Late autumn. Bianliang, its gates shut tight, remained gripped by an atmosphere of tension, anxiety, and clamor.

The Jurchens had ceased their assaults on the city; the armies gathered outside were said to be holding their positions as well. Rumors swirled endlessly through the court, and the populace grew increasingly restless. News of the negotiations had leaked out to the public at one point, but as more and more relief forces arrived, that information gradually became sealed off again. People waited, hoping this war would soon pass; some also hoped the Wu Dynasty’s army would deal the Jurchens a harsh lesson. But everything remained stuck at this stage, drawn taut without release.

Among those at court, some understood the true state of affairs. In mid-September, Qin Sinyuan’s dismissal from the chancellorship caught many off guard. Among the war faction, if Li Gang was the banner planted at the front, then Qin Sinyuan, behind the scenes, was the one truly holding that banner upright. With tensions running high and Li Gang’s influence at its peak, Qin Sinyuan’s removal left people with a distinctly bad feeling.

Still, because this change in the right chancellorship had come so suddenly, there was, for the moment, no rush of people piling on to kick a man while he was down. The imperial edict itself had been somewhat ambiguous, merely stating that Qin Sinyuan was to temporarily relinquish his post, with wording that carried something of a conciliatory tone. Once the matter was settled, many court officials went to the Qin household to pay their respects and offer comfort. Even those who had long disagreed with him politically felt no particular satisfaction at his fall.

The Wu Dynasty, having enjoyed a hundred years of peace and prosperity, had only just rid itself of the great scourge of the Liao state, only to find enemy troops at its gates in the blink of an eye.

The whole situation, in truth, left little room for optimism.

At this time, gathered in the inner hall of the chancellor’s residence were several ministers who had originally belonged to the peace faction—men like Tang Ke and Wu Min, both quite learned and on close terms with Qin Sinyuan—along with Qin Hui, the Vice Censor-in-Chief, who could claim some kinship with the Qin family. After the edict of dismissal had been issued, a number of officials had stepped forward attempting to block Zhou Zhe’s decree, Qin Hui among them. Naturally the attempt achieved nothing, but the gesture had at least been made.

“…His Majesty’s intent in this is by no means to truly dismiss Lord Qin—it’s simply that the situation at Taiyuan is too sensitive. A few days ago in court, the Chancellor avoided the topic entirely, saying not a word, and His Majesty, understanding how difficult his position was, could see the matter clearly enough in his heart…”

“His Majesty’s intentions are exactly as Lord Wu describes. This old man understands as much in his own heart,” Qin Sinyuan said with a smile, cupping his hands.

Qin Hui, off to the side, gave a scoffing snort. “So then, gentlemen, you’d have us cede Taiyuan?”

“Cede it, we cannot—but to pin all our hopes purely on a single battle outside the city walls is, in truth, rather reckless, wouldn’t you say? This is the capital. To put it bluntly, if the city truly falls, there’ll be no point thinking of a fallback plan at all, will there?”

“If the war truly turns against us, then naturally we ought to think of a fallback. But since ancient times, the art of war has valued burning one’s boats behind oneself. If, before the battle has even begun, one has already calculated one’s own defeat, then there’s truly no point fighting at all.”

“Vice Censor Qin certainly seems to understand military affairs well—why not let him command this battle himself, then? I’d certainly support that. Only, Vice Censor Qin ought to understand that matters on the battlefield and matters at court are not necessarily one and the same!”

“If superiors and subordinates cannot act with one mind, how can the soldiers be expected to fight with all their hearts!”

Wu Min and Qin Hui were on the verge of quarreling outright, when Tang Ke, sipping his tea off to the side, turned his head toward Qin Sinyuan. “My lord, I said long ago that this war should not be fought. Not that it shouldn’t be fought at all—but today’s affair is precisely the reason it shouldn’t be. These past years, the voices calling for war have grown louder, all believing the timing was favorable. When I said the war shouldn’t be fought, everyone blamed me, called me a coward. Now, with things as they are—have you seen it too, my lord?”

Qin Sinyuan cupped his hands. “Heh. Qinsou, my worthy younger brother, a coward… I’ve never once thought that of you. We’ve discussed this many times before, you and I—I know full well why today’s affair has come to pass. But what I believe in my heart will not change on that account. For the sake of a nation, when opportunity presents itself, one cannot hesitate and look back over one’s shoulder—one must do everything within human power, and then leave the rest to heaven’s will. Besides, heaven’s will remains unknown at this point; there are still many variables on the battlefield. Zongwang’s forces, after all, have advanced deep alone, and Zonghan remains tied down at Taiyuan—we still have a chance.”

“What chance? Relying on those pampered troops outside the city?” Tang Ke shook his head. “Soldiers who don’t know their generals, generals who don’t know their soldiers—what does it matter if there are a hundred thousand or two hundred thousand of them? Shaoqian tried to intercept Zongwang’s army at Shouzhang, and was defeated in a single day. Is there truly anyone in this room who still believes, as those impeachment memorials claim, that he’s simply an incompetent commander who recklessly attacked on his own initiative? War is never the affair of one man alone. Ever since the Jurchens rose up, they have repeatedly triumphed against overwhelming odds—at Huzhandagang, a mere twenty thousand of them defeated seven hundred thousand Liao troops. Right now outside Bianliang, aside from the Ever-Victorious Army, they still have a main force of sixty thousand men, set to clash with our two hundred thousand outside these walls. My lord, do you truly believe our Wu Dynasty stands a chance?”

Qin Sinyuan fell silent for a moment. “But can a war truly be calculated this way? If we’re to reckon things so plainly, then when the Jurchens marched south with just over a hundred thousand men and our entire nation couldn’t hold them back, ought we simply to have surrendered the moment they came?”

“War should never have been provoked so lightly to begin with.” Tang Ke said this, then paused, cupping his hands again. “I haven’t come today to voice such shallow sentiments. That war cannot be calculated this way, I understand full well in my own heart. It’s only that the Jurchens’ strength is formidable—while Aguda still lived, twenty thousand of them defeated seven hundred thousand and still won. It’s been barely a year since Aguda’s death; Wuqimai has only just succeeded him, and Zongwang is the very soul of the Jurchen army, Aguda’s own son. If this battle doesn’t produce a satisfactory outcome, it will produce a devastating one instead. I know full well that everyone at court is pinning their hopes on this one battle outside the city to make Zongwang think twice and withdraw. But unless Zongwang suffers a crushing defeat, that’s simply not going to happen. Once the great battle begins, hoping both sides will simply pull their punches is nothing but wishful thinking…”

His expression turned grave, and he paused again. “Right now his several tens of thousands of troops have advanced south, sweeping all before them with ease—but his actual expectations for this war amount to nothing more than reparations and ceded territory from our Wu Dynasty. If real fighting breaks out outside the city, taking it won’t be easy for Zongwang, but he’ll never be willing to simply withdraw either. Once this drags on, our Wu Dynasty’s strength will only continue to bleed out, and once he sees that clearly, he’ll know our Wu Dynasty faces the catastrophe of national ruin!”

Qin Hui said, “My lord Tang is being needlessly alarmist.”

Yao Zunian, present alongside them as a fellow great scholar, lifted his gaze. “The catastrophe of national ruin, once past, becomes the omen of national revival. If we cannot grit our teeth and hold firm even now, then going forward, once the Jin have tasted this success, what else will be left to us but to survive on ceded land and tribute?”

“The Jurchens rose up suddenly, without deep foundations—everything they have comes from plunder. A force strikes hardest on its first charge, weakens on the second, and is spent by the third. Given time, decay will inevitably set in, and by then, our Wu Dynasty may yet have its chance…”

Qin Hui laughed coldly. “It’s not a matter of who’s better—only of who’s less terrible.”

Tang Ke glanced at him. “Some matters, laid bare before your very eyes, cannot be resolved simply by acknowledging or denying them—nor are they a matter of youthful scholarly bravado, or of one or two lives. The fate of countless millions across this realm rests in our hands; with the state of the nation as it stands, all we can do is act according to what lies before us. Brother Qin, surely your dismissal from the chancellorship today wasn’t the result of us stirring up trouble before the throne!”

There was a great deal left unsaid, hanging heavy in his words. Qin Hui gave a few laughs but said nothing further. Qin Sinyuan’s expression, however, grew complicated, and it was a long while before he finally spoke.

“Qinsou, I have always admired your learning and foresight. But this matter was never one of calculation and weighing costs—it is a matter of conviction. You believe in your responsibility toward the common people, and do not wish to see them suffer further. I believe in my responsibility toward this nation and its people, and cannot bear to see them live as they would otherwise be made to live. I have always believed that so long as things haven’t reached the point of true despair, there remains, without fail, some turning point to be found. If everything were decided purely by calculation and weighing of costs, then neither you nor I, nor anyone else in this court, would need to do anything at all—we could simply pass our days shuffling counting-rods back and forth.”

“You and I have argued over this more than once or twice now…” Tang Ke sighed, shaking his head. “I know I cannot persuade you—only tempered stone reveals true steel, and your convictions are not without merit. It’s only that the troubles of our dynasty are the accumulated ills of two hundred years; to move forward, one must first seek reform, and without successful reform, moving forward accomplishes nothing. As things stand now, it is the common people who suffer, the soldiers within and without this city who suffer… We officials are all men who bear guilt in this.”

“Without the pain of a blade cutting to the bone, how can there be cause for reform?”

“And how did the Black Water Alliance turn out? Where was the reform in that?”

In the study, the murmured voices of these ministers, debating as they sat, carried a heavy weight befitting this heavy-laden city. And at this same moment, outside the walls of Bianliang, within the Jurchen camp at Moutuo Ridge, the late-autumn wind howled in through the tent flaps as Zongwang and his assembled generals held council.

“…Grand Marshal Nianhan writes that Taiyuan remains, for now, in Wu Dynasty hands, difficult to take in the short term. The Wu Dynasty’s western army has already moved and is eyeing it closely. Should the western route army press forward recklessly and fail to take it, and the Wu Dynasty’s main force strike suddenly, they could very well cut off the north-south route entirely. Though the Wu Dynasty is weak, they still have a few forces capable of fighting—it would be unwise for our entire army to find itself trapped deep within Wu Dynasty territory…”

At the center of the tent, Wanyan Zongwang, second son of Aguda, sat in the commander’s seat, radiating an air of quiet authority without needing to raise his voice. Around him, in order of rank, sat Wanyan Ashema, Wanyan Chang, the Han army commander Liu Yanzong, Sai La, Shu Lie Su, Huo Ligai, and other generals, with the surrendered Guo Yaoshi and others seated at the far end.

“I’ve sent orders several times now for the western route army to move south in support, but from the look of things, Nianhan has no intention of coming for the time being.” Having relayed Nianhan’s message, Zongwang spoke up. “Now there are those saying our army has advanced deep alone, that the Wu Dynasty has massed several hundred thousand troops—claiming a million—blocking our path back across the Yellow River, hoping to force our surrender…”

He paused here, the corner of his mouth curling upward in a faint smile, and laughter rippled around the tent.

“The Wu Dynasty people—mere clowns jumping about on a stage.” Zongwang waited a moment, a flicker of ferocity flashing in his eyes, and slammed his fist down on the table before him. “We Jurchens have never once fought a battle where the wind was at our backs! The Wu Dynasty has gathered a mere two hundred thousand men by the Yellow River—too afraid to advance, too afraid to retreat—and yet they actually believe we fear them. I’ve already given them our terms for negotiation. Naturally they won’t accept them. Now that it’s confirmed Nianhan won’t be coming, there’s no need for us to wait any longer!”

He paused, then raised his hand. “Brothers, let us consider how we shall crush this so-called million-strong army of theirs, right here outside Bianliang!”

Even as these words rang out through the camp, a piece of intelligence was, at that very moment, racing south on fast horseback from the north, entering the capital region.

…

As he entered that clamorous courtyard, Yue Fei caught sight of Ning Yi’s expressionless figure walking away.

The sound of quarreling still carried from within the courtyard.

“…Ran off the moment you couldn’t win the argument! Butchers! Ignorant scoundrels! Our Wu Dynasty’s glorious rivers and mountains—ruined by the likes of you…”

The voice cursing inside belonged to that same magistrate, Yu Wenfeng. After several days here, Yue Fei had come to understand what Ning Yi and his people were actually responsible for: evacuating, alongside the massing of the great armies, every last civilian and every last grain of food from around Bianliang. Though on the surface the Bamboo Chronicle appeared to simply be coordinating logistics, in truth it had the backing of the chancellor’s household behind it—this, in fact, was the true driving force behind the scorched-earth policy’s progress.

Especially now, with the Jurchens pressing right up against the capital and everyone consumed by their own affairs, it seemed only Ning Yi and his people, leaning on the army’s support, were still steadily carrying this work forward.

Yet in the current climate, there were many who simply could not understand this sort of undertaking. Yu Wenfeng was one official who knew the full background and had come to obstruct it, opposing the relocation of the entire county’s population. But Ning Yi issued his orders solely through official court channels, not even bothering to negotiate with him. A couple of days earlier, Yu Wenfeng had resigned his post as magistrate outright, and had spent his days coming here to curse them out ever since. Ning Yi, for his part, had simply promoted the man’s deputy to take his place, pressing forward with the plan’s execution without the slightest hesitation.

Honestly, having stayed here these past several days, Yue Fei found himself rather impressed by both the firmness of Ning Yi’s methods and the efficiency of the work being carried out in and around this courtyard. But as for the scorched-earth policy itself, he, like Yu Wenfeng, remained somewhat unconvinced.

The cursing continued from within. “…All you know is how to carry out such foolish deeds—do you people have any idea of the people’s suffering?! Forcing them to leave their homes, with winter coming—where will they live?! What will they eat?! Don’t you know that if you’d just left them where they were, they’d at least have had a fighting chance… What are you doing, Wenren Buer, I know you—a gentleman uses his mouth, not his fists—”

This Yu Wenfeng was himself the son of a prominent family in the capital. Even as he spoke, Wenren Buer grabbed him by the collar and hauled him bodily out the door. Yu Wenfeng tried to grapple with him, but was hardly a match. “Staying put—have you read yourself stupid?! Is your little county’s wall even one zhang tall?! The Jurchens won’t need even an hour to take it—and then they’ll be the wolves, and all of you will be meat!”

He shoved Yu Wenfeng out through the doorway. Yu Wenfeng flailed as he scrambled back up. “The soldiers and people of my county stand united as one, all willing to die with the city if need be! If the Jurchens want to take it, they’ll pay a price for it too! You can let those willing to leave go—how dare you disregard the will of the people and force them to relocate—”

He tried to charge back in, but Wenren Buer pinned his face and shoved him out again. “Die with your mother! You want them to die, so you’ll just let them die?! If this war drags on, everyone left here becomes nothing but a granary for the Jurchens! Every one of you is aiding the enemy!”

“Our Wu Dynasty has a million troops on the way—how long can this battle even last?! And there are over a million people around Bianliang—how could you possibly relocate every last one of them?! You people, doing this pointless thing, have gotten how many killed by the Jurchens along the road for nothing! Can you sleep at night, aren’t you afraid vengeful ghosts will come for your soul…”

“A million your mother! If you don’t relocate them… how else are they supposed to get out?! Come at me again, and I really will hit you—”

The two grappled for a while longer, Wenren Buer’s expression growing fiercer, and he slammed a fist into the courtyard wall, sending bits of dirt and stone flying. Seeing Wenren Buer truly enraged, Yu Wenfeng finally straightened his robes and stormed off, still cursing. Wenren Buer clenched his bruised, skinned fist and turned back inside. In this courtyard, he and Ning Yi were both counted among those in charge, though Ning Yi generally came across as calm and composed, going about his work with serious deliberation, while Wenren Buer usually wore a carefree, joking smile. But in that moment just now, Yue Fei could tell the man had genuinely lost his temper.

The two weren’t well acquainted, but exchanged a greeting. Yue Fei said, “I just saw Master Ning leaving—he looked troubled. Did something happen?”

Wenren Buer was silent for a moment, then sighed faintly and nodded. “Ah, indeed… bad news has arrived.”

He didn’t elaborate further. In truth, these past days had brought a steady stream of bad news of every kind; Yue Fei, for the moment, couldn’t even imagine what news could possibly be worse than what had already come.

In the Wurui Battalion’s command tent, Qin Shaoqian flipped the table over with one hand and sat there, fists clenched, face dark with anger. In his right hand, he still held a letter.

This was the scene Ning Yi walked in on.

He hesitated a moment, then stepped forward. Qin Shaoqian’s head was wrapped in bandages, one eye glaring back at him, red and inflamed, his teeth clenched.

“I’ve lost an eye—and now I see more clearly than ever!”

“A letter from your father?” Ning Yi looked at the letter in his hand.

“Father says he resigned of his own accord!” Qin Shaoqian shoved the letter at Ning Yi, still speaking through gritted teeth. “To avoid any appearance of impropriety, even if His Majesty hadn’t issued the edict, he would have requested to step down himself—and so… he’s ordered me not to act rashly!”

He gave a cold laugh. “How could I possibly act rashly! There’s nothing left to do but fight—except now there’s no need to fight at all!”

Ning Yi read the letter, head bowed. Qin Shaoqian drew a long breath, pressing a fist to his forehead. “I’ve lost an eye! My elder brother is still in Taiyuan, his fate unknown! And they… they actually want to sue for peace!”

Ning Yi finished reading the short letter and handed it back to Qin Shaoqian, then found a chair nearby and sat down.

“Lord Qin may well have considered resigning on his own, but this time it was Cai Jing who stirred the pot behind the scenes. He… deliberately brought up your elder brother’s situation at Taiyuan in front of His Majesty, stressing that this matter would surely not affect the Chancellor, so as to put His Majesty’s mind at ease. Besides that…”

Before he could finish, someone called out urgently from outside the tent. “Report! Urgent dispatch from Taiyuan!”

Qin Shaoqian said, “Enter!”

The man who lifted the tent flap and came in was Xu Xiaohu, Qin Shaoqian’s deputy general. He glanced at Ning Yi, gave a slight nod, then said, “Battle report from Taiyuan. The western army has been defeated.”

Qin Shaoqian froze for a moment…

In the late autumn of the thirteenth year of the Jinghan era, at Tianmen Pass near Taiyuan, She Kequ and Liu Guangshi led an army of forty thousand in a day-long pitched battle against Zonghan’s forces, then withdrew toward Jiaocheng, only to be caught exhausted and ambushed by the Jin army at night, suffering tens of thousands of casualties, and retreating to Fenzhou.

The defeat of She Kequ and Liu Guangshi meant that, for the time being, no army remained capable of relieving the siege of Taiyuan.

The evening this news arrived, the Jurchen camp had just finished planning its next phase of battle. As night fell, Zongwang walked through the camp with his hands clasped behind his back, Guo Yaoshi and a few other generals trailing behind him.

“Now that this news has reached them, the Wu Dynasty court must be growing anxious,” Guo Yaoshi said. “They may well already be discussing suing for peace.”

“A single victory or defeat a thousand li away, nothing more,” Zongwang said with a smile. “Are the Wu Dynasty people truly so easily shaken?”

“Your Excellency may not realize it, but though the Wu Dynasty appears formidable on the surface, in truth they’re all bluster and no substance underneath. If my judgment isn’t mistaken, give it a day or two, and someone will come suing for peace again.”

“The terms we offered before were merely to buy time for Nianhan’s forces to move south and join us. Our Jurchen strength was never built on the cowardice of our enemies.” Zongwang gazed out over the brightly lit camp, speaking slowly. “Whether they sue for peace or not, our prior plans stand unchanged.”

He said, “…We attack as planned.”

“Yes!” the assembled generals answered in unison.

…

Dawn was just breaking, pale and dim.

Xue Changgong dashed up onto the city wall; the warning beacon-smoke had already been lit nearby.

In the distance, the Jurchens were pushing their siege engines forward, closing in…

On the fourteenth day of the ninth month, after more than ten days of relative calm, the walls of Bianliang once again came under fierce assault…

In the imperial palace, in the Hall of Civil Virtue, Zhou Zhe sat upon the throne, his gaze stern as he looked down at Li Zhuo.

“On this journey, you must without fail settle the terms of peace, and you must use every ounce of your eloquence to secure the greatest possible advantage for our Wu Dynasty…”

Li Zhuo, his face full of righteous resolve, accepted the command, his eyes carrying the fervor of a man ready to face death without regret.