As one of the places in Bian Liang best connected to the flow of news, word had already spread through the Fan Tower by early morning: the Wu dynasty army, seizing the moment while Wanyan Zongwang threw his full force into the siege, had launched a surprise raid on Moutuo Gang, successfully burning the Jurchen army’s grain stores.

Slipping on her embroidered shoes and throwing on a robe, she got out of bed. The one who first brought her this news was a maid of the house, and shortly after, Li Yun came hurrying in as well.

Though she had never dared go help near the city wall herself, Madam Li was still a woman who understood the larger picture, and had never tried to stop Shishi from going there so often during this period. Upon hearing of this victory, she too had been too excited to sleep, and had already had the whole house roused, hanging lanterns and decorations; by the time Shishi woke, she had rushed over at once to deliver the news.

However one looked at it, it sounded almost like something out of legend…

General Qin, leading four thousand elite Wu dynasty troops, had taken advantage of the Jurchen’s slackened rear defenses to raid the main camp at Moutuo Gang, still garrisoned by over ten thousand men, defeating Shuliesu, burning the majority of the Jurchen’s grain stores, and withdrawing without loss.

Taken purely at face value, an attack like this would truly have counted as a thunderous blow against the Jurchen — clean, decisive, and thoroughly heartening. And yet, hearing it, Shishi found it difficult to feel it was real.

She had already witnessed the ferocity and brutality of the Jurchen firsthand near the city wall. The night before, when Jurchen soldiers had charged into the city, though the Wu dynasty troops who rushed over had eventually wiped them out and held the gate, the Jurchen’s fighting strength had truly been terrifying. Killing them had cost several times as many lives on their own side, and even the nearby wounded soldiers’ camp had been thrown into utter chaos by them — some of the wounded had risen up to fight back, but what good had it done? They had still been killed by those Jurchen soldiers.

Precisely because their own side’s resistance had already proven so fierce, with the dead falling one after another without hesitation, Shishi had come to understand all the more clearly just how overwhelming the Jurchen’s fighting strength truly was. And this was to say nothing of the fact that, before all this, they had already crushed and routed over three hundred thousand troops sent to relieve the siege, out on the plains outside Bian Liang.

Four thousand men raiding ten thousand — and winning? Burning their grain? How could that possibly be…

Because of this instinct and this rational judgment, even though Li Yun had already spoken of it with such conviction, and everyone else in the house had already believed it, willingly steeping themselves in joy over it, Shishi’s own mind, in the end, still retained a measure of clear-headed doubt.

Given her position, she had, after all, seen far too many messy, complicated things over the years. Fabricating stories, falsely reporting military achievements, or deceiving the public for one reason or another — none of this was anything new to her. Given how immense the pressure brought by the Jurchen was right now, it was hardly unimaginable that someone might deliberately manufacture a false report of victory, simply to bolster morale.

Amid the joyful mood filling the Fan Tower, she kept up an outward appearance of happiness; outside in the streets, some people had even begun beating gongs and drums out of sheer excitement. Before long, people began arriving at the Fan Tower as well — some to celebrate, some to seek her out specifically, since, knowing how closely Shishi followed this matter, people came to celebrate alongside her once the news reached them. Friends such as Yu Hezhong and Chen Sifeng were among those who came to share the good news.

Outside, the heavy snow had already stopped, and this morning, only just beginning, already felt as though the entire city of Bian Liang were steeped in the joy brought by this small victory. As Shishi listened to all this news, the joy in her own heart gradually faded, replaced instead by a rising wave of exhaustion: propaganda on this scale meant, quite clearly, that the senior officials at court were eager to make the most of this news, to lift morale. In ordinary times, moving gracefully between different roles, playing along with situations as needed, had been second nature to her. But after everything she had witnessed — so much killing, so much fear — if she herself, along with everyone else, were now celebrating a piece of false news, then even if the news was meant to boost morale, she found herself feeling utterly drained, in both body and spirit.

This mood persisted until Su Wenfang arrived at the Fan Tower.

These past few days, Su Wenfang had been working with the chancellor’s household to have the great households of the city send out their own retainers and guards to help defend the walls; in this regard, while Bamboo Notes certainly had its connections, the Fan Tower had even more, and so the two sides had a fair number of dealings with one another. Su Wenfang had come to discuss with Li Yun how best to make use of this piece of good news, and when Shishi heard he had arrived, she excused herself from the crowd in her courtyard, went over to see Madam Li, and intercepted Su Wenfang just as he had finished his business, then pressed him to tell her the truth of the matter.

“…The truth of this victory — real or false — Wenfang, you mustn’t hide it from me.”

Having worked at Ning Yi’s side for these past years, Su Wenfang had grown rapidly through many trials, becoming, by outside standards, a rather dependable young man. But in truth, he was younger than Ning Yi, and compared to Shishi, who had spent so many years in the world of courtesans and pleasure houses, he was still somewhat green. Though the two had already had some dealings with each other, being pressed now by Shishi, palms pressed together, her expression grave and earnest, he still felt a certain nervousness. Still, with the truth being what it was, this was not a difficult question to answer: “Of course it’s real.”

“Wenfang, don’t try to fool me. The Jurchen are that formidable — never mind four thousand men raiding ten thousand, even if it were tens of thousands going up against them, they might not necessarily gain the upper hand. I know this matter is being handled by the right chancellor’s household, for the purpose of propaganda, to boost morale — even if it’s false, I would certainly do my utmost to speak of it as though it were true. But… but this time, I really don’t want to be kept in the dark. Even if there’s only the slightest chance it’s true — outside the city… was there really a successful raid on their camp?”

Su Wenfang looked at her, then glanced briefly around them on either side. The difficulty on his face was not due to any lie he needed to tell — there were, in truth, certain matters weighing on his own heart as well. “I’ll tell you — but this… you can’t repeat it to anyone.”

“Mm.” Shishi nodded.

“General Qin was there, and so was my brother-in-law.” Su Wenfang said this with a hint of pride. “Ever since the crushing defeat of the Wu Rui Camp, my brother-in-law has been pushing this whole operation forward — carrying out the scorched-earth evacuation right under the Jurchen’s noses, while also gathering up scattered troops and training them. By now, there’s probably almost nothing left for the Jurchen to find around the outskirts of Bian Liang, in terms of either people or grain — and that’s precisely why he and General Qin launched this decisive strike, to cut off the Jurchen’s supply lines from behind. This operation was jointly led by the second young master and my brother-in-law together — does that convince you now, Miss Shishi?”

“…Liheng was there too?”

“My brother-in-law was gravely wounded the night the Wu Rui Camp was routed.” Su Wenfang said. “But even so, he never once let go of the scorched-earth evacuation effort — even people within the chancellor’s household never expected it would actually amount to anything real. It wasn’t until word of last night’s victory arrived that the whole household was thrown into an uproar — Elder Nian, Master Ji, Master Juemin, none of them slept well from the excitement. The raid on the camp is one thing — perhaps two or three tenths of the Jurchen’s grain supply still survives — but the real point is, my brother-in-law had been quietly laying the groundwork for this, thread by thread, from the very beginning. Right now, around Bian Liang, there’s genuinely nothing left to be found, no people, no grain. Once their food runs out, they’ll really be starved into submission.”

He went on: “I’ve worked beside my brother-in-law for so long now — whether it was Liangshan, disaster relief, or dealing with those martial arts figures — every single time, it’s been exactly like this. When my brother-in-law truly decides to act, there’s simply nothing that can stand in his way. This time, even against the Jurchen, once he made his move, they still had to feel the pain of it. Getting those four thousand-plus men out in one piece was already remarkable — and this is only the beginning. It’s just that he doesn’t have very many men under him, so it’ll be difficult going forward. But my brother-in-law isn’t the type to fear difficulty — however hard it gets, it just means fighting all the harder. It’s only that his reputation isn’t widely known yet, so he’s not suited to be the face of the propaganda — which is why none of this can be spoken of openly.”

Su Wenfang lifted his chin slightly, quite proud of himself. As a member of the Su family, nothing had thrilled him more than hearing those senior advisors at the chancellor’s household, upon receiving the news, say things like, “Liheng’s schemes are truly masterful,” or “Liheng doesn’t hold back at all.” Laying the groundwork over months under conditions that seemed nearly impossible, and then unleashing a single, devastating strike — like a leopard stalking silently through the darkness, striking only when it counted, and leaving the enemy utterly shattered when it did — how could he not feel proud of that?

But under the current circumstances, the credit for all of it naturally had to go to Qin Shaoqian, since public propaganda required a single, unified narrative. There was no good way for them to go around casually spreading the details. Su Wenfang, proud in his heart but with nowhere to voice it, found a certain satisfaction in being able to tell Shishi about it now, and boast a little.

Once he finished speaking, a bright smile bloomed across Shishi’s face: “Hahaha.” Her body spun, her feet danced, and in her excitement, she twirled around several times. Her figure was graceful, her steps light, and the sheer, unrestrained joy of the moment made for a strikingly beautiful sight; Su Wenfang could not help but flush a little, watching her. Before he could quite react, Shishi spun back over, grabbing hold of his left arm, tilting her head toward him. “Tell me again, you’re not lying to me!”

Su Wenfang’s face flushed red, a mix of shyness and a touch of indignation, his cheeks burning even redder. “Miss Shishi, I, Su Wenfang, would never brag about my brother-in-law’s affairs in front of you like that! He’s out there, wearing himself to the bone, cheating death again and again — striking such a blow right in the Jurchen’s face like that, who else could possibly manage it! The generals defending Moutuo Gang are Wanyan Ashema and Shuliesu, with over ten thousand troops garrisoned there — apart from my brother-in-law…”

He had meant to say that no one else could possibly have defeated them, but caught himself, realizing he was going off track and bragging far too much, his face flushing an even deeper red. The questioning look on Shishi’s face faded as well, and she released his arm. “Now that you’ve said all that, I believe you. Liheng, he… he isn’t hurt, is he?”

“I don’t know.” Su Wenfang shook his head. “The news that came through didn’t mention it — but I’d like to think that no mention means good news.”

Shishi smiled, nodding, and after a moment said, “He’s in a place of great danger. I hope he stays safe.”

Su Wenfang pursed his lips, and after a moment added, “Now that you’ve heard all this, Miss Shishi — do you like my brother-in-law even more now?”

In the past, Shishi and Ning Yi had had some dealings with one another, though nothing that could really be called an open romantic entanglement — after all, Shishi was, in the end, the reigning courtesan of the pleasure quarter, and having some flirtation with this person or that was only ordinary for someone in her position. Even when Su Wenfang and others speculated, in passing, whether she had feelings for Ning Yi, it was always framed as a joke, measured only against Ning Yi’s ability, status, and power — no one had ever said it seriously, out loud. That Su Wenfang brought it up now was, in part, because he still held a slight grudge, his own feelings not yet fully settled. Shishi, however, only laughed openly. “That’s right. I like him even… even, even, even more now.”

Su Wenfang’s punch landed on empty air, rather displeased. “So does that mean Miss Shishi is planning to marry my brother-in-law as a concubine, then?” The moment he asked it, he regretted it slightly — what had been meant as a teasing remark had perhaps gone a little too far. In truth, after all his years dealing with people, his social skills had grown quite polished, but somehow, in front of Shishi, he still found himself a little off-balance.

Shishi paid it no mind, only smiling. “If Liheng manages to accomplish something like this, and word of it gets out, every last sister in this house would gladly throw herself at him without hesitation. If I could become his concubine, that would only be an honor for me.”

“Er, I think I’ve said too much…” Su Wenfang bowed apologetically, clasping his hands.

Shishi shook her head, and with a smile, gave a slight bow of her own. “I’m truly glad to hear this news. With the Jurchen so overwhelming, I had feared before that Bian Liang might already be beyond saving — but now, knowing there’s someone out there still fighting on our behalf, I finally feel a glimmer of hope in my heart. I know Wenfang, too, has been running himself ragged over this matter. I should go help at the wall shortly — I mustn’t delay any further. Liheng is out beyond the city; if I could see him now, there would be a thousand, ten thousand things I’d want to say to him. But as things stand, the only way I can offer even the smallest measure of help is to go to where this battle concerns me most directly. As for matters of the heart — what significance could they possibly hold, next to all of this?”

Su Wenfang paused for a moment in mild surprise, then bowed. “Er… Miss Shishi, please act within your own limits, and take good care of yourself.” He felt he had no standing to try to dissuade her from this, but then added, “My brother-in-law is a man who values his relationships deeply. He’s said before that everything he does, he does for the sake of those around him. Miss Shishi and my brother-in-law share no small bond — perhaps it’s selfish of me to say this, but… if my brother-in-law returns victorious and cannot find you, Miss Shishi, it would surely grieve him deeply. If nothing else, for that reason alone, I hope you’ll take care of yourself, and not… let yourself come to harm on the battlefield.”

Shishi fell silent for a moment as well, then, with a smile on her face, said, “Then I… mm, I’ll do my best to take care of myself…”

Su Wenfang was Su Tan’er’s younger brother, and, in theory, ought to have stood on Su Tan’er’s side, keeping a certain distance from any woman who might have romantic feelings for Ning Yi. And yet he had no real knowledge of whether there was, in fact, anything between Ning Yi and Shishi; he had simply spoken from a place of care and admiration for his brother-in-law, saying, on the off chance there was something between them, “I hope you’re still alive when he comes back, so he doesn’t have to grieve.” As for Shishi herself, whatever feelings she might or might not have held for Ning Yi, Ning Yi had never given much outward indication of overstepping any lines in the past — which made her answer here carry rather complicated implications.

But just as she had said herself — in the face of war, what significance could matters of the heart possibly hold?

Stepping out of the warm chamber where she had spoken with Su Wenfang, she made her way down a long corridor; the courtyard, inside and out, lay blanketed in white snow. Trailing her long skirts, she had at first walked quickly, but upon reaching a quiet corner where no one else was around, she gradually slowed to a stop, tilted her head back, and let out a long breath, a smile spreading across her face: being able to confirm this news — it really was wonderful.

In one corner of the courtyard, beside a lonely stone bench and table, plum blossoms had bloomed on a nearby tree, sparse and scattered red flowers standing proudly against the snow.

Shishi returned to her own courtyard, where some people were still waiting for her. She excused herself, intending to go inside and change clothes; the others tried to dissuade her, saying a woman like her should not go anywhere near the danger of the battlefield. Shishi simply deflected them politely, and by the time she emerged, dressed in clothing suited for movement, a few people, including Yu Hezhong, were still there — mostly people who had, in the past, been on relatively close terms with her. Yu Hezhong said: war shows no mercy, and we’re all worried about you; we know Bian Liang has already reached a truly dire crisis. We’d like to go to the battlefield ourselves too, but for one thing, we hold official posts and cannot simply leave, and for another, we’re ashamed to admit we’re too weak to be of any use in a fight, and besides, we still have wives, children, and parents at home…

In truth, it was correct that Yu Hezhong held an official post, but his particular role had nothing to do with fighting in this battle, nor was it especially connected to logistics, and besides, with a wife, children, and parents at home, even going to the battlefield might not amount to killing any enemies at all, and so on and so forth — Shishi understood all of this perfectly well. In the past, she had always been the one who best understood people’s weaknesses — vanity, pride, greed, lust — she could understand all of it, and held not the slightest contempt for people who possessed such flaws. Men like Yu Hezhong would ordinarily have had little reason to associate so regularly with someone of her status as the reigning courtesan — after all, they could hardly afford it, nor did their status quite measure up — but Shishi had always treated them as good friends, often inviting them along to socialize, to meet people of higher standing…

She felt that everyone carried weaknesses in their hearts, herself included, and this was simply normal for anyone — not something to be condemned. When it came to something like helping out on the battlefield, she would only ever gently encourage others, never make any strong demands of them, simply because she believed that one’s own life was one’s own to risk, and while she herself was willing to put hers in harm’s way, she had no right to force anyone else to do the same. And yet, in this particular moment, she found herself feeling, for the first time, genuinely irritated by Yu Hezhong and the others — a part of her wanted very much to shout something sharp at them.

But in the end, she did not do so. Smiling, she took her leave of the group, and, still without bringing along a maid, simply had the house’s carriage driver take her to the city wall. Along the way in the carriage, she forgot entirely about the people who had come to see her that morning; her thoughts turned instead to Ning Yi, out beyond the city walls — he had given the Jurchen quite the humiliation, surely they wouldn’t let him off so easily now — what would happen next? She thought too of the Jurchen soldiers who had broken into the city the night before, of the people who had died right in front of her — blades cutting into flesh, limbs severed, bellies split open, heads cut off, blood pouring out, the reek of it filling everything, flames setting the wounded rolling and thrashing, letting out screams of agony one could never forget for the rest of one’s life… At the thought of it, she felt all the strength drain from her body, wanting to have the carriage turn back. In a place like that, she too might well die — if the Jurchen broke through even a few more times, or if the city itself fell, being so close, there would be no way to flee at all; and if the Jurchen entered the city and she were captured, she might not even be able to die if she wanted to…

It wasn’t that she felt no fear…

And so she chose the hardest, sharpest hairpin she owned, gripping it tightly in her hand, before finally pinning it into her hair.

In her moment of weakness, she thought: if I die, and Liheng comes back, would he really grieve for me? He’s never once shown any sign of that kind of feeling toward me — does he like me, or doesn’t he? And do I like him, or don’t I?

But in any case, she thought: if Liheng truly did have feelings for me — even if it were only for the sake of my reputation as the reigning courtesan, or simply for my body — I probably wouldn’t refuse him. It wouldn’t really… matter either way, would it?

If she died…

Such thoughts kept her lost in reverie for a while, but regardless, she soon arrived at the defensive area near the city wall. She stepped down from the carriage — the Jurchen had already begun their assault on the city.

Massive stones shook the wall relentlessly, arrows whistled through the air, blood spread everywhere, along with shouting, hysterical howling, and the terrible sounds of lives being extinguished. People ran back and forth all around her; a group rushing toward the wall knocked into her, sending her stumbling forward. She caught herself with one hand against the rubble, scraping it and drawing blood; she got back up, pulled out a piece of cloth, running as she wiped her hand, then used the cloth to wrap up her hair, and headed toward the wounded soldiers’ camp.

Not far off, near that massive wall, countless people surged upward toward it. Amid this vast field of slaughter, they were swallowed and devoured; the severely wounded lay in pools of blood, gazing up at the sky. All around, nothing but shadows locked in mortal combat.

— The line between life and death.

…

“…The Jurchen are attacking the city again.”

As the scout brought word of this, at the edge of the snow-covered ground, Ning Yi was brushing his teeth with a homemade toothbrush and a salty powder; after spitting out the foam, he ran a finger over his gleaming white front teeth, and bared them briefly at the scout with a grin.

“Gotta take good care of your teeth,” he said.

A gyrfalcon soared overhead in the sky.

When Hongti came over, she found him sitting on a rock at the edge of the camp, gazing out at the vast, boundless sea of snow before him. She walked over, sat down beside him, and took his hand.

“Worried about Bian Liang?”

“Worried about everything.”

“You always say worrying doesn’t help.”

“But I can’t help it anyway.” Ning Yi smiled, and put an arm around her shoulder.

In the encampment amid the ruined town, having only just fallen asleep before dawn, the civilians now awake were eating the food that had been distributed to them, watching the rows upon rows of soldiers standing in formation not far off.

Scouts had already been sent out in great numbers, and men had been assigned to defensive positions; the remaining half of the unwounded soldiers had already entered a state of training, most of them men from the Lüliang Mountains. They simply stood perfectly upright in the snow, row after row, column after column, every man holding exactly the same posture, standing tall and proud, without the slightest movement.

Monotonous, tedious training could temper the will.

Qin Shaoqian, too, kept an eye on the news from Bian Liang, but before long, his attention was drawn instead to these soldiers standing at attention in training; among this force, there were some officers who had once served directly under him, commanding elite troops of their own, and he found himself somewhat puzzled.

“How long do they have to stand like this? The Jurchen could show up any moment — if they just stand there without moving, what happens if they get frostbite?”

“Frostbite?” Someone went to ask Ning Yi about it, and Ning Yi shook his head. “No need to worry about that.”

A truly elite soldier could hold a single stance, unmoving, for several days on end. With the Jurchen liable to attack at any time, extreme physical conditioning to build stamina was no longer practical — all that was left was to temper the will instead. After all, with scouts posted far out, if the Jurchen truly did approach, the men could relax for a moment and still recover their fighting readiness in time. As for frostbite… the army Ning Yi used as his standard had once, in preparation for a surprise attack on the enemy, had an entire position of soldiers freeze to death in the ice and snow while still holding their ambush positions. Compared to that standard, frostbite simply wasn’t a consideration.

Of course, an army like that could not be forged through mere standing drills alone — it required battle after battle, trial after trial, crossing the line between life and death again and again. If they truly had a force like that now, frostbite would be the least of their concerns — not even the Jurchen, or the Mongols, would need to be feared.

For now, though, they could only build things up slowly.

Because of Ning Yi’s speech the day before, throughout that entire day, the camp carried none of the reckless, giddy excitement that usually followed a victory. What remained instead was a bloodthirsty stillness, a suppressed urge to find someone, anyone, to fight. In the afternoon, everyone was allowed a brief period of activity, and Ning Yi informed them of the fighting currently unfolding in Bian Liang. By evening, everyone had been organized into small groups to discuss the situation ahead of them.

Most of these soldiers did not know a great deal, and what came out of their mouths was, for the most part, talk of simply charging in and taking the fight to the enemy; a small minority could offer something like, “Let’s take out this side first, then that side.” Even if most of it was unrealistic, Ning Yi did not mind — he simply wanted to preserve this tradition.

In warfare of this era, no ordinary soldier at the bottom had any real access to information about the war itself; even when engaging the enemy directly on the battlefield, caught up in the fighting, mixed into the crowd, they could typically see only the handful of dozens or hundreds of men immediately around them. Or perhaps they might catch a glimpse of the commander’s banner far off in the distance — which meant that once the battle line collapsed, or the commander’s banner fell, everyone simply followed whoever was nearest to them in a blind rush, and those farther away simply followed along in turn. As for the so-called military discipline units, all they could ever manage to kill was the last row of retreating soldiers. This was, more often than not, exactly how avalanche-like collapses in battle occurred. No one ever truly knew the state of the entire battlefield.

Wherever the wind blew, people’s hearts, like blades of grass, could only follow along.

This had persisted throughout the entire history of warfare in ancient times, and even in more modern eras, most armies still operated the same way. It was only the Communist army, at a certain point in history, that managed something different — even when their entire formation was scattered and broken apart, even when they lost all contact with and orders from their higher command, small groups could still fight on their own initiative, throwing the enemy forces surrounding and dividing them into complete disarray, so much so that the enemy could not even tell who exactly was surrounded and who wasn’t.

Later, during the war to resist America and aid Korea, the Americans were astonished to discover that the Communist army’s battle plans were known, almost without exception, from top to bottom, down to nearly every single soldier at the lowest level — they simply had a tradition of including even the rank-and-file in discussions of the battle plan itself. This was an almost bizarre practice, and yet it guaranteed one crucial thing: even if contact was lost, every single soldier still knew what he was supposed to do, and why he was supposed to do it. Even when the battlefield fell into chaos, knowing the objective, they would still correct their own course of action on their own initiative.

What was called “subjective initiative” — in the end, this was really all it amounted to.

Of course, achieving something like this placed extremely comprehensive demands on an army. First and foremost, loyalty, and the risk of information leaks, were the most critical considerations of all. A truly powerful army could never be built on any single extreme quality — it had to be comprehensive, in every respect.

Still, applied here, right now, it was at least something that could be started…

At the very least, in yesterday’s battle, when the smoke suddenly rose from the Jurchen camp, the sudden surge in fighting strength among the frontal assault force had come from exactly this same principle.

This day passed for the small town’s camp in quiet, steady training. Some ten-odd li away, at Bian Liang, Wanyan Zongwang’s assault on the wall showed no sign of letting up. And yet the defenders within the wall, fighting with an almost hopeless resolve, held off wave after wave of attack — and though blood flowed like rivers and casualties mounted terribly, this stance of defense had, remarkably, grown even more resolute still.

Even Wanyan Zongwang found himself somewhat surprised by this.

During the campaign against the Liao, they had also encountered formidable forces — men like Xiao Gan, like Yelü Dashi — able commanders with elite troops of their own, who had once put up fierce resistance, and had even, on occasion, made use of their superior numbers to inflict defeats on the Jurchen themselves. But this was different.

The Wu dynasty’s men were cowardly, clung to life in fear of death, their soldiers’ fighting strength weak — and yet, at this very moment, they were throwing away their lives without hesitation…

The Wu dynasty certainly had its share of foolish, fearless Confucian scholars, but they were, after all, a minority. How, exactly, had they managed what he was witnessing before him now?

And for how much longer could they possibly keep it up?

He found himself, suddenly, rather curious about it.

And even as he continued the assault on the city, amid this growing sense of puzzlement, he was also keeping an eye on another matter altogether.

That mysterious army that had raided Moutuo Gang, now stationed some ten-odd li away — just what exactly were they planning to do?

Compared to the city of Bian Liang, now reduced purely to defense, the appearance of this mysterious Wu dynasty force gave him a certain sense of unease.

After the raid on Moutuo Gang, he had already strengthened the defenses around his camp outside Bian Liang, to eliminate the possibility of a similar surprise attack. But if the enemy chose to strike suddenly, without regard for their own lives, right in the middle of his assault on the city, forcing him into a two-front war, that possibility still could not be ruled out.

And yet, even as he continued his ferocious assault on the city, this enemy force, after pulling back from Moutuo Gang, had neither approached his own position, nor returned to whatever army it might originally have belonged to — instead, it had come to a halt precisely at the triangular point between Bian Liang and Moutuo Gang. Because of its presence, and the deterrent effect it created, the Jurchen could no longer easily send men out to search for grain, and even communication between Bian Liang and the camp at Moutuo Gang now had to proceed with far greater caution.

Whether the enemy simply did not want their exact location known, or was waiting for reinforcements before launching a surprise attack to relieve the siege of Bian Liang, or was setting up an ambush somewhere nearby — whatever the case, the presence of this fly buzzing about was, in any case, an irritation.

“What is Guo Yaoshi doing?” Wanyan Zongwang was about to press him further, but before he could give the order, a scout arrived with fresh intelligence.

“At noon today, General Guo engaged the Wu dynasty’s western army at Chengpu Ferry with the Ever-Victorious Army, and the western army was routed. General Guo believes Zhong Shizhong’s withdrawal was a deliberate feint, meant to draw them into an ambush, and has already led his cavalry in pursuit.”

The battle between the Ever-Victorious Army and the western army had not, in fact, been a genuine retreat on the western army’s part, but rather a feigned defeat — likewise intended to mislead Guo Yaoshi and discourage further pursuit. But Guo Yaoshi, himself a veteran of countless battles, whether the retreat was real or feigned, had judged that the enemy had no capacity for a counter-ambush, and had pressed forward regardless. Wanyan Zongwang, however, had no interest in this particular engagement.

“Send word to him — I don’t care how he handles things with the western army, tell him to focus on the main battlefield first!” His hand swept across the map before him. “Have him devour those four thousand men for me!”

Having received the order, the scout departed swiftly.

In the ruined town’s camp, bonfires burned, crackling softly. Inside one of the rooms, Ning Yi and the others had received word of this as well.

“Zhong Shizhong wasn’t willing to fight it out with Guo Yaoshi head-on. We’d expected as much, but it’s still a bit of a shame.”

“Only natural. The Ever-Victorious Army numbers over thirty-six thousand — all elite troops capable of standing against Zongwang himself. Zhong Shizhong only has twenty-four thousand under his command. Fighting it out would have been costly whichever side won, and it wouldn’t have lifted the siege either way. If Zhong Shidao himself were leading them, he’d likely have made the same call.” Qin Siyuan sighed.

“There’s something I don’t understand.” Hongti asked. “If he didn’t want to fight, why not simply retreat outright, instead of pretending to lose first and then withdrawing? Now that the enemy’s seen through it, he’s still taken losses either way.”

“I think… the western army does carry some reputation, so perhaps it was meant to test how determined the enemy really was. On the other hand, this time it was a feigned defeat that got seen through — but next time, it might be a real trap, luring the enemy in deep. The enemy would have a natural bias by then, and might well fall for it. That’s probably why Zhong Shizhong felt confident enough to try it — he must be quite skilled at commanding troops… well, that’s all I can really guess at.” Ning Yi tilted his head slightly. “Still, going forward, it might be our turn to be the ones getting devoured.”

Of the men actually under their command, only a little over four thousand could really fight. Both Ning Yi and Qin Shaoqian had, in fact, been counting on the western army to potentially take out at least part of the enemy’s forces — they had even gone to great lengths to spread word that it was the western army’s faction planning to breach the Yellow River, which was precisely why Guo Yaoshi had struck out in that direction in the first place. But with Zhong Shizhong having no real intention of fighting to the finish — reasonable as it was, it was still, to some degree, a disappointment.

If Zhong Shizhong ever found out about this, there was no telling what kind of temper he might fly into. But with so few resources at their disposal right now, there was nothing to be done about it either way.

Han Jing came over from nearby. “Should we move the more than a thousand rescued people elsewhere, and stage our own relocation as a diversion, to draw their attention away first?”

North of Bian Liang, over these past several months, more than three hundred thousand troops had already been crushed, though a few forces here and there had managed to regroup. But those who couldn’t fight to begin with were even less capable of fighting now.

Ning Yi shook his head. “They were always the soft targets, easy to crush with a single poke — keeping them around does provide a bit of a presence, but let’s not bother with that. As for these thousand-odd rescued people…”

He paused briefly here, and the others looked at him expectantly. This group of over a thousand people was, after all, a rather sensitive matter — captured by the Jurchen, subjected to endless suffering, their bodies weakened. With the camp currently being watched closely by enemy scouts, how to send them away, and where to send them, were real problems. And if the Jurchen’s main force ever did descend upon them, their own group of four thousand-plus would need to relocate as well — the additional burden of this group would only slow them down.

“These thousand-plus people — my first instinct is still to take them back to Xia Village.” Ning Yi said. “Yes, they’re in poor health, low in morale, and if it came down to it, all of them together on the battlefield couldn’t even amount to thirty or fifty fighters — plus, they’d still need to be fed. But it’s necessary for the people at Xia Village to see them. What they’ve suffered is so terrible that it carries real value — letting others see it, with the right propaganda, might well be able to raise the fighting strength of the ten-thousand-plus people at Xia Village by the equivalent of an entire additional thousand troops… And after that, I’ll figure out a way to get them somewhere safe.”

Even with the groundwork laid the day before, Ning Yi’s words here still sounded coldly pragmatic. The others listened in silence; Qin Shaoqian was the first to nod. “I think that’s workable.”

“As for the rest, we’ll take it one step at a time — what matters now is when the enemy decides to come at us…” Ning Yi looked down at his own hands. “And whether Bian Liang can hold out that long…”

The Ever-Victorious Army numbered thirty-six thousand; Moutuo Gang held over ten thousand; outside Bian Liang there were another fifty-thousand-plus. Whatever way one counted it, four thousand men was simply, hopelessly, too few.

Outside the ruined town, in the snow-covered mountains and forests, small-scale skirmishes broke out sporadically throughout that night — scouts searching, clashing, colliding with one another, never once letting up…

In Bian Liang, Shishi sat in a corner, gnawing on a steamed bun; her body and hands still carried the smell of blood. Just moments before, a wounded soldier had died right in front of her eyes.

The fighting had come to a halt for the night; after their grain supply at the main camp had been burned, the Jurchen had, if anything, grown somewhat more measured and unhurried in their assault. In truth, at night, the gap in fighting strength between the two sides narrowed considerably — attacking the city under cover of darkness would cost the Jurchen dearly as well.

The boost in morale from that morning felt, by this point, as though an entire winter had passed since then — the lift it gave had been fleeting, and however one looked at it, so many deaths could only bring exhaustion and unending fear. Even hiding away in the wounded soldiers’ camp, she had no way of knowing when the wall might finally be breached, when the Jurchen might suddenly appear before her, when she herself might be killed, or raped…

But she felt that, somehow, she was beginning to grow used to this war.

And so she hid in her corner, gnawing on her steamed bun, thinking of Ning Yi, if only to keep herself from retching.

This was, at present, the only thought she had left with which to withstand all of this. This small, private thought curled up in the corner along with her, known to no one else.

Xue Changgong stood atop the city wall, looking up at the moon in the sky.

Ahead lay the Jurchen’s main camp, seemingly close enough to touch, and their assault, too, felt just as close at hand. Over these past several days, at any moment, they might come charging in again, turning this place into a river of blood — and even now, it remained just as true.

But regardless, in this moment, both above and below the wall, the night had fallen into a stillness almost mournful in its quiet. Over these past days, Xue Changgong had already been promoted; the men under his command had grown ever more numerous, and yet, ever more unfamiliar to him as well.

The familiar faces had died; new replacements had come in. Standing alone atop this wall, he too had grown, bit by bit, ever colder and more detached.

At times, he found himself wanting badly to go to the Fan Tower, to find He Lei’er, to hold her in his arms and find some comfort in her body, or else to call her to come to the camp instead. Given his current standing, no one would say a word against it — after all, everyone was simply too exhausted by now. When the Jurchen paused their assault, and he rested in the barracks for a while, no one would object to that either. And yet, in the end, he did not do it.

Perhaps… everyone would die anyway…

Turning to look back, the countless lit windows of Bian Liang stretched out before him, some of them still celebrating the victory reported that morning — they had no idea of the brutal state of things atop the wall, nor did they know that although the Jurchen had been caught off guard by the raid, they were still continuing their assault on the city, unhurried as ever — after all, what had been burned amounted to only six or seven tenths of their grain supply.

They could still continue the siege for some time yet.

And yet, how much longer could this place hold out?

That night, the Jurchen bypassed the heavily assaulted northern wall and launched a surprise raid on the western wall of Bian Liang instead; failing, they withdrew swiftly.

Shishi woke with a start from her sleep.

She thought, for a moment, that the Jurchen had broken through, and cried out as she jolted awake; several of the wounded nearby turned to look at her, and someone said, “Miss Shishi, you really should find somewhere to get a proper rest.”

She smiled, rubbed her face, and stood up. The wounded soldiers’ camp was, in truth, far from quiet — all around her lay the severely wounded, some crying out constantly in pain, physicians and helpers rushing back and forth. She glanced at the wounded nearby; one man, who had been groaning without pause, had suddenly gone silent. He had lost a leg, taken several sword wounds, and a slash across his face had torn open his flesh, leaving a rather ghastly sight. As Shishi crouched down beside him, she saw that one of his hands had gone limp; his eyes remained open, filled with blood, his teeth bared — the strain of enduring pain had left him gritting his teeth and wide-eyed to the very end. He had died like that.

Shishi knelt beside him, reaching out to touch the horrific wound on his face — a wound she could now touch without the slightest revulsion left in her — and gently closed his eyes, then went to find someone to carry the body away.

Moonlight poured down, and Shishi stood there bathed in its silver glow, still surrounded by the murmur of countless voices — soldiers coming and going, those responsible for the city’s defense… this was only the beginning of a long, drawn-out ordeal.

She walked back inside, seeing all the suffering people there, some she already knew, some she didn’t. Even those not crying out in agony were, for the most part, quietly moaning or breathing in short, labored gasps. She crouched down and took the hand of a young wounded soldier; he opened his eyes, looked at her, and said, with great difficulty, “Miss Shishi, you really should go get some rest…”

“Mm, I will.” She nodded, and looking out at the crowd of wounded before her, said, “How about I sing you all a song…”

That, after all, truly was the thing she did best…

The snow began falling again soon after, over Bian Liang, through this long, drawn-out winter.

Outside the city, another equally arduous and brutal, decisive battle was also about to begin.

Guo Yaoshi’s more than thirty thousand troops of the Ever-Victorious Army, upon receiving Wanyan Zongwang’s orders, split off a portion of their forces and surged ferociously toward Ning Yi’s position!