The night wind rushed past; galloping warhorses bearing torches crossed the roads through the open countryside.

Since the Huaxia Army had taken control of the Chengdu plain, the Engineering Department’s first task had been to repair and connect the roads throughout the region as much as possible. Even so, the dirt roads at this time were not well suited for galloping horses at night; even under a sky bright with stars, such high-speed travel still carried great risk.

But on one hand, the riders were burning with urgency, and on the other, they were skilled enough to be bold. The rider holding the torch led the way along the official road that wound between rice paddies and hills, occasionally passing through villages, brushing past the rare traveler on the night road. When they passed through a stretch of forest along the way, the woman on horseback suddenly seemed to sense something amiss; she pulled hard on the reins, and the warhorse let out a long whinny, galloping several more zhang before coming to a stop.

The warhorse stood sideways across the road; the woman on its back glanced back over her shoulder. In the next instant, the torch flew from her hand, arcing across the night sky, as her figure hurtled off the horse’s back with a rush of wind and vanished into the woods.

The torch was still falling through the air; between the two stretches of dense forest, only the lone warhorse stood crosswise on the road. In the darkness, someone called out in confusion: “M-Marshal Liu…”

Another voice said: “Sixth Lady…”

The figure that had swept into the woods already had her longsword drawn; in the next instant it flashed back to its sheath on her back. Within the Huaxia Army, Xigua nominally held the rank of Marshal of the Twenty-Ninth Army stationed in the Miao territories; among those close to her, she was also known as the Sixth Lady. Her figure covered more than ten zhang in a flash, and she spotted several people hidden in the forest by the roadside. Though all were dressed in plain clothes, she recognized two of them.

“Lin Qiu, Xu Shaoyuan, what are you two doing here?”

“Marshal Liu, this is…”

Lin Qiu and Xu Shaoyuan were also young officers Ning Yi held in relatively high regard—one worked at the General Staff, the other in the secretarial office. The two sides exchanged greetings at first, but in the next moment, a certain wariness became apparent in their expressions, more or less. Xigua had ridden hard through the whole afternoon and was travel-worn; she had come lightly equipped, carrying only a single blade. After a moment’s thought, she understood the source of the wariness in their eyes.

“Where is Liheng? Are you two stationed here on his orders, or someone else’s?”

Her words were sharp, cutting straight to the point. Though five men lay concealed in the woods before her, her martial skill was formidable enough that she alone, with a single blade, could hold her own against the world. Lin Qiu and Xu Shaoyuan exchanged a glance: “Mr. Ning didn’t tell us you would be coming, ma’am…”

“I heard there was trouble here, so I rushed over. Is Liheng still at Old Ox Head?”

Lin Qiu shook his head. “There are people stationed ahead. Mr. Ning didn’t want outsiders coming through and alerting anyone, so he had us posted here… He and his party have already come out from inside…”

“Take me to him.”

Lin Qiu hesitated slightly. Xigua’s fine brows knit, her gaze turning sharp. “I know what you’re worried about, but he and I are husband and wife—even if I had turned traitor, that could still be discussed with words! He told you to stop people here—do you really think you can stop me? Enough nonsense. I still have people coming up behind me. You two take me to see Liheng—the rest of you, take my token and hold back whoever comes after!”

She drew out a token and tossed it to the others in the woods. Lin Qiu and Xu Shaoyuan hesitated for one more moment, then finally nodded. “Follow us.”

The three passed through the woods, then mounted three horses tied at the edge of the forest, crossed over a hill ahead, and entered a small patch of woodland. Along the way, none of them spoke.

Xigua’s gaze was calm and clear as water; she understood well enough where the two men’s nervousness came from. Over the years, she had been the one within the Huaxia Army who advocated most for the idea of equality. That someone had secretly passed word to her this time was, she guessed, in hopes that she might step forward—that in the event Ning Yi and the others turned against one another, she might still stand up to steady the situation. On the other hand, it also revealed how afraid these people were of Ning Yi—perhaps hoping that, should things fail, she herself might step in to protect them.

Had it been Su Tan’er who had come, or anyone else, Lin Qiu and Xu Shaoyuan would surely not have been so wary. They were afraid that she herself had already become an enemy.

Struggles for power, struggles over ideological direction—even those closest to one another could turn against each other because of them. Back in Hangzhou, years ago, when Xigua had held together the Overlord Blade Camp and killed Qi Yuankang, she had tasted something of this feeling before. Now, that complicated feeling she never wished to experience again was welling up in her heart once more. This time, had Ning Yi perhaps prepared for all this in advance, without ever telling her—was he, too, guarding against her?

Such doubts circled in her mind; at the same time, she remained wary of the two men before her. If something had gone wrong within the Huaxia Army, and these two had already secretly defected to the enemy, then what awaited her next might be a trap long since prepared—which would also mean that Liheng might already be in grave danger. But that possibility didn’t frighten her; she was thoroughly familiar with the Huaxia Army’s special-operations methods, and however complicated the situation, she was fairly confident she could fight her way out.

But in the end, none of that came to pass. Passing through this stretch of forest, lights appeared ahead—a small settlement at the edge of the woods, perhaps just part of a nearby village, with a few houses, a threshing yard out front, and a small fish pond. Su Wending came out to meet them; after hearing the reports from Lin Qiu and Xu Shaoyuan, he sent them away.

“Marshal Liu is aware of the situation?” Su Wending was not particularly close to Xigua in ordinary times, but he understood her likes and dislikes well enough, and so used the title “Marshal Liu.” Seeing him, Xigua relaxed somewhat, though her face still showed no expression. “Is Liheng all right?”

“Brother-in-law is fine.”

Continuing on, as they neared the threshing yard, Ning Yi appeared on the road ahead. Seeing her, he paused for a moment, stunned, then walked over. Xigua stood there, and only now did the fighting spirit she had steeled herself with along the way finally settle. Hongti waved to her from a distance with a smile. Ning Yi came closer. “You heard the news?”

“Mm.” Ning Yi reached out his hand, and Xigua reached hers out as well, taking hold of his palm, and asked calmly, “What happened? Did you know all along they were planning this?”

“It’s a bit complicated. There are still some things being dealt with. Come with me—I’ll explain slowly.”

Both their voices were low. Saying this, Ning Yi took Xigua’s hand and gestured toward the buildings behind him; Xigua nodded as well, and together they crossed the threshing yard, heading toward the houses ahead. Along the way, Xigua’s gaze swept past the first small house, and she caught sight of Chen Shanjun, the county chief of Old Ox Head.

“Chen Shanjun seemed quite taken with the idea of equality,” Xigua said. “Was he involved in this?”

“Mm. He’s one of the instigators—going forward, he’ll be the one leading them.”

“Going forward?”

“You’ll understand in a moment. Let’s go up ahead first—there’s someone’s matter we need to deal with.”

Past these few small houses, after a short detour, there was another building, tucked away in a corner out of sight from here, light spilling out from within. Ning Yi led Xigua inside, gestured with his hand, and the several people who had been in the room stepped out, leaving behind a scholar who remained pinned at the table. This man was thin, his beard and hair half white, but there was a certain uprightness in his brow and eyes. His hands were bound, though he made no attempt to struggle; only upon seeing Ning Yi and Xigua did a look of sorrow briefly cross his face.

“I had thought that Marshal Liu, at least, would support our thinking. I never expected you to be, in the end, nothing more than a shortsighted woman. Mr. Ning, you plan for every contingency—I’ve truly learned my lesson. Since the outcome is already decided, just kill us and be done with it. No need to add insults to injury with more words.”

“Li Ximing.” Xigua nodded.

Ning Yi drew out a knife, cut the rope binding the man’s hands, then walked back to the table and sat down. He looked at the scholar before him, his beard and hair half white, and took out a document. “I won’t beat around the bush, Li Ximing. You’re from Changsha, and once held rank and honors under the Wu Dynasty—you and I both know this, but what others don’t know is that four years ago, you were persuaded by Li Pin to go undercover within the Huaxia Army. Later, you grew genuinely interested in the ideas of equality and democracy. Two years ago, you became the best executor of Li Pin’s plan. You’re learned, your thinking is upright, and you’re quite persuasive. Though you didn’t take much part in the execution of this incident, you gave it a decisive push—at least half the credit for it is yours.”

The Confucian scholar before him, named Li Ximing, had at first carried himself with an air of one prepared to face death without flinching, but by the time Ning Yi was halfway through these words, his face had suddenly gone pale. Ning Yi’s expression showed nothing at all; he merely licked his lips lightly and turned a page.

“No need for empty words. I take great interest in some of what Li Pin has been doing in Lin’an, so the Bamboo Records has been keeping a close watch on him. Old Li, I bear you no ill will—to stake your life for an ideal you believe in, to stand against someone, that’s simply opposition, nothing more. Half the driving force behind this incident was you and Li Pin; the other half was me. Chen Shanjun, out front, doesn’t yet know you’re here. I’ve had you kept separately, apart from him, because I want to ask you a single question.”

Ning Yi’s pace of speech was brisk, almost like a string of firecrackers as he continued: “You’ve been with the Huaxia Army for four years now, hearing constantly of ideals of equality and democracy. You’ve written so much theoretical material—surely it wasn’t all merely a tool for you to use against me, was it? In your heart, is there not even a small measure of… agreement with these ideas?”

Ning Yi’s cold gaze bore into him. Li Ximing raised his head, his face showing confusion. “You… could it be that you truly intend to walk the road that Chen Shanjun and the others envision?” There was not only confusion in his eyes but a faint stirring of excitement as well. Ning Yi shook his head.

“I won’t walk this road. But I will give you all a chance to walk it yourselves. As for the question I asked, think it over yourself—there’s no need to answer me. I’ll give you a place, a bit of breathing room. Over these years, the number of people who have gradually come to agree with your ideas, and who could genuinely take part in something like this—probably a few thousand. Take them all with you…”

Ning Yi looked at his own fist resting on the table. “Old Li, now that you’ve opened this door, you have no choice but to follow it through with them from here on. You’ve already lost today—I ask for nothing else, only one thing. You came to the southwest at Li Pin’s request, in order to support his cause, not as his subordinate. If you hold even a shred of genuine belief in the ideal of equality that you’ve spoken of these past two years, then from now on, walk this road yourself.”

“Since coming to the southwest, your family has relocated to your old home in Lingling. You have one wife and two concubines, two sons and a daughter, and below them grandsons and granddaughters, great-grandsons and great-granddaughters—originally five men and four women, and recently your eldest son had another child. All told, there are nineteen people in your household in Lingling. I won’t mince words.”

Ning Yi swallowed, pausing briefly.

“This is… an extremely difficult road. If you can bring about a result from it, your name will be remembered for a thousand years. And even if it cannot be achieved, you will still leave behind a set of ideas for those who come after, sparing them a few detours—many people’s whole lives will be bound up with yours. So, please, do your utmost. As long as you truly try, whether you succeed or fail, I will be grateful to you. No one will ever know what you truly came here for. But if you still deliberately harm these people for Li Pin’s sake, or for the sake of the Wu Dynasty, then your wife and children, your whole household, all nineteen of them—along with the five dogs kept in your back garden—I will kill every last one of them, without exception.”

“Such a threat is rather petty, not very becoming to make. But compared with how many people this affair could affect, it’s the most I can do—please understand… Think it over for now. Someone will come by shortly to tell you what cooperation we’ll need from you over the next few days…”

Having said all this, Ning Yi fell silent, as if about to leave. Across the table, Li Ximing looked utterly bewildered—confusion, complexity, astonishment all crossing his face—until at last, in disbelief, he spoke.

“You— you, you… you actually mean to… to split the Huaxia Army apart? Mr. Ning… are you insane? With the Jurchens about to attack, with the Wu Dynasty beset by troubles within and without, you… you would split the Huaxia Army? What good could possibly come of it? You… what will you even fight the Jurchens with, you…”

“Since you already know I’ve gone mad, you had best believe… that there’s nothing I wouldn’t do. Nineteen people… five dogs…”

Having said this, he stood up and turned to walk out of the room. Li Ximing still found all of this impossible to believe. Xigua, too, felt caught in confusion and disorder; she followed him out the door. The two of them walked ahead a while, and Ning Yi took her hand. “What’s wrong? Angry that I didn’t tell you?”

“…What Li Ximing said wasn’t without reason. The current situation…”

Ning Yi walked forward, looking at the road ahead, and let out a soft sigh; it was a long while before he spoke.

“…This affair happened with my tacit allowance, but that doesn’t mean I control everything—if I truly controlled it all, then it would no longer be their own thing at all. As for the movements of people to Ox Head County—yes, I did arrange some of it deliberately beforehand. I wanted them to gather together and debate these questions openly. What set this off this time had something to do with Li Ximing, and something to do with outside forces too. Earlier this year, the order to root out traitors went out, and Du Sha and a large group of core cadres were sent away—that’s when these people finally began forming their own ideas. Between the first and second months, all sorts of appeals came in, and I didn’t adopt any of them, so they truly couldn’t hold back any longer. I merely went along with the momentum…”

“But you said this could never be realized. And on top of that, there’s the state of the whole realm right now…”

“For the sake of… certain things being realized someday in the future, some roads simply have to be walked. Ah Gua, you yourself once longed for this—hoped that everyone could stand on their own feet. I hope for that too. This road, sometimes it has to go straight forward, sometimes it has to circle around—there’s always a process of trial and error, one step at a time, just like those unruly children back home, who always have to go out and cause trouble before they can grow into adults. All we can do is try our best to catch them when they fall.” In the darkness, Ning Yi smiled, looking somewhat weary, and, as if it were an illusion, added, “Old Ox Head sits in a corner; to the north are nothing but weak, toothless Wu Dynasty forces that can’t put up much of a fight. That should be enough to keep them busy for a while.”

The two of them walked back along the dark path the way they had come; passing the little fish pond, Ning Yi sat down on a wooden post by the water’s edge. “People in later ages will say we caused the deaths of many people.”

Xigua sat down on the ground beside him, holding his hand. “Do you feel, my husband, that it was you who caused their deaths?”

Ning Yi nodded. “Mm. I caused their deaths—whether it’s these people, or those who will die because the Huaxia Army goes through this upheaval.”

“…Maybe… it won’t turn out so badly. They’re all people with good intentions at heart, after all.”

Xigua thought it over; about certain things, she too, in the end, still harbored doubts. Ning Yi, sitting there in the darkness, smiled. Not many people in this world would ever understand the choices he made; not many people in this world would ever understand what he had seen. The world was vast beyond measure—generations upon generations, hundreds of millions of people’s efforts might, in the end, bring about only the slightest change to how this world worked. And yet to each individual, this world was extremely small; a single person’s whole life could not withstand even the smallest disruption. The gap between this vastness and this smallness would trouble him too, especially given that he carried the experience of another lifetime within him—such trouble would only grow more intense because of it.

He squeezed Xigua’s hand. “Ah Gua, they’ve asked you to join them—what do you think about it?”

Xigua rested her head against his leg. “You don’t trust me either?”

“I deceived you back in Hangzhou, more than ten years ago—this is, after all, something you’ve pursued your whole life. Sometimes I wonder if you, too, might want to see where its future leads…”

“You’ve said it yourself—you deceived me more than ten years ago. Maybe, as Li Ximing said, I really have become a shortsighted woman after all.” She rose from the ground, brushed off her clothes, and smiled faintly. More than ten years ago, on a night like this, she had still seemed somewhat naive; now, with a blade strapped to her back, she carried the bearing of someone who could look down upon the whole world with ease. “Letting these people break away would affect the Huaxia Army, and it would affect you too. I’m not leaving you. Ning Liheng, talking like this—you’re hurting my feelings.”

She pulled his hand and pressed it against her chest. Ning Yi laughed. “What grieves me is that it means more people will die because of this. As for whatever small effect it has on me—what does that matter? I’m not afraid of anyone in this world; it’s only ever a matter of how much time it takes.”

Xigua looked at him, brows knitting slightly. “Bragging… even the Sage Duke never dared say something like that back in his day.”

“If you never dare to brag, then your achievements will always be limited.”

Ning Yi had only rested for that brief moment; he was already on his feet again, and continued: “For the next two days, we need to disappear for a while. Tomorrow at dawn, the nearby Huaxia Army forces will start gathering here, and negotiations will begin. As for the matter with Li Ximing, you understand—it absolutely must be kept secret… Within the Huaxia Army, you’ve done more than anyone to advance the cause of democratic thinking. I imagine they’ll try to reach out to you again in the future. I think… it would be fine to stay in contact with them, so that in the most extreme circumstances… we might be able to save some of them.”

“Li Ximing was acting on Li Pin’s request—are you really going to let him go?”

“I harbor some ill intent in my heart,” Ning Yi said. “I want them to move forward entirely without restraint, to their heart’s content—but I also hope that, when the time comes that they can no longer turn back, there might still be some small chance of doing so. My hopes rest on you, and on Li Ximing—both, in that same spirit.”

Xigua smiled. “And here you are, going on about how formidable you are, when really you’re just as indecisive as anyone.”

“I want to see the light of people striving endlessly against the great tide of the world—that’s what makes people feel truly like people to me. And at the same time, it’s exactly the people like that for whom I most wish a good outcome. Unfortunately, the two are so often opposed to one another.” Ning Yi said. “They still have things to do. I’m going to sleep now—will you come?”

“Have Sister Hongti go with you. Didn’t you just say your hopes rest on me? I want to know what you have planned next.”

“Go ask Wending—he has the whole plan.”

The husband and wife held hands, standing quietly together in the darkness for a moment, before finally walking off in different directions. Partway, they each glanced back, waved a hand, and in the faint light, the smile on Ning Yi’s face indeed carried a rare weariness.

He went to rest.

That night was filled with who knew how many dreams and illusions. The next morning, waking still somewhat weary, a faint mist rose over the Chengdu plain in the early light. Ning Yi got up, washed, and while eating breakfast, word arrived from outside—the most urgent message yet, corresponding to a previous message that had come the afternoon before.

Ning Yi read the message through, set it aside, and for a long while made no move at all.

Thousands of li away to the east, Wanyan Xiyin, too, was completing his conquest of the Wu Dynasty’s general at his fastest possible speed.

The twenty-fifth of the fourth month, before dawn.

Zhenjiang had fallen.

As he walked through the door, Ning Yi was just picking up a spoon, bringing rice porridge to his mouth. Xigua heard him mutter something under his breath, unclear what he meant—the words were somewhat coarse.

“Well then, come on then… damn it…”