As the troops and horses of Xiajin began to mobilize and converge, the imperial investiture from the capital arrived in a whirlwind of haste. Before the Prince of Yan’s manor in Lijin, Xin Yi knelt to receive the decree and accept his mandate. The Beiyang Army finally poked its head through the thick layer of ice, revealing a glimpse of its former glory.
Originally, Dezhou was a small territory with a sparse population. Beiyang was a tiger that had been painstakingly carved apart; even if a rebellion occurred, it should never have been Beiyang’s turn to gather its strength again. Yet, for some unknown reason, Dezhou was not only equipped with excellent armaments this time, but its numbers had swelled to a full fifty thousand men. Overnight, even the neighboring prefectural troops of Yuanji were entirely captured. This sent the people in the capital into a panic. Setting aside the self-preservation of those connected to Sun Baiping, once Yuanji was lost, only Qingping and Yangshuo stood between the rebels and the capital. Xin Yi, currently in Beiyang, was the Heir of Yan; the court had to strike while the iron was hot, rushing to push him upward so he could serve as a shield.
And if he couldn't hold them back? If he couldn't, there was still the Pingding Prince! Was the title of this two-character Prince of the Second Rank not earned through "settling and stabilizing"?
Xin Yi accepted the investiture. From that moment on, he was a legitimate First-Rank Prince of Dalan. Though the troops under his command did not reach the legendary three hundred thousand, he had assembled a Beiyang Army of one hundred and thirty thousand. His next entry into the capital would be a far cry from his previous arrival. Furthermore, if he quelled this Dezhou rebellion, the Emperor would have to credit him for it. Those filthy, stifling thoughts the Emperor once held toward the old Prince of Yan would have to be tucked away, at least on the surface.
But Xin Yi did not look that far ahead. His focus was currently fixed on two places: Dezhou and Jiangtang. Sun Baiping’s rebellion was orderly; it was impossible for there to be no one behind him supporting his military equipment and grain supplies. But who was this supporter? Was it the Prince of Tang, or was it Yan Jueshu?
"Your Highness, wait!" Jibai Yue galloped up from behind. Xin Yi froze for a moment before realizing the title was addressed to him, and he lightly pulled the reins to a halt. Jibai Yue rode to his side and presented an object with both hands. "Previously, I heard the Heir—Your Highness—did not have a suitable weapon, and I didn't take it to heart. But things are different now. Your Highness is a man going to the battlefield; you cannot be without a sharp blade."
When Xin Yi saw the saber, he knew whose it was without even drawing it. He hesitated for a heartbeat before reaching out to take it. "Did Eldest Brother give this?"
It was indeed Xin Jing’s "Tiandao."
"The Eldest Young Master always intended to leave it for Your Highness." Jibai Yue’s eyes lingered on the saber for a moment before he said in a low voice, "After the Eldest Young Master, only Your Highness is worthy of it."
"I will do my utmost not to tarnish its reputation." Xin Yi gripped the saber tightly, noticing the powerful bow tightly bound behind Jibai Yue’s back.
Jibai Yue said, "Everyone speaks of the Wind-Breaking Arrows, but few know that they owe much to this Moon-Climbing Bow." The scar on his brow was old, and his expression was somewhat weathered as he pressed his lips thin. "The Eldest Young Master bestowed these names."
*Climbing the moon, climbing the moon; man may strive for the bright moon but cannot reach it.* Yet this bow had strength to spare after breaking the wind. *Moon-Climbing* and *Wind-Breaking*—rather than saying his eldest brother had high hopes for this bow and these arrows, it was more accurate to say he had high hopes for Jibai Yue.
Xin Yi said, "General has lived up to the name."
Jibai Yue did not smile. He simply bypassed the topic and said, "Sun Baiping’s prefectural troops are attacking southward. They captured Yuanji and then pressured Xianglan. I fear they intend to avoid Beiyang."
"Can he avoid us?" Xin Yi stroked the hilt of his saber and shook his head. "He isn't trying to avoid Beiyang; he is luring Beiyang to the south."
Jibai Yue’s gaze darkened. "The Beiyang Army is stationed in the north year-round to fight the Dayuan. As long as the south enters the territory of Qingping, it becomes a land of many waters. If we are on boats, I fear we will have no advantage."
"Therefore, we can only drive him north, before he invades Qingping." A dimple faintly appeared on Xin Yi’s cheek, though there was no hint of a smile. He said, "We must also cut off his path to the south."
Without massive financial support from behind, Dezhou could never afford to maintain an army of fifty thousand on its own, let alone grind against the deeply rooted Beiyang Army. Once his path to the south was severed, he would be like a fish out of water; he wouldn't be able to flop for long.
As Sun Baiping’s men attacked southward, Wu Yu followed behind like he was chasing rabbits, fearing the enemy wouldn't run fast enough. After Xin Yi arrived, thirty thousand men were immediately left to garrison Xiajin, and another thirty thousand stayed in Lijin. He headed south with a total of seventy thousand men remaining. Wu Yu and Meng Chen were his left and right hands, while Jibai Yue remained to guard the rear.
Meng Chen led troops to harry Sun Baiping while chasing him. Meanwhile, Xin Yi and Wu Yu took a detour, passing through Qingping to enter the rear of Xianglan, effectively encircling the Dezhou troops in the Yuanji-Xianglan area.
Everyone thought this battle would be fought quickly, but no one expected it to drag on until the beginning of winter.
First, Sun Baiping’s grain depot in the rear at Dezhou was seized, and then his vanguard’s morale was crushed by Xin Yi. Unable to move forward or back, he simply hunkered down within the boundaries of Xianglan, holding his position and refusing to come out. However, even though Xin Yi had cut off his southern route, he still had no shortage of food or drink in Xianglan. He even raised the city walls and installed crossbow engines.
Where these supplies were flowing in from was a mystery the Beiyang Army could not solve, even after scouring the entire perimeter of the encirclement.
When the snow began to fall, Xin Yi was still atop the watchtower.
Wu Yu was cradling a small hand-warmer. Being the flamboyant sort, he wore only a thin robe and was currently shivering so hard his nose wouldn't stop running. He stomped his feet as he paced back and forth. Seeing Xin Yi staring at the city of Xianglan through the wind and snow, he couldn't help but say, "Your Highness, the city won't open just because we're staring at it."
After autumn, Xin Yi had stopped the heavy assaults. Until the snow fell, the Beiyang Army had only conducted a few superficial harassments, as if testing something. Xianglan’s terrain was high, its back pressed against the Wuhan Buddha Mountain, and it was not near the Great River of Qingping. It couldn't be flooded, and it couldn't be hurt.
Xin Yi exhaled, the white mist obscuring his vision. Although his diet had been coarse over the past six months, his physical exertion was far greater than it had been in the capital, and his appetite had grown accordingly. He had shot up in height and his build was much sturdier. But at a sudden glance, the aura of pure innocence in his features had faded considerably, replaced by a measure of refined elegance. When he was silent, there was a touch of sharpness—his temperament was now entirely different from how he had looked in the capital.
"You have a point." Xin Yi turned to descend, gesturing to Wu Yu. "There’s dough drop soup today. Let’s go."
"Tell Brother Meng to add more vinegar!" Wu Yu followed behind, shivering. "I have a craving for sour things."
Xin Yi looked back at him and said slowly, "It’s been several months, and you’re still running around outside."
Wu Yu tucked the hand-warmer into his robes and walked a few steps while clutching his waist, saying delicately, "Seven or eight months along... My Lord, come quickly and support this lowly concubine. The snow is heavy and the ground is slippery; what if I fall?"
Xin Yi stopped and turned sideways, tucking his hands into his sleeves as he watched the other man’s antics. Wu Yu hobbled a few steps, and perhaps because he possessed a "crow's beak" that invited misfortune, his foot actually slipped, and he pitched forward. Xin Yi was quick-eyed and fast-handed, grabbing his arm and pulling him up. Wu Yu took the opportunity to lean against his shoulder. "Oh my, I nearly lost the baby!" Then his expression changed to one of genuine pain. "Ow, ow, ow, don't let go, Your Highness! My foot—I really twisted my foot!"
Xin Yi looked down and saw the hand-warmer had rolled into the snow; it seemed the fall was real. He leaned down to pick up the warmer, lecturing, "You and your big mouth, walk properly..."
Someone was a step ahead of him and picked up the hand-warmer.
Xin Yi froze. His gaze followed that fair, beautiful hand upward, past the dark blue sleeve, resting on the man’s tightly fastened collar and snow-white chin.
His heart began to thud rapidly. His mouth went dry, and he even forgot to straighten his waist, looking up just like that—straight into a pair of deep, narrow, dark eyes.
Bai Jiu’s gaze flickered to the hand Xin Yi was using to support Wu Yu. As if he had been burned, Xin Yi decisively let go. Before Wu Yu’s cry of protest could leave his throat, he landed butt-first in the snow.
"D-Da—" Xin Yi’s tongue was clumsy.
Bai Jiu lightly tossed the hand-warmer into Wu Yu’s lap and said, "Romancing in the snow, are we?"
Xin Yi’s face flushed red. He stammered, "N-no, it’s not... just... walking a fool."
The "fool" Wu Yu sat in the snow, not daring to make a sound. He wished he could bite off the hand he’d used to play around earlier and burrow into the snow, hoping this King of Hell wouldn't remember a single bit of it!
Bai Jiu let out a soft chuckle. Even through the snow, his vivid beauty made Xin Yi’s blood boil, his throat go dry, and his limbs feel weak. He stared blankly at the man, but Bai Jiu turned and headed toward the tent. Xin Yi hurriedly followed. Along the way, Bai Jiu didn't speak to him, nor did he even look back once.
Xin Yi’s heart was in turmoil. On one hand, he wanted nothing more than to pounce on the man and act spoiled; on the other, he was anxious that his earlier appearance had displeased him. In the end, he followed obediently, the words stuck in his throat, not daring to utter a single syllable.
Inside the tent, Meng Chen happened to be lifting the flap to come out, carrying a pot. "Today’s dough drop soup is especially—" Suddenly seeing that dark blue figure, he actually took a step back, clutching the pot and trembling. "P-P-Pingding Prince!"
Bai Jiu glanced into the pot and said tonelessly, "Good culinary skills."
Meng Chen thought to himself: *I only know how to make this one dish, it better be good!* But he didn't dare to stick his neck out and show off in front of Bai Jiu; he could only nod vigorously.
"You’ve fed your Prince quite well."
*Well?*
Meng Chen looked Xin Yi up and down in terror, wondering in what way he had fed the Prince "well." Bai Jiu had already lifted the flap and entered. Xin Yi gave Meng Chen a look, and Meng Chen quickly retreated with his pot.
It was warm inside the tent. As soon as Xin Yi entered, he felt the snow on his hair begin to melt. Bai Jiu stood with his back to him, surveying the interior. The stools were hard, the bed was firm, and the daily necessities were pitifully simple. There wasn't even a proper quilt; only a fur blanket remained on the bed, and it was several inches shorter than Xin Yi. Heaven knew how he slept at night.
Xin Yi edged closer and whispered, "My Lord."
Bai Jiu ignored him.
Xin Yi licked his lips and whispered again, "Jingyuan."
His wrist was suddenly seized and he was pulled forcefully to the man’s front. Bai Jiu looked down at him, nose to nose, and asked coldly, "What did you call me?"
The faint, familiar scent of Bai Jiu brushed against Xin Yi’s lips. His throat moved, and he couldn't help but lick his lips again, murmuring, "Jingyuan." His expression was like that of a pitiful, hungry puppy. But when the other man remained unmoved, he said, "I missed you."
His wrist felt a sharp pressure as he was suddenly pulled into a firm embrace. Nose rubbed against nose, and his lips were covered as he had wished, crushed until they ached. A palm slid from his lower back all the way to his nape, cold fingertips sliding into his hair, making Xin Yi feel numb with pleasure. The person he had longed for day and night was right there. Entwined by that tongue, his breathing became unsteady and his heart grew restless, yet he felt extremely happy and joyful, wanting to get even closer to this person.
Bai Jiu’s breathing grew heavy. When he felt the warmth of the youth's neck, he had an immediate reaction.
Though the dilapidated, simple bed was hard, it at least didn't collapse.
Wu Yu had finished the dough drop soup with Meng Chen. When he scraped the last bit clean, he saw Meng Chen seemed to have something to say, so he spoke first: "No need to save any for the Prince. He won't be coming out until tomorrow morning."
"You’re that sure?" Meng Chen stood up and looked toward the unlit tent in the distance, worrying, "How can they discuss official business in the dark? I’ll go bring a lamp."
Wu Yu hurried to stop him. "My brother, don't go ruining things." One didn't need a brain to know they weren't discussing official business. "The Prince won't be out tonight, so we’ll just keep watch." He pointed to the watchtower. "Once the snow gets heavy tonight, that thing will be useless anyway."
Seeing him block the way, Meng Chen realized what was happening. He was too embarrassed to mention going over again, so he just idled the time away chatting with Wu Yu.
It grew even hotter inside the tent, so hot that sweat rolled down Xin Yi’s temples. The hand of the person pressed against his back slid to his jaw, tilting his head back for another kiss. This time it was gentle and slow, soothing the previous fierce heat. His shoulders, peeking out from the fur blanket, were covered in marks, and the redness at the corners of Xin Yi’s eyes had not yet faded.
"Why did you come here?" Xin Yi, having finally caught his breath, lay on the bed, unwilling to move even a finger.
"To catch someone." Bai Jiu traced his damp hair and gave his shoulder another bite. "Caught red-handed."
"I’ve just gotten used to running around with them," Xin Yi turned his head to smile at him. "We’ve become quite informal."
"Seven or eight months along, is it?" Bai Jiu leaned lazily over him and whispered in his ear, "How very brave."
The tips of Xin Yi’s ears turned red. "Ziyin has always been improper."
Bai Jiu chuckled but didn't respond. Before Xin Yi could look at him, he was flipped over to face Bai Jiu’s slightly arched brow and was kissed until his senses were scrambled again. That palm lingered at the small of his back, giving him no chance to speak, making the bedboards suffer once more.
A suffering far more torrential than before.
Bai Jiu had come here under orders to supervise the army. In the past, this task would have fallen to He Anchang, but he had been on leave at home for over half a year. Zhang Taiyan was too old and frail to come, and Hou Ke, as a rising star, was not suitable. The Crown Prince had spent less time in the capital than he had at Wuhan, so he naturally shouldn't come out either. With the Prince of Qin gone, only Bai Jiu was the most appropriate choice.
The next day, when Wu Yu saw Bai Jiu, he felt as if he were sitting on pins and needles. Although this lord didn't speak much—simply leaning back to warm his tea and read—whenever Wu Yu stood near the Prince, a whistling cold wind seemed to crawl up his legs, making him shiver.
Wu Yu had grievances he couldn't voice, unaware that the Prince himself was wrapped up tightly today, even skipping his usual morning sparring session with Meng Chen.
"Xianglan used fire-oil again this morning," Meng Chen fretted. "How on earth is that stuff getting in? Could it be delivered by ghosts?"
"Sun Baiping intends to use Xianglan as his life-saving fortress; of course he’ll pile everything he can onto it." Xin Yi traced lines on the map. "Except for the Wuhan Buddha Mountain, all paths to the south are cut off by our hands. His supplies can only be sent in through the mountain."
"Do they have wings?" Meng Chen asked. "The Buddha Mountain is high and treacherous; how are they getting things in?"
The group fell into silence.
Bai Jiu poured himself a cup of tea in the back and said, "If they can't go over the top, then they go through the bottom."
"The bottom?" Xin Yi was startled.
Bai Jiu took a sip of tea and said with a smile, "Ziyin."
Wu Yu shuddered. For the first time, he felt that his courtesy name sounded like a death knell when called by this man.
***
| Chinese | English | Notes/Explanation |
| :--- | :--- | :--- |
| 燕王 | Prince of Yan | Xin Yi's new title. |
| 一字亲王 | First-Rank Prince | A prince whose title consists of a single character (e.g., Yan), the highest rank. |
| 二字郡王 | Second-Rank Prince | A prince whose title consists of two characters (e.g., Pingding), a lower rank. |
| 天道 | Tiandao | "Heavenly Way" or "Path of Heaven"; Xin Jing's saber. |
| 攀月弓 | Moon-Climbing Bow | Jibai Yue's bow. |
| 破风箭 | Wind-Breaking Arrows | The arrows used with the Moon-Climbing Bow. |
| 襄兰 | Xianglan | A strategic city where the rebels are holed up. |
| 无翰佛山 | Wuhan Buddha Mountain | A treacherous mountain behind Xianglan. |
| 圪塔汤 | Dough Drop Soup | A rustic flour-based soup (Geda soup). |
| 子胤 | Ziyin | Wu Yu's courtesy name. |
| 敬渊 | Jingyuan | Bai Jiu's courtesy name. |
