Coming out from the Chancellor’s residence, Ning Yi made a quick round of the two Bamboo House shops, then returned home; it was still early, so he took a walk through the courtyard, front and back.

Ever since arriving in the capital to settle in the tenth year of Jinghan, three years had passed in a blur — neither short nor long, and in that time, the whole extended household had already moved twice, both times because the number of people living under one roof had grown.

Fortunately, young people adapt more easily, and the residences that the people at the Chancellor’s residence had helped arrange to purchase had, for the most part, belonged to families of some standing to begin with. The houses had already been carefully laid out and maintained by their previous owners, so that once purchased and moved into, it did not take long before the place began to feel like home.

The large compound where everyone now lived had originally belonged to a great Confucian scholar accomplished in both painting and calligraphy. The layout of the buildings and courtyards had been arranged with great care, carrying a natural air of refined elegance and dignity. After Ning Yi and the others had moved in, the general appearance had remained much the same — only, without the previous owner’s many rules and formalities, the atmosphere had become livelier and more relaxed.

Autumn had arrived, and the leaves of the parasol trees in the courtyard had already begun to turn yellow; the sunlight falling and the shade it cast carried a warm, mellow air about them. Wen Fang, Wen Ding and the others were, for the most part, indifferent to such scenery, but Ning Yi was rather fond of this atmosphere. As he made his way back to the inner courtyard, he nodded slightly at some of the household members he passed — knowing of the tense situation in the north lately, and knowing too that Ning Yi worked at the Chancellor’s residence, the maids and the various younger relatives in the household did not dare to bother him too much.

Back in the room he now shared with Tan’er, as mistress of the household, she was going over some account books or business records. Seeing him return, she smiled and came to greet him, telling Juan’er to bring tea. “Has the war in the north taken a turn for the better? Why did the Chancellor’s residence let you off so early today?”

Ning Yi smiled. “There’s something I need to tell you. Sit down first.”

“All right.” Tan’er sat on the edge of the bed. Ning Yi, holding the tea, glanced outside, then went and closed the door. The room dimmed slightly.

“Word just came in, straight to Chancellor Qin’s hands, so you haven’t seen it yet. The war in the north has collapsed.” Ning Yi drank down a mouthful of tea in a single gulp. “Guo Yaoshi has been defeated. The Righteous Victory Army at Yanmen Pass surrendered and opened the gates. The Jurchen have already broken through the first line of defense.”

Ever since Ning Yi had taken over the affairs of the Secret Investigation Bureau, in order to let Tan’er’s own capabilities come into play as well, and to give the household one more steady, guiding presence, a great deal of intelligence, upon reaching him, would also be passed along to her. But this current report was simply too shocking to have been circulated yet, and so Ning Yi could only tell her himself, this once. Hearing this, Tan’er frowned as well. “Then — then what do we do? Does the court have a plan?”

“South of Yanmen Pass, there are still several hundred thousand troops — it’s not as if there’s no plan at all. But there’s one thing that has to be done. Tan’er, you need to take the household and head south. You can go back to Jiangning, or you don’t have to — we have money, we can stay first wherever we already have houses. But… I want you, if at all possible, to cross south of the Yangtze. Leave everything else here — once this is over, we can come back.”

Tan’er’s expression had already turned serious. She looked at Ning Yi, thought for a moment. “You… the Chancellor’s residence’s own outlook… it’s really that bad?”

“In the worst-case estimate,” Ning Yi said, lowering his voice, “it’s not impossible that the capital could fall.”

“All right.” Tan’er drew a breath. “I understand. What about you, then? And Wen Ding, Wen Fang, and the others — are you all leaving too? If you’re staying to hold the capital, will there be any chance to escape when the time comes?”

“I’m heading north.”

The room fell silent.

“…What?”

“There are two reasons.” Ning Yi pulled a stool over and sat down facing Tan’er, leaning slightly forward. “I’m going to be in charge of the scorched-earth plan in the north. It’s an extremely troublesome undertaking, but it has to be done. Based on current projections, along the Yanmen Pass and Taiyuan line, the Jurchen will still have infantry and supply trains. Their cavalry is far too formidable, but the infantry — that’s the target we need to focus on hitting.”

“…By hitting their infantry, we slow their advance, and at the same time, nearby residents retreat into the cities or into the mountains, coordinating with the army to fight the Jurchen in these places. But there are simply too many people in the north — a scorched-earth policy can only have limited effect; truly crippling their supply lines entirely is almost impossible. But considering only their cavalry — if they fight a mobile campaign, they can carry at most a few days’ rations, and will have to keep pillaging constantly to survive. They can’t afford a war of attrition with us in the north, so we have to consider the possibility that they’ll seek a quick, decisive strike, pressing straight toward the capital.”

Ning Yi waved a hand to illustrate. “If their cavalry really does reach here, they could set up camp again, and any grain they’ve plundered along the way could go toward preparations for a siege — stockpiling it. So the single most important thing is not to let them plunder enough grain to sustain a siege of Bian Liang. The scorched-earth effort in the north is, ultimately, meant to slow the efficiency of their advance, to buy time for a full purge of the area around Bian Liang itself.”

“I told Chancellor Qin — for the sake of political optics, I’ll consider proceeding from north to south in sequence, but in truth, it has to proceed on two fronts at once — Chancellor Qin understands this too. The north races against time; around Bian Liang, we won’t move for real yet, but all preparations need to begin at once. This whole affair is enormous — I need to be able to hold a central position, so I can respond as fast and as efficiently as possible. Tan’er, you can understand that.”

The two of them had been married for years now, and ever since reaching mutual understanding with one another, there was much they could discuss and decide together. What Ning Yi was saying now was both explanation and question at once — in undertaking a matter of this scale, he hoped for his family’s support. Yet when he looked up now, Tan’er had already straightened up, her eyes fixed on him, and after a moment, she suddenly shook her head.

Ning Yi rubbed his fingers together a few times. “Tan’er, this… this is something that has to be done.”

“But this is war.” Tan’er said this quickly, urgently. Since the two of them had become husband and wife, in that earliest period she had indeed shown a strong, forceful side to herself — but ever since the affair with the imperial merchants had passed, at least in front of Ning Yi, Tan’er no longer carried herself with that air of a formidable, capable woman. Sitting there a moment ago, she had simply been listening in the manner of a wife. But now, blinking, her gaze anxious, some of that old bearing had surfaced once more. “This time I don’t agree. Can’t you at least… stay in the capital?”

“It’s not really so different from Fang La, or Liangshan.”

“Of course it’s different — these are the Jurchen. They’ve already finished off the entire Liao state.”

“How can you…”

In Ning Yi’s own mind, all the many things he had lived through truly did not feel so different from one another — he had never imagined Tan’er would actually object at a moment like this. He rose to his feet. Tan’er, on the bed’s edge, rose almost as if with a start at the very same moment, seizing hold of his sleeve with both hands, as if instinctively trying to hold him back, to keep him from leaving.

Through the window came the faint sound of household members moving about outside. In the room, Ning Yi sighed. “It’s already decided.” His right hand held fast by Tan’er, he reached out with his left and wrapped it around her body. Tan’er took a step closer, letting herself be drawn into his arms, blinking — her eyes had already grown damp.

“I’m not going off to die. The Jurchen invading south this time can’t have more than a hundred, two hundred thousand men at most, and they favor speed — there won’t be many places they can actually sweep through completely. With how quickly information reaches me, I’ll actually have plenty of room to maneuver outside the city walls. It’s quite safe.”

Tan’er, in his arms, only shook her head.

“And besides, this scorched-earth plan may not achieve all that much — the scale is simply too large. But it will have some effect, at least, it won’t be entirely meaningless. The battlefield is one side of things; on the other side, Bamboo House has several hundred, even a thousand people who can take part in this operation. They’ve already had basic training in following procedures and regulations — I’ll simplify the steps for them and set clear rules. Think about it — if these people, under proper direction, take part in driving forward a migration of a million people, even several million, whatever the ultimate outcome, Bamboo House will come away with a great pool of capable, trained people it can call on. I’ll have the household registers, terrain, and demographics of the whole north at my fingertips. With people like that, forget about just doing business — we could do anything at all going forward. No family or power in the north would be able to press us down… And our enemy isn’t only these Jurchen this time either — it’s not simply a matter of beating them back once. Compared to the seriousness with which the Jurchen crushed Liao, their attitude this time is honestly closer to playing around…”

By the latter half of what he was saying, Ning Yi had already lowered his voice. As he held his wife, comforting her, he slid his right hand free and let it travel slowly up along her body. Holding her close, stroking her back, then gradually moving to caress her chest, before beginning to undo the fastenings of her robe. Tan’er, naturally, made no move to resist, only listening to him speak, occasionally shaking her head without a word. But once her upper garment had been mostly undone, and her husband’s hand had slipped in against her chest for a while, she suddenly pulled back, stepping several paces to the side, out of Ning Yi’s embrace.

“But I still don’t agree, this time.” Tears welled in Tan’er’s eyes — much as they had every other time Ning Yi had gone off to do something dangerous. Only, in the past, though she had worried, she had never tried to stop him; this time, her attitude was different. “I’m your woman. You could clearly avoid going anywhere near a battlefield — you insist on going anyway, and you want my nod of approval for what, exactly?”

“I’m not going to a battlefield.”

“You’re going straight to the north — don’t lie to me with pretty words. So the efficiency’s a little worse, so a few more people die, so what — I know full well you could stay in the capital. If you want to do this work, I’ll support you. But there’s no reason for you to put yourself in this much danger for nothing. I don’t want you to go.”

Saying this, she suddenly ran toward the door, fastening her robe with one hand as she pulled it open with the other, and called out into the courtyard. “Yun Zhu, Jin’er, Xiao Chan, come quick — my husband is going off to the battlefield—”

Ning Yi had never anticipated this move at all. He walked toward her as well. Tan’er turned back, looking at him, wiping tears from her eyes with one hand and then the other, and as she watched him approach, she suddenly dropped to her knees before him. At that moment, little Ning Xi came toddling unsteadily into the courtyard as well. Ning Yi reached down instinctively and pulled Tan’er up into his arms. “What are you doing.”

“I want to stay here in the capital and work alongside you. I don’t want you to go.”

As his wife spoke through choked tears, Ning Yi looked out and saw the entire courtyard, inside and out, already descending into commotion. Yun Zhu and the others had all been roused, and were running over.

Before he had even set off north, a scene like this had already unfolded. This was, without question, something he had never seen coming…

…

To the north.

Around the stretch between Yanmen Pass and Taiyuan, a vast, sprawling chaos was spreading.

After Yanmen Pass fell, the scattered Wu forces fled in every direction. Along the way, groups of soldiers and officers began forming up again here and there, either holding position and waiting for orders, or converging on the larger nearby cities. But the Jurchen showed no sign of stopping — their advance quickly extended to the surrounding counties, towns, and cities. On the third day of the eighth month, the county seat of Daixian, in Xinzhou, thirty li from Yanmen Pass, had just fallen.

Slaughter spread through the county seat like a flood tide sweeping over and drowning everything in its path. Scattered soldiers who had not managed to flee, together with some of the city’s original residents, put up sporadic resistance, only to be crushed without a trace beneath this overwhelming disaster.

This was an important population center and stopping point along the trade routes just south of Yanmen Pass — though compared to Taiyuan Prefecture, Xinzhou city, or Shuozhou (already captured and put to the sword), it counted only as a small place. But because of its proximity to Yanmen Pass, Daixian’s city defenses had still been relatively strict, and the busy trade flowing north and south had given it a resident population numbering in the tens of thousands — in any case, a rich prize by any measure.

At the north gate, Wanyan Xiyin, hand resting on his sword hilt, led a company of personal guards into the streets of Daixian. All around, the sounds of killing and burning rose without pause, spreading everywhere.

A pair of eyes, in a half-collapsed two-story building beside the road, watched him quietly…

…

Near the south gate of Daixian, soldiers and civilians crowded together in the city streets, pushing madly toward the exit. Behind them, in the market streets, the Jurchen had already advanced, cutting through the alleyways with unstoppable slaughter. In one alley packed with people, three Jurchen cavalrymen had cut off the way out, long spears in hand, thrusting madly forward.

Blood sprayed through the air; the cries of men, the screams of women, the wailing of children all merged together into one. Some tried to hide low to the ground, only to have their arms and skulls crushed beneath horses’ hooves in an instant; others climbed over the bodies of others, trying to scale the wall on the far side. Among them were routed soldiers too, blades in hand, who, seeing the crowd moving too slowly, raised their swords and began cutting people down themselves — only to be run through, moments later, by spears thrusting in from behind.

When the corpses and blood had spread across half the length of the alley, a figure suddenly dropped down from atop the wall, and with a single slap of the palm, crushed the skull of one Jurchen soldier. The Jurchen cavalryman beside him reacted with astonishing speed, his spear sweeping in at once — but the man who had dropped down casually swung his hand, and the spear clattered into his own grip; he spun it around, and with two swift, simple strikes, pierced through the heads of both riders in an instant, brains and blood spraying across the wall.

When the crowd in the alley got a clear look at the newcomer, they saw he was an elderly man, advanced in years. He already held the spear in hand, and with a snap of the reins, charged straight toward the far end of the alley, where a small squad of Jurchen soldiers had just appeared at a fork in the road. He gave the reins another snap, and his warhorse’s front hooves came crashing down, trampling one Jurchen soldier into pulp. The old man’s spear whirled in a frenzy, smashing men and weapons alike, drawing blood, already locked in fierce combat with the surrounding Jurchen troops.

At this end of the long street, the crowd surged forward in even greater panic, while in the neighboring streets and alleys, the Jurchen had already caught up, and here and there small pockets of resistance briefly flared. But apart from a great master like this old man — capable of fighting, killing, and escaping all at once — such resistance was usually crushed within moments, the dead left lying by the roadside or run through and left hanging on spear shafts…

…

Shi Jin sat with a few of his men in a tavern, watching as, now and then, unfamiliar travelers and carts passed through the county town, or local residents packed their belongings in twos and threes to leave, heading for larger cities like Taiyuan.

The crowds fleeing south from the north grew steadily larger, mixed in among them former soldiers of the Wusheng Army, all bearing nothing but bad news. The Jurchen had breached Yanmen Pass, put Shuozhou to the sword, and were now pressing on Xinzhou — Daixian, right in their path, was likely already lost. The Righteous Victory Army had surrendered to the Jurchen, and these former Liao subjects were now fighting alongside them, pushing south together. None of the surrounding Wu forces could put up any real fight — neither the Wusheng Army nor men like Dong Pang’er could be relied upon. Word had it that Tong Guan, Prince of Guangyang, was in Taiyuan, and so everyone was fleeing in that direction.

The tavern had already stopped serving; the owner too was packing his valuables, preparing to leave. Shi Jin, for his part, felt no particular fear about any of it. As he sat watching all this unfold from the tavern, someone came up from below — three men dressed in the manner of the martial underworld, wearing wide-brimmed hats, evidently men of that world.

“We’re not serving anymore, the owner’s already closing up,” one of Shi Jin’s men called out to them.

The three looked over, then cupped their hands in greeting. “Brothers, we only know of this place — we’ve arranged to meet someone here, and hoped to borrow the space to rest a while.”

The man glanced at Shi Jin, who turned to look down below, indifferent, and so the man said nothing more. Before long, two more men of the martial underworld arrived, exchanging greetings with the first three; a while after that, one more man arrived.

The six of them spoke together in low, hushed voices. The last man to arrive was plainly a well-connected information broker of the martial world — light and nimble in build, with strong footwork, clearly someone whose job was specifically to relay news. He was telling the other five about the state of the war in the north. Shi Jin pretended not to care, but his ears were listening all the same.

After a moment, something caught his attention.

“…The Jin came on with overwhelming force, took Shuozhou without much effort at all… While the city was being put to the sword, the old man was there… gathering heroes to lend a hand… Grandmaster Zhou is already in his eighties, and still capable of such things — and here we are, in the prime of our lives…”

The others asked, “Where is Grandmaster Zhou now…”

“To be able to lend my strength at Grandmaster Zhou’s side would be the greatest fortune of my whole life…”

Shi Jin stood up. Several of his men made to stand as well, but Shi Jin waved a hand, signaling them to stay seated. He walked over to the six men and cupped his hands. “Brothers, are you speaking of the man known as ‘Iron Arm’ Zhou Tong, the grandmaster?”

The six looked at him, then rose and cupped their hands as well. “And this brother is…?”

“My humble name isn’t worth troubling your ears with. Only, if you gentlemen are heading north to lend Grandmaster Zhou a hand, might I join you?”

The men exchanged glances, and one of them said, “Brother, heading north is a good way to get killed — this isn’t something to do on a moment’s impulse.”

“Let’s test each other’s mettle.”

Shi Jin extended his right hand. The man across from him extended his hand in turn; the moment their hands met, the man suddenly exerted force, twisting his wrist, his fingers curling like a hawk’s talons straight for the pulse point on Shi Jin’s wrist. Shi Jin, too, turned his palm over, letting the grip land — only his sleeve swept out at the same instant, blocking everyone’s view for a moment. A moment later, the man withdrew his hand. “This brother is a man of true skill. There’s only one man in this world who could be called ‘Grandmaster Zhou’ — Elder Zhou Tong himself. Only — with skill as high as yours, and yet unwilling to give your name — could it be that you’re an enemy of the grandmaster’s?”

“I am a Han man too.” Shi Jin cupped his hands, then, after a moment, said, “I am a man with a crime on my conscience. But I have a brother, close as my own flesh and blood, who is a personal disciple of Grandmaster Zhou’s. His teacher is up there — so I must go as well.”

The others laughed. “A man who lives by the sword, in this world — hard to stay entirely clean.”

The nimble-framed man beside them said, “That this brother is a Han man is enough for us.”

The seven of them exchanged a few more words there. Before long, as dusk drew near, seven figures left the small county town, riding north together, while along the nearby official road, more and more travelers streamed south, fleeing the ravages of war, their faces stricken with grief, an unbroken line stretching on and on…