Although that bear seemed uninterested in eating people, Wang Xinyong and his personal soldier still held their breath until the bear completely walked out of their range of sight. Only then did they support each other and stand up.

A large gash had opened on Wang Xinyong’s left leg. The wound throbbed with pain. Although it no longer bled, with a wound that large, it was truly hard to say whether any tendons or bones had been damaged. It was late at night at the end of September, and the temperature on the mountain was extremely low. Wang Xinyong had climbed out of icy water that chilled straight into his bones. His nerves had long gone numb, so he couldn’t judge the extent of his own injury at all.

The personal soldier wasn’t in much better shape. Wang Xinyong was injured on his leg, he was injured on his arm. His right arm was completely broken, and he couldn’t lift it at all. Wang Xinyong pinched the soldier’s palm, but the soldier only stared at him blankly, showing no reaction whatsoever.

Wang Xinyong: “…”

Pressing his lips together, Wang Xinyong let go of his hand.

From his expression, the personal soldier more or less understood that his arm couldn’t be saved. He felt a bit sad, but he didn’t want Wang Xinyong to know, so he gave Wang Xinyong a carefree grin. “It is fine, General. Being alive has already made me very satisfied.”

Looking at the smile on his face, Wang Xinyong felt even more guilty. “It was all my fault.”

He shouldn’t have trusted Yuan Baifu so easily, shouldn’t have followed or marched beside him all this way without noticing that he had already sprouted rebellious intentions.

Good people were always like this—when something happened, their first reaction was self-blame, even if it had nothing to do with them.

The personal soldier opened his mouth to refute him, but at that moment Wang Xinyong had already raised his head. He looked upward, but the bamboo forest blocked his view. The precipitous cliff that had nearly killed him couldn’t be seen now.

Wang Xinyong said, “I have to go back.”

Yuan Baifu had made preparations, and Wang Xinyong’s soldiers were unaware. Once the plot was uncovered, with Yuan Baifu’s vicious nature, he might very well kill them all.

Yao Xian might be able to hold out for a while, but he wouldn’t last long. Yao Xian didn’t have enough prestige. The rear troops had quite a few hotheads. They were all people whom Qu Yunmie disliked for their unstable temperaments, yet Qu Yunmie also felt they had some talent for war, so he dumped them all on Wang Xinyong to receive the moral cultivation of an honest man.

Those who successfully matured naturally went out and continued making military achievements. Those who failed fell into two categories: one refused to listen to anyone else but was willing to listen to Wang Xinyong, so they stayed in the rear army. The other listened to absolutely no one and were sent by Qu Yunmie to various passes to serve as minor garrison officers.

Sometimes Qu Yunmie wasn’t disdainful of Wang Xinyong, it was just that Wang Xinyong’s soldiers needed training the most, so whenever there was dirty, laborious work to be done, he handed it to Wang Xinyong.

…

Whether this approach was improper was a problem for later. The problem now was that those people obeyed no one but Wang Xinyong. Out of respect for him, they might still obey Yao Xian for a few days, but five days—five at most—and then they would no longer endure it.

Wang Xinyong grew anxious, but anxiety was useless. He’d never been to this place and had no idea how to climb back up. Besides, whether they could even get out of the dense forest was the first issue, and how to survive the next few days was the second.

The personal soldier supported Wang Xinyong, and Wang Xinyong held the soldier’s injured arm. Neither knew where to go, so they could only continue walking along the riverside. Just as they took one step, a flapping sound came from afar. In the deathly quiet night sky, even the usual bird cries carried a twisted and frightening tone.

“Gu-gu-gu!—”

Wang Xinyong: “…”

It was a turtle dove.

All right, not that frightening after all.

*

Down below, Wang Xinyong was surviving in the wilderness. It would probably take a very long time before he could loop his way back onto the proper path. Yuan Baifu and his men, on the other hand, arrived at the Hanzhong Basin early the next morning. After another half day of marching, they reached the city where Shen Yangrui’s troops were currently stationed—Zitong Commandery.

The scouts discovered that the Northern Army had arrived and immediately reported to Shen Yangrui. Learning that they had brought over seventy thousand men, Shen Yangrui’s expression turned extremely grim.

He had only brought fifty thousand troops. Fifty thousand against seventy thousand—on the surface, they still had a chance of winning, but this was the Northern Army, none of their soldiers were useless!

…

Shen Yangrui immediately sent out his subordinates. One group went to Yizhou to summon all the garrisons there, along with private soldiers of the nobles. Another group went to Nanguang and Jianning to order the governors to hand over their troops at once.

This was the advantage of the legitimate regime—they could conscript troops from any city at any time. Whether the cities handed them over was another matter.

…

Shen Yangrui put on the posture of facing a great enemy, yet the Northern Army didn’t attack straightaway. Instead, they sent an envoy, saying their former general had something to say to General Shen.

Shen Yangrui refused to meet the envoy because he believed it was a trap, but the envoy delivered a letter. Shen Yangrui felt extremely suspicious, but he still had a guardsman bring him the letter, and he carefully opened it.

After reading it once, he felt he must have been sleep-deprived, so he read it again.

Shen Yangrui: “…”

He was stunned.

Just when mountains and rivers seemed to block every path, a willow-shaded village suddenly appeared! He originally thought the Grand Marshal had gambled everything on picking a route that seemed the least deadly among many dead ends. Who knew that this dead end had been cleared open by the enemy themselves!

Good heavens, the Grand Marshal truly had foresight—he never surrendered until the last moment, because no one ever knew how many fools were hiding among the enemy!

…

Shen Yangrui almost laughed out loud, but before he truly rejoiced, he forced himself to calm down. After all, Yuan Baifu’s surrender might not be genuine, it might be a feigned defection.

He prepared for Yuan Baifu to turn hostile at any moment while also recalling the subordinates he had sent to Nanguang and Jinling, telling them to redirect to Jinling and report this matter to the Grand Marshal as quickly as possible.

Southern Yong’s communication methods were far better than those north of the Han River. They had carrier pigeons and a complete relay system. Three days later, Sun Renluan received such a letter. He stared at the line stating that Yuan Baifu surrendered with sixty-six thousand infantry and eight thousand cavalry. After a long moment, he took out a new piece of paper and quickly began writing.

He consulted no one because the matter was urgent, and he didn’t want bureaucratic morning court sessions to delay such an excellent opportunity.

He wrote a long letter, but the core meaning was simple: He accepted Yuan Baifu’s surrender. Yuan Baifu was allowed to keep fifty thousand troops. He was immediately appointed the title of General Who Pacifies the Army, Protector of Ningzhou, and Marquis of Zitong. The condition was that he must defend Ningzhou. If he held it, he would be further ennobled as King of Jiangyang.

If he failed—

There was nothing more to be said.

Finishing the letter in one breath, Sun Renluan handed it to a guard. Watching the guard run out, Sun Renluan suddenly laughed softly.

Yuan Baifu… He had always remembered this man.

Back when Qu Yunmie still served under Huang Yanqin, because of Qu Yunmie’s skill, he had performed exceptionally in several bandit-suppression missions, attracting the attention of Jinling. Someone suggested that Sun Renluan should take a look at the second son of Qu Yue. Sun Renluan considered keeping him close for training, so he agreed.

On the first day he entered the palace, it was Yuan Baifu who accompanied Qu Yunmie.

The court officials didn’t take Qu Yunmie seriously at all, they treated him as entertainment. At that time, Qu Yunmie had rosy lips and white teeth, was young and ignorant, and easily became the officials’ target of mockery. They not only laughed at him but also at Yuan Baifu standing beside him. Sun Renluan, wanting to observe Qu Yunmie, remembered clearly: Qu Yunmie glared at everyone and even wanted to hit people, while Yuan Baifu stayed silent, head lowered, revealing nothing.

Sun Renluan had been disappointed in Qu Yunmie—having backbone was good, but raising fists in public was foolish. By contrast, Yuan Baifu knew to avoid the sharp edge when weak. This was the kind of child who could go far.

On the second day, Qu Yunmie came again, glaring as usual. Yuan Baifu, however, never appeared again.

So he wasn’t calm and calculating, he had simply been unable to bear the humiliation.

Then why did he come in the first place? To witness the palace’s grandeur? To befriend officials? Or simply to accompany Qu Yunmie so he wouldn’t be alone?

Regardless of the reason, he had given up on the second day. As the saying went: “Three years old shows your future,” yet Yuan Baifu hadn’t been three then—he had been a teenager. A teen who had just experienced disaster yet still lacked resolve likely would never develop it in his lifetime.

…

Well enough—one person’s poison was another’s honey. Using Yuan Baifu’s troops to block Qu Yunmie’s forces—whether it succeeded or not—would wound Qu Yunmie either way.

Hands clasped behind his back, Sun Renluan pondered for a while, then walked to the map and looked at the city that had changed hands once again.

When Yizhou was first taken, the court had celebrated in high spirits. Several officials held banquets at home, their mansions supposedly rang with revelry until dawn. When news came that Yiyang had fallen, these same men flew into a rage, cursing Song Shuo as a traitor and dog in court, condemning everyone north of the Han River and the entire Northern Army, as rebels deserving annihilation.

After finishing their scolding, they went home and held their banquets anyway, because the food had been prepared early, and letting it go to waste would not do.

…

Sometimes Sun Renluan regretted ordering Shen Yangrui to attack Yizhou. Sometimes he felt he shouldn’t regret it at all, because at this point, whether they hid in their shells or attacked first, they were already fish on the chopping block.

Seventy-three years.

From the founding of the Yong dynasty until now, seventy-three springs and autumns had passed. When the Murong tribe perished, the whole court laughed, mocking the Murong for having too short a national fortune. Yet what right did they have to mock the Murong? At least the Murong had lasted a hundred years, while they themselves might not survive this very year.

For Yuan Baifu, all his choices determined his fate, for Sun Renluan, everything around him determined what he did. As for the outcome, it would ultimately be nearly the same.

Shaking his head, Sun Renluan left the room and went to visit the young Emperor again.

*

September twenty-eighth, early morning.

Xiao Rong propped his head with one hand and sat at the edge of the freshly prepared carriage. He already felt much better—at least he had no trouble moving and no longer nodded off constantly. Still, Qu Yunmie insisted on leaving early, so everyone was busy packing.

Yu Shaoxie traveled with them, but after some ten li, he would turn toward Shengle. Jian Qiao escorted him to handle affairs for a while, then would rush to the Xihai Commandery before the heavy snow arrived.

Xihai Commandery sat in the desert. The one good thing about that place was that it never snowed.

In spite of this, the lack of snow didn’t mean people couldn’t freeze to death. Xiao Rong left half of the army’s winter supplies to Jian Qiao. Those supplies were intended for two hundred thousand soldiers. Jian Qiao had only a few tens of thousands—he could survive the winter in Xihai without issue.

Once everything was ready, they set off. Qu Yunmie rode outside. After the two parties’ forces split, Qu Yunmie handed his horse to a soldier and then skillfully climbed into Xiao Rong’s carriage.

Xiao Rong’s technique for nest-building had become even more practiced. Using the Murong tribe’s private stash of furs, he piled them together, then sat in front of the heap and flung himself backward with force, smashing out a shape of his own body. Then he nestled comfortably inside and passed the time reading books stolen from the Murong.

Qu Yunmie looked at him and saw nothing strange in his expression. Then he picked up Xiao Rong’s sword. He had barely drawn the blade when Xiao Rong said faintly, “My Lord, if you keep sharpening it, my sword will soon need to be renamed ‘dagger.’”

Qu Yunmie said nothing.

He stayed silent and raised his hand to pull out a piece of deer hide from his sleeve. When he shook the hide open, he deliberately used a great deal of force. Anyone who didn’t know better would’ve thought he was holding a whip.

Xiao Rong was drawn by the sound. He lifted his head and happened to see Qu Yunmie wiping the blade of the sword. He wiped it unhurriedly, and after two strokes, he lifted his eyes and looked at Xiao Rong with cold indifference.

Xiao Rong: “…”

How childish.

Previously, even though Qu Yunmie and his men marched at full speed, it still took them more than half a month to travel from Chenliu to Yanmen Pass. This time they were returning from Shuofang, and even if they kept up their current pace without stopping, it would still take a full month.

This was because returning from Shuofang required detouring around the Qinling Mountains to return to the heartland of the Central Plains—basically following the mid–Yellow River southward all the way until they reached the Luo River, then turning east.

By coincidence, 400 kilometers to the east lay Chenliu, and 400 kilometers to the west lay exactly the route into Ningzhou that Qu Yunmie had once pointed out.

Marching constantly was unbearably dull, especially in winter, when there was nothing to see at all—only desolation everywhere. Bored, Xiao Rong took out a box of warm jade chess pieces. He played black and the Buddha’s Son played white. The Buddha’s Son thought he wanted a normal match and agreed, but Xiao Rong immediately said, “Let’s play something new.”

Half a cup of tea later, Xiao Rong cheered. “Here, here! Five in a row—I won!”

The Buddha’s Son: “…”

He looked at the board, then suddenly lifted his head. “One more time.”

The moment Xiao Rong saw determination ignite in the Buddha Son’s eyes, he knew he shouldn’t have agreed.

After five more rounds, he didn’t win a single one. Truly, you could know a man’s face and not his heart—Mijing looked kind and gentle, but once inside a game of chess he took every step as if to claim another life. Xiao Rong was chased until his helmet and armor were thrown aside. Soon he grew flustered, and once he panicked, Mijing won.

Xiao Rong: “…”

Now it was his turn to stare at the board in a daze.

After a moment, Xiao Rong lifted his head with the same determined look. “Just you wait!”

Mijing waited for a while, and what he got was Qu Yunmie being dragged over by Xiao Rong.

Clearly Qu Yunmie had already heard the entire story. He flicked his robes aside and sat neatly across from Mijing. Pinching a small black piece between his fingers, Qu Yunmie sneered, “They say the chessboard is like a battlefield. I want to try it myself. I ask the venerable one for guidance.”

Mijing: “…”

There was one thing neither Qu Yunmie nor Xiao Rong knew.

Mijing was a renowned master of the game. Back in Changan, he had already defeated every opponent under heaven. He had played against the Emperor and the Prime Minister, even elderly chess veterans in their twilight years bowed to him. Later, because the abbot said his obsession with victory was unbefitting a monk, he forced himself to quit.

Even after ten years without touching a board, Qu Yunmie couldn’t possibly be his match.

Even so, Qu Yunmie had someone to disturb the enemy’s mind—Xiao Rong sat beside him the whole time, staring at the board with absolute focus, and every so often he would encourage him. “Your Majesty, go! Crush him!”

Qu Yunmie even responded, “Mm, crush him!”

Mijing: “…”

Amitābha.

Whenever Mijing wanted to say something that didn’t suit a monk’s status, he recited this phrase. Reciting Buddha’s name did nothing—the two were far too aggravating. Mijing was distracted, and naturally he lost.

Fortunately he lost, or Xiao Rong would never have let him go. Xiao Rong then happily reached out to high-five Qu Yunmie. At first Qu Yunmie didn’t understand. When he did, he quickly lifted his own hand.

He didn’t touch Xiao Rong’s palm—he knew he had no sense of measure—so he simply held his hand up and waited for Xiao Rong to slap it.

A crisp clap rang out. Qu Yunmie smiled, and Mijing could not help but curl his lips a little as he watched them.

Mm. Their level of annoyance dropped just a little.

…

After resting enough, everyone set out again. They had marched beyond the pass yesterday and were now within the border.

Xiao Rong was still thinking about what to do in the afternoon to pass the time, but when the army approached a city, he suddenly heard commotion outside.

He hurriedly poked his head out of the carriage—not bandits this time, but common folk sending them off.

“Long live the Northern Army! Long live the King of the Northern Frontier!”

“Thank you, Lords, for destroying the Xianbei!”

“Father, do you see this? They avenged you!”

Xiao Rong stared in astonishment at the plainly dressed townsfolk. They must have heard the news and waited here early. The army didn’t stop, so the people rushed forward to shove things into the soldiers hands. In winter, there was nothing good to give. It was mostly homemade flatbreads and steamed buns, the better-off families offered some pastries.

According to past practice, a triumphant army should be greeted with melons and flowers. In the northern lands at this season, forget flowers—even a blade of grass was impossible to find. So some young women plucked off the silk flowers they wore on their hairpins, blushing furiously as they threw them into the marching ranks.

If nothing unexpected happened, this would be their only meeting in this lifetime. The gesture had nothing to do with romance—only gratitude.

The troops kept moving forward, and soon Xiao Rong’s carriage entered the crowd as well. He saw the nearby soldiers’ faces turn red at once. Even those who didn’t blush moved stiffly, as if they no longer knew how to walk.

Xiao Rong couldn’t help but press his lips together in laughter. At that moment the crowd noticed him. Among all the dusty, battle-worn soldiers, Xiao Rong looked fresh and bright, like a foreign prince they had abducted. The crowd froze for a moment, then reflexively reached toward him.

Thunk!

Some auntie’s steamed bun—so hard it could be used as a weapon—hit him squarely on the forehead and knocked him back into the carriage.

Some time later, Qu Yunmie sat dark-faced, holding a peeled boiled egg. Ironically, the egg was also given by the common folk.

…

Xiao Rong accepted it and rubbed his own head. Qu Yunmie stared at the bruise on his forehead, sounding extremely displeased. “These wretched people!”

Xiao Rong said, “Your Majesty, you forget to be cautious with your words again.”

Qu Yunmie said, “They hit you like this and I can’t even say a few words?”

Then he muttered under his breath, “I shouldn’t have let them get so close.”

Xiao Rong looked at him and couldn’t help laughing. “Enough, don’t act like you’re the victim. It was only an accident. That aunt didn’t do it on purpose. Seeing so many people voluntarily coming to send us off just to say thank you—aren’t you happy?”

Qu Yunmie said nothing.

He kept his face taut. “Killing the Xianbei was my business. They don’t need to thank me.”

Xiao Rong said, “All right, all right, it was your business. There’s nobody else here, so why not tell me the truth? When you saw them, did you feel happy—perhaps even a little flattered?”

Qu Yunmie didn’t answer. Xiao Rong set down the egg and coaxed him gently, “It’s fine if you did. Everyone feels that. Even I did.”

Qu Yunmie looked at him, frowned, and finally admitted, “…Just a little.”

Xiao Rong looked at him and slowly pressed his lips together, but in the end he couldn’t hold back. He suddenly burst into laughter.

Qu Yunmie instantly burned with humiliation. “You asked me! Why are you laughing!”

Xiao Rong quickly waved his hands. “No, no, I’m not laughing at you. I… I was happy too! ‘The army and the people are of one heart’—these words sound simple, but after all the distance we traveled and all the time we spent, the Northern Army finally achieved them. I felt proud for Your Majesty, and happy for you.”

At that, he stopped laughing. He sat up properly and said to Qu Yunmie, “Congratulations, Your Majesty. You have become the Great Hero in the hearts of the people once again.”

Qu Yunmie: “…”

He lowered his eyes. “I did it for myself, not for them.”

Xiao Rong said, “That’s not quite right. You did it for your dead friends and family, for the Northern troops who died under the Xianbei’s iron hooves ten years ago, and for all the common people who suffered under Xianbei cruelty. The scope grew little by little. There may be priorities, but never a clean division. Can Your Majesty honestly swear that you didn’t want to avenge these people as well?”

Qu Yunmie looked at him and said nothing again.

Of course he couldn’t deny it. If given the chance, he would kill every last person who wronged his people. If enemies beyond that threatened them, he might even act for the sake of weaker tribes nearby. He had been born with a sense of justice, yet life had been cruel. He had to avenge those he knew before he could look farther outward.

Xiao Rong said these things to help Qu Yunmie accept the people’s admiration—never to think “I don’t deserve it.” If Qu Yunmie didn’t deserve it, then no one in the world did.

His words achieved more than that. Accepting admiration meant accepting responsibility. Qu Yunmie might never love the people as if they were his own children, but he would never tolerate seeing his people bullied.

The Northern Army were his people, now these common folk were his people too.

Qu Yunmie thought that he would try his best to protect them.

 

 

Edited by: Antiope

 

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