“…Small Azure River sits at the mouth of a valley; the dam at the valley’s opening was completed at the start of the year, standing over twenty chi tall. The valley opening faces southeast, which was originally the most easily traveled approach — and would surely have been the direction any large army would attack from. Once the dam was completed, the people in the valley had nothing more to fear from that direction… As for the valley’s other approaches, the terrain is rugged and difficult to traverse… it’s not that there’s absolutely no way in or out, but only experienced hunters could manage to work their way around. Watchtowers have already been built at the key points as well, making the place easy to defend and hard to attack — and what’s more, they often keep one of those ‘hot-air balloons’ tethered to the watchtower as a lookout post…”
“…The army within the valley underwent one reorganization after entering the mountains, back in October of last year, adopting a black banner with the Chen star as their military flag. According to that traitor’s own account, the black background symbolizes resolve, decisiveness, and unshakable will, while the Chen star represents how a single spark can set the whole plain ablaze… After the reorganization, the Wurui Camp was organized into squads of roughly ten men each, platoons of around thirty, companies above that of roughly a hundred, and battalions above companies numbering three to five hundred; three battalions plus one special-operations battalion make up a regiment. At present, the rebel force is organized into five regiments total, and some also refer to themselves as the Black Banner Army, or the Huaxia Army…”
“…The rebel forces train once every three days, but the rest of the time is filled with other tasks; discipline is strict, and after every six days there’s one day of rest. Yet ever since Bianliang fell, the rebel troops’ morale has run so high that fully half the soldiers don’t even want to take their rest days… That traitor has established numerous courses of instruction within the army — I, being a refugee who slipped into the valley amid the winter chaos, wasn’t eligible to attend any lectures myself, but from what I’ve heard the rebels in the valley discussing, most of it sounds like heretical, treasonous talk…”
In the dim cave, a man dressed as a mountain villager, his clothes worn and shabby, stood at attention, laying out in clear, methodical detail everything he’d managed to learn. Seated in front was Li Pin, coughing occasionally, meticulously recording everything the man said with brush and paper. Where the sunlight fell at the cave’s mouth sat Tie Tianying, his great blade Juque laid across his knees, eyes closed as he rested. But whenever Li Pin paused inside to ask about some trivial, minor detail, Tie Tianying’s mood was clearly, if faintly, souring.
“Did that traitor make no effort to suppress the talk of grain shortages in the valley?”
“Why hasn’t there been a mutiny?”
“How many refugees entered the mountains over the winter, in total?”
“How did they screen who was let in?”
Li Pin’s questions came in a steady, fragmented stream, and whenever he received an answer, he’d press further still: “Why do you think that?” “What exactly made you think that way?” The mole Tie Tianying had planted in the valley was, in truth, one of the sharpest, most methodical men among his constables — but even he found himself faltering under this kind of relentless questioning, at times stammering, even letting slip a few discrepancies under Li Pin’s probing.
But the overwhelming majority of his answers matched precisely with the intelligence Tie Tianying had already reported to Li Pin beforehand.
Since winter had passed, Small Azure River’s defenses had grown considerably tighter; Ning Yi’s side had thoroughly surveyed the terrain surrounding the valley, blanketing it with both visible and hidden sentries. Most of the time now, Tie Tianying’s constables didn’t even dare approach the area, for fear of alerting the enemy. He had, of course, planted more than one mole inside Small Azure River over the winter — but calling one out simply to interrogate him over these minor, trivial details felt, to him, nearly like being deliberately harassed.
The situation inside Small Azure River’s valley wasn’t especially rich in detail, nor especially sparse either. The mole endured nearly half a day of Li Pin’s coughing, back-and-forth questioning, much of it going in repetitive circles. Once the interrogation was finally done, Li Pin offered a few words of thanks and added, “If there’s anything else we’ve missed, we’ll need your help again over the next couple of days, brother.” Tie Tianying rose with his blade, dismissed the man, and walked over to examine what Li Pin had recorded, along with the map he’d been drawing of Small Azure River.
“Has Master Li finished his questions?”
“Cough — there might still be things I haven’t thought of.” Li Pin frowned, studying his notes.
“Then would Master Li be so kind as to enlighten me — does any of it differ from the intelligence I’ve already recorded?”
“…Not much.”
“So there is something! Come now, I’d genuinely like to compare notes with Master Li today — let’s see exactly which parts of this intelligence I got wrong, so Lord Li can note it down as yet another failing of mine to hold against me!”
Li Pin, who’d been studying the report, only now looked up at him, then raised a hand to cover his mouth, coughing with some difficulty before speaking. “I only seek to leave nothing to chance, Master Tie — you misunderstand me.”
“Leave nothing to chance? Master Li, do you have any idea how much effort it took me to plant eyes and ears inside Small Azure River! And now, at a moment that’s anything but critical, you have him called out and grilled over the most trivial nonsense — your timing for throwing your official weight around is truly impeccable!”
Li Pin fell silent for a moment, his gaze growing serious. “Forgive my bluntness, Master Tie, but your records are genuinely too full of gaps. The broad strokes are correct enough, but the phrasing is careless, and in quite a few places, it’s mere speculation… cough cough cough…”
“I’ve spent years in the Ministry of Justice — I know better than you, Master Li, what intelligence is actually useful!”
“Cough cough… but are you truly his match!?” Li Pin snatched up the stack of papers in his hand and flung them down on the ground before Tie Tianying. Coming from this sickly, frail scholar, the sudden gesture actually startled Tie Tianying somewhat.
“Cough cough… I haven’t had many opportunities to work alongside Ning Yi directly, but I do know something of how he operated within the Chancellor’s household. Under his direction, Bamboo Notes and the Secret Investigation Bureau treated every single piece of information and intelligence with the utmost precision — where numbers could be used, there was never the slightest ambiguity tolerated, to the point of being almost pedantically fastidious! Cough… his methods run wildly unconventional, but most of them are built on exactly this kind of meticulous, exhaustive attention to detail! As for that day he killed the emperor in the Golden Hall, we’ve gone over it again and again — he almost certainly had several contingency plans in place, the most obvious being that his first choice was surely to have Lu Hongti of Green Wood Stockade gain audience with the emperor and strike then and there. Had the previous emperor not summoned him ahead of time, cough, cough, cough…”
He rambled on like this, then bent down to gather up the scattered papers again. “With the northern territories fallen now, we’re already at a severe disadvantage here, and even the official authorities can offer us little real help. If we get careless on top of that, we’re simply courting death. I know Master Tie has his own methods of handling cases, but if that approach isn’t working here, perhaps the opportunity we need lies exactly within these fussy little details…”
Tie Tianying fell silent for a moment. He couldn’t out-argue a scholar, but he wasn’t about to be cowed by a few clever words either, and gave a cold snort. “Hmph, and has Master Li seen anything, then, in the places where my own methods have failed?”
“There are doubts piled upon doubts — even I can’t quite work out the logic of it.” Li Pin said quietly. “Take Small Azure River itself — that’s the single biggest point of doubt. Why would he choose to make his stand there? On the surface, it can be said to allow mutual support with Green Wood Stockade, but in reality, both locations are mountainous, and the roads between them are far from convenient to begin with. When he first rose up with seven thousand men from the Wurui Camp, he defeated armies numbering in the tens of thousands, not once but twice. If he truly meant to build something substantial, choosing a city in the northwest to hold as a stronghold — with both land and people at his disposal — given this group’s combat strength, even a Western Xia assault could be met and fought off from behind city walls. That would be a far better position than being trapped in these mountains as he is now…”
Tie Tianying countered, “But in that case, with the imperial army and the Western Army both taking turns attacking him, defying the whole realm as he has, with barely any allies to speak of — how long could he possibly hold out?”
“He may not necessarily fail to hold out. Or, to put it another way — if he truly couldn’t hold, he could simply retreat back into the mountains again, this time with the resources of an entire city and territory behind him, which would still leave him in a far better position than his current situation.” Li Pin tapped the stack of intelligence in his hand. “And what’s more, it seems he doesn’t regard his present circumstances as a real predicament at all. Taking in refugees over the winter — first, that costs precious grain; second, does he not realize the court would surely send people to keep watch on him? He shows no fear even of spies infiltrating his ranks, and openly drove off the Western Xia envoy, unafraid of provoking the Western Xia king’s wrath. What kind of man behaves this way…”
“He isn’t afraid of spies.” Tie Tianying repeated the phrase. “Perhaps that simply means some of the information we’ve gathered so far is intelligence he deliberately allowed to leak out, false on purpose. Perhaps he’s putting on an act of composure — or perhaps he’s already secretly established ties with the Western Xia… No, wait, if he wanted to feign composure, he should have chosen a city outside the mountains to hold from the very start. It seems far more likely he already has secret dealings with Western Xia. For a man with no regard for sovereign or father, committing this kind of treasonous betrayal wouldn’t be surprising in the least.”
“If he really has already thrown in his lot with Western Xia, then everything we’re doing here is pointless. But somehow, I don’t quite believe that’s the case…” Li Pin glanced at Tie Tianying. “But then, why hasn’t he forbidden people in the valley from discussing the grain shortage? Why does he keep encouraging discussion of both internal and external affairs? He should know — the more people think, the harder they are to control. The common people can be made to follow a path, but not made to understand why. Is he really so confident, unafraid that the people in the valley might mutiny? Turning traitor, choosing a dead-end path, refusing Western Xia, and taking in refugees during winter, on top of all that… these things… cough…”
The two of them had been arguing back and forth, but Li Pin genuinely wasn’t acting recklessly here — much of what he said also matched doubts already lingering in Tie Tianying’s own mind. Having it laid out plainly like this only deepened the sense that everything about this valley called Small Azure River was riddled with contradiction, a hopeless tangle.
“Ha, put all these things together, and there’s only one conclusion — that Ning Liheng has gone completely mad!”
“It would almost be a relief if he really had gone mad.” Li Pin let out a faint breath. “But this man plans everything carefully before acting — he can never be judged by ordinary logic. Heh, murdering the emperor right there in open court! He said it himself — in the end, he simply couldn’t set the matter aside. If he’d truly planned to raise rebellion, he could have left the capital first and laid his plans slowly — with the Jurchens throwing the whole realm into chaos, he’d have had no shortage of opportunities. And yet he chose to act exactly when he did… You say he’s mad, but his grasp of the political situation surpasses both of ours combined. In the intelligence he’s deliberately let slip, he predicted all of Hebei would fall into Jurchen hands within a year — and it’s looking entirely plausible now that the Wu Dynasty could lose everything north of the Yangtze within three…”
“…I can’t work out what he’s after.”
Murmuring this quietly, Li Pin sat down on a rock behind him. Tie Tianying frowned and looked off to one side as well. After a moment, he spoke. “I can’t work it out either, but there’s one thing that’s very clear.”
“If he really has thrown in with Western Xia, then with that kind of backing, no one in the entire northwest could touch him now.” Tie Tianying said. “But if he hasn’t, then his valley’s food shortage can’t possibly be faked forever — before the grain runs out, he’ll have to make some kind of move! Whatever move that turns out to be, it’ll be our best chance!”
Having said this, he swept his hand out sharply, walked two steps, then stopped and turned back to look at Li Pin. “Only, I worry that even this opportunity is already something he’s accounted for. Master Li, you know him well, and your mind is sharp — whatever the danger, you’d best judge it clearly for yourself!”
“Cough cough… cough cough…”
Tie Tianying left through the mouth of the cave. Li Pin sat there, coughing a few times, holding the sheaf of information in his hands, opening and rereading it, his gaze puzzled, his brow slightly furrowed. Then he leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes for a long, quiet while.
“You… what exactly are you after…”
His voice came out hoarse. Outside the cave, sunlight poured down. Tie Tianying climbed up onto the ridge, looking off toward Small Azure River, then turned and gazed for a long while back toward the southeast.
When he’d first taken this assignment and come here, his heart had burned with a fierce desire to prove himself. But by the time he’d actually arrived, that desire had already begun to fade — human strength has its limits, and he knew he was no match for this madman determined to make an enemy of the entire world. By now, he understood that the reasons everyone had for remaining here were, one by one, slowly fading away. From the news Li Pin had brought, he’d learned that, in that very southeastern direction, the high officials and nobles were already leaving Bianliang — the decline of an entire era, the once-brilliant figures of the age losing their luster one by one.
Tong Guan, the non-royal prince who had achieved the greatest military distinction of the past several decades, had died on the very day Ning Yi rose in rebellion; the emperor had died that same day too. A little over a month earlier, Tang Ke, the Left Chancellor who’d held the court together, had, after satisfying every last demand of the Jurchens and wringing Bianliang utterly dry, taken poison and died quietly at home — though before his death, he hadn’t gone without taking some action of his own. This old man, long the leading figure of the peace faction, had, the very moment he’d risen to power, seized Cai Jing’s household and confiscated everything within it. Cai Jing, who had once commanded followers across the entire realm and dominated the court for decades, had, during his exile, been literally starved to death.
…Eighty-one years of past events, three thousand li from home; alone, my kin scattered to the ends of the earth, gazing toward my homeland, tears fall. Five times I was granted the chancellor’s seal at the Golden Hall, ten times summoned to draft edicts at the Jade Hall; recalling those bygone glories now seems like idle, empty talk…
This was said to be Cai Jing’s final poem. It was claimed he’d been so reviled by the common people across the realm for his countless misdeeds that, during his exile, he couldn’t buy so much as a scrap of food even with gold and silver in hand — but in truth, how could such a thing really happen. That this eighty-one-year-old power broker could be starved to death perhaps proved only that, with the state fallen this far, even the other powerful figures still standing may well have harbored their own grievances against him.
But what good did any of it do now?
Every member of the imperial clan left in Bianliang had been seized and was now being marched back, in a great procession, to Jin territory, treated like livestock. With the hundred officials all heading south, it was clear — they truly meant to abandon this entire northern territory. If, in the future, the Yangtze became the new dividing line, then this half of the realm was, at this very moment, collapsing right over his own head.
He looked back toward Small Azure River, thinking to himself: that madman!
…
By May, heaven and earth themselves seemed to be collapsing.
Once the Jurchens had departed, large numbers of officials in Bianliang had already begun relocating south.
With the emperor gone and the imperial clan wiped clean away, whoever succeeded to the throne next would inevitably come from the southern branch of the imperial family. Though the situation remained far from settled, there were officials in the south as well… Would the merit of having supported and enthroned the new emperor really be handed over entirely to those idle men down south?
Tong Guan, Cai Jing, and Qin Siyuan were all dead now; the other so-called “Seven Tigers,” once condemned as traitors by the people of the capital, had likewise all been dismissed or demoted, one after another. The court had finally returned to the hands of the righteous once more, and the group led by Qin Hui was now making its grand crossing of the Yellow River, preparing to enthrone the new emperor. Zhang Bangchang, forced against his will to accept the throne of Great Chu, was in this same month of May also arranging for various supplies to be moved south, preparing to travel south himself to plead for forgiveness. Across the whole stretch of territory from Yanmen Pass to the Yellow River, and from the Yellow River to the Yangtze, enormous questions arose over whether people should stay or go — and an even greater chaos was already beginning to brew.
To the south, a mood both grave and celebratory was gathering. In Jiangning, where Ning Yi had once lived, the idle Prince of Kang, Zhou Yong, was, under the guidance of Princess Chengguo, Kang Xian, and others, soon to become the new emperor of the Wu Dynasty. Some had already sensed this coming; within the city, within the palace, the young princess Zhou Pei knelt in the great hall, watching as the kindly old grandmother handed her the jade pendant symbolizing the authority of the Princess Chengguo’s household, and thinking of the Zhou family members who’d been driven north by the barbarians, their fates unknown, tears welled in her eyes.
The young prince sat atop a tall stone pier, gazing off toward the north, the setting sun casting its magnificent colors across the sky; he too felt a certain wistfulness.
“…Forty years, this home, this nation; three thousand li of rivers and mountains. Phoenix towers and dragon halls reaching to the heavens, jade trees and gem-like branches wreathed in mist — when had I ever known the clash of arms?”
This poem, “Breaking the Formation,” was the lament of a fallen kingdom, written by the last ruler of the Southern Tang. He gazed at the drifting clouds above and murmured the first half of it softly, then let out a sigh.
“Master…”
He leapt down from the stone pier and stood there, gazing at the setting sun for a long while, until the evening breeze came and stirred the hem of his robe. He gave a wave of his hand.
“I’ll carry forward the way of natural science properly, I’ll help the Zhou family hold onto the Wu Dynasty. Just you watch.”
He said this quietly to himself, and made up his mind then and there.
He was about to become Crown Prince.
—Which meant he could build an even bigger workshop!
The summer sun blazed on, as if entirely unaware of the earth-shattering collapse unfolding beyond. At Small Azure River, the days continued to pass, one by one.
By late May, a great deal of news had already begun trickling in — the Western Xia had blocked the southwestern route, and the Jurchens had also begun clamping down on smuggling among the wealthy households around Lüliang; Green Wood Stockade’s last remaining few trade routes were now being cut off. Before long, this same news reached Li Pin, Tie Tianying, and the others as well.