Autumn had just arrived, and the air of summer had not yet fully faded from Bianliang. When dark clouds gathered, the rain came pouring down.

For the people of Bianliang at this time, the sudden downpour could not dampen the passionate, boiling mood within the city. In recent times, the news that had most shaken and delighted the Wu Dynasty came from the north.

The northern expedition had triumphed — Tong Guan’s army of two hundred thousand had broken through Yanjing, recovering most of the Sixteen Prefectures of Yan and Yun; the Liao state was on the verge of ruin.

When the news arrived, two hundred years of humiliation and hopes finally saw their first ray of dawn. For the people of Bianjing, especially the Confucian scholars, it was cause for universal celebration. In such an atmosphere, the defeat of the bandits at Liangshan Marsh to the east was, by comparison, almost too trivial to mention. With the fortunes of the nation flourishing, and heaven and earth working in harmony, under such circumstances the might of the imperial army naturally sent mere bandit rabble fleeing before the wind — hardly worth a second thought.

Since the importance of defeating Liangshan was far below that of taking Yanjing, when the news arrived it was not given any grand publicity. In fact, word of the Liangshan affair had actually arrived before news of the Yanjing situation, but due to certain complications, the handling of it was temporarily delayed — and afterward, there was little need to publicize it at all. As long as there was victory at Yanjing, everything else would merely be icing on the cake, fading into insignificance.

It was in this atmosphere that Su Tan’er, leading a group of the Su family, bringing along her nearly three-month-old child, arrived in Bianliang.

The group moved into the residence Ning Yi had purchased earlier, and after settling in briefly, their first visit was to the household of Right Chancellor Qin Siyuan. Compared with Yun Zhu, Su Tan’er was not yet as familiar with the Qin family, but Qin Siyuan and his wife had always held Ning Yi in high regard, and the child she brought successfully opened the door to “diplomacy.” The nearly three-month-old little Ning Xi was healthy and quite adorable; seeing him, Madam Qin was overjoyed, remarking that the child was clever and expressing a wish to adopt him as a godson, urging Su Tan’er to bring the child to visit often.

The Qin family’s affection for Ning Xi was, of course, partly rooted in their regard for Ning Yi — that much went without saying. But a child’s glory was naturally tied to his mother’s; as Ning Yi’s eldest son, destined to inherit his father’s legacy and one day shoulder the burdens of both the Ning and Su families, every word of praise for him also touched Su Tan’er’s heart. And it was after this exchange of pleasantries that Yun Niang, speaking privately with Su Tan’er about news of Ning Yi, further explained why the Qin family held him in such regard.

From there — within the span of a single month, Liangshan had been utterly crushed, tens of thousands of its bandits killed or surrendered. For anyone, this was a dreamlike record of victory. Ning Yi’s revenge, both swift and ruthless, was as if he had reached out with a heaven-spanning hand from the very start and slammed the whole of Liangshan flat to the ground. For a woman, this was also the true bearing of a husband one could rely on — but being a practical person as well, Su Tan’er could naturally understand the danger within it. Outside, the rain poured down; in the room, amid the warm yellow lamplight, she listened to Yun Niang’s words, and as she covered her lips with her hand upon hearing what had been reported, her eyes reddened.

“He — he wasn’t hurt, was he?”

“Don’t worry, I heard he wasn’t hurt at all. This time it was entirely his strategic planning from behind the scenes. It’s only that the Liangshan chieftains are still on the run — no telling how much longer it’ll take to round them all up, but with Liheng’s methods, I imagine good news will arrive before long…”

“His methods are so sharp and severe, he’ll become a thorn in the bandits’ side. Song Jiang and the others… they were bound to set their sights on him sooner or later. I only hope he stays safe…” Tan’er sat there, smiling through her tears.

Yun Niang smiled and said a few more words at her side, then added, “Lately, the most inspiring news within the household has been this Liangshan affair. My husband claps his hands on the table in praise every time — if not for the tense situation in Yanjing, with so many urgent matters pressing, this news would have spread far and wide by now…”

“After all, the Yanjing affair is more important, I suppose…”

“Yanjing…” Yun Niang smiled at Tan’er, then after a moment shook her head and said quietly, “To outsiders, the news might sound cause for joy, but my husband says that’s just a bunch of scoundrels making a mess of things — nowhere near comparable to even half of Liheng’s achievement. But this matter is still confidential for now — you’re no outsider, Tan’er, but best not to mention it to others…”

In the atmosphere of universal celebration filling Bianliang, Yun Niang and Tan’er’s casual mention of this matter carried a certain helplessness. And at this time, within the Qin household, or indeed across the whole capital, the very few who knew the inner details, upon speaking of this matter, did not necessarily share the same wild joy as everyone else — as was the case in the back study of the Qin residence, within the Secret Service.

By now Cheng Zhouhai had already left; handling affairs here were Yao Zunian, Ji Kun, Monk Juemin, Wenren Bu’er, and others. Occasionally, when someone sent invitations to poetry gatherings celebrating the recovery of Yanjing to Yao Zunian or Monk Juemin in the room, these two men — both rather well-known figures in Bianjing’s literary and social circles — mostly showed little interest. In fact, as they themselves remarked, if Cheng Zhouhai were still here, he’d probably curse them all out, maybe even smash half the teaware in the room.

And in truth, when the initial news of Yanjing had first arrived, the normally composed Monk Juemin had once slammed his fist down on the teaware in front of him, nearly shattering an entire set of purple clay teaware, the shards embedding themselves in his hand, blood flowing freely — and along with the anger rising within him at that moment came the bearing he had once carried as a member of the imperial family. Whether renouncing the world or engaging with it, for men like him, there were always some things, some emotions, that could not be shaken off. And as various pieces of news continued arriving afterward, only gradually could everyone settle their emotions, occasionally sighing: “Well, it’s a good thing overall.”

As the heavy rain fell, a thousand li to the north, another man was, in a nightmare, reliving everything of the Yanjing affair…

…

In the darkness, what lit up before his eyes was a light like something out of purgatory. An ancient, dark city under the night sky, the sound of slaughter boiling and pouring out…

Waking with a start from the bed, Guo Yaoshi’s forehead was already covered in cold sweat, the light dim, rain pouring down outside. He got out of bed, threw on his clothes, and gritted his teeth, his heart once again reliving everything from that day.

In mid-May, Guo Yaoshi had finally obtained approval from Tong Guan and Liu Yanqing to lead six thousand elite troops of the Loyalty Army, coordinating with Liu Yanqing’s direct forces, in a surprise attack on Yanjing. Based on his understanding of the Liao state, the entire plan was careful and rigorous; the advance forces successfully infiltrated the city, breached the gates, and unleashed chaotic slaughter within the ancient capital of Yanjing.

By this point, the Liao forces, worn down by their war against the Jin state, had lost all will to fight to the death — especially when the Wu Dynasty’s army suddenly stormed into the Liao capital as if descending from heaven, the signal it sent to everyone was that Liao’s fate had come to its end. In the initial success, Guo Yaoshi was overjoyed and sent men to demand the Empress Dowager Xiao’s swift surrender. Liu Yanqing, too, was overjoyed on his side, announcing that once the main army entered the city, there would be no restraint on the soldiers. For men like Tong Guan and Liu Yanqing, after repeated defeats in the war against Liao, a great victory was needed, and the troops, too, needed more incentive — such an order, spoken from Liu Yanqing’s mouth, came just as readily from Tong Guan’s own bold spirit.

“When I, Tong, lead troops, there’s nothing else to it — the officers and men give their lives, sacrifice themselves for my sake, and I will never treat them unfairly!”

Under such an order, the discipline of the Wu Dynasty’s army gradually collapsed, and they began burning and killing within the city. Guo Yaoshi was horrified and tried to intervene, but was immediately rebuffed: “How many of our Wu Dynasty’s people have the Liao killed over the past hundred years? Yaoshi, you’ve only just joined our Wu Dynasty — you don’t understand the depth of this old feud between us, so it’s best you not say too much on this. Watch your words, lest you speak yourself into trouble. In any case, the matter is settled — what harm is there in letting the men vent a little? Hahahaha…”

Though the Liao were already at their last gasp, in the north the men still retained some martial vigor. By the second day, resistance within Yanjing had begun to grow stronger. Though the Empress Dowager Xiao was a woman, her temperament was fierce; seizing the opportunity, she sent bloody appeals to the great clans within the city, and afterward reclaimed the gates — not to drive the Wu Dynasty’s army out of the city, but instead to shut the gates, intending to fight the Wu army to the death, both sides perishing together. In this turn of the battle, Guo Yaoshi and the others in fact still held the upper hand, but the forces under Liu Guangshi, originally scheduled to bring in the main army, never arrived.

On the third day of the battle, the Northern Court King Xiao Gan led his main force back to Yanjing, and, riding on the citywide fury, drove Guo Yaoshi and his men back out of the city. At this point the Loyalty Army still had strength left to fight, and Guo Yaoshi, a genuine renowned general, was still waiting for Liu Guangshi’s main force to arrive. Knowing that once a rout took hold, there would be no recovery, he urged Liu Yanqing’s several thousand direct troops to resist Xiao Gan together with him, hoping that even if they had to fight and retreat, the main force would arrive in time for one more stand.

That side nodded in agreement, but the moment they clashed with Xiao Gan’s forces, the entire formation collapsed in an instant. Guo Yaoshi could only watch, stunned, as these elite Wu Dynasty troops fled in a mad scramble, and this flight dragged down the morale of the Loyalty Army along with it. Xiao Gan’s forces, at that moment, truly had morale like a rising tide, utterly terrifying — the Loyalty Army standing in front collapsed like a sandcastle before a great wave, holding out for only a moment before being routed entirely. Guo Yaoshi still tried to organize an orderly retreat to preserve what strength remained, but the scattered resistance in the end only bought the Wu Dynasty’s army a little more time to disperse. And on the battlefield, when he once again faced that terrifying Northern Court King, he was nearly cut down under the man’s sword — it was only thanks to many of his old comrades protecting him that he managed to flee, narrowly avoiding capture.

Liu Guangshi’s main force of tens of thousands only arrived belatedly at this point; seeing that their allied troops had already scattered, these several tens of thousands of men were likewise scattered and routed by the pursuing Xiao Gan. Further behind, Tong Guan, seeing that defeat was already set, made no attempt at futile resistance, but cleanly turned his formation around and retreated the whole way, preserving the entire northern expedition force.

Throughout the entire battle, of the more than six thousand men of the Loyalty Army who had gone in, only about a thousand returned, plus the more than two thousand who had held the main camp — of the original eight thousand brothers who had surrendered to the Wu Dynasty, only three thousand now remained. Within the Wu Dynasty’s army, there was a great deal of finger-pointing and blame-shifting; according to those civil officials, the cause of the defeat needed to be found so that victory could be achieved next time. Amid this uproar, Tong Guan merely offered a few words of comfort to the Loyalty Army and set the matter aside.

Guo Yaoshi had originally thought this group would try to make the Loyalty Army the scapegoat, but Tong Guan’s handling of the matter turned out to be masterful. After the great defeat, he immediately contacted the Jurchens — no telling what terms he agreed to — and afterward the Jin forces marched in, advancing swiftly, breaking through Yanjing, and after burning, killing, and plundering, handed over a ruined city to the Wu Dynasty. By the time Guo Yaoshi truly grasped what had happened, Tong Guan had already sent word south of the great victory at Yanjing, beginning to proclaim this unprecedented achievement.

As for the handling of the Loyalty Army, on this day of heavy rain, an imperial edict finally arrived: “…The Loyalty Army unit under Guo Yaoshi, in the campaign to take Yanjing, fought with all its strength and achieved great merit. It is hereby specially decreed that Guo Yaoshi be appointed Military Commissioner of Wutai Camp, with additional honors… rewards… bestowed… by imperial decree—”

A great many honors and titles were now laid before Guo Yaoshi, and amid his stunned gaze, Liu Guangshi, who had likewise been promoted and rewarded with this same commission, came over smiling, drawing close to Guo Yaoshi. That night, a banquet was held within the Loyalty Army camp; Liu Guangshi and Guo Yaoshi drank themselves into a stupor before parting. As for his own delay during the army’s northern advance, Liu Guangshi expressed that he had felt guilty about it all along, but also explained in detail that the Wu Dynasty’s army simply wasn’t that fast. And now that everyone had received their rewards and promotions, he finally had the face to come see Guo Yaoshi, offering his apologies, and sincerely saying that everyone within the Wu Dynasty regarded Guo Yaoshi as a true man of mettle — skilled in battle, formidable indeed!

For Liu Guangshi, this was perhaps the best gesture of goodwill he could offer toward Guo Yaoshi.

After seeing Liu Guangshi off, the sky was dim, the rain still falling. Guo Yaoshi held the imperial edict, standing outside his tent, watching the rain pour down, soaking his own body. A couple of surviving old comrades, knowing he had been brooding over the defeat at Yanjing, came to comfort him, saying, “This is a good thing, at least we can set our hearts at ease now — next we can recruit more troops, right?”

“Commissioner Tong, at least he has a conscience — he hasn’t forgotten about us after all…”

The two men spoke this way; Guo Yaoshi, drunk, looked at them with reddened eyes, the imperial edict in his hand beginning to tremble. He clenched his jaw, wanting to throw it into the rain, but in the end didn’t dare. He gave a heavy wave of his hand, staring into the darkness of the rain curtain, pointing for a long while.

“Our five thousand-some brothers, ah — I originally, I originally led you…” he muttered under his breath, and finally, tears fell in the rain; suppressing himself, he finally roared out, “You! Bastards—!”

That sound echoed through the curtain of rain.

This day was the thirteenth of the seventh month in the Jinghan era of the Wu Dynasty. At that very same time, a thousand li to the south, at Zhanjia Hollow in Yunzhou, more than three thousand men of Liangshan were charging down the slope, surging fiercely toward the camp set up by the men of Dulong Ridge.

Far away in Shandong, Ning Yi had no way of knowing the situation in the north for the time being, nor was he, for now, particularly interested. Waking from his dream, he felt a touch of weariness in his heart; some small figures in that dream had bid him farewell forever, and though he knew the contents of the dream were mostly his own wishful imagining, at this moment he still could not help but feel his mind filled with a faint, lingering emotion. Outside, it was still raining heavily, but dawn was approaching. Since traveling was difficult in such heavy rain, everyone rested at a post station along the way; with the pace of the more than two hundred men varying, the first group of thirty-odd men with carts and horses had gone on ahead, while the rest had to find lodging further behind.

Ning Yi got out of the carriage at the rear courtyard of the post station. He had slept deeply, and the others hadn’t even woken him. Beneath the eaves in the heavy rain hung a single lonely lantern; in the darkness of the falling rain, the post station itself had already gone to sleep, with some of the accompanying men finding places to sleep in the shabby hall or beneath the eaves of the station. Ning Yi went up to the second floor, found a place to sit, and watched the night rain, the cool wind blowing, waiting for Zhu Biao and the others to wake so they could tell him about the outlaw masters they would encounter on this journey and the various situations ahead.