The corridors within the palace were dim and quiet; guards on duty stood in unremarkable corners. The eunuch leading the way held a warm yellow lantern, guiding Qin Hui along the familiar predawn route, through the long avenues, around the palace’s inner walls. The faintly cool air, carried on a gentle breeze, made everything feel strangely wistful.

At the Hall of Diligent Governance within the inner palace, lamplight glowed within the summer curtains, illuminating the flowers and plants in the night garden. After the eunuch went in to announce him, Qin Hui was finally summoned inside. On the wall of the side chamber hung a great map; Zhou Yong sat slumped in his chair, staring up at it in a daze. After Qin Hui paid his respects, Zhou Yong rose from his chair and turned toward him.

Holding the dispatch that had just arrived, the emperor’s face was pale and exhausted.

“Qin, the news from Zhenjiang… has reached you.”

“This subject… already knows.”

“Oh.” Zhou Yong nodded, unsurprised by this, though his expression was one of desolate grief. “Jun Wu was wounded. My crown prince… held Zhenjiang to the last, refusing to retreat, and after treacherous men surrendered the city, he ran himself ragged for the sake of the whole city’s people, all to save innocent subjects. Magnificent—this is true benevolence and righteousness! My crown prince… is inferior to no one!”

“Such benevolence and righteousness in the crown prince is a blessing for all the common people under heaven,” Qin Hui said.

Zhou Yong waved a hand. “But Zhenjiang has still fallen. Qin, you were right—since Wanyan Xiyin staked everything on attacking Zhenjiang, it must mean he had some assured plan. Ha, an assured plan! It means colluding with traitors! Having someone open the gates to let them in! Yesterday evening… the crown prince was wounded, and by now, the whole city is probably in an uproar—an assured plan, Qin…”

Zhou Yong paused. “Tell me—what am I to do?”

Qin Hui fell into a brief silence. Zhou Yong looked at him, then slammed the dispatch down on the table. “Speak. Qin, if the Wu Dynasty falls and Lin’an is breached, do you think you’ll escape it? Outside Lin’an… Jin Wushu’s forces have been circling for four months now! He isn’t even attacking the city—he’s waiting for Zhenjiang’s assured plan too! You won’t speak—have you defected to the Jurchens, are you trying to sell me out!?”

Zhou Yong’s voice grew shrill, spittle and tears mixing together; his emotions had clearly slipped beyond control. Qin Hui stood with his head bowed, and once Zhou Yong had finished this brief outburst, he slowly cupped his hands and knelt.

“This subject begs Your Majesty’s forgiveness for an unpardonable crime.”

“It’s your hiding things from me… that is the unpardonable crime!”

“This old subject is dull-witted; in all my previous schemes, there have always been oversights, and only through Your Majesty’s protection have I managed to survive at court until now. And so, though I sensed something before, I did not dare speak rashly. But now, at this moment of collapse, there are things unfit to say that I must nonetheless say to Your Majesty. Your Majesty, receiving this news today, this old subject… could not help but think of Tang Qinsou during the Jingping humiliation, and felt something stir within me, a grief welling up…”

Qin Hui prostrated himself fully on the ground; as he spoke, the choking in his throat grew heavier, and he could no longer hold back his tears. Zhou Yong, too, was moved; his eyes reddened slightly, and he waved a hand. “Speak!”

“What this old subject is about to say is a betrayal of the state, a disgrace to the nation, an unforgivable transgression—but… Your Majesty already understands, in your heart, the state of this world, the situation in Lin’an. Wanyan Xiyin’s all-or-nothing assault to take Zhenjiang was precisely meant to use the situation there to put pressure on Lin’an. That he had an assured plan at Zhenjiang was because he had already, in secret, mobilized traitors on various sides to coordinate with the Jurchen army. Your Majesty, now that he has broken Zhenjiang in three days, and the crown prince has been gravely wounded, how many within the capital have conspired with him—this, I’m afraid… no one can say for certain any longer…”

Hearing this, Zhou Yong nodded. “I understand. I can guess…”

Qin Hui paused. “This fourth southward campaign by the Jin dogs is meant to break Lin’an, to destroy our Wu Dynasty, to bring about a second Jingping. Your Majesty, for one’s own side to grow fearful before the enemy has even appeared is a great taboo in the art of war—but given the state of Lin’an, this old subject cannot help but feel that, by the moment the Jurchens truly lay siege to the city, our entire Wu Dynasty… may have no way left to turn the tide.”

Having said this, he knocked his head heavily against the floor. Zhou Yong, his expression dazed, nodded. “Speak. Say whatever you have to say.”

“The situation is dire, collapse is imminent. If we do not wish to repeat the disaster of Jingping, this old subject believes there is only one course left that can preserve a sliver of hope for our Wu Dynasty in such circumstances. This course… others, mindful of their own reputations, dare not speak of it. But at this point, this old subject can no longer hold back… I ask, that we sue for peace.”

Qin Hui’s words were spoken with both fervor and calm; in truth, this idea was not so surprising, and Zhou Yong showed no astonishment at it—indeed, even had Qin Hui proposed something far stranger, he would hardly have been surprised at this point—and he nodded, replying, “Under circumstances like these, how would one even negotiate?”

The predawn palace was quiet all around; the wind stirred the curtains. Qin Hui said, “This subject would never wish to underestimate the ferocity of the Jurchens. If this world contained only the Jin and the Wu, suing for peace would be a dead end. But this world still has the Black Banner, and it is precisely this that offers a sliver of hope for negotiation—though only a sliver. On the other hand, had we chosen to sue for peace months ago, it would have been tantamount to surrendering without a fight, damaging Your Majesty’s authority, and stirring the Wu Dynasty’s resentment to a boil. But given how things now stand, this subject believes there are no few who see the situation clearly and share this same view.”

He continued: “Zhenjiang has fallen, the crown prince is wounded, Lin’an is in peril. To accept the Jurchens’ terms now, ceding a thousand li of territory west of Xiangfan, is truly a choice made out of necessity. Your Majesty, all we can do now is gamble on how much weight the Black Banner carries in Jurchen eyes. Whatever humiliating terms we accept, so long as the Jurchens are truly fighting the Black Banner in the southwest, our Wu Dynasty’s fortunes will, in the end, be preserved because of it. The Jin state and the Black Banner are both fierce tigers of this world; when two such forces clash head-on, both will suffer greatly, and even if one side is defeated, the other will certainly be gravely weakened as well. With Your Majesty at the helm, and the crown prince so worthy, so long as we can buy the crown prince more time, the Wu Dynasty… will surely have hope of restoration.”

Zhou Yong fell silent for a moment. “To sue for peace now is, indeed, a helpless choice—but… the Jin are tigers and wolves. Having taken Zhenjiang, holding the upper hand, would they truly be willing to stop there? At the start of the year, they demanded I cede a thousand li of territory and execute General Han to appease them—now that I seek peace from a position of weakness, would the Jurchens truly be satisfied with that? How is such peace to be negotiated?”

In his heart, Zhou Yong was afraid; he had already thought through many of the terrible possibilities himself. Could the Jin, capable of swallowing the entire Wu Dynasty whole, truly settle for anything less? He asked this question, and Qin Hui’s answer came at once.

“Your Majesty’s concern here is quite reasonable, but the countermeasure is, in fact, simple.” He said, “The Jurchens wish to destroy our Wu Dynasty, to bring about another Jingping. The true crux of the matter lies with Your Majesty yourself. If the Jurchens truly capture Your Majesty, our Wu Dynasty may well perish then and there. But so long as Your Majesty is not captured, how much time can the Jurchens truly afford to linger within our Wu Dynasty’s lands? If we hold firm, the Jurchens will eventually have no choice but to compromise.”

As Qin Hui said this, a faint light came into Zhou Yong’s eyes. “You mean…”

“Your Majesty, however grave this affair sounds, it is, in the end, nothing more than another ‘search the mountains and comb the seas.’ Your Majesty need only set sail from the mouth of the Qiantang River, and thereafter preserve your dragon body in safety—wherever you may go, our Wu Dynasty will still exist. Beyond that, many matters may be conceded to the Jurchens as circumstances require. But even if it exhausts all our resources, so long as we can send the Jurchen forces off to the southwest, our Wu Dynasty will still have a chance at restoration. This course requires bearing humiliation and shouldering a heavy burden—Your Majesty may have to endure a measure of infamy for it. This subject… is guilty of this suggestion.”

Zhou Yong’s eyes grew animated; something stirred within him. He fell silent for a long while, then murmured, “A moment’s infamy, I could bear well enough, if only Jun Wu might have his chance… to restore this realm…”

Qin Hui remained kneeling there. “The safety of the crown prince is likewise of the utmost importance at this moment. In this old subject’s view, though His Highness possesses a heart of benevolence and virtue, a son of great worth ought not sit beneath the eaves where danger lurks. That His Highness has run himself ragged for the sake of the common people is a blessing for all the people under heaven—but the crown prince’s own attendants have failed in their duty to properly advise him… Of course, since His Highness’s life is not in danger, this is a small matter. But that His Highness has won the people’s hearts, and yet still lingers in the north, this old subject fears he will become a thorn in the Jurchens’ side, a splinter in their flesh. Should Xiyin decide to stake everything on eliminating His Highness first, this subject fears that, after the great defeat at Zhenjiang, the morale of the troops around His Highness will be low, and ill-equipped to withstand a single blow from Xiyin’s elite Mountain-Razing Guard…”

“Right, right…” Zhou Yong thought this over, murmuring and nodding. “Xiyin attacked Zhenjiang because he had bought off people among the city’s defenders—likely not just one or two. Around Jun Wu, there may well be more… I cannot let him remain at the front. I must have him brought back.”

“This subject fears the crown prince, being brave and resolute, will be unwilling to return.”

“If I order him back, he must come back!” Zhou Yong roared, but after a moment, his gaze wavered nonetheless. “If he truly refuses to return…”

“The one remaining sliver of hope still rests with Your Majesty. So long as Your Majesty leaves Lin’an, Xiyin will eventually come to understand that the Jin cannot destroy our Wu Dynasty. At that point, needing to preserve his strength for the assault on the southwest, he will no longer open new fronts of war, and this too becomes part of our Wu Dynasty’s bargaining position in negotiations. Furthermore, even should the crown prince remain at the front, this need not be a bad thing—given His Highness’s brave and fierce temperament, Xiyin may come to believe in our Wu Dynasty’s resolve to resist, and at that point… he may choose to take what gains he has and stop there.”

“Ah… in the end, I must leave…” Zhou Yong nodded, as if suddenly understanding.

Qin Hui, still kneeling, straightened his upper body. His words had been calm before, but only now could it be seen that his upright, resolute face was streaked with tears. He clasped his hands together and bowed his head to the floor once more, his voice choked with emotion.

“Your Majesty! Everything this subject has said until now has remained mere words on the tongue, nothing more than treasonous talk. But should it truly come to pass, our Wu Dynasty’s dignity will be swept away, the court will collapse, the state will be thrown into turmoil, and the shame will be beyond words… As your subject, this old servant truly did not wish to utter such words…”

He began to weep loudly. “If it were at all possible, what this old subject dreams of, above all else, is that our Wu Dynasty might advance boldly forward, might open new territories, might march onto the Jurchens’ own land, invade their soil, destroy their state— That the Wu Dynasty has come to this pass is this old subject’s own crime, one that ten thousand deaths could not redeem, ten thousand deaths, ten thousand deaths, ten thousand deaths…”

He wailed aloud, knocking his head to the floor again and again… Zhou Yong, too, could not hold back, covering his mouth as he wept, then coming forward to grip Qin Hui’s shoulders and pull him up. “This is my fault! It is… it is the fault of those treacherous ministers before! It is Zhou Zhe’s fault, a foolish ruler, corrupt officials… Cai Jing, Tong Guan, all of them… it is my fault. I deeply regret that I did not use your strategy for breaking the southwest sooner, Qin…”

Dawn had not yet come; in the night-shrouded hall, ruler and minister supported one another and wept together, settling on their course of action. Zhou Yong said to Qin Hui, “At this point, only you, Qin, dare speak such unwelcome truths to me without flinching. But since this matter concerns so much, you must take charge of the planning on my behalf, and explain the stakes to everyone…”

This was no plan that would win anyone a good name. Zhou Yong’s gaze fixed on him, and in Qin Hui’s eyes there was not the slightest hint of evasion. He cupped his hands solemnly and knelt down heavily.

“For the sake of our Wu Dynasty’s altars of state, this subject is willing to bear this infamy, willing to go before Your Majesty as the vanguard, to serve with utmost devotion until death—”

Not long after, in the crisp light of morning, a faint brightness appeared at the edge of the sky. When the people of Lin’an rose that day, the emperor, who had shown no good face to anyone in a long while, summoned Zhao Ding and a host of other ministers into the palace, and announced to them his decision to sue for peace.

The imperial study fell into an uproar that morning. Once the ministers understood the full implications of what the emperor had said, and their objections proved fruitless, some began cursing at those supporting the peace faction. Zhao Ding pointed at Qin Hui, shouting hysterically: “Qin Huizhi, you old wretch! I knew all along your minds were narrow and scheming—all this planning over the southwest matter, this is you trying to destroy our Wu Dynasty’s state and legitimate line! Do you know that the moment we so much as begin discussing peace, our Wu Dynasty will be no different from a fallen nation! The million soldiers along the Yangtze will all die at the enemy’s hands! You traitorous scoundrel—tell me, haven’t you been secretly in league with the Jurchens all along, already prepared for this—”

Qin Hui pointed back at Zhao Ding, cursing in turn: “Those who seek peace are called traitors, and those who call for war are called loyal ministers! You vermin who bring ruin to the state, chasing after your own reputation for loyalty, giving no thought to how weakened our Wu Dynasty already is! Let’s talk about the southwest! Two years ago, when troops were sent to the southwest, had you people not obstructed us from within, preventing us from committing fully, would things have come to this today? All you know is court infighting, all for two words of a fine reputation after your death—narrow-minded and selfish, all of you! If I, Qin Hui, were not acting for the sake of this realm’s altars of state, why would I come forward to bear this infamy? As for the rest of you, who knows how many among you harbor secret loyalties and are already in league with the Jurchens—step forward, then—”

Both sides hurled curses at one another, until at last Zhao Ding rushed forward and began throwing punches, and the imperial study erupted into a chaotic brawl. Zhou Yong sat in his chair, watching it all with a dark, brooding expression.

The soldiers carrying the order had already left the palace, heading toward the Qiantang River docks that the city could not avoid. Before long, the Jurchen envoy urging surrender, having traveled day and night at full speed, would arrive in Lin’an in triumphant arrogance.

At the hour of Chen, soft white clouds drifted across the sky, a cool breeze blowing through. A carriage made its way from the streets of Lin’an toward the palace. Zhou Pei lifted the carriage curtain and looked at the shops still open along both sides of the road, at the city’s residents walking the streets, just beginning another ordinary day.

The morning of the twenty-eighth of the fourth month—this was Zhou Pei’s final memory of Lin’an.

Three hundred li away, Jun Wu still lay sleeping in his tent within the camp. He had already completed his transformation, and even within his endless dreams, he felt no fear. Two days later he would wake from his unconsciousness, by which time everything would already be beyond saving.

An avalanche of chaos was about to begin…