As the New Year approached, snow fell over the Chengdu Plain.

Drifting and swirling, the white snow buried everything. On this land so often shrouded in cloud, the falling snow settled like a soft white blanket. On the eve of the Little New Year, Zhuo Yongqing asked for leave to return to the mountain. Passing through Jiading, he planned to bring some food to the sisters He Ying and He Xiu, whose father had been killed by soldiers of the Huaxia Army.

By November, the situation on the Chengdu Plain had stabilized. Zhuo Yongqing had traveled back and forth between the two places often, calling on the sisters’ household several times. At first, the sharp-tongued elder sister, He Ying, would always try to drive him away, so Zhuo Yongqing took to tossing what he’d brought over the courtyard wall. Eventually the two sides came to know each other somewhat; He Ying no longer chased him off, though her words remained cold and hard. She could not understand why the Huaxia Army kept coming, and Zhuo Yongqing himself was never able to explain it very clearly.

This time, though, something strange happened. The moment He Ying saw him, she slammed the courtyard gate shut. Zhuo Yongqing had set the bag of food behind his back, meaning to exchange a few words to smooth over the awkwardness before offering it, and now he was rather puzzled. A moment later, a voice came from within.

“Get out. You shameless creature—”

“What—”

“Go! Shameless!”

Perhaps not wanting to make too great a spectacle for onlookers, He Ying kept her voice low from behind the door, though her tone was thick with loathing. Zhuo Yongqing frowned. “What— what do you mean, shameless, what— what’s happened?”

“Get lost! Get lost! My family would rather die than suffer this kind of insult from your Huaxia Army! Shameless!”

Zhuo Yongqing stepped back and looked at the courtyard, then turned and walked away.

He was no fool. He could tell that He Ying’s earlier anger at the Huaxia Army had come from grief over her father’s death, but this outburst was clearly triggered by something else — and something that likely involved him. So he went straight to the Jiading government office to find the household registrar in charge of the He family’s district — a retired soldier named Dai Yong, whom Zhuo Yongqing happened to know. This Dai Yong had a scar on his face and was blind in one eye; when the subject came up, he looked rather embarrassed.

The Huaxia Army’s administrative officials were still in short supply. Even accounting for the roughly two hundred thousand people who had come out of Liangshan, spreading them across the entire Chengdu Plain meant that manpower everywhere was stretched thin. Ning Yi had trained a group of people to form the skeleton of the regional government, but in many places the wounded veterans from the original campaign were still being used. Loyal as the veterans were, and though they had trained for some time, they were unfamiliar with local conditions, so their work had to be paired with local staff. The person paired with Dai Yong — or at least serving as his advisor — was a middle-aged local woman.

This woman, in ordinary times, worked as a matchmaker, and so she had a wide circle of acquaintances and knew local affairs better than most. After the deaths of He Ying and He Xiu’s father, the Huaxia Army, wanting to give the public an accounting, had disciplined a large number of officers who bore some share of responsibility — what was called leniency in some respects and severity in others simply meant spreading the responsibility across many shoulders instead of letting it fall entirely on the company commander who had actually committed the act: he was stripped of rank, imprisoned, but allowed to atone through service, leaving him a way out.

This kind of serious handling had given the public a reasonably satisfactory explanation. Combined with the fact that the Huaxia Army had otherwise caused little disturbance to the people, it had gradually won some degree of approval in Jiading. Seeing how often Zhuo Yongqing came to the He household, Dai Yong’s partner had cleverly decided to play matchmaker, thinking to turn a feud into a happy match.

In her eyes, Zhuo Yongqing was the great hero who had personally slain Wanyan Loushi in battle, and his character was good besides — a top-tier catch by any measure. He Ying of the He family was sharp-tempered but decent-looking, and would be marrying above her station. So the woman went to the house and hinted around the subject, and once He Ying caught her meaning, she was so furious she nearly grabbed a kitchen knife and chased the woman out.

The woman hadn’t mentioned any of this beforehand; she’d meant to sound out He Ying’s feelings first, then go claim credit with Zhuo Yongqing — perhaps with some private hope of flattering him in the process. Now that it had blown up in her face, she didn’t dare say another word, which left Zhuo Yongqing standing awkwardly at the family’s gate.

“This— this—” Zhuo Yongqing’s face flushed red. “What kind of mess have you people made…”

“Yes, yes, yes.” Dai Yong rubbed his nose. “Honestly, I think that woman went too far herself. She never said a word to me about it beforehand. Still… regardless of anything else, her father died at our hands, and for me to then suggest he sleep with her — I find that hard to countenance too. But, Brother Zhuo, if we think it over together, I don’t believe the matter is entirely impossible… I don’t mean using our position to pressure anyone — there would need to be sincerity…”

“What nonsense is this, I never meant to sleep… to marry her…” Zhuo Yongqing blinked rapidly, tense. “Hey, what I meant, it’s not that either…”

“Er…” Dai Yong thought it over. “That Sister Wang’s handling of things… wasn’t very reliable, no. But, Brother Zhuo, she’s also the kind of person who knows this area well, has a way of getting things done — I can’t very well drive her off over this… shall I call her over so you can give her a scolding…”

“I— you…” Zhuo Yongqing retreated, tangled in knots, then waved a hand and turned to leave. “Why would I scold her, I don’t want anything to do with this…”

“Hey, or I could go apologize to the family with you…”

“Don’t you come! Don’t make more trouble for me!”

Zhuo Yongqing turned and pointed at him, then walked off, thoroughly depressed.

He wandered the town aimlessly for a while.

The whole affair had left him tangled up inside, though in truth it wasn’t a large matter — compared to his usual military duties, how big could a personal matter really get? He calculated how much time he had left before he had to leave — at the latest, tomorrow morning. With this misunderstanding hanging over him, should he simply save time and head back to Liangshan, or keep wasting time here? After turning the question over several times, the habits ingrained by army life won out. Gritting his teeth and stamping his foot, he turned and went back toward the He household.

He knocked at the gate for a while. Clearly someone peered out through the crack, then bolted the door even tighter. He Ying said nothing from within, seething. Zhuo Yongqing took a deep breath, paused, then took another.

“He Ying, I know you’re in there.”

“Get lost…”

“That business with the woman surnamed Wang, I have nothing to say about it, I didn’t know anything about it — hey, I’m saying, you’re normally so clever, how could you be so foolish about this, that whole thing… can’t you see I had no idea?”

“Get lost!”

“Fine, we caused you trouble, I apologize for that. New Year is coming, every household is eating meat and hanging up good-luck couplets — are you all just going to sit here and suffer? You, your mother, your sister too? I only meant well — the Huaxia Army meant well, sending you some things, what— what are you imagining—”

“You go, what you brought isn’t even from the Huaxia Army, they already sent things before—”

“They sent it— you don’t understand, our Master Ning privately instructed me to look after you, Master Ning—”

“Liar!”

“What liar— you, you just listened to that Old Mrs. Wang, that Sister Wang — whatever you call her — and believed her, is that it?”

“You beasts, you killed my father… and now you want—” The voice inside had already begun to choke with sobs.

“I don’t want anything, want what— fine, you want the truth, is that it? The Huaxia Army has wronged you, that’s true, and Master Ning did privately tell me to look after you — that’s all true! Yes, I do have some feelings for your family… not for you! If I have feelings for anyone, it’s your sister He Xiu, if I want to marry anyone, it’s He Xiu — you keep thinking this is some insult to you, you—”

Something crashed inside the courtyard — someone had smashed a jar. A moment later, someone fell. He Ying cried out, “Xiu—” and ran toward the sound. Zhuo Yongqing knocked twice more, then abandoned restraint entirely, vaulted the wall with a boost, and found the lame girl He Xiu already collapsed on the ground, her face flushed nearly purple. Zhuo Yongqing rushed over: “Let me—” He meant to help, but He Ying shoved him back. “What are you doing!”

“I— I know what to do, she’s— she’s just had a fright… you—” Zhuo Yongqing wanted to go to her but held himself back, gesturing wildly instead as he directed He Ying. He Ying helped her sister up, and together with their timid, usually silent mother, who had come rushing out in a panic, they carried the girl into the house.

The whole affair, in the end, wasn’t so serious. After a while, He Xiu slowly came around, and after a few breaths on the bed, she looked up and saw Zhuo Yongqing standing in the doorway — and, startled, curled into a ball with her head down. Zhuo Yongqing retreated awkwardly outside, thinking to himself, what kind of mess is this. As he stood there sighing, He Ying and He Xiu’s mother crept over quietly. “That…”

“Ah— Auntie— you— hello…”

“Young man of the Zhuo family, what you said… what you said, was that true?”

“…Er…” Zhuo Yongqing scratched his head.

He Ying came over from behind, holding a clay bowl, her voice pressed low: “You— are you satisfied now, my family, my family hasn’t done anything wrong, you spoke recklessly and humiliated my sister… you…”

“What I said was true…”

“You…”

“I said it was true!” Zhuo Yongqing’s eyes turned serious as he glared back. “I— I’ve come back again and again just to see He Xiu. Even though she’s never spoken a word to me, I don’t mean anything improper by it, I have no ill intent… she— she reminds me of someone who once saved my life…”

Hearing this from Zhuo Yongqing, He Ying finally fell silent, unable to find words. Zhuo Yongqing went on: “I— I never had any other scheme in mind, don’t think I’ve been plotting to humiliate your family — I just wanted to see her… that woman surnamed Wang was too clever for her own good.”

Saying this, he walked out through the gate, brought in the sack of New Year’s goods he’d carried over, then looked around the courtyard and went to clean up the shattered clay jar under the eaves. Such cleaning was properly a woman’s task, and He Ying hesitated several times without stepping in to help. Partway through, she came over to ask again, hesitant: “What you said… was it really true?”

“Believe it or not.”

Once he’d finished, Zhuo Yongqing left the courtyard. As he opened the gate, He Ying seemed to steel herself and came running over again. “You, wait a moment.”

“Wait for what?” Zhuo Yongqing turned back.

“What you said, was it true? You want… to marry my sister…”

“You, don’t worry, I never meant to embarrass your family…”

“If you’re truly set on He Xiu, bring your birth date. I’ll find someone to match your fortunes.”

“Er…”

He Ying stood in the courtyard, watching him with a stubbornly determined gaze. Zhuo Yongqing stood frozen for a moment, utterly dumbfounded.

On the road back to the mountain from Jiading, he thought to himself: what on earth just happened…

…

That New Year, in which Zhuo Yongqing found himself inexplicably entangled with the He sisters, Ning Yi and his family spent in a small village twenty li south of Jiading. From a security standpoint, cities like Chengdu and Jiading were simply too large and too complicated. The population was dense and had not yet stabilized; if trade were fully opened, the number of infiltrating bandits and assassins would surge as well. Ning Yi had ultimately chosen a deserted village south of Jiading as a temporary base for the Huaxia Army’s core leadership.

With the heavy snow, the situation in the southwest had settled into stillness, and for the time being the Huaxia Army’s only task was the orderly relocation and transfer of its various departments. Naturally, Ning Yi and the others still had to return to Heden to spend that year’s New Year’s Eve.

In contrast to the temporary quiet of the southwest, fighting continued to rage in the north without pause. In the occupied cities like Chengdu, the government offices posted these reports in detail every day, giving the crowds gathered in teahouses and taverns plenty of fresh gossip. Some people had already come to accept the Huaxia Army’s presence — after all, its rule was, if anything, no worse than that of the Wu Dynasty — and so, amid talk of the bravery and generosity of the Prince of Jin and others, people also speculated about what kind of confrontation would unfold once the Huaxia Army eventually marched out to fight the Jurchens.

In the Wu Dynasty, preparations for the New Year celebrations were also proceeding in orderly fashion. Congratulatory memorials poured in from officials across the realm, and many, in their year-end reports, spoke urgently of the crisis facing the empire. Jun Wu, who should have arrived back in Lin’an by the Little New Year, did not hurry back into the city until the twenty-seventh of the twelfth month. Zhou Yong praised his diligence handsomely. As a father, he took pride in this son.

Still, Zhou Yong harbored many doubts about the campaign to come. At the family banquet, he asked Jun Wu several times about the state of the front-line defenses, the preparations for the coming battles, and whether there was confidence in victory. Jun Wu gave a sincere account of the state of the various armies, then added: “…The soldiers now fight with true resolve, morale is no longer what it once was — especially the main forces under Generals Yue and Han, which are more than capable of engaging the Jurchens. This time, though the Jurchens have come a thousand li, we have the depth of the Yangtze waterways on our side. A fifty-fifty chance of victory… at least that much, I’d say.”

Zhou Yong seemed somewhat uneasy at this answer. After the family banquet, Zhou Pei chided her younger brother for being too honest. “Even with only a fifty-fifty chance, in front of Father, it wouldn’t hurt to say a few tenths more. At the very least, tell him we’re certain not to lose — that much would do.”

Jun Wu frowned. “Whatever else, Father is the sovereign of this nation — many things ought to be made plain to him. As his son, I stand at the front line, willing to give my life, and that’s that. But as for whether it’s five parts in ten or eight parts in ten — how is one to judge? The last great battle against the Jurchens was several years ago now, and we lost that one… Five in ten is already quite a lot.”

Zhou Pei sighed, then nodded. “Still, little brother, you’re the Crown Prince — it’s enough for you to stand at the front. Don’t go throwing your life away at every turn. When it’s time to retreat, you should still put your own survival first. As long as you come back, the Wu Dynasty hasn’t lost.”

“But without giving everything, how can there be victory,” Jun Wu said, then laughed. “I know, Sister, I understand what you mean. I will absolutely come back alive. When I say giving everything… I mean that state of mind, fighting with everything you have. You understand what I mean, don’t you, Sister? No need to worry too much about me.”

That New Year, the court was calm throughout. Calm, in this case, meant an absence of factional strife — two months earlier, the near-clash between Zhao Ding’s faction and Qin Hui’s faction had ultimately been suppressed, after which Qin Hui accepted his punishment without further resistance. This harmony made the New Year feel unusually warm and lively.

In the midst of this calm, Qin Hui fell ill. Even after the cold passed, his health had not recovered; in the space of little more than ten days, he seemed to have aged a decade. On this day he came to court for an audience and again raised the matter of resigning his post. Zhou Yong spoke kindly to reassure him and bestowed upon him a great store of tonics. At one point, Qin Hui knelt before Zhou Yong.

“…This worthless, foolish servant, dragging along this ruined body, cannot even say whether he will recover. There are a few words — only this humble servant’s private thoughts. The ruin in the southwest arose from this servant’s own errors, and it remains unresolved to this day. Now the Jurchens have arrived in the north. If the Crown Prince proves valiant and can deal the Jurchens a great defeat, that would truly be Heaven’s blessing upon our Wu Dynasty. But… Your Majesty is Your Majesty, and must still… must still prepare for the possibility of defeat. This servant deserves ten thousand deaths for saying so — with the great battle ahead, such words could shake the morale of the troops. This servant deserves ten thousand deaths — let Your Majesty pass judgment…”

In the Wu Dynasty, where the emperor ruled together with the scholar-officials, ministers did not customarily kneel at court; only in cases of grave offense would anyone kneel to receive judgment. Zhou Yong looked at this old minister kneeling and kowtowing before him, and sighed.

Of late, because Qin Hui had become something of a chronic worrier, Zhou Yong had grown weary of him and had come to hold certain opinions about the man. But at this moment, he felt a pang of guilt instead, and the memory of last year — when he had promised Qin Hui full support for the campaign against the southwest, only to hesitate and waver in the end — rose fresh in his mind.

“Ah…” He stepped forward and helped Qin Hui to his feet. “These are the words of a seasoned statesman devoted to the nation, Qin Qing. I have often heard it said that a good commander must always consider the possibility of defeat and prepare for it in advance — what fault is there in that? Still, the Crown Prince has already given his utmost to prepare for the battle ahead; the rest of us in the rear must do our part to hold things steady for him. Qin Qing, you are my Privy Councillor — once you’ve recovered from your illness, the heavy burden of managing this whole enterprise should fall to you once more…”

He patted Qin Hui on the shoulder. “You mustn’t keep asking to resign at every turn. Qin Qing, to speak plainly, among all of them, you are the one I trust the most — you are a man of true ability…”

Qin Hui, deeply moved, his eyes brimming with tears, bowed low once more after a moment. “…This servant will serve until his dying breath, and only then will he rest.”

His voice broke as he spoke.

Sovereign and minister supported and encouraged one another for a while longer. At some point, unnoticed, the heavy snow began falling from the sky once more.

The wind and snow swept on, all the way north to Xuzhou, where Luo Ye spent that New Year atop the city walls, his companions in the storm being the million starving ghosts encamped outside.

This was the main force of the famine-driven horde led by Wang Shitong. Ever since word spread that eight thousand Huaxia Army soldiers had entered Xuzhou, the starving masses had come pouring in without end. Unable to storm the city in the ice and snow, they gathered outside its walls and died there, ceaselessly, one after another. Compared to the starving, ill-clad refugees scattered on the outer fringes, the core mass of the horde had somewhat more supplies; once the food ran out, those people could still turn to devouring one another — and so it was foreseeable that, come the warmth of spring, no small number of them would still survive.

Looking out from Xuzhou’s walls, the land beyond was a hell of cannibalism, while inside Xuzhou itself there was little enough food that opening the gates to distribute relief was simply not realistic. Day after day, Luo Ye looked out on this scene of hell beyond the walls, and often the prefect Li Anmao, who had invited them to Xuzhou in the first place, would come to join him. Li Anmao was a scion of a great clan with his heart set on the Wu Dynasty, and he had much in common to discuss with Luo Ye, who himself came from a once-prominent family in the capital.

On New Year’s Day, the two men drank atop the wall. Li Anmao spoke of the starving horde laying siege to the city, and then of the Jurchen forces under Wanyan Zongfu and Wanyan Zongbi, who might well arrive at Xuzhou once spring began. In truth, Li Anmao’s heart lay with the Wu Dynasty; his appeal to the Huaxia Army for aid had been meant only to drag them into the fight, and he made no secret of this — Liu Chengzong, Luo Ye, and the others who had come this time all understood as much. Luo Ye held his cup and poured the wine out onto the ground.

“…My family — in the Humiliation of Jingping, the Jurchens killed some and carried off others; most of them can no longer be found. Most of them were unremarkable people, not worth mentioning, only I never imagined they’d meet such a fate… There was a younger sister in the family, lovable and obedient, the only one I still carry with me. She’s likely somewhere in the north now. I’ve had my brothers in the army search for her — no word yet. I only hope she’s still alive…”

“As for the Jurchens…”

He said, “Then let them come.”

In the tenth year of Wu Jianshuo, the thirteenth year of Jin Tianhui, the snow had not yet melted, nor had the blood, but spring had arrived as promised.