Bo Jiu’s chess piece suddenly tumbled to the floor. The jade-white stone rolled across the ground, coming to a stop at a man’s boot. The man dropped his own piece, leaned down to retrieve Bo Jiu’s, and gave it a light puff of air between his fingers.
“What is the matter with the Prince of Pingding?” The speaker, whose face was as lovely as peach blossoms, was none other than Yan Jueshu. He listlessly twirled the small white stone. “You look for all the world as if you’re about to fall asleep.”
Bo Jiu simply leaned back against his chair and closed his eyes. “The game is utterly tedious.”
Yan Jueshu sighed. “A game laid out by small fry like us naturally wouldn’t catch the Prince of Pingding’s eye.” His feminine eyes slanted slightly. “And yet, since ancient times, many a great man’s ship has capsized in a shallow gutter.”
“Small fry follow the tide.” Bo Jiu pressed a hand over his eyes and said tonelessly, “A monstrous wave is coming. The situation is about to shift; you should seek your own survival first.”
“I do not fear death.” Yan Jueshu began gathering the pieces from the board one by one, smiling. “I do not fear death. I am a man alone who has lived a lifetime of luxury; dying now would be worth it. By comparison, the Little Prince of Yan is the one who suffers the grievance. He finally escaped that sea of bitterness, yet before he could even find his footing, he must struggle against the battering of these giant waves.” He continued to smile. “What a bitter fate.”
“Insincere.” Bo Jiu’s narrow eyes half-opened beneath his hand, his gaze falling upon Yan Jueshu’s neck. In that instant, the hair on the back of Yan Jueshu’s neck stood on end, a chill washing over him as if a snake had coiled around his throat.
Bo Jiu said coldly, “You have exhausted your wits to stir these dark undercurrents, even going so far as to secretly aid Dayuan, yet in the end, whether you succeed or fail, it will all be for naught.” His gorgeous features were filled with a thin, haughty mockery as he enunciated each word like a falling pearl: “Xin Zhenxiao has already rotted in the earth. Both his body and soul are gone.”
The chessboard was suddenly flipped onto the floor. Yan Jueshu’s face remained expressionless, but his chest heaved with ragged breaths.
“How dare you speak His Highness’s name so casually,” he hissed through gritted teeth, his voice thick with hatred. “Bo. Jiu. How. Dare. You!”
Bo Jiu simply closed his eyes and ignored him, though the eyelid beneath his palm gave a slight twitch—an uncomfortable sensation.
***
Shangjin.
Xin Yi ascended the city wall.
The smell of fire oil made his stomach churn; the nightmares of Xianglan were forever entwined with that scent, making it impossible to forget. The little cub clung obediently to his neck, quiet and still. Having gone several hours without food, the child did not make a fuss.
Wu Yu’s voice was already hoarse. He leaned listlessly against the battlements, staring down at the dense mass of Dayuan soldiers below. Xin Yi leaned beside him, but he did not see Arslang at a glance.
“Is there anything to eat?” Xin Yi rubbed the little cub’s head. “Anything will do. Give me some.”
Wu Yu slowly rummaged through his robes for a while before pulling out a small parcel and tossing it to the cub in Xin Yi’s arms. “You’re really still carrying him,” he croaked.
The cub instinctively tore open the paper; inside was beef jerky.
Xin Yi rested the side of his head against the stone wall, gazing downward. He gave a quiet hum of affirmation.
“What do we do?” Wu Yu massaged his throat. “Keep defending? Arslang has left Canaan Mountain, which means he no longer fears the Beiyang Army. Look at his cavalry—their equipment is pristine. We look like beggars in comparison.”
“Mm,” Xin Yi responded in a low, slow tone. He then fell into a silence, not answering immediately. Both men remained quiet, the only sound being the cub gnawing on the jerky.
“We can’t hold it,” Xin Yi said after a long time. “We cannot stay and defend Shangjin.”
“Then where should we go?” Wu Yu let out a dry laugh. “Lijin? Xiajin? Once Rouhui falls, the entire Beiyang territory will collapse. Where else is there for our Beiyang Army to defend?”
“Rouhui will not fall.” Xin Yi rubbed his temple; a stray lock of hair was bothering him. He said, “Dayuan’s main force is concentrated here. There is only a small portion at Rouhui. Jibai Yue and Xu Hu will not let them cross.”
“Isn’t that worse?” Wu Yu wiped his face and muttered, “Arslang will bypass Shangjin, drive southward, and perform a pincer attack on Rouhui. They won’t even have a chance to run.”
“Why should we let them bypass Shangjin?” Xin Yi’s lips twitched. The cub stuffed a piece of jerky into his mouth, but his stomach was burning and his ribs were throbbing with pain; he could only hold the meat in his mouth. “We aren’t defending Shangjin. We are going to drive the Dayuan soldiers back.”
“We?” Wu Yu’s throat hurt from laughing. “Just us?”
They couldn't even scrape together thirty thousand cavalry. How were they supposed to chase over a hundred thousand? Moreover, would they be the ones chasing, or the ones being hunted?
“Yes.” Xin Yi swallowed the jerky, his brow furrowing as his stomach churned. “Just us. The Beiyang Army has dealt with Dayuan for generations; we are the most familiar with their cavalry and their grasslands. If we retreat, we lose every advantage, and we might even be affected by the situation in the south. Once King Tang makes a move, we can still counterattack from the north. If we only defend Shangjin, I fear we will be beset on both sides and fall into an even deeper trap.”
“Then what about the reserve rations?” Wu Yu asked. “Yan Jueshu won’t give us grain, and the imperial court’s supplies haven't been allocated for ages. Even if we chase them out, what will we eat?”
Xin Yi said nothing. He leaned against the battlements and fell back into silence.
Indeed, even if they summoned their courage and drove the enemy back hundreds of miles, what would they eat? Living off the land was absolutely impossible, for Dalan had wealthy towns while Dayuan had only grasslands. Before Arslang arrived, Dayuan’s cattle and sheep would have been moved behind Canaan Mountain. Was the Beiyang Army supposed to eat wild grass along with him?
What could be done?
What could be done...
***
In the capital, for reasons unknown, the court had suddenly begun to urgently requisition funds from the great noble houses. However, this money was not sent to the Beiyang Army at the front; instead, it vanished into the palace. On the surface, the excuse was the winter chill—the Emperor’s Qianqing Hall was supposedly so dilapidated that the wind whistled through, requiring a complete renovation. But as to where the money actually went, every family understood the unspoken truth.
At such a juncture, everyone should have been united against the foreign threat. Unfortunately, the capital had not yet realized that Beiyang was in dire straits. The Emperor’s military rations were allocated, but after passing through the Crown Prince’s hands several times, only a thin layer remained. Even that had to be carved up by the "little ghosts" below. By the time the supplies reached Beiyang, there wasn't enough to provide three days of porridge for the officers and men.
On this day, the weather finally cleared. The Minister of the Imperial Stud and the Military Consultant of the Secretariat agreed to go fishing at Lueyi Lake at the foot of Lueyi Mountain. The two men held their rods by the shore, first exchanging pleasantries and inquiring after each other’s parents and children before finally meandering toward the main topic.
The Minister of the Imperial Stud stroked his goatee and fretted, “I hear things haven't been easy for Beiyang lately.”
The Military Consultant of the Secretariat shivered as he baited his hook. “Indeed. They can’t even fill their bellies.”
“How can this be?” The Minister shook his rod. “Now that the Prince of Pingding has left the capital, there is no one to advise the Emperor.”
“Indeed. Look at how the funds are being moved.”
“Sigh,” the Minister said. “There isn't a single person left who can speak up.”
“Indeed.” The Consultant exhaled a breath of cold air. “In this freezing weather, the army cannot go without charcoal.”
“Xu Hang and Jiang Tang haven't said a word?” The Minister stroked his beard again. “The granaries are also doing their best to play dead.”
“Indeed.” The Consultant tucked his hands into his sleeves. “King Tang hasn't mentioned sending troops either.” He smacked his lips. “But that man has always been a coward. The Dayuan people are like wolves and tigers; it’s obvious he’s afraid. It’s just that Little Prince of Yan... he’s so young. I hope he doesn't end up left on the battlefield. When you think about it, the bodies of his parents and brothers haven't even gone cold yet!”
“Don't say that.” The Minister frowned. “I think it’s a possibility. How old is he? And he’s a mute. Right now, the army’s morale is low, and they have no rations. Sigh, if Shangjin falls, who will be left to stop them?”
“Then it’s the common folk along the way who will suffer.” The Consultant finally stopped saying "indeed" and said instead, “Given the deep-seated hatred Dalan has for Beiyang, there’s no way they won’t slaughter their way through the cities. The capital is far away, and from the look of things, the Emperor seems intent on using money to block the threat. Though we might not suffer any grievances when the time comes, it will still feel uncomfortable.”
“Can anyone feel comfortable?” the Minister whispered to himself. “Can anyone?”
A withered leaf fell onto the lake, creating a small ripple. A lingering chill hung over the water as a small boat drifted slowly from behind the lake’s bend. The two men immediately shut their mouths, looking at each other with hearts pounding in their chests.
The boat was unmanned, drifting aimlessly with the cold breeze. As it passed before them, the coarse hemp curtains swayed, vaguely revealing a corner of a person holding a book inside before the boat drifted further away.
“That... wasn't that...” The Minister of the Imperial Stud shrank his neck and whispered a name to the Consultant. The Consultant also shrank his neck; the two old men looked like a pair of quails, holding their breath until the boat vanished from sight.
There was no telling how much of their conversation that person had overheard.
“Clear as a stream, clear as a stream...” the Minister sighed. “What a pity.”
The Consultant lifted his empty hook and echoed, “Indeed...”
***
The man was He Anchang.
Once the boat had drifted out of sight, he set down his book and used the boiling water from a small red-clay stove to brew tea, appearing perfectly content in the cramped space of the vessel.
It had been over half a year since he had gradually withdrawn from the imperial court. Although the "Little Phoenix," Hou Ke, had taken over his duties, Hou Ke’s way of doing things was different, often causing people to reminisce about He Anchang’s tenure. As for He Anchang himself, after returning home, he either stayed behind closed doors researching obscure ancient texts or went out for leisurely trips and fishing. It had been a long time since the people of the capital had seen him.
During his excursion today, he hadn't expected to hear news of Beiyang. He Anchang usually turned a deaf ear to worldly affairs; though he knew Dayuan had invaded again, he hadn't known that Bo Jiu had already left. However, he could guess the current situation with a bit of thought.
He returned to the He Manor only when the sky grew dark, entering through the back door where a young servant was waiting. He went straight to his courtyard, bathed, and changed his clothes. Under the lamp, he took up his brush and wrote a letter, not extinguishing the light until the third watch.
Early the next morning, when the servant pushed open the door, he found the bed empty with no signs of anyone having slept there. His master, the "Pure Stream" gentleman, was nowhere to be found, and the brushes he usually used were gone.
With only a few thin robes and a bit of silver, He Anchang had managed to climb over his own manor wall and left the capital in a cloud of dust. He hitched a ride on a donkey cart, sitting amidst a pile of cabbages and radishes, planning his next moves all the way until he arrived, shivering, in Qingping.
The Prince of Pingding was currently in Qingping, and according to what he had gathered on the road, Yan Jueshu was also there. If he didn't go to Qingping now, when would he?
Xie Jingsheng was incredibly busy in Qingping. When he heard someone was looking for him at the front hall, he assumed it was one of his fair-weather friends and refused to see them.
He Anchang stood at the entrance, his thin robes fluttering in the freezing wind. Upon hearing the refusal, he turned to leave without a word. To his surprise, as he turned, he ran straight into Yan Jueshu.
“He Anchang!” Yan Jueshu leaned out of his carriage window, his eyes wide. “What kind of nonsense are you up to now?”
He Anchang was pale from the cold, and his gaze was even icier, causing Yan Jueshu to shudder.
The two of them shared a bit of past history.
Back when Yan Jueshu was a student at the Hanlin Academy, Zhang Taiyan would often have He Anchang fill in for him when his lectures were delayed. In a sense, He Anchang was half a teacher to Yan Jueshu. However, Yan Jueshu had always been obsessed with money; he used to secretly resell He Anchang’s calligraphy and paintings, for which he had been disciplined by "Teacher He" more than once. Seeing him now, Yan Jueshu wanted to vent his old frustrations, yet he was also terrified deep down.
“A teacher for a day is a father for a lifetime,” He Anchang said coldly. “What are you calling your father for?”
“...” This man was still as exasperating as ever. Yan Jueshu held his breath for a long moment before throwing open his carriage curtain and saying impatiently, “You’re frozen into an icicle, yet you’re still putting on airs? Get in here, quickly.”
He Anchang rubbed his frozen nose, turned, and climbed inside.
The interior was extremely warm. Yan Jueshu had lined everything with thick furs, and the decor was a gaudy, shimmering gold. Once He Anchang had thawed out a bit, he looked around the carriage.
Yan Jueshu lounged against his mink furs. “Insulting to one’s refined sensibilities, isn't it? I haven't seen much of that noble character you 'pure and lofty' types are supposed to have.” He glanced at him with his peach-blossom eyes. “You almost became a frozen corpse. What are you doing here?”
“Eating buns,” He Anchang said, sitting upright. “What are you doing here?”
“Beating dogs.”
He Anchang nodded and rubbed his eyes.
“What are you doing?”
He Anchang said, “It’s too bright.” He added, “Why are you dressed up like a peacock?”
“...” Yan Jueshu tossed aside a mink fur and said fiercely, “I’m cold.”
“It is indeed quite cold here.” He Anchang nodded, then shifted the topic abruptly. “If you don't release the grain to Beiyang, it’s going to get even colder.”
The smile in Yan Jueshu’s eyes faded. He snorted, “So you’ve come to be a lobbyist too.”
He Anchang paused, then said seriously, “Not so. I am here to save you.”
***
