As night gradually fell, the fighting at Xia Village came to a pause.

This “pause” was simply a strategy both sides had adopted in such an environment — no one fought at night, though no one knew whether the other side might suddenly launch a surprise assault. Guo Yaoshi and the others stood on the snowy slope, watching the scene within Xia Village: clusters of bonfires burning, defenders who still seemed to have some spirit left gathering by the walls, and at the southeastern breach, stones, timber, and even corpses being piled up to seal off that section.

Occasionally, orderly shouts of war cries would still ring out from within the walls.

This brutal fighting had already gone on for six days. Their own side had suffered heavy losses, and the enemy’s losses were no lower, yet Guo Yaoshi found it hard to understand how these Wu Dynasty soldiers could still summon such shouts.

From a tactical standpoint, the defending force had the advantage of fortifications, but in some ways, they also had to bear more psychological pressure because of it — when and how to attack was always a decision made by the attacking side. At night, his own men could rest relatively easily, while the enemy had to remain constantly alert. Over these past several nights, Guo Yaoshi had occasionally staged feint attacks to wear down the enemy’s energy, but every time his side ultimately failed to press the attack, Xia Village’s defenders would erupt in mocking laughter, jeering at them.

Including the bursts of unified shouting that rang out from Xia Village’s camp after every battle — these too were meant as mockery and a show of defiance toward the Resentment Army. Especially after six days of intense fighting, the more coordinated the enemy’s voices sounded, the greater the pressure felt on their own side. Both sides were sparing no effort in this ongoing war of psychological attrition.

Amid the crackling and popping of the bonfires, threads of fire drifted before his eyes. Ning Yi walked over to a fire and paused there for a moment; a stretcher carrying a wounded soldier passed by nearby. To one side, a group of about a hundred men stood in orderly ranks on the open ground, listening to a speech from a burly, iron-tower of a man. When he finished, the men shouted in unison: “Yes—!” But after that shout, most of them showed signs of exhaustion; some with wounds simply sat down right there, breathing heavily.

These hundred-odd men had taken part in the day’s fighting. Elsewhere, near and far, other groups, having finished their briefings, were returning to their defensive posts. Throughout the camp, the sound of dense, disordered footsteps now filled the air. The bonfires burned; because of the bitter cold, the smoke was thick, and many people skirted around the columns of smoke, carrying over the prepared porridge and food to distribute.

The thousand-odd captives rescued earlier at Moutuogang had, by now, mostly been mobilized as well, joining the ranks of those cooking meals and tending the wounded.

These originally abused captives, when they’d first arrived at Xia Village, had felt only weakness and fear. Later, gradually stirred and moved by what they saw, they had begun to help out. In truth, this was partly because the chilling, besieged situation at Xia Village left them with nowhere else to turn, and partly because the fact that these soldiers outside could genuinely hold their own against the Resentment Army had given them no small measure of encouragement. Day after day, this group — who had endured such torment, most of them women — had, through their own efforts, managed to lift morale considerably.

Although Xia Village’s defenders had also suffered heavy casualties over these days of fighting, and their combat skill and experience had never matched the Resentment Army’s to begin with, managing to inflict even greater losses on the enemy through defensive tactics and tools like the elm-wood cannons was no small feat in itself. Many men had been tempered and hardened through this experience, and many, too, had been wounded or even killed as a result. But even exhausted and injured, seeing these emaciated women — some even wounded themselves — doing everything they could to tend the wounded, prepare meals, or help with the defense, these soldiers couldn’t help but feel a certain warmth and sense of honor stir within them.

For an army to grow and mature, fine words are easy to say, but what stands before one’s eyes is what truly matters. In this respect, both victory and the gratitude of those being protected carried real weight — and since many of these people were women, that weight carried even more significance.

The presence of women in an army sometimes lowers fighting spirit, and sometimes it does the opposite. Ning Yi allowed these people contact with the soldiers, while also issuing a strict order that no disrespect or mistreatment of them would be tolerated under any circumstances. In ordinary times, such an order might have had a few slip through the cracks, but given how tense things were these past few days, there had, in fact, been no incidents of soldiers being unable to restrain themselves and assaulting the women. Everything, on the whole, seemed to be moving in a positive direction.

Ning Yi watched the people bringing food down, then looked back at the Resentment Army’s position across the way, and after a moment, sighed. Just then, Hongti came over from not far away; half her body was stained red with blood, which had already begun to congeal. Ning Yi’s own condition was much the same. She glanced at him, then came to support him.

“Still want to walk around.”

“Let’s go up first.” Hongti shook her head. “You were too reckless today.”

“If I don’t lead from the front, how am I supposed to raise morale?”

“You nearly got hit by an arrow.”

“On a battlefield, well, some things are just—”

He’d meant to say “unavoidable,” but as Hongti pressed close against his side, her scent of blood and warmth reaching him, he suddenly understood the meaning behind her silence. Even after countless battles, having taken more lives than she could count and crossed the line between life and death more times than she could recall, certain fears still lived in the heart of this woman others called the “Blood Bodhisattva.”

The two of them, both bloodstained, walked on close together, Chen Tuozi and the others following behind. Before long, passing by a group of a hundred men receiving instructions, Ning Yi paused briefly. “Still ready to fight?!”

The young officer leading them snapped upright and shouted loudly: “Yes!”

Behind him, the hundred-odd men roared as one: “Yes—!”

The sound carried far across the snowy valley.

Ning Yi nodded, and together with Hongti, went on up the slope.

Juan’er was hurrying about in front of the thatched hut above, responsible for logistics and the wounded, herself busy nearly beyond bearing in the rear. Even amid the many tasks a maid was expected to handle, she had still prepared hot water for Ning Yi and the others. Seeing Ning Yi and Hongti return, both bloodstained, she confirmed Ning Yi was unhurt before finally allowing herself to relax somewhat. Ning Yi reached out his less bloody hand and patted her head.

“There was a young soldier, named Chen Gui, who saved my life. He died. Write his name down, so we can repay him someday. You… get some rest too.”

Juan’er, her hair already disheveled from exhaustion, nodded, then shook her head. “I’m not tired, my lord. Miss Lu should go wash up first.”

Ning Yi nodded, waved for Chen Tuozi and the others to disperse, then went into the room with Hongti. He was, indeed, exhausted, sitting down in a chair and not wanting to get up. Hongti went to one side, mixing hot and cold water into a wooden tub, then let down her hair and removed her blood-soaked leather armor and trousers; wearing only her undergarment, she took off her shoes and socks as well, setting them aside.

Even so, half her face and half her hair were still stained with blood, though somehow it didn’t look grim — if anything, it made her seem gentler. She walked over to Ning Yi and began undoing his armor, likewise soaked in blood.

“Your body hasn’t fully recovered yet — and today you used the Sixth Meridian Breach again…”

“There are times you just have to fight all-out.”

Ning Yi stood up and walked toward the wooden tub filled with hot water. After a moment, Hongti undressed as well; aside from being somewhat taller than the average woman, with long, slender legs, her body now was simply well-proportioned, showing not a trace of muscle. Though she’d likely killed who-knew-how-many men on the battlefield that day, when Ning Yi washed the blood from her hair and face, she seemed all the more gentle and pliant. Both of them thoroughly exhausted, Ning Yi spoke quietly while Hongti simply listened in silence. After washing for a while, she stood there holding him, her forehead resting against his neck, her body trembling slightly.

Setting aside everything else, given Hongti’s level of martial cultivation, she likely wouldn’t feel cold even walking outside stark naked in the dead of winter. It was only that, having once lived a married life at Lüliang and now having a family of her own, the reality of Ning Yi’s danger on the battlefield had left her shaken with a kind of delayed fear. Ning Yi could only hold her close.

“…Both sides have fought each other about equally by now. It’s held on this long — it’s turned into a game of chicken, just seeing who breaks first… Even I can’t guess anymore…”

The battle, having gone on this long, had already brought all manner of problems to light — arrows had nearly run out two days ago, timber was almost burned through, and supplies that had once seemed ample were being consumed rapidly amid the fierce fighting. Even for Ning Yi, having death loom before him again and again wasn’t a pleasant feeling; watching someone beside him die on the battlefield never felt good, and even being saved by someone else didn’t feel good either. When that young soldier had died shielding him from an arrow, Ning Yi himself hadn’t known whether what welled up in his heart was relief, or anger, or perhaps anger at himself for feeling relief at all.

After a while like this, he tossed aside the water ladle in Hongti’s hand and picked up a nearby cotton cloth to wipe the water droplets from her body. Hongti shook her head, saying softly, “You used the Sixth Meridian Breach today…” But Ning Yi only frowned and shook his head, pulling Hongti and tossing her onto the bed. Hongti still hesitated somewhat, but then he caught her by the ankle: “Open up!”

As Ning Yi moved over her, Hongti gently wrapped her arms around him, and then, docilely, yielded to him entirely…

On a platform below the Xia Village encampment, Mao Yishan sat on a log, eating a steamed bun, talking with the middle-aged man named Qu Qing. Above them was a simple roof, and a bonfire burned nearby.

“Brother Qu, I’ve got my eye on a girl…” He said, imitating the crude manner of the veteran soldiers, trying to sound tough. But it fooled Qu Qing not at all.

“They’re all damaged goods,” said Qu Qing, lying on a simple stretcher-bed, wounded, tearing at a steamed bun in his hand, watching the women distributing food nearby and far off, said in a low voice. Then he added, “Worry about staying alive first.”

Mao Yishan shook his head. “It’s not like that, whatever you’re thinking, anyway. Brother Qu, she’s brought me food these past two days, told me she wants me to survive, to kill plenty of the enemy. Brother Qu, when I look at her… the way she talks, her mind seems a bit off. You think — once this battle’s over, will a lot of those women not be able to go on living?”

He gazed toward the Resentment Army’s camp, its fires in the distance. “Why did a group like this suddenly show up here…” He asked this quietly. Over these past few days, he’d made several good friends, only to watch them die beside him one after another.

Qu Qing didn’t answer.

…

By the time they returned to the palace, ten thousand lamps had already lit up the city.

Zhou Zhe climbed up onto the inner wall of the palace to look outward, a cold wind blowing across his face. Du Chengxi followed behind, trying to persuade him to come down, but Zhou Zhe waved him off.

What he’d seen at the walls, and along the route on this outing, still circled through his mind, mingling with the passionate melody, refusing to settle for a long, long while.

He felt no cold because of it.

“Du Chengxi.” After a very long while, he finally spoke into the cold wind. “For me to have subjects and soldiers like these — I need only govern with diligence and vigor, and how could the affairs of state fail to be set right? I was… I was gravely mistaken before…”

“Your Majesty…” With the Emperor reflecting on himself this way, Du Chengxi found he had nothing to add.

Fortunately, Zhou Zhe didn’t need him to add anything.

“I used to think that among my ministers, all they knew was scheming and infighting, fighting over power and profit, and that the common people, too, were mediocre and listless, incapable of being roused. But having seen it with my own eyes today, I now understand that Heaven’s mandate still favors me. These centuries of imperial grace and civilizing influence have not been in vain after all — it’s only that, before now, I was going about inspiring them the wrong way. I must leave the palace more often, see these common people, see the affairs of this realm. Staying forever within the palace walls will never accomplish great things.”

In his mind, the image of Shishi playing the zheng still lingered. After a pause, he couldn’t help but say, “That Miss Shishi…”

Du Chengxi stepped forward. “That Miss Shishi — does Your Majesty have some interest in…”

Zhou Zhe waved a hand. “That Miss Shishi — the two times I’ve left the palace before, I never had the chance to see her. Only today did I realize — a woman need not yield to any man. What a pity, though — I’ve come too late. She has someone she loves already, and I’m not the sort of man who would tear apart two loving hearts. That she could sing and play her zheng for the defending soldiers today — if, someday, I could become her friend, that too would be a fortunate thing. That lover of hers is that… that great talent, Ning Liheng. A remarkable man — he serves as an advisor to the Right Chancellor’s household, assisting Qin Siyuan most capably. He once broke the bandits of Mount Liang, and later oversaw disaster relief. This scorched-earth campaign outside the city, too, was managed under his direction, and now, he’s at Xia Village…”

“A talent like this…” Zhou Zhe sighed. “Even if, someday… the position of Right Chancellor no longer belongs to Qin Siyuan, I won’t let him leave feeling spurned. If the chance arises, I mean to give him a position of real importance.”

“I’m not a petty man — these are small matters, anyway.” Zhou Zhe paused. “What matters most now is this: once the time is right, I intend to sue for peace.”

“Does Your Majesty mean—”

“I cannot let subjects and people like these die in any greater numbers. Zongwang has besieged my Bianliang for so long without success — his own losses must already be immense. And now, with Guo Yaoshi’s forces tied down at Xia Village, once that battle reaches a conclusion, Zongwang will surely be inclined toward negotiating peace. I’ve stayed out of military affairs for too long — when the time comes, I should step forward myself. Things have come to this point; there’s no use quibbling over minor gains and losses anymore. Even face — I’ll set that aside too. The sooner this ends, the sooner I can get to work! This nation, this realm — it cannot go on like this. We must learn from this bitter lesson and govern with true diligence and vigor. What I’ve lost here, I will reclaim, sooner or later!”

Having been Emperor for many years, the bearing of the Son of Heaven had long since become second nature to him. At this moment, his gaze turned fierce, and as he spoke these words in the cold wind, he carried, too, an air of one who looked down upon the entire realm. Du Chengxi, startled, immediately dropped to his knees…

The cold wind blew across the sky.

Amid the scattered fires of Xia Village, figures moved to and fro; the Resentment Army’s great tent blazed with lights. Outside the siege camp at Bianliang, warhorses and messengers carrying reports still moved back and forth; atop the battered, breach-riddled city walls, patrolling soldiers walked past one gap after another, or skirted around soldiers sleeping behind the parapets, the occasional sound of the night watch ringing out. The frontier air carried the sound of gongs; the cold light gleamed on iron armor.

On such a night, no one could know just how many people’s vital, churning thoughts were surging and intertwining.

The next day was the ninth day of the twelfth month. At Bianliang’s walls, the fighting continued. But at Xia Village, starting that morning, a strange silence set in. After days of fighting, the Resentment Army, for the first time, surrounded but did not attack.

“What’s going on?” That morning, Ning Yi climbed the watchtower, looking out at the Resentment Army’s formation through a telescope. “Has this Guo Yaoshi fellow… been scared off by my landmines?”

“If that’s really the case, it’s not necessarily entirely a good thing,” Qin Shaoqian said beside him, though there was a hint of pleasure on his face regardless.

“Tch, if those cowardly bastards got scared, whatever the reason, it’s still good for our morale.”

“We’ve already arranged to have it spread around,” said Wenren Buer, coming up onto the watchtower.

That morning, a mood of triumphant excitement spread through the camp. Wenren Buer had arranged for men to taunt and challenge the Resentment Army’s camp from start to finish, but the enemy showed no response at all.

They had no way of knowing that, at this very same moment, several li behind the Resentment Army’s camp, separated by mountains and forest, a battle was underway. Guo Yaoshi, leading his elite cavalry, had launched a charge against a force of ten thousand men…

Hoofbeats thundered, shaking the earth. In front of that ten-thousand-strong army, Long Hui, Fulu, and the others watched the iron cavalry bearing down on them and formed up their ranks.

“Brothers, the moment has come to defend our nation and strike down the enemy! I, Long Hui, will live or die together with all of you—”

“Fulu will live or die with all of you—”

“Wang Chuanrong is here!”

“Cui He lives or dies with his brothers!”

“Ni Jianzhong of Taiyuan is here—”

Long Hui shouted with all his might toward the ranks around him, and answering cries rang out one after another in response.

Dark clouds churned overhead — more snow was coming.

Half a quarter-hour later, their banners had fallen, and their formation had collapsed. Under the driving iron hooves, the ten-thousand-strong army began to scatter and flee in every direction…