The depth of winter, the twelfth lunar month.
The former Yuling Zhi City.
The Daqiu Army Grand Marshal’s Mansion.
Marquis Wu Yanle walked briskly into the garden, only to see the King sitting motionless in the pavilion.
“How are you all caring for the King? On such a snowy day, there isn’t even a brazier in the pavilion!” He rebuked the attendants.
“Don’t blame them—I said it wasn’t necessary.” Wu Yanqie coughed twice.
“Your Majesty, since you’ve caught a cold, you should stay indoors,” Wu Yanle stepped forward to advise him.
“When Mo Zi broke off with me completely, she said something: This thing called feigning illness—if you fake it long enough, it becomes real.” Wu Yanqie smiled bitterly. “These past two years, my health has deteriorated considerably compared to before. Take this minor cold—it’s been a month already, hasn’t it?”
“Yuling’s winter is damp and cold, completely different from the capital. It’s normal for Your Majesty to find it difficult to adapt on your first winter here. But please set your mind at ease and recuperate properly—you’ll naturally recover.” Wu Yanle looked at his brother’s pale complexion, not daring to reveal the slightest bit of worry. He had thought his brother would no longer think of Mo Zi, yet it seemed he still hadn’t completely let go.
Wu Yanqie didn’t discern his younger brother’s thoughts and rose to walk inside. “Your steps are hurried—do you have military intelligence to report?” In half a month it would be New Year, but this would not be an easy year to celebrate.
On the surface, it seemed easy for Daqiu forces to capture Ping City and Song County, but the reality was that the Song army had organized small counterattack forces and had already killed tens of thousands of his men. When attacking Heng City, they encountered direct combat—while the other side’s losses were considerable, his losses were even greater. A thousand warships against three hundred Song vessels—though they had annihilated all the Song ships, their side had incredibly lost seven hundred vessels. Yuan Cheng and Chu Yu had become his primary adversaries, and with Mo Zi’s shipbuilding capabilities added to that, he sometimes wondered if he’d made the wrong decision—perhaps he should have dealt with the outwardly strong but inwardly weak Great Zhou instead.
The fierce offensive had slowed due to such massive losses. Daqiu’s national resources were further depleted, and with the arrival of harsh winter, military provisions and grain production had dropped drastically. The Yuling people had almost all fled across the Ta River, and years of continuous warfare had exhausted Yuling’s original prosperity. It was very difficult to find financial sources to fill the national treasury. Most of his soldiers couldn’t farm or work the land—they were heroes on horseback but clumsy hands in rice paddies, utterly ignorant of agricultural work. They couldn’t be like the Song people who farmed in peacetime and took up arms in wartime. It was only now that he deeply felt the disadvantages of emphasizing martial prowess while belittling scholars, farmers, artisans, and merchants. But at the same time, he didn’t understand how Song, a new nation born from corrupt soil, could maintain an endless supply of military provisions. How could the court bear such enormous expenditures? As far as he knew, Song territory had reduced taxes and encouraged all industries to flourish. Even if confiscating corrupt officials’ assets filled the national treasury, there were even more places spending money. To this day, his spies had learned that the shipyard was producing warships at an astonishing rate. They said it was called assembly-line production. Fifty or sixty workshops had opened among the common people, each specializing in making one part of a ship, then delivering them to the official shipyard for assembly.
Thinking of this, that name that made his heart ache tugged at his chest once more.
“Your Majesty, are you alright?” Wu Yanle saw his brother spacing out again and sighed inwardly.
“I’m fine. Go ahead and speak.” Wu Yanqie’s heartache was incurable—he could only focus his entire mind on his grand ambitions.
Wu Yanle replied, “Recently, our warships on the western flank have been mysteriously disappearing. I suspect the Song army is playing tricks in secret. I request Your Majesty’s permission to go investigate.”
“Mysteriously disappearing?” After thinking briefly, Wu Yanqie sneered. “It must be Song army raids. The Song forces number only six or seven hundred thousand, and with the South Sea just pacified, they absolutely don’t dare deploy troops to provide reinforcements. After ten or so battles at Heng City, they have only half their men left. When spring arrives and cavalry from all our Daqiu tribes arrive, they’ll have no choice but to flee across the river. So now they can only engage in petty thievery. You needn’t go yourself. Send orders to tighten both flanks and avoid operating alone. Be vigilant. In this freezing weather, they surely can’t swim ashore to conduct surprise attacks, can they?”
“Your Majesty, I…” Wu Yanle still wanted to go investigate personally.
“You are my own brother and the person I trust most. I need you to stay here and help me.” Wu Yanqie mentioned another person. “Let Duan Geshou go.”
“That’s good too. Duan Geshou is familiar with water and ships, and he’s about to assume leadership of the Duan Ge clan. More military achievements would benefit him.” Wu Yanle agreed.
Duan Geshou received the order and went to the western flank, from where crossing the river would reach Great Zhou’s Hua Zhou.
“General, it’s very strange. Last month we separately dispatched thirty patrol boats, but seven or eight of them disappeared. I thought it might be Song army raids, so I led boats to search, but we didn’t even find a single corpse.” As soon as the water garrison commander saw him, he reported.
“Did you also search the Great Zhou waters?” Duan Geshou asked.
“Great Zhou?” The commander thought that impossible. “Great Zhou is separated from here by three mountains and five rivers, and a hundred of our warships guard the gorge at the water boundary. Any movement would alert us—it can only be the Song army. But now all the riverside towns and cities on the western flank are under Daqiu control, so I can’t figure out where they’re hiding. This month has just begun and we’ve lost two more boats. General, forgive me—it’s this officer’s incompetence.”
“Do you know the approximate locations where the ships were lost?” Duan Geshou had no time to assign blame. His intuition told him he needed to solve this mystery quickly.
The commander shook his head and pointed at the map. “These red dots are the positions where the missing ships were dispatched. After the first ships disappeared, I paid attention and organized them in groups of three or four, but still couldn’t prevent it. This area has many mountains, but most near the water have steep cliffs or treacherous waterways. Unless entering town ports, it’s very difficult to hide.”
Duan Geshou looked at those red dots—their distribution wasn’t regular. “Besides our ships, what other vessels are on the river?”
“Fishing boats, cargo ships, but they must have permits issued by us. Every boat entering port is inspected. During extraordinary times, I dare guarantee no one is slacking off or taking bribes.” Because of the shortage of silver, they had no choice but to let common people continue their livelihoods to earn military supplies for them.
“The King’s orders are to tighten both flanks, avoid further losses, secure the riverside towns, and guard against Song forces landing.” Duan Geshou couldn’t make anything of it, so for now he could only relay the orders.
The next day, Duan Geshou personally led a squadron of warships to patrol the river.
Although fishing boats and merchant ships under Daqiu management were allowed to travel, the river was quite desolate. Rarely seeing one or two boats, it was indeed as the commander had said—they all came from nearby towns, with proper documentation. Moreover, they were simply equipped and the boat designs were small—impossible for them to make patrol boats disappear without a trace.
For three consecutive days, Duan Geshou found nothing unusual. Just when he thought the enemy had retreated in the face of difficulty, he received bad news—a supply warship heading to the water garrison had disappeared. At this moment when military provisions were tight, losing an entire shipload of supplies was extremely serious. He wanted to blockade the entire riverside and prohibit ships from leaving port, but orders needed time to be transmitted down through layers. The only method was to conduct more thorough inspections of all vessels.
This day, Duan Geshou encountered a cargo ship. Judging by its size, it was comparable to a warship—tall and wide. Though extremely dilapidated, its basic structure was solid. He found it suspicious and ordered it to stop.
“Where are you from and where are you going?” he asked.
The cargo merchant was short and dark-skinned with small eyes showing fear. “Coming from Liu Family Port, going to Feng City to buy grain.”
“Do you have documentation?” Duan Geshou stamped his foot—it sounded hollow.
“Yes, yes I do.” The cargo merchant produced the papers.
They bore official seals and guarantees from garrison commanders, and showed no signs of forgery. Duan Geshou returned them to him but still ordered soldiers to search the entire ship.
A quarter-hour later, the soldiers all reported finding nothing.
Duan Geshou was about to leave when he noticed the cargo merchant’s relieved expression. His heart stirred and he turned back. “Making this trip isn’t easy for you. As far as I know, one generally wouldn’t sail empty to fetch cargo—you’d transport cargo over to sell first, then buy goods. Why aren’t you doing that?”
The cargo merchant froze, then hurriedly answered, “This humble one only does grain business. Originally I should have gone to Feng Zhou to sell rice, but this year there was no harvest, so I must go buy rice instead. In good years past, I’d carry cargo for others. But now, with the downturn—” He couldn’t very well say it was all because Daqiu people were waging war.
How could Duan Geshou not hear the implication? “Enough, I also know doing business is difficult. However, there’s one more place to inspect.”
The cargo merchant asked respectfully, “General, please inspect as you wish. This humble one is an honest businessman.”
“Come here.” Duan Geshou called over a squad of soldiers. “Bore several holes in the bottom planks of this ship for me. Let’s see if there’s a hidden compartment.”
The cargo merchant was shocked. “General, this… what are you saying? If you bore holes in the bottom planks, the ship will sink. This ship isn’t mine—I rented it at great expense. If it’s damaged, I can’t afford to compensate. General, show mercy—there really isn’t any hidden compartment.”
Duan Geshou paid no attention. “I know of a certain person—any ship she builds, anything is possible. Consider yourself unlucky. My intuition tells me this ship is dangerous. I must set my mind at ease before I can let you pass peacefully.”
The cargo merchant looked utterly confused, not understanding what Duan Geshou meant.
“Archers, be ready. Be careful—fierce ones might jump out. Don’t shoot at vital spots—I want them alive.” Duan Geshou propped both arms on the gunwale, raising his eyebrows expectantly. Somehow, he felt some anticipation at the possibility of seeing that woman again.
“Reporting to the General, there’s no hidden compartment under the planks. Water has already leaked in.” However, the soldiers did not fulfill his expectations.
“There isn’t?” Duan Geshou’s disappointment showed plainly. He waved his hand lightly. “Return to the ship. Let’s go.”
The cargo merchant called out, “General, this ship is leaking water—what are we supposed to do? Please take us back to port for repairs.”
Duan Geshou didn’t look back. “They’re just a few small holes. Stuff them with cloth and you’ll be fine. Leave quickly, or I’ll treat you as a Song spy. Forget the ship—your life could be gone in an instant.”
The cargo merchant covered his mouth, not daring to make another sound. However, once Duan Geshou’s ship had gone far away, a sly smile appeared on his face as he turned and walked toward the lower hold.
In the hold stood a man, graceful as jade, elegant as a tree. Water had risen past his ankles, yet he smiled like a gentle breeze.
“Tenth Brother, they’ve left.” The short dark-skinned man scratched his face—the coating itched his skin.
The one called Tenth Brother was none other than Mo Zi’s cousin, even more dashing and handsome than Min Song, who had nearly been matched with Mo Zi in an arranged marriage—Min Zhen.
This short dark-skinned man was the Min family’s Eighteenth Young Master—Min Gui.
“Pump out the water and return at full speed.” The bottom planks were false bottoms, the water had been loaded beforehand. Hidden truly underneath were the “culprits” who had recently made Daqiu ships disappear. Min Zhen said, “They’ve drawn their flanks in so tight—tonight we can all pass through.”
“Excellent!” Min Gui relayed the orders.
That night, dozens of pitch-black ships passed quietly through the center of the wide water surface, not encountering even a ghost’s shadow.
The ships looked strange—tall and flat with large decks and no cabins. Above were war chariots; within their bellies were hidden horses. Three or four hundred soldiers stood heel-to-heel packed together.
Their name was: troop transport ships.