high platform, one kick toppled a siege engine… The armored cavalry general, utterly panicked, pulled his reins and tried to flee on horseback, only to be kicked straight into a bonfire. In an instant countless flames leapt up, and the Tan family army’s Old Blade Camp was thoroughly, completely ablaze.
Today, anyone here who bore guilt, who had committed wrongs — all of them would die at this old lady’s hands!
This was what Huo Qiqian thought, and this was what she did.
Afterward, the terrified new blades watched as skirts whirled across the battlefield — wherever the butterflies passed, men fell in rows.
Was this — was this some divine being come to save them from their suffering?
No one knew who started it, but soon they were all weeping and wailing with pent-up grievance, kneeling on the ground in loud sobs.
She Wanlin jumped, startled, and turning around he saw his Uncle Chou climbing along the rock face of a hidden passage, tossing the Son of Heaven’s banner, the Son of Heaven’s armor, the Son of Heaven’s Kunlun sword one by one into a bundled banner cloth on the ground.
She Wanlin hurried over and called to him: “Uncle Chou?”
Old Chou jumped, startled, then realizing it was She Wanlin he leapt up again, clutching his chest as he knelt and scrambled to gather up this evidence of treason. Before She Wanlin could speak, he said hurriedly: “Good lad, don’t ask, it’s just how it is. Your mother has a jianghu nickname — Mother Elm! Ever heard of it?”
She Wanlin’s teeth instantly chattered, his neck stiff as he turned to look at his mother.
Pitiful, that group of armored cavalry — all burly men eight chi tall, hardened by years of brutal training into something fearsome-looking. Yet now they scattered like a flock of ducks being driven, because that sorceress loved most to strike at enemies from above. They abandoned their horses and fled on foot, weighed down by their armor, swaying as they tried to flee in a huddle — and heavens, that sorceress could fly.
She Wanlin watched his mother swing the corpse of a jet-black warhorse still in full heavy armor, already dead, hurling it away with a whoosh, then another whoosh, then… nothing left to throw?
Where was she?
Oh — crouched on the ground? That wouldn’t save them either — she reached out and snapped another horse’s neck, holding it up as she searched for a new target.
Seeing that crouching wouldn’t help, the pitiful cavalry had no choice but to stand and run, clattering past with wails of misery, clattering as they shed their armor in unison, clattering as they tried to scale the camp wall. She Wanlin’s head swiveled back and forth, watching as his mother, unable to find another horse, instead scooped up a massive log torn from the camp gate, and holding one end, ran straight at the camp wall — everywhere she passed, the palisade shattered.
She ran a full circuit, and by the end the Old Blade Camp no longer had any walls at all.
She Wanlin stood with his hands on his hips, cheeks puffed out, pointing at his mother who was still chasing down stragglers. He wanted to say something, he really wanted to say something — oh, no wonder A’Ye and A’Die never dared say a bad word about his mother. He thought he’d finally found the reason.
His mother had fooled him so thoroughly.
He had a good memory, and he remembered from very young, his mother always used to cover her face and pretend to sob, saying, An’er, quick, save your mother, your father’s hitting me.
Back then he’d hold his wooden sword and stand in front of his mother, sternly telling his father, don’t you dare bully my mother!
His father’s expression back then had been so strange.
And there was more — as a child when he went out begging for the hundred-family rice, or wanted to wander off somewhere far, his mother would say, aiya, there are so many dogs in the back alley, your mother’s scared.
He and Gennu’er would each hold up a stick and swear solemn oaths — it’s fine, Mother, don’t be afraid, your son will protect you, your son has divine skills.
And so the whole family would go out, and the whole way there was unspeakable — his mother would fake-cry about dogs one moment, fake-cry about ghosts the next, even fake-cry that the guard goose was going to carry her off.
Thinking back on it now — oh, Mother, Mother, you really did overact quite a bit.
Every time he’d imitate the warrior generals from the opera stage alongside his foolish older brother, walking oh-so-carefully, as if scouting an enemy camp, gripping his blade — no, gripping his stick — craning his neck, glancing furtively left and right, and once he judged it safe he’d wave at his mother and say seriously, Mother, go quick, the ghost’s been driven off…
She Wanlin suddenly clapped a hand over his face — ah, he couldn’t think about this anymore… He finally understood why his mother always used to cover her face and shake as she hurried past — she’d been laughing at him and his brother, hadn’t she?
Ahaha… his mother had put on a whole opera for over a decade, playing the delicate, fragile woman — who could he even complain to about that?
Old Chou hoisted the enormous bundle onto his shoulder to leave, and passing by She Wanlin he said: “Good lad, you and I, our fated bond has run its course. So… let it be this way.”
He was reluctant after all, his steps not entirely resolute.
Sure enough, She Wanlin grabbed hold of him: “Uncle Chou, why are you leaving?”
Old Chou glanced at the carnage in the distance — they were relatively safe here — and pulled She Wanlin down to crouch in a corner of the hidden passage, thinking for a moment before saying: “I’d meant to fake my death and escape to freedom, but it seems that’s no longer possible.”
Poor She Wanlin, his very soul felt shattered, and he murmured: “Uncle Chou~ you’re going back to report to His Majesty?”
Could it be that all these years of brotherhood between himself and Uncle Chou had been for nothing? Had this whole journey’s friendship been fake?
He glared fiercely at Old Chou, and Old Chou, exasperated, pointed at him and cursed: “You ungrateful brat, so I’m a secret agent, am I? But your father is the biggest spymaster in the whole realm — why don’t you say that about him! He’s had a blood feud with the Tan family for years, who knows how many schemes he’s worked behind the scenes — he’s the worst of us all!
Go check the Ministry of Personnel’s roster of officials — in all these years, aside from Jindian, how many Tan family men hold posts below the fifth rank? If it weren’t for my regard for you, old man here would have sold him out long ago.”
She Wanlin shouted back angrily: “Then go sell him out!”
Old Chou was furious: “That would drag you down with him!”
She Wanlin shouted: “This young master isn’t afraid!”
Old Chou shouted back: “But I am afraid… I’m afraid…”
His tone grew quieter and quieter, until finally, self-mocking, he sat down against the mountain wall and murmured: “I just watched those two little ones, carried up the steps as babies, blinking their eyes, and before I knew it they’d wobbled their way into growing up. Such good children — whenever there was something tasty, they’d think of me too. Not the best-behaved as little ones, but it’s rare to find such good parents, and eventually they were raised well enough…”
She Wanlin’s heart ached. Ever since leaving home, he’d come to depend on Old Chou deeply, and now that Uncle Chou was leaving, who knew when they’d meet again. Tears finally fell, and choking up, he said: “Then — then you’re still leaving? Don’t go, Uncle Chou…”
He looked at Old Chou earnestly and promised: “If His Majesty holds it against you, I swear I won’t visit you in prison. If — if you don’t leave, I’ll take care of you in your old age.”
Old Chou burst out laughing, his face softening with affection, and he patted the boy’s head: “You’re a good child. But in this world, even counting the Son of Heaven himself, who would dare fight Mother Elm for her child?”
He winked toward outside, and right on cue a scream of agony rang out from beyond.
She Wanlin didn’t like hearing that: “She’s not Mother Elm. She’s just my mother.”
“Ah, of course she’s your mother!” Old Chou nodded, tilting his head to glance outside, where four or five warhorses were flying up into the sky and crashing back down, miserably.
“So you, too, have had it rough, huh?”
She Wanlin turned back, sighing heavily, dreading the reckoning his mother would demand of him, and looked pitifully at his uncle.
Ah, what to do — this really was his own nemesis.
Old Chou couldn’t help but speak honestly: “Good An’er, in this life your Uncle Chou has met with two strokes of good fortune. One good was His Majesty — he treated me as a person, gave me his trust, and I sold myself to him for decades. The second good is you — you treated me as family, never minded that I was uncouth, shared a bowl of rice with me. I’d meant to give this life of mine to you, but your mother — well, you’ve seen it yourself…”
Unwilling to part with him, She Wanlin hurriedly cut in: “Then — then Uncle Chou can just fake his death and disappear again! You know how to disguise yourself, if you don’t want to be found, who in this world could recognize you?”
But Old Chou shook his head, patting the enormous bundle: “Aiya! It won’t work anymore… silly child, today I stumbled onto proof of the Tan family’s treason by pure accident. Your father and the Tan family have an old feud — even if you personally carried this evidence to your grandfather, it wouldn’t carry the same weight as it would coming from me. I am, after all, His Majesty’s man — understand?”
She Wanlin was stunned: “Why would that matter? This — this is already ironclad evidence, and they could still escape punishment?”
Seeing how this child had been protected and saw everything in black and white, Old Chou sighed, silently apologizing in his heart to that lady outside, then said earnestly to She Wanlin: “Silly child, today your Uncle Chou will teach you one more lesson.”
She Wanlin, exasperated, yanked down his face covering and pouted: “Lesson, still? How old do you think I am?”
In a few more years, I’ll even be able to marry Choucho.
Old Chou smiled: “I’m going to teach you the mind of an emperor!”
The boy went rigid at once.
Old Chou paid him no mind, only looked around at the weapons and armor scattered about and said: “Actually you’re still young. Your grandfather, She Qingling, has more learning than I do, and sooner or later he’ll teach you too. But how he views the emperor and how I view the emperor — there’s a difference. Remember this, child~ the affairs of this world are never like the stories you’ve read in books or seen on the opera stage. Every effect has its cause: when someone dies wrongfully, there should be an upright official to clear their name; when a nation harbors evil and treason, there should be a righteous man to purge the corrupt from the emperor’s side!”
She Wanlin murmured: “Isn’t that… right, though?”
Old Chou scoffed and shook his head: “Wrong. Most things in this world have never worked that way — it’s all just mortal wishful thinking, people making up stories from the opera stage to deceive themselves.
Remember this: the emperor is a man watching a play. He sits comfortably in the audience, watching your grandfather, watching your father, watching Tan Shouyi, watching me, watching all the painted-face roles onstage showing off their tricks. Whatever skills anyone has, whatever they’re capable of, he sees it all clearly. To him, a play needs every role — the painted red face, the painted white face — not one of them can be missing.”
She Wanlin looked at Old Chou in disbelief: “You’re saying that with this Tan family affair, His Majesty might not even pursue it?”
Old Chou’s smile only grew wider, and he reached out to pat the boy’s head: “That’s right, good lad! His Majesty might very well not pursue it.”
This was practically treasonous talk!
She Wanlin gestured wordlessly at the hidden passage — he didn’t know how deep it went, or how much evidence of treason lay within, and even now, His Majesty still might not act?
Old Chou laughed with understanding: “An opera only has an ending when it’s meant to. Reckoning will come sooner or later, but from a political standpoint, the timing isn’t right yet. His Majesty doesn’t feel this grand opera of the realm is ready to conclude.”
She Wanlin was confused: “What do you mean?”
Old Chou chuckled: “If His Majesty wanted to move against Jindian, he’d generally need three things prepared. First, a large reserve of low-ranking officials — the moment Jindian falls into chaos and the Tan faction’s officials all collapse, these officials could swiftly move in to stabilize the region and calm the people.
Second, His Majesty has shown the Tan family considerable favor, precisely because the Tan family has known its place — never once, at critical moments, demanding military funds from the court, nor relief grain after disasters in various regions. The Tan family has always been self-sufficient. Compared to the troublesome provincial administrations elsewhere, the Tan family gave him peace of mind, and they’ve held Jindian steady.
In short, whatever the method, so many of the border peoples fear the Tan family army — oh, and most importantly of all — Tan Shize!”
She Wanlin’s expression had grown calm by now. He thought it over and asked: “So by His Majesty’s plan, moving against the Tan family would take another ten years?”
Old Chou nodded: “That’s about right. Do you think being emperor is easy? No one has it harder. Across the four corners of this realm, there are too many places needing money, too many complications tying his hands. Jindian has always been troublesome — with the Tan family holding it steady, who knows how much trouble it’s saved His Majesty and the court.
At the very least, while every other prefecture complains endlessly to the court, old man Tan has never once given His Majesty any trouble — he even pays his taxes in full every year. With so many troubles plaguing the realm already, why would His Majesty be eager to stir things up here first?
Understand this — the moment Jindian is disturbed, our entire national treasury built up over the past ten years might not even be enough to cover it!”
She Wanlin said mockingly: “Doesn’t His Majesty know he’s nurturing a tiger for future ruin?”
Old Chou looked out at the chaos, at the Tan family’s armored cavalry fleeing in disgrace and begging for their lives: “Your emperor never thought much of Tan Shouyi to begin with. Not just Tan Shouyi — ever since Tan Shize died, His Majesty would look on any of them as worthless mud, no matter who — if not for the fact that Tan Weixin is Tan Shize’s son.
Just think how old Tan Shouyi is this year. How many more years can he keep going? Once he dies, whether it’s Tan Weitong, or Tan Weizheng, or even Tan Weixin — which of them could hold up the Tan family? Hold up Jindian? A smooth transition is His Majesty’s grand hundred-year plan — the best strategy, achieved without spending a single soldier.”
She Wanlin took a deep breath: “Uncle Chou, was Tan Shize really that close to His Majesty?”
Old Chou laughed: “The man’s dead now! No matter how wicked a person is in this life, there’s always one or two people in their heart they can’t let go of. The bond between Tan Shize and our emperor — even your grandfather can’t match that. At the critical moment in his life, your grandfather wasn’t there. Tan Shize was.
And before Tan Shize went mad, he really was a good man. His Majesty wanted to leave him an heir, keep his line going — partly to give his own conscience some peace, since Tan Shize had been ground down by his father and brothers, and His Majesty always felt sympathy for him, even if — helping him directly — that, he never did.”
So the most heartless one in this whole world was the emperor, then.
She Wanlin lowered his head and muttered: “Then — the common people of Jindian, those who died wrongfully, those children?”
Old Chou reached out and covered the boy’s face: “Sooner or later, they’ll be dealt with. But the realm is one great chessboard, and right now it’s playing out the tune of a prosperous age. Whether any particular piece was wronged or not, it still has to serve the whole game — that’s the mind of an emperor. Cold and unfeeling, yes, but beneath the ice there might still be warmth. A man caught in this world’s endless difficulties watches it all as one grand opera, and we’re the ones who have to put on our makeup and perform well for him.
Try to let it go. Go back and discuss it with your lady mother — whatever happens, don’t admit you ever came to Jindian. This is my affair. Never tell anyone you know me, understand?
I really must go now. As for this evidence today, just pretend you know nothing of it. In this whole realm, I’m probably the only one who can deliver it personally to Yanjing, to His Majesty’s own hands — only then will he believe the Tan family truly means to rebel.”
As the last section of the camp wall collapsed, Huo Qiqian had finally vented her fury completely. Throughout it all she’d turned back countless times to check where her son was, and now that the fighting was done, she went straight to find him.
She Wanlin stood rooted to the spot, and seeing his mother approach, his shoulders slumped with a heavy, sorrowful air.
A mother always knows at a glance whether her own child is happy or upset.
And so, Huo Qiqian reached out to pat his head, only to remember her hands were covered in blood, and pulled back instead, asking: “My son isn’t happy?”
An’er nodded, then looked up and said: “Mother, Uncle Chou said even if we laid the evidence of the Tan family’s treason before His Majesty, the timing isn’t right now, and he might not act on it.”
Huo Qiqian nodded: “Mm, people whose hearts have already twisted that far — it’s no surprise they’d do such things.”
She Wanlin looked toward the new blades and said: “But, I don’t want there to ever be people like this in the world again.”
His eyes were full of images — bones piled deep in ravines, children sold into endless suffering, homeless old beggars drifting along the city walls, small bodies hanging in the air with eyes that would never close. His Majesty didn’t care. The great officials didn’t care. But he did.
Huo Qiqian looked at her grown child, and suddenly smiled, patting his head: “My son has grown up, and now he has burdens of his own. Don’t be afraid! The very first thought I had, coming into this world, was this — if anything in this world dares trouble my son’s happiness, then your mother will level it flat for you. His Majesty says the timing isn’t right? Then we’ll force it to be right…”
As she spoke, a warm pale-yellow light fell across the cliff face. Huo Qiqian looked at the mountain and said: “Child, no matter how long the night, dawn always comes. Call your little brothers-in-arms — let’s go.”
That day, along the postal routes bordering Jindian, urgent dispatches poured in without pause, all reporting that something had happened at Kangna Mountain in Ai City, Jindian.
The postal official sorting the urgent messages pulled out a large chest and locked every one of them away inside. A few days earlier, the army’s chief commander had given an order: for the next two months, any dispatch on the postal routes concerning the Tan family was to be downgraded from urgent to routine — sent out a day late, delayed further in light rain, halted entirely in heavy rain… in short, delay by any means possible.
His subordinate muttered anxiously: “Sir, with this many reports, are we really going to sit on them for a full day?”
The postal official snorted: “Every half-decent horse around here has already been taken by the damned Tan family. We’ve got a dozen old donkeys left to work with. I’d love to go fast too, but they’ve got to be able to go fast first. Go on, whoever asks, that’s the answer!”
And so, these urgent dispatches were held back a day at a time, and by the time they reached Yanjing, it would likely take a month and a half at the earliest.