Guanshan Yue.
The recent earthquake had collapsed half of the building. Fortunately, the ground floor remained largely intact. After several days of emergency repairs, a makeshift framework had been erected, barely restoring a shadow of its former glory. A wind chime hung from the eaves; several of its jade pieces were shattered, clattering noisily in the wind.
Wu Zixu sat in the backstage area, holding a cup of cold tea.
The world had turned upside down over the past few days, leaving the city’s inhabitants in misery. Few people came to listen to Pingtan storytelling anymore. Despite being buried in the affairs of Fengdu, he maintained his old habit—whenever he had a moment of peace, he would come here to sit. If there were guests below the stage, he would sing a set.
The musicians of Guanshan Yue who had places to go had already scattered. Those with nowhere to turn stayed behind, following Auntie Zhao to distribute porridge to the refugees. Only a young apprentice girl remained in the backstage; she was the one who had performed *The Romance of the Western Chamber* with them that day. Clutching her pipa, the girl looked at Wu Zixu timidly. "Mr. Wu, will you come tomorrow?"
Wu Zixu looked at her and smiled. "If you are still here to play the pipa, I will come."
"But there are fewer and fewer guests lately..."
"To entrust one's heart to the jade lute... but with so few soulmates, who is there to listen when the strings break?" Wu Zixu said gently. "It is not about the number of listeners. Those who are willing to come now are the ones with true hearts. Because of that, we must not be negligent."
"Those willing to come include soulmates, but also cowards who only want to drown their sorrows." The backstage door was suddenly kicked open. Song Wentong strode in. "You still have the face to show up at my place?"
The girl was startled. Song Wentong half-pushed, half-herded her out. "Tell the people outside that no matter what noise they hear, no one is allowed in."
Wu Zixu set down his teacup. "Haven't you been busy playing the part of Old Fourth lately? It just so happens that Old Man Wu Nie sent the real one back today..."
Before he could finish, Song Wentong’s fist connected with his face. Blood immediately began to flow from Wu Zixu’s nose.
"If you had stayed in Fengdu, I would have acted as if everything before never happened." Song Wentong grabbed Wu Zixu by the collar. "What did you come back for?"
"If I stayed in Fengdu forever, you would act as if I no longer existed in this world. That is something I absolutely cannot accept." Wu Zixu wiped the blood from his face. "I cannot simply abandon the people of the Ginkgo Study."
"You have the damn nerve to say that?!" Song Wentong roared at him. "Now you come here to play the compassionate Bodhisattva? Where were you when Wu Nie was setting up that array? Why didn't you stop him? You knew damn well that if the Yin Soldiers entered the Yin-Yang Ladder, they would inevitably break into the mortal realm. Weren't you just sending Old Fourth to his death?!"
"I was at the West City Pass at the time," Wu Zixu said. "Taisui set the array because I went to beg him. Fengdu must not be breached."
Song Wentong erupted into curses, raining blows down on Wu Zixu without mercy. He fought with a ferocity that threatened to dismantle the entire backstage. Yet Wu Zixu did not strike back. He allowed himself to be kicked and punched, accepting everything in silence.
Finally, not a single table or chair in the room remained whole. Song Wentong threw the battered Wu Zixu to the floor, his voice hoarse. "Get out. Don't let me see you again. I'll look after Old Fourth. From now on, our paths diverge."
"In a few days, the Yin Soldiers will surely break the seal." Wu Zixu forced himself to stand. "When that happens, what will you do?"
Song Wentong said coldly, "Then you’d better pray we don't die. Otherwise, when we meet in Fengdu, I’ll make the Ten Yama Kings sacrifice themselves to my blade."
"Old Second, if you truly drew your weapon in the Ten Halls, no one might be able to stop you," Wu Zixu sighed. "But do you realize that even the Yama Kings are helpless against a Yin Soldier riot? If only you and Old Fourth are there to hold the line, you will surely fall..."
Song Wentong kicked him back down. Looking down at him, he sneered, "Why are you pretending to be the good guy now?"
"I know you resent me. You resent me for asking the Old Man to open the array." Wu Zixu turned his head away. "But I had no choice."
"What do you mean, 'no choice'?!"
"It means being powerless. It means being unable to find a way to save both sides even if I worked myself to death," Wu Zixu whispered. "I thought for three days and three nights without sleep, but I was helpless. I had to do it."
"The members of the Wu clan reside in Fengdu after death; we have the duty to guard it. Once the city falls into chaos, the Yin-Yang family is the first to be hit. Behind me is an entire clan. The legacy of a hundred generations within Fengdu cannot be destroyed because of this."
"I see. Between the Yin-Yang family and Old Fourth, you made your choice." Song Wentong laughed coldly. "In that case, a man should take responsibility for his actions. Instead of staying in Fengdu to be a filial son, why are you here putting on this pathetic show?"
"I had no choice! But I also couldn't watch you all go to your deaths!" Wu Zixu suddenly stood up. "Old Second, you support the Mohist family alone. You are unattached and unburdened, so of course you can be carefree in everything! But there are so many things in this world beyond one's control—it's not as if you haven't tasted that bitterness yourself! When the previous Mozi passed away, were you truly willing to be left behind by your mother?! Bound by the ties of kinship and the weight of your clan, you also chose to accept the inheritance!"
Song Wentong stared at him, his tone murderous. "Say that again?"
At this point, every word was laced with blood. They were the people who knew each other best, and thus knew exactly how to twist the knife in the heart.
Wu Zixu looked at Song Wentong and said slowly, "If it were you that day, forced to choose between your mother and Old Fourth, the difference between us would be negligible."
A thunderous explosion rocked the room. Song Wentong unsheathed his blade and slashed at Wu Zixu—a lethal strike with no intention of holding back. Wu Zixu likewise held nothing back. The two traded blows, the Guwang Smoking Pipe parrying the Lihong Blade. Both of their hands were shaking. Amidst the ear-grating screech of metal on metal, Song Wentong ground out, "Don't you dare compare me to you!"
"Yes, in terms of courage and fearlessness, I am not your equal," Wu Zixu said. "Because you carry no burden, you can always sprint forward without a care! Among the Seven Families, the Mohists have always acted on whim. But the Yin-Yang family communicates between two worlds. A head of the family must bear double the responsibility—not just for the living, but for the dead!"
For the first time, Wu Zixu discarded his refined, jade-like composure, shouting desperately at Song Wentong, "You lost your mother young, but who among us hasn't lost their family?! The previous Mozi at least raised you until you were five. My mother breathed her last the moment I was born!"
"You hold the Lihong Blade, living a life of wandering, fearless of life and death. But do you know what is inside the Guwang Smoking Pipe? It is the ashes of every generation of Wuchangzi!"
The Wu family’s Yin-Yang arts were passed down through a bizarre and macabre tradition. Every Wuchangzi was chosen before birth. Because the ghostly qi in the womb was too heavy, the mother was destined to die during childbirth, consumed by that very qi. It had been so for generations; Wu Zixu’s mother was no exception.
Furthermore, the inheritance of the Wuchangzi came at the cost of the predecessor’s life. The Guwang Smoking Pipe could summon soul-reapers and command ten thousand ghosts, but it relied on no ordinary power. The first bowl of tobacco Wu Zixu had packed into that pipe was his father’s ashes.
Such was the fate of every Wuchangzi—the Wu family was destined never to have three generations under one roof. They were cursed to bring ruin to their parents and wives. Born as a Wuchangzi, one was destined to work until their heart stopped and find no peace even after death, spending a lifetime of diligent service guarding a home that was already a ruin.
The "Jade-Faced Youth," the "Smiling Impermanence"—he appeared young, successful, and clever, but it was only because the reckless ignorance of every Wu family member had long since been educated out of them by death.
"Living as a member of the Wu family, dying as a ghost of Fengdu—this is the predestined fate of the Yin-Yang family. You resent me for not being willing to sacrifice for Old Fourth, but I carry the inheritance of every generation of Yin-Yang Masters. This was bought with the destruction of countless Wu families!" Wu Zixu looked at Song Wentong, his voice cracking. "Song Wentong can resent Wu Zixu, but the Mozi cannot resent the Wuchangzi. You have no right!"
It was the first time Song Wentong had seen Wu Zixu so utterly unhinged. For a moment, he seemed stunned, not knowing how to respond.
The voices shattered against the wreckage on the floor. The room fell into a heavy silence.
The Guwang Smoking Pipe fell to the ground with a *clack*. Wu Zixu’s voice was thick with emotion. "Old Second, do you know?"
"Back then, every time I saw you and Old Fourth causing trouble in the study, I wanted so badly to join you and climb that ginkgo tree outside the window."
"Sometimes I also wonder... is the position of the Seven Masters truly worth it?"
"But I have paid too much. I have lost the right to turn back."
After an unknown amount of time, Song Wentong picked up the Guwang Smoking Pipe. "A filial son at home while alive, a slave in Fengdu after death... what a grand, heroic man you are. So suppressed it reaches the heavens."
"I won't argue logic with you. When it comes to a war of words, I’ve never been a match for you or Old Fourth."
He handed the pipe back to Wu Zixu. "Take it."
"We're even."
***
Meanwhile, at the Chai Manor.
"Mu Gesheng!" Chai Shuxin’s footsteps were hurried. "Mu Gesheng! Stop!"
The two of them had walked all the way out of the Chai Manor. Mu Gesheng was walking incredibly fast, and Chai Shuxin only managed to catch up with difficulty. He grabbed Mu Gesheng’s hand, pressing his fingers to the wrist to check the pulse. "You took the medicine Taisui gave you?"
Mu Gesheng pulled his hand back and crossed his arms. "Recognize me now?"
"Taisui’s medicine can only alleviate an emergency. It consumes you from within; it’s no different from drinking poison to quench thirst..."
"I know what I'm doing."
The two looked at each other. Chai Shuxin was momentarily at a loss for words. After a long pause, he finally managed, "...I didn't mean to hide it from you."
"Don't." Mu Gesheng waved his hands repeatedly. "You're the head of the Chai family, a man of great vision. How would I dare charge you with the crime of deception?"
Chai Shuxin, naturally a man of few words, was even more unsure of what to say. He took a half-step back. "I'm sorry." With that, he bowed deeply. "You are the Tiansuanzi. If a Master has sinned, he may be punished."
Mu Gesheng looked at the man before him, his neck stiff, unable to force out a word. After a moment, he cursed under his breath. "Dammit, why does it feel like I'm the one bullying you?"
He gave the man a light kick. "Come on. Take me out for a drink."
"Your current condition is not suitable for alcohol..."
"Are you finished?"
They found a random wine shop that was still open and ordered several jars, squatting by the entrance to drink their fill. Mu Gesheng was a seasoned drinker, and he drank with a suicidal intensity. Before long, several jars were empty. His eyes were rimmed with red as he propped up his head and asked Chai Shuxin, "Did you bring money?"
"I did."
"A lot?"
"Quite a bit."
"I'm going to drink this shop dry. Do you have enough?"
"Excessive drinking is bad for your health."
"That again? Just tell me, is it enough?"
"...It is sufficient."
Mu Gesheng reached out his hand. "Give it to me."
He took the money bag and tossed it onto the counter. "Shopkeeper, I’m buying out your shop! It’s a time of war and chaos—take the money and run while you can!" He began hauling jars of wine out of the shop. "It’s a year of great calamity!"
Chai Shuxin quickly caught him and apologized to the stunned owner. "I'm sorry, he's drunk." He pulled out several silver dollars and handed them over. "I'll buy all the wine you have here."
The owner was quick-witted. He immediately took the money, hung up the door curtain, and retreated outside, cupping his hands to any subsequent customers. "Apologies, the shop is closed."
"I'm not drunk." Mu Gesheng sat cross-legged on the counter. "I could drink vodka straight from the bottle back when I was abroad. What are a few jars of yellow wine?" He picked up a jar and tossed it into Chai Shuxin’s arms. "Truth comes after wine. Come, drink!"
The alcohol flushed his face, but his mind remained clear. He watched Chai Shuxin slap off the mud seal and swallow the wine. "Old Three, when was the last time we drank together?"
"Before you went abroad, at the pier tavern," Chai Shuxin said. "You and the Mozi both drank a lot. The Wuchangzi was so drunk he couldn't stand."
"You left in a hurry that day." Mu Gesheng exhaled a breath of wine-scented air. "I just remembered... that day, my old man seemed to be in the city as well."
"That was the first time Commander Mu and I met." Chai Shuxin took a sip of wine. "When we met, he stood by the window for a long time."
Mu Gesheng smiled. "That old man."
"Commander Mu and I only met once. After that, our correspondence was mainly through telegrams and letters. The Chai family provided medicinal resources, and Commander Mu provided many conveniences regarding the military. Water transport, regional checkpoints... military support is very important," Chai Shuxin said. "Commander Mu was devoted to the country. Though we only met once, his character and integrity were truly admirable."
"Choosing to cooperate with the military was a decision I made after repeated consideration. The elders of the family were also consulted," Chai Shuxin paused. "It was not an impulsive act... do not believe everything you hear."
"I don't know much about my father's affairs. Although the old man’s memory isn't great, he’ll tell me what I need to know eventually." Mu Gesheng sighed. "But regardless, I should say thank you."
"Between us, there is no need for thanks."
"True." Mu Gesheng laughed, picking up a wine jar. "Then I’ll toast you with a whole jar."
The jars clinked. Mu Gesheng said as if remembering something, "No wonder. When I was studying abroad, moving from place to place, the first letter to arrive at every new location was always from you. I thought back then that you all had agreed on an order—you’d talk about serious business, Old Three would send money, and Old Second would just curse at me."
"The Mozi and the Wuchangzi got your addresses from the Master," Chai Shuxin said. "The Master’s calculations are divine; he always knew where you were."
"That old man was too lazy to calculate," Mu Gesheng scoffed. "I was the one reporting my itinerary every day like a clockwork soldier. Occasionally, he’d remember me and add a few instructions in Old Second’s letters—trivial things, bits and pieces." His tone shifted as he set down the jar. "But with everything that’s happened lately, I can’t help but feel that Master foresaw everything we are going through."
Chai Shuxin looked up. "Why?"
"The year I was in Moscow, Master added a note in Old Second’s letter: 'The wind and snow are growing heavy; remember to add layers to stay warm.'" Mu Gesheng said softly. "The next letter I received was the news of Master’s passing."
"The day I got that letter, I was wearing a very thick overcoat. I walked along the riverbank for a long time. I had specifically commissioned a tailor to make that coat; it wasn't cold at all, and yet, I felt frozen to the bone."
Chai Shuxin was silent for a moment. "Did the Master leave anything for you?"
"He did." Mu Gesheng nodded. "But we aren't at a point of absolute desperation yet. I feel like it’s not time to use it." He gave a bitter smile. "That said, I don't have much of a chance of winning this battle."
"I'm sorry for making things difficult for you at home." Mu Gesheng looked at Chai Shuxin. "My refusal to perform the divination is truly a rebellion against the Seven Families. Perhaps you believe in this 'Heavenly Fate,' but I refuse to accept it."
"You don't need to worry." Chai Shuxin shook his head. "I believe in you."
"To me, there is no difference between you and Fate."
Mu Gesheng was stunned for a moment, then he laughed. "Good. That is enough."
It was late. Lamps were lit outside the wine shop, casting a glow of crushed gold and dark red. Mu Gesheng looked out the window. "If it snowed a bit more, it would look just like a winter night on the banks of the Neva."
He opened a new jar of wine and leaned against the window frame. "I'll sing a song for you."
Mu Gesheng sang a Russian song. It was low and winding, the melody hummed slowly—soft and gentle, like falling snow by a riverbank.
*Окрасился месяц багрянцем*
(The moon is stained a deep crimson)
*Где волны шумели у скал*
(Where waves crash against the cliffs)
*Поедем, красотка, кататься*
(Come, my beauty, let us ride)
*Давно я тебя поджидал……*
(I have waited for you so long……)
Chai Shuxin drank his wine slowly. He could only understand a few syllables, yet he felt as if he were touching a moment from years ago—a flicker of light, a long shadow on the snow. Far away were ten thousand miles of rivers; between them had been mountains and seas more distant than any river. And yet, on this night, the two had reunited within a song.
They drank until very late. Mu Gesheng needed to find Song Wentong, so they stumbled toward Guanshan Yue. To their surprise, as soon as they reached the door, Auntie Zhao rushed out to meet them. "Oh, my ancestors, you’re finally here! Any later and my music hall would have been torn down!"
Mu Gesheng’s drunken haze was instantly cleared by the thunderous noise coming from inside. "Auntie, don't panic. What happened?"
"Little Tong and Mr. Wu started fighting as soon as night fell! Half the building has been smashed to bits!" Auntie Zhao flicked her handkerchief in distress. "They’re fighting—who could possibly stop them? Hurry and go talk some sense into them!"
"Old Second and Old Three are fighting?" Mu Gesheng was shocked at first, then he started to grin. "The sun must be rising in the west. I haven't seen Old Three lift a finger in years."
Chai Shuxin added, "It is indeed rare."
"Oh, for heaven's sake, stop performing a comedy routine and think of something!" Auntie Zhao reached out to pinch Mu Gesheng’s ear. "You little heartless brat, this is all the property I have left!"
Mu Gesheng quickly dodged. "Don't worry, Auntie. Old Second will make it up to you." He and Chai Shuxin walked into the building. Hearing the crashing sounds from upstairs, Mu Gesheng shook his head. "It’s rare for them to fight, but whenever they do, I’m usually the one who suffers."
Chai Shuxin took off his gloves. "Shall I help stop them?"
"Don't. They’ll just beat you up along with each other." Mu Gesheng sighed. "Here’s the plan: wait until you see which room they’ve fought their way into, then find an opening to throw me in. Just say I’m drunk. I’ll barge in and play the drunkard to make a scene. Once I cause enough of a mess, the whole thing will blow over." He spoke with such ease that it was clear he was an expert in this particular business.
Chai Shuxin nodded. "Alright."
The door to the private room was kicked open, and a person was tossed inside. Song Wentong and Wu Zixu were in the middle of a fierce struggle. They both froze when they saw him. "Old Fourth?" "Lingshuzi?"
Mu Gesheng flopped onto the floor and began his performance, wailing tunelessly, "My beloved consorts, please, stay your hands—!"
Chai Shuxin stood to the side, saying expressionlessly, "He’s drunk."
"I'll go find Auntie Zhao to brew some hangover soup." Song Wentong started to leave, but realized something at the door. "Wait, no! Let him lie there! we're not finished yet!" Before he could move, a silver needle from Chai Shuxin pinned him in place. "What are you doing?!"
"Persuading you to stop." Chai Shuxin held a needle and looked at Wu Zixu. "Are you still fighting?"
"I suppose not." Wu Zixu sighed at the sight, setting the Guwang Smoking Pipe aside. "I can't hold out much longer anyway."
"As expected, Old Three is the reasonable one." Mu Gesheng scrambled up and looked around. "Are you two trying to perform a demolition?"
"You have the nerve to talk to me? Who was I doing this for?" Song Wentong snapped back to reality, shouting angrily, "You ungrateful brat!"
"Old Second, calm down, calm down. If you drop dead from anger, who’s going to be happy?" Mu Gesheng found a chair that was still relatively intact and sat down. Looking at the three men in the room, he suddenly smiled. "Not counting that meeting of the Seven Families, the four of us haven't gathered like this in years."
Chai Shuxin remained silent, Wu Zixu was too exhausted to speak, and Song Wentong wore a cold, sullen expression. For a moment, no one spoke.
"Fine. In the past, I was always the one putting on the show. Looks like today is a solo performance again." Mu Gesheng grabbed a box of pastries that hadn't been destroyed and popped a piece into his mouth. As he ate, he said, "A lot has happened recently. I was unconscious for a few days, so we didn't have time to discuss things. I've thought about it a lot. None of you are outsiders, so let's lay it all out on the table."
Mu Gesheng spoke at length—from the day he entered the Yin-Yang Ladder and met the Yin Soldiers, to what he saw and heard in his dreams, to his conversation with Wu Nie on the boat after waking up, and even the confrontation at the Chai Manor and his firm refusal to perform the divination. He left nothing out, except for the part about the Chai family’s connection to Commander Mu.
After finishing, Mu Gesheng chewed on his pastry and thought: *It’s rare for me to tell so much of the truth in one go.*
He glanced at Chai Shuxin out of the corner of his eye. The man’s expression was unchanged, as if he had already expected Mu Gesheng to omit that particular detail.
Mu Gesheng curled his lip. *This guy is getting more and more boring. Not like the old days when he’d ignite at the slightest spark.*
"It’s exactly the kind of thing you would do." Song Wentong, still unable to move, remained frozen in his pose at the door. He snorted. "Since you’ve decided not to perform the divination, most of the Seven Families will likely withdraw. Have you thought about how to defend the city?"
Mu Gesheng shrugged, sounding like a bandit. "I have you guys, don't I?"
"You really think you're just here to rob us? Trying to get something for nothing?"
"You lost the fight to me yourself, don't try to back out now," Mu Gesheng said. "At worst, I'll cook for you after we succeed."
"Don't you dare go near a kitchen," Wu Zixu said immediately. "Otherwise, even if we win, we’ll probably end up poisoned."
"Fine." Mu Gesheng began counting on his fingers. "The Penglai and Zhu families will probably leave. The Mohists are in. As for the Chai family..." He looked at Chai Shuxin. "Can you handle it?"
Chai Shuxin’s face was calm. "I have my ways."
"Then add the Chai family to the list, plus the Tiansuanzi—that makes three families." Mu Gesheng’s posture was that of someone tying people to a sinking ship. He looked casually at Wu Zixu. "Old Three, are you in?"
Wu Zixu was silent for a moment. "Old Fourth, have you truly decided?"
Song Wentong flared up instantly. "Haven't you had enough of a beating?!"
"Stop shouting. You took plenty of my punches too." Wu Zixu uncharacteristically snapped back at Song Wentong, then looked at Mu Gesheng. "If you performed that divination, the situation might be much better."
"To decide the fate of a city with a single toss of coins... I don't have such a lofty, detached perspective." Mu Gesheng smiled. "In this battle, the odds are thirty-seventy against us. The chances of winning are indeed small. I will post notices in the city; whether to stay or leave, everyone can decide for themselves."
"If it were only the Yin Soldiers, it would be one thing. But if the front line retreats and the foreign enemy invades, our chances will be even smaller." Wu Zixu sighed. "I won't try to persuade you. I only hope you will consider it carefully. The people of the Seven Families are, in the end, not the same as the common masses."
"I understand what you mean, Old Three." Mu Gesheng raised his hand, stopping Song Wentong from exploding. "I used to hear Master talk about the affairs of the Yin-Yang family. You’ve carried more than us since you were a child. By all rights, you are entitled to say those things."
"But I am different." He laughed. "An unfilial descendant, a rogue disciple... perhaps I’m not fit to be among the common masses, but at least I can be an outlier among the Seven Families."
"To the Seven Families, you can never be an outlier," Wu Zixu said immediately. "You are the Tiansuanzi. The forty-nine Mountain Ghost Charm Coins have recognized you as their master. You carry the Heavenly Fate..."
"So what?"
"If you refuse to acknowledge that, it’s hurtful." Wu Zixu looked at Mu Gesheng. "We have all inherited our positions since childhood. We were taught from the start that the Seven Families revere the Tiansuanzi. If you dismiss it all with a single sentence, then everything we have done all these years... wouldn't it all become a joke?"
"That’s your own fault," Song Wentong sneered. "It serves you right that your name is Wu Zixu—'Zixu Wuyou,' a total fabrication. You were always a joke!"
"Shut up." Mu Gesheng slapped Song Wentong. "Old Three’s name was given by the Master." He then looked at Chai Shuxin. "Can you needle him into being a temporary mute?"
Chai Shuxin used a needle to silence the roaring Song Wentong. Mu Gesheng sighed and looked at Wu Zixu. "Old Three, I understand what you mean. I understand the difficulties you faced before. Old Second is just being crazy, but we have no right to blame you for anything."
"As for the divination... it is a matter of 'will not,' not 'cannot.'"
Mu Gesheng said softly, "I know the Seven Families are different from the mundane world. They have endured through dynasties since ancient times. But consider this a favor I’m asking: don't treat me like some Tiansuanzi, and don't put me on a pedestal."
"There’s a reason Master’s hair was completely white. It’s all frost and snow at the top."
"It’s too cold up there."
"Besides... you all are here in the human realm."
Wu Zixu was silent for a long time. "Have you really thought it through?"
"Yes." Mu Gesheng smiled. "Back at the Ginkgo Study, I was always the one with the least ambition. I don't have any grand goals. I’m just a mortal of flesh and blood. I don't want to contend with the heavens, and I don't want to be some legendary hero."
"The heavens are above, and I look up at them. But if the sky falls, I can still stand tall."
"...Fine, fine, fine." Wu Zixu shook his head repeatedly. "It’s rare to hear you speak like a human being. How could I not come to help?"
"I cannot be certain if the Yin-Yang family will assist, and the Wuchangzi might not be able to act." He looked at Mu Gesheng. "But Wu Zixu is duty-bound."
"Then we’re all grasshoppers on the same string." Mu Gesheng patted his shoulder. "Good brother."
The four of them talked until late into the night before going their separate ways.
Returning to the military camp, Mu Gesheng first handled the backlog of official business, working until the brink of dawn. He was still recovering from serious injuries and had been running around all day. The medicine Wu Nie gave him couldn't last forever. As the effects faded, an overwhelming exhaustion washed over him. Mu Gesheng couldn't hold out any longer and slumped onto his desk, falling into a deep sleep.
He had mentioned the night-watchman he saw in his dream to the other three, but he hadn't received a clear answer. He vaguely felt that the sound of the clapper was related to the Yin Soldiers, but Wu Zixu didn't know the details.
"It might be a prophetic dream," the other had told him at the end. "By accepting the forty-nine Mountain Ghost Charm Coins, you are already the Tiansuanzi. You can foresee future events in your dreams."
This time, what he dreamed of was not the sound of a clapper.
There was the sound of rapid hoofbeats approaching, accompanied by the thunderous roar of cannons. Shouts and screams rose together, and the air was thick with the suffocating scent of blood. People were sprinting, falling, howling. Gunshots rang out, and flesh was torn asunder. Blood-red birds fell from the sky. Thunder exploded, and fire was everywhere.
As far as the eye could see, everything was crimson.
"Commander... Commander Mu... please wake up!"
Mu Gesheng was shaken awake.
He had been sleeping so deeply that the orderly had to work hard to wake him. The man was drenched in sweat. "You’re finally awake! I thought you had fainted!"
"Is it light out?" Mu Gesheng sat up dizzily, his head heavy. He wiped the drool off his documents. "It’s not even five o'clock. What’s the emergency?"
The orderly handed him a folder. "An urgent telegram from the front."
Mu Gesheng’s eyelid twitched. He opened the folder to find a few brief lines in black and white.
*Front line lost. Entire army in emergency retreat.*
*From this point on, every city and every inch of land is a mountain pass.*
*While a single breath remains, we shall fight for every inch of soil.*
***
**Glossary**
