On the second day of the tenth month in the sixth year of Shengde, on a very ordinary night, a drizzling autumn rain fell over Jinling, and the entire city was wrapped in a winter’s chill. Chenliu had no rain, but one couldn’t see their own hand in front of their face. Black clouds covered the stars and moon. An old man pushed open his window and sighed toward the silent street.

“It’s going to snow again.”

Buxian Mountain and Great Xianbei Mountain had already been covered in white snow since September. At the foot of the mountain, Gongsun Yuan and Yu Shaocheng felt it most deeply. Gongsun Yuan kept cursing this wretched weather. He wanted to drink a mouthful of liquor to warm himself, but because of the military rules, he could only force hot water down his throat. Only after his stiff hands and feet warmed up did he spare a moment to observe his companion.

Yu Shaocheng was sitting on the ground, fully absorbed in writing a letter to his older brother.

Gongsun Yuan: “…”

He was the one who came from Liaoxi, yet Yu Shaocheng, a true southerner, wasn’t afraid of the cold at all. Snow fell outside, but he could stay in the tent wearing only a single layer, and he could even write smoothly.

Gongsun Yuan was shocked. No sleep, no fear of cold, no interest in women—was this guy even human?

Gongsun Yuan recalled something his own concubine had once said. It was said that those great aristocratic clans used every means possible to give birth to an heir worthy of the family—training the girls early, taking bizarre medicines, using witchcraft during intercourse. Most of it accomplished nothing, but the world was vast and full of oddities. Perhaps before the Yu clan collapsed, they too made some desperate attempts.

This could explain all the strange things about Yu Shaocheng.

Tsk. Aristocratic families were troublesome. So many procedures just to have a child. For him, having children was simple—enter the room, close eyes, open eyes, leave, and nine months later, the child came out.

 

…

 

Heavy snow meant the Khitan people couldn’t come out, and the Northern Army couldn’t go in. Sitting here doing nothing was boring. Seeing Yu Shaocheng already writing his fourth letter, Gongsun Yuan fell silent, then simply sat by the table and took two sheets of paper from him.

Picking up his brush, Gongsun Yuan wondered whom he should write to. Chenliu? No, that would cause domestic conflicts. Shuofang? Forget it—writing without cause would earn him a harsh scolding from the King.

After thinking for a long time, he finally wrote down Yuan Baifu’s name.

The King had disbanded the Left Army. Yuan Baifu had said nothing, but clearly he had become much more silent than before. They were good brothers. Gongsun Yuan didn’t want him to bear resentment toward the King over this. Besides, matters like this would become more frequent, because the King was becoming more and more like a true ruler. The sovereign acted as a sovereign, ministers acted as ministers—this was something they should get used to.

How could anyone remain unchanged forever? Take himself as an example—after marrying, he spent less time with his brothers. Separation and reunion were normal as long as the King’s nature didn’t change. He still cared about his old brothers.

After fretting over the letter for half a day, Gongsun Yuan wrote a few sentences and considered it done. Another quarter-hour passed, and Yu Shaocheng also finished. Gongsun Yuan watched the guards take away both his letter and Yu Shaocheng’s book.

Gongsun Yuan: “…”

Luckily he didn’t have such a younger brother, or he would beat him every day.

So long-winded. What kind of conduct was that! It wasn’t even a letter to a lover!

 

……

 

After the guards left, they delivered one of the letters to someone else. The two men split up, one riding west, the other south.

Horse hooves struck down and sprang up again, crushing the once-pure snow. Fluffy snowflakes were trampled hard, and when they flew up again, they turned into filthy mud.

The snowy night was eroding the land. Its silver cloak would come sooner or later, and no one would escape it. People slept warm in their beds, unaware of the crisis approaching. Only a handful sensed the biting northern wind, but what use was foresight? The horse’s hooves didn’t care which snowflake they crushed, and natural disaster didn’t care which speck of dust it buried.

 

*

 

Sun Renluan’s reply finally arrived. After Shen Yangrui read it, he pondered for a while before asking someone to bring Yuan Baifu. As Sun Renluan had written it in a rush, some of the wording was imperfect, so Shen Yangrui polished it, mainly to preserve Yuan Baifu’s pride—he couldn’t let him think the court looked down on him.

Although they did look down on him, Yuan Baifu couldn’t know.

As for Sun Renluan’s decision, even Shen Yangrui felt he was being too generous. Yuan Baifu had followed Qu Yunmie for many years. He had a bit of fame on the Central Plains. Many achievements had his name attached, but everyone knew that in the battles Qu Yunmie participated in or created, Qu Yunmie alone accounted for ninety percent of the merit. The other generals merely picked up scraps. If anyone thought carefully, General Yuan seemed to have never fought any truly impressive battle.

He often cleaned up the battlefield for Qu Yunmie, handled the aftermath, and ran errands. None of that counted as military merit.

To grant such a man a marquisate—or even boldly promise to make him a king—naturally displeased Shen Yangrui, the Grand General of Southern Yong. Still, he understood why Sun Renluan did it: Yuan Baifu brought many soldiers with him.

If these soldiers truly stayed in Southern Yong, it might not completely overturn the balance between Southern Yong and the Northern King, but it would at least let Southern Yong breathe easier.

Also if one of the four great commanders defected to them, it would dampen the Northern King’s prestige. If used properly, it might even cause the Northern Army to collapse and the King of the North to fall from power.

 

…

 

Qu Yunmie’s weakness was well-known—at least all his enemies knew it. Han Qing was impressive, not only did he know it, he successfully used it. This made Southern Yong extremely envious. They wanted to try such a vile tactic too, but they lacked Han Qing’s boldness and courage to cast aside burdens. They didn’t mind grave-robbing, but they did mind cooperating with the Xianbei—that was too degrading. Proud Southern Yong people couldn’t do that.

 

…

 

Thus, Yuan Baifu’s actions were like a pillow offered to a dozing man, but figuring out how to use him required thought. That was also Sun Renluan’s intention. He had no plan yet, but he knew Yuan Baifu belonged in Ningzhou. Keeping him there would attract Qu Yunmie’s fury without risking an assault on Jinling. So in the letter, he commanded Shen Yangrui to ensure Yuan Baifu and his fifty thousand troops stayed in the city.

The other twenty thousand troops were to be transported to Jinling as soon as possible to reinforce the garrison.

 

…

Shen Yangrui felt Sun Renluan had already paid a steep price to keep Yuan Baifu, but from the moment Yuan Baifu heard he would stay in Zitong and serve as Marquis of Zitong, his mood soured.

He saw clearly that the Southern Yong people wanted to make them fight each other. Once he stabilized his position and strengthened his forces, he too wanted to meet Qu Yunmie on the battlefield, but not now. With only these few tens of thousands, how could he defeat Qu Yunmie and his central army?

Southern Yong even wanted to take away his soldiers—unacceptable.

He negotiated with Shen Yangrui for a long time. He remained outwardly calm, and Shen Yangrui sensed something was off but couldn’t pinpoint it. Even so, he bore a death order and was absolutely loyal to Sun Renluan. He would never agree to let Yuan Baifu go elsewhere.

Yuan Baifu tried hard to bargain for himself, but he wasn’t skilled in negotiation. In truth, none of the Northern Border generals were. They only knew how to fight, then talk afterward.

Pretty words had no power in the face of real benefit. Speaking—this should have been something Yuan Baifu excelled at, but today he realized he was actually clumsy-tongued. His thoughts grew messier, and after he blurted out something offensive, Shen Yangrui suddenly rose and reprimanded him with the authority of a long-time Grand General. “Boy of the Yuan family, watch your words!”

Yuan Baifu was stunned for a moment, then instinctively yielded. “This subordinate did not dare.”

 

…

 

Once those words left his mouth, Yuan Baifu froze entirely.

Shen Yangrui’s expression softened. He sat down again and gestured for Yuan Baifu to sit as well.

Yuan Baifu sat, head lowered, his expression hidden.

 

*

 

In the afternoon, Yuan Baifu returned to camp. Qu Jin immediately came up to him. “How was it? What did Shen Yangrui say?”

Yuan Baifu ignored him and continued toward his tent.

Qu Jin frowned and chased after him. “Did he make things hard for you?”

The more he thought about it, the more certain he felt. He began to curse. “Damn court! We came as a favor to them, and at this time they still pick and choose—ridiculous!”

He stepped in front of Yuan Baifu and blocked his way. “If you ask me, we should break through directly, go to Cangshui and make achievements. I heard the Prefect of Jianning, Huang Yanjiong, held military power arrogantly, but right now he’s with the Xianbei. His remaining men are all in Jianning City. We could seize the city, then establish ourselves in Heyang. Heyang is under Qiang control now. Southern Yong can’t reach it, and Qu Yunmie can’t attack it quickly.”

Yuan Baifu had originally only been agitated, unable to take in Qu Jin’s words but still patient enough to stand there. However, the moment he heard Qu Yunmie’s name, something snapped in his mind.

He had heard that name only two or three times today, but for some reason, it felt like hundreds.

He raised his head and glared at Qu Jin so fiercely that the latter froze. “I didn’t come this far to keep company with southern barbarians! Since you fear Qu Yunmie so much, why did you agree to rise with me in the first place?! I am the commander now. Where I say we go, we go! If you still have the leisure to chatter, then shut your mouth and keep watch on Yao Xian and the others! If they escape, I will hold you responsible!”

He flung his sleeve and left. Qu Jin stood frozen for a long time, then turned around. Several people stood behind him, all lowering their heads at once, pretending they heard nothing.

Farther away, someone happened to pass by. Seeing Qu Jin’s spectacular expression, he quickened his steps to return.

 

…

 

That man was from the rear army, out fetching water. When he returned, he told the other officers everything he had seen. Three of them were willing to follow Qu Jin— so they were already excluded by the main group. Now they didn’t dare gather openly, they only met secretly at night.

After hearing the report, Yao Xian stayed silent, but the others couldn’t hold back. “They were not of one mind. If we don’t break out now, when will we?!”

“That’s right! Yao Xian, stop being such a coward. We must avenge General Wang!”

“I want to personally cut off that Yuan cur’s head and offer it to General Wang’s spirit!”

The veins on Yao Xian’s forehead nearly burst. “No!”

“Starting a civil fight here would give Southern Yong a perfect spectacle! If we fought until both sides were wounded, what use would that be? Shen Yangrui would seize us all! I also want revenge, but the Shen Army is watching us fiercely. This is not the right time!”

At that, a general in his twenties stormed out. Yao Xian quickly sent someone who supported him to follow.

With two gone, the others dispersed unhappily. Yao Xian returned to his tent and finally let his heartsickness show.

He couldn’t command the troops. The rear army couldn’t tolerate Yuan Baifu’s arrogance. The other side wasn’t united and neither were they. Losing the commander was always disastrous during a military march—everyone thought they could lead, so in the end, no one could.

Yao Xian had never borne such pressure. He suddenly felt like vomiting, but aside from feeling terrible, he did nothing.

My Lord…

My Lord, please come save them soon. He didn’t want to lead the soldiers to mutual destruction.

 

*

 

Yao Xian did not send just one messenger. He sent three. Any more and there would be no chance, because they were now in Zitong, surrounded by spies. The Shen Army watched them, and Yuan Baifu’s people watched them.

The three men left from different times and places. One died along the way, falling off a slope due to the complicated terrain. The other two continued on foot toward Chenliu. All the horses had been confiscated by Yuan Baifu. Any missing horse would be noticed. They had no choice.

Once they left the mountain forest, things would be better. Once they met villagers, they could ride again.

This was easier said than done. Even modern hikers with full equipment could die in such mountains. These two soldiers had nothing, yet they bore the duty of delivering a message.

At last, one of them dragged legs heavy as lead and reached what looked like field ridges. He stared blankly at the farmer holding a shovel. Both sides looked confused for a moment. Then the exhausted soldier suddenly rushed forward like a madman, grabbing the farmer’s arm.

“Old sir! Where is this?! What is the nearest city?!”

The fifty-year-old farmer, who had lived through many storms, blinked and answered, “Zhida, Sichangan.”

The young soldier: “…”

After reacting for quite a while, he finally understood that Sichangan was Changan, he had gone too far around the mountain and had actually reached the territory of Changan.

This young soldier was still quite quick-witted, otherwise Yao Xian wouldn’t have chosen him to deliver the message. In other places he might not have dared reveal his identity, but in Changan he shouldn’t need to worry.

After all, if anyone hated the Xianbei the most, it was certainly the surviving people of Changan, and thus the ones who were most grateful to the Northern Army were also these survivors of Changan.

After learning that he belonged to the Northern Army, the farmer quickly contacted the village head, and the village head hastily took him to buy a means of transport. There were no horses for sale nearby, but in the next village, someone raised mules. The village head paid for one, and the young soldier was moved almost to tears. When he rode the mule eastward at a slow pace, a group of ragged people stood behind him waving—there were the village head and the able-bodied men from the first village, and all the men and women, old and young, from the village where he bought the mule.

The young soldier had merely broken into their unchanging world for a moment before leaving again, but they sincerely hoped he would reach his destination safely, and if he would no longer get lost in the future, that would be even better.

 

…………

 

Exhausted, the young soldier gained new strength again. He urged the mule the whole way, hoping to reach a town quickly and exchange it for a fast horse. What he didn’t know was that Changan was extremely, extremely large—one Changan was the size of a small province, and the village he had encountered earlier was only the edge of Changan.

So he still had to run a while longer.

Still, of the eighty-one hardships, eighty had already passed. The road ahead would no longer be so difficult.

 

*

 

Xiao Rong wrapped himself tightly in his blanket, his legs curled from the cold.

Cold worked that way—no matter how many blankets you piled on, when you slept under the heavens and on the earth out in the wild, you couldn’t feel warmth like being indoors.

Of course, Xiao Rong wasn’t sleeping on the ground. He slept in the carriage, but the carriage let in wind and its boards were thin, so sleeping there wasn’t much different from the ground.

Logically, the farther south they went, the warmer it should’ve become, but they have been traveling so many days, every day felt just as cold to Xiao Rong.

This was the second winter he has experienced in this era. He doesn’t know if it is his imagination, but it felt as though this year was much colder than the last.

Thinking of this, Xiao Rong couldn’t help opening his eyes.

—Six hundred years.

This cold period lasted a total of six hundred years, and the unbearable stage lasted two hundred years. The remaining four hundred were still cold, but not to the point of claiming so many lives. Food production decreased but didn’t collapse entirely, so people still had a way to survive.

Xiao Rong wasn’t an expert, but he knew the rough timeline—it was around the time after He Ting ascended to power and before the Han Family Emperors took over. During that stretch, temperatures gradually warmed, and those two hundred years of the Little Ice Age were finally endured.

Originally these details were unimportant, but once he remembered them, he greedily hoped that the turning year would appear during Qu Yunmie’s reign.

In truth, it didn’t matter which year it happened—earlier was simply better. If it happened to coincide with Qu Yunmie’s enthronement, the common people would surely recognize him even more deeply as their Emperor, and would come to love and support him even more.

Heaven and Earth wouldn’t change their patterns for any person, so this was only Xiao Rong’s wishful thinking—he simply hoped Qu Yunmie could have more, that was all.

Letting out a quiet breath, Xiao Rong curled himself tighter into a ball and tried to fall asleep despite the cold. At that moment, he heard the crackling of burning firewood outside.

Xiao Rong froze. He sat up at once and lifted the curtain. He saw Qu Yunmie coming out of the tent, raking at the fire on the ground. The firelight illuminated his face, making him look somewhat solitary.

Xiao Rong watched him for a while, then lowered the curtain.

 

…………

 

Qu Yunmie stared at the fire. The flames danced in his eyes and scorched them, but he never looked away. Only when he heard the carriage sway did he turn his head. He didn’t see the person, instead he heard a heavy thud, and then small sounds of movement.

“Ow, my foot.”

Qu Yunmie: “…”

He brought the sprained Xiao Rong over to the fire, saying irritably, “Why aren’t you sleeping? What are you fussing around for?”

Xiao Rong rubbed his ankle. When he heard that, he let out a disbelieving laugh. “Then why aren’t you sleeping? What are you doing here pretending to be profound?”

Qu Yunmie: “…”

He defended himself. “I’m not pretending to be profound. I just couldn’t sleep.”

Xiao Rong snorted, tightened the thick fur around himself, scooted closer to the fire, and asked, “Why can’t you sleep?”

Qu Yunmie stayed silent for a long time before answering. “I don’t know.”

Xiao Rong: “…”

Qu Yunmie continued, “We won the battle. The casualties were within what I could accept. Even though Southern Yong attacked Yizhou, I’m not worried about them.”

Xiao Rong looked at him, knowing he hadn’t finished.

As expected, after a short silence, Qu Yunmie lifted his head and looked toward the darkness. “But I keep feeling that these days of smooth sailing are about to end. Rong, I am a little worried.”

Xiao Rong opened his mouth but didn’t know how to comfort him, because he was experiencing similar feelings himself. Other people’s comfort was useless—whatever was worrying still had to be worried about.

After a while, he laughed softly. “During the day you acted completely normal. I didn’t notice anything at all. Your skill in hiding your emotions has improved greatly.”

Qu Yunmie looked at him. “That’s because before tonight, I wasn’t worried.”

Xiao Rong: “…”

Qu Yunmie didn’t see Xiao Rong’s fallen expression. He only lowered his head again and said quietly, “There were times like this before. I felt something would go wrong—and then something really did.”

Xiao Rong had been annoyed earlier because Qu Yunmie contradicted him, but hearing this, he froze a little.

Qu Yunmie’s intuition was strong—his intuition was practically half a system. Xiao Rong sometimes envied him for it, but tonight he suddenly realized this gift wasn’t such a blessing.

He himself had only lived with the system for a little over a year, and he already felt tormented by its warnings. Qu Yunmie had lived with his intuition his whole life. Whenever he sensed disaster and disaster truly occurred, was that a good thing? With Qu Yunmie’s domineering and protective nature, he would be endlessly frustrated—why hadn’t he stopped it beforehand?

Tilting his head back, Xiao Rong looked at the stars. Sparks crackled beside his ears, and one of the stars flickered. For some reason, Xiao Rong smiled as well.

“King.”

Qu Yunmie looked up at him.

Xiao Rong kept looking at the sky. “A person’s life is just one mishap after another. There is no avoiding them. Trouble always comes. Even the best life will eventually get hit by a falling brick, enough to make you see stars and bleed.”

Qu Yunmie was stunned for a moment. Then Xiao Rong lowered his head and looked at him, smiling directly this time. “Life still has to go on. No one is indispensable. There is no such thing as a hopeless situation—unless someone is truly incurable. Otherwise, there is always a chance to escape and rise again. I don’t know what exactly you sensed, but no matter how big the disaster is, it just means starting over. And I’m not afraid of that.”

Saying this, he tilted his head slightly at Qu Yunmie. “Your Majesty, are you afraid?”

Qu Yunmie pressed his lips together and shook his head.

Xiao Rong smiled again, this time genuinely. The next moment, Qu Yunmie said, “I’m afraid you’ll leave me.”

He said it calmly, with no other emotion in his eyes, as though he had stated something ordinary. Xiao Rong’s expression changed slightly. He stared at Qu Yunmie, who met his eyes for a moment before turning back to the fire.

—Intuition.

Qu Yunmie’s intuition didn’t only show itself on the battlefield, it appeared in daily life as well. Just like tonight—he didn’t know what he feared, only that the fear existed. He also didn’t know why he always had such thoughts.

It was like a waking nightmare. Sometimes, when he watched Xiao Rong, a voice rose within him—he didn’t want Xiao Rong to leave.

Before, it didn’t happen often—perhaps once a month. Recently, it grew more frequent—every two or three days. It irritated Qu Yunmie greatly.

After staring at the fire a while longer, he felt he had thought enough tonight. He stood and said to Xiao Rong, “Come, I’ll take you back to the carriage.”

Xiao Rong was half a beat slow before lifting his head. From that angle, Qu Yunmie looked particularly tall and distant. Xiao Rong fluttered his eyes twice, then placed his hand in Qu Yunmie’s.

Using his support, he stood. Xiao Rong wanted to say that his foot no longer hurt, but until they returned to the carriage, he never found a chance to say it.

 

*

At the same time, in Chenliu.

Eight days had passed since Yuan Baifu’s rebellion, and that young soldier finally reached Chenliu. He arrived in the middle of the night, dazed. When his mule ran toward the city gate alone at full speed, the guards saw him charging toward them without slowing at all and thought he was the enemy. A blast of the horn brought hundreds of soldiers rushing out at once. Archers took position on the walls and aimed at the dirt-covered man who looked like a wandering refugee.

They shouted fiercely, “Stop! Dismount! I said dismount, do you hear me?!”

“Anyone who forces the gate will be killed without mercy!”

“Get down!!!”

Someone struck, knocking him off his mule with one spear thrust. The man hit the ground and didn’t move. That didn’t look like the start of an enemy assault. Could he be carrying plague—a trap set by the enemy?

The guards were confused but still approached cautiously.

The garrison of Chenliu numbered one hundred thousand, a patchwork of soldiers drawn from all the armies—central, front, rear, left, and right.

Someone recognized him as a personal soldier of Captain Yao from the rear army and rushed forward in shock. “You’re Captain Yao’s man?! How did you become like this?”

At that moment, the young soldier finally regained a bit of consciousness. He was far too tired—he had run day and night, and because the Northern King’s rule was indirect, he hadn’t dared tell local officials or ask them to deliver the message for him. He hadn’t eaten for two days, hadn’t drank any water for one day, and his previous mount had already collapsed. At times he thought he was close to death himself.

Hearing a familiar voice and seeing familiar faces when he opened his eyes, with so many people looking down at him anxiously, the young soldier opened his mouth—but before his voice came out, large tears spilled from his eyes.

Lying on the ground, he cried loudly, snot and tears running everywhere. “Yuan Baifu killed General Wang!!!”

“Yuan Baifu rebelled! He rebelled! Do you hear me? He rebelled!!!”

After shouting those words, completing his mission, he finally burst into full sobs. The guards around him were all stunned. The officer in charge of the gate also came out. He clearly heard every word the soldier said. Pressing his lips together, he ordered his men, “Take him inside to rest. Bring a doctor to see him.”

“You two—go to Chancellor Gao immediately! Hurry!!”

 

 

Edited by: Antiope

 

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