The weather was getting colder. Instructions for building the kang were printed and ready. Poor families could do it themselves, wealthier ones could hire one of three available worker teams. These workers weren’t free. Demand far exceeded supply. Building a kang wasn’t that technical—anyone willing to learn could earn well this fall.

Everything was in place—except the Liu Yi Mud. When Xiao Rong voiced his request, the Daoists exchanged looks. None of them wanted to give up the recipe.

This was sacred to their tradition, developed painstakingly by fellow Daoists. Why share it with non-believers?

Seeing their reluctance, Xiao Rong added, the first to submit the formula would have their temple’s name and their own Daoist title printed on all official notices, clearly stating that this person contributed Liu Yi Mud for the sake of protecting people from the cold. These notices would be posted all across the Huai region.

At this, the pragmatic Daoists’ eyes lit up.

…

To be honest, both monks and Daoists were tricky to deal with. Monks were rigid in their principles, only obeying their scriptures and masters—outsiders had little sway. Daoists, on the other hand, lacked such rigid principles but were cunning and never acted without seeing the “rabbit.”

Once he got the Daoists on board, Xiao Rong pulled out a paper and started drafting the latter half of the notice.

The first part was about kang construction. The second emphasized Liu Yi Mud—its heat insulation and fire prevention. It not only saved fuel but reduced fire hazards.

Most homes were still made of wood or thatch. Fires were common even without kangs. With them, fire risks actually dropped—provided they weren’t built near walls. The kangs should be in the center of the room, with gaps from walls. Chimneys could be built above or blocked with non-flammable materials. People had survived countless winters before—surely, they wouldn’t die from warmth now.

Xiao Rong hadn’t practiced calligraphy lately, but since he wrote so much, it effectively served as practice. His handwriting was no longer questioned. The woodworkers carving print boards often used his characters. Now, his works filled every street corner. Some poor families even tore down outdated public notices to bring home as practice material for their kids.

Such “petty thefts” always made Xiao Rong’s heart soften. There were truly wicked people in the world, but also incredibly pure ones—so pure they didn’t even dare steal something still useful.

This only made Xiao Rong more eager to move forward—to start making paper and start selling books.

Still, he couldn’t rush. He couldn’t afford to take any risks now. Enemies were moving in secret, and he needed real strength before taking bold actions.

Resting his head on his hand, Xiao Rong couldn’t help but wonder—what was his strength, his confidence, doing right now?

…………

That confidence was inspecting tents throughout the camps.

Yesterday, they crossed Yanmen Pass. The army was now stationed 40 li outside Shengle City. By tomorrow, they would reach the city gates. However, the Xianbei army had also mobilized, encamped just 10 li outside the city. Scouts from both sides were almost brushing past each other.

The farther north they went, the colder it got. They camped on grasslands, and though it was only late July, nearly August, the grass was already turning yellow—something that should’ve happened two weeks later.

This was going to be another harsh winter. The Northern Frontier Army didn’t react much—they were used to this. Even at night, with lows of 7–8°C, it wasn’t freezing yet.

To those who had responded to the call, however,  the weather wasn’t acceptable, especially to those nobles who were used to luxury. When they didn’t know the Northern Army had coal mines, they had their subordinates burn charcoal to keep warm. Once they found out the army had brought so much coal, their tents were practically steaming all the time.

Qu Yunmie was also steaming—with anger.

The two-month mining output from the tribal prisoners was enough to supply a large army. Besides, they had also brought a lot of warm powder and charcoal. What’s more, the tribal prisoners didn’t get any rest, even after the army set off, they still had to continue mining.

Qu Yunmie knew that letting the nobles use some coal wasn’t a big deal. Since he was the one who called them out, he had to ensure their living conditions. If he wasn’t even willing to give them coal, who knew what they would say about him once they returned. Making enemies over such trivial matters was really unnecessary.

Yes, that was the logic—Qu Yunmie understood it, but he was still furious!

When the two men approaching from afar saw his dark gaze fixed on He Tingzhi’s tent, they both froze for a second, then immediately ran toward him.

One of them was Jian Qiao, and the other was Yuan Baifu.

Jian Qiao came from one direction, while Yuan Baifu arrived from another along with Gongsun Yuan. Halfway there, Jian Qiao noticed Yuan Baifu was also heading over, so he instantly picked up speed and silently blocked Yuan Baifu like an ox.

Yuan Baifu frowned slightly. He didn’t understand what was going on with Jian Qiao. Ever since they parted ways in Yanmen Commandery, Jian Qiao’s attitude toward him had changed. He had asked Gongsun Yuan indirectly about it, but Gongsun Yuan had done nothing in Chenliu except complete Qu Yunmie’s orders and take another concubine. He didn’t care about anything else.

The only thing Gongsun Yuan could tell him was that Jian Qiao had a particularly good relationship with Xiao Rong—he admired him almost to the point of worship. He had even given his brother-in-law to Xiao Rong as a bodyguard.

Yuan Baifu was very surprised.

Jian Qiao had mentioned this on the first day they reunited, but Yuan Baifu didn’t know that Zhang Biezhi had gone to serve as a bodyguard for Xiao Rong. That was just too much—it felt like he was debasing himself.

Zhang Biezhi: …I’m the deputy commander of the bodyguards!

Too bad Gongsun Yuan didn’t remember those last few words. He only remembered “bodyguard.”

Yuan Baifu didn’t think Xiao Rong had seen through his rebellious thoughts—because that was pure nonsense. He hadn’t had such thoughts, at least not yet. He just had a lot of complaints about Qu Yunmie and the Northern Army, and those complaints had only deepened with Xiao Rong’s arrival.

Honestly, among the four of them, Jian Qiao was always the one least impressed by Yuan Baifu. Jian Qiao was only part of their circle because he had followed Qu Yunmie from childhood—wherever Qu Yunmie went, he went. He had always been loyal, which was why the four of them were always together as they grew up.

If you break it down: Jian Qiao was closest to Qu Yunmie, Yuan Baifu was closest to Gongsun Yuan, and Gongsun Yuan treated everyone the same—though he showed Qu Yunmie more respect due to their superior-subordinate relationship. As for Qu Yunmie, he was closest to Yuan Baifu.

Among brothers, the reason Yuan Baifu ranked first in Qu Yunmie’s heart was because he knew how to handle people—he smiled often and treated Qu Yunmie well. So in return, Qu Yunmie naturally grew closer to him. If you laid out all the reasons in detail, it might seem like their bond wasn’t that deep, but years of camaraderie and fighting side by side weren’t fake. Even if it had started that way, their later laughter and teamwork were deeply etched in Qu Yunmie’s memory. Everything was like that—the beginning didn’t matter, how it developed did.

…

Yuan Baifu naturally blamed Jian Qiao’s attitude toward him on Xiao Rong. He disliked Xiao Rong from the first time he saw him, so he assumed Xiao Rong didn’t like him either.

That didn’t mean he would just take it lying down. Though the four of them appeared to have equal status, Yuan Baifu had always seen himself as the leader of their group—the one who should make decisions when Qu Yunmie wasn’t around.

However, all these years, Qu Yunmie had always been present. Even when he wasn’t, Gao Xunzhi was, so Yuan Baifu never had the chance to show his true intentions, and no one knew he thought this way.

His expression darkened. Yuan Baifu gripped Jian Qiao’s arm and yanked him half a step aside. Jian Qiao didn’t want to give way, and pushing him aside wasn’t realistic—Yuan Baifu knew that too. So both of them tried to speak to Qu Yunmie at the same time.

They both wanted to be the one to persuade Qu Yunmie not to act impulsively, but because of the unspoken tension between them, neither actually said it out loud. While the two of them were still sparring with words and looks, Qu Yunmie took a deep breath and said, “Forget it. Let them enjoy themselves for one more day.”

With that, he turned and went back to his tent.

Yuan Baifu: “…”

Jian Qiao: “…”

At that moment, Gongsun Yuan, who had been silently watching for a long time, stepped forward. For once, he actually paid attention to the subtle tension between the two. He even used a popular phrase from Chenliu City: “What kind of show are you two putting on?”

Yuan Baifu and Jian Qiao glanced at each other. Jian Qiao let out a cold snort and turned to follow Qu Yunmie. Yuan Baifu was equally upset and muttered, “Lackey of the literati.”

Gongsun Yuan heard this and frowned. “Who are you talking about?”

Yuan Baifu pursed his lips and shook his head. “No one. I was just speaking nonsense. Don’t take it to heart.”

Gongsun Yuan still frowned but didn’t say anything more. He wasn’t the type to meddle. Still, the conflict between Jian Qiao and Yuan Baifu irritated him—it felt like something was about to change.

Once the two of them had also left, the area became empty.

Before any of them had arrived, Yu Shaocheng had already been in his tent quietly refining weapons. Now, he slowly stepped out.

Even a small disagreement between generals could lead to consequences no one wanted to see. Yu Shaocheng tilted his head, set down his tools, and headed toward Yu Shaoxie’s tent.

Yu Shaoxie had his own tent. The other two scholars shared one. These days, Yu Shaoxie had been busy calculating how many reinforcements the Xianbei might send and how long the war might last. Though the King wouldn’t follow his battle strategies directly, he still used the data for reference.

When Yu Shaocheng entered the tent, he recounted everything he had just seen and heard, down to Yuan Baifu’s impulsive comment.

Yu Shaoxie looked genuinely surprised. “He actually said that about Rong’er?”

Yu Shaocheng: “…”

“Brother, it’s better if you just call him Mr. Xiao. There are too many ears around. Calling him that might give people the wrong impression.”

Yu Shaoxie didn’t understand. How could calling someone ‘Rong’er’ give a bad impression? At most, it just showed people they were close.

Still, they were traveling and not at home—being careful wouldn’t hurt.

Yu Shaoxie agreed and then frowned in thought. “I always thought General Yuan was the most open-minded among them, but today, he insulted Jian Qiao like that, which shows he sees associating with scholars as a sign of weakness.”

Yu Shaocheng didn’t confirm or deny it. He had a different view. He felt Yuan Baifu didn’t necessarily hate scholars—he just disliked Xiao Rong personally. Just like him—sometimes when he was upset, he would mentally call Xiao Rong “the scholar stealing my brother.” ‘Scholar’ was just a label. After all, his own brother was a scholar—he could never truly hate them.

…

Yu Shaoxie didn’t know what Yu Shaocheng was thinking. He only knew that he had figured some things out.

No wonder Jian Qiao’s attitude had changed—probably because Xiao Rong had said something to him before leaving. Jian Qiao’s mind was much like the King’s—he wasn’t the type to keep things hidden—so he had let slip a few clues, and Yuan Baifu had noticed them.

Yu Shaoxie couldn’t help but shake his head. He didn’t understand why Xiao Rong trusted Jian Qiao so much. Wouldn’t it have been better to tell him? He could have guaranteed that no one would notice anything wrong.

However, just like Yuan Baifu, Yu Shaoxie couldn’t have imagined that Xiao Rong had warned Jian Qiao to be on guard against a potential shift within the army. He had thought it was something else entirely. Regardless, from that day on, Yu Shaoxie stayed vigilant.

＊

That night, Yu Shaoxie brought the intelligence he had compiled to Qu Yunmie. Looking through it, Qu Yunmie finally found Yu Shaoxie somewhat pleasing to the eye.

The Xianbei’s recent struggles hadn’t been completely useless—they had called upon many minor allies, such as the Rouran, Fuyu, Khitan, Kumo Xi, and many other small tribes.

Altogether, these reinforcements didn’t number more than 30,000 men— there was a catch: 20,000 of them were cavalry.

Qu Yunmie looked through the names of these small states and tribes one by one. Yu Shaoxie couldn’t help but offer a suggestion. He had a way to dismantle these reinforcements without using a single soldier, because not all of them were of one mind with the Xianbei. For example, the Khitan—Qu Yunmie had driven them away before, and they didn’t even want to come this time, but the Xianbei had threatened them. Due to geography, they had no choice but to participate. So the King could just offer the Khitan some benefits and assure them the Xianbei wouldn’t pursue them, then let them retreat back home.

Qu Yunmie listened to Yu Shaoxie’s suggestion, then slowly nodded. “Sir is right.”

Yu Shaoxie froze, a little overwhelmed. “Does the King really think so?”

Qu Yunmie looked up and gave him a slight smile. “That’s right. It’s a good plan—but I have an even better one.”

Yu Shaoxie: “…”

He had a bad feeling already.

Sure enough, in the next second Qu Yunmie smiled and said, “Let’s kill them all on the spot. We’ll weaken the Khitan’s defense, and once the Xianbei fall into my grasp, I’ll personally march to the Khitan capital. If their Khagan is smart, he’ll surrender without resistance, which will spare us another war in the future. What do you think, sir?”

Yu Shaoxie: “…”

It made sense.

It also sounded like something a bandit would say.

At that moment, he actually felt Qu Yunmie was being his usual self. Yes—only someone who didn’t always agree with him could be their King.

Yu Shaoxie silently walked out. Qu Yunmie watched his back and thought of how Xiao Rong used to constantly remind him not to be too solitary—that he should at least say a few words to those around him when making decisions. That way, his subordinates would feel valued.

“Wait.”

Yu Shaoxie turned back.

Qu Yunmie was silent for a moment, then finally said, “Tomorrow I don’t plan to launch an attack. I’ll start with a formal challenge—put that bunch of wine sacks and rice bags at the front line, and let the other generals rest where they are to conserve their strength. We’ll strike at night.”

Yu Shaoxie paused. “The King wants to confuse the Xianbei? Makes sense. The Xianbei treat the King like a formidable enemy. If they fight in that state, they’ll fight like cornered beasts, and we’ll suffer heavy losses. In the Xianbei Emperor’s eyes, things might look different. He and his people are just as afraid of the King. Right now, what they probably lack the most is courage and morale. By showing weakness, the King gives them a chance to find courage. Once the illusion is shattered and the fear returns, they won’t even be able to maintain their current state—they’ll just flee in panic.”

Qu Yunmie quietly looked at him.

After a long while, he slowly nodded. “Yes. That’s exactly what I was thinking.”

…

On the first day, when they learned their troops were to take the place of the vanguard, some were happy and some were not.

The happy one was He Tingzhi, because he had handpicked the men he brought. A formal challenge might not be a real battle, but it was still a chance for his subordinates to earn fame. The unhappy one was Huang Yanjiong. He had missed the main force due to distance and uncertainty, and after finally arriving at Yanmen Commandery, he saw the one person he never wanted to see again in his life—

—Huang Keji.

Neither Huang Keji nor Qu Yunmie revealed the truth of what had happened, but everyone who knew them was talking about it, and trying to figure it out. Huang Keji acted like he didn’t even see Huang Yanjiong, standing right there among the Northern Army as one of them.

When he saw his nephew, Huang Yanjiong knew he had been outmaneuvered. Qu Yunmie no longer needed that letter acknowledging past favors. He had Huang Keji—and that was far more useful than any letter.

Although Huang Yanjiong was furious, he still held out some hope. He believed Huang Keji wouldn’t reveal that he had tried to kill him. After all, he was his uncle, and a public break with his uncle would harm his own reputation.

Without Zhou Liang, Huang Yanjiong had to make all his own decisions. He had become much more cautious—no longer as arrogant as before. With his biggest advantage against Qu Yunmie gone, he didn’t dare oppose him now, even if he thought Qu Yunmie was trying to use up his forces or send him to die.

He was overthinking it. If Xiao Rong were here, maybe he would’ve done something like that, but Qu Yunmie wouldn’t. If he wanted to kill Huang Yanjiong, he would do it himself.

After assigning the positions, Qu Yunmie had the great banner of the Yong Dynasty brought out. With the character “Yong” on it, the banner led the front of the formation. He Tingzhi’s chest visibly swelled with pride.

In the distance, the Xianbei stood ready in full formation. Each of them was prepared to die in battle. Their Emperor was not present. The emperor who had once invaded the Central Plains had died shortly after returning to the grasslands. The current one was his son—far less brave and resolute than his father.

The Xianbei Emperor was hiding in Shengle City’s palace, praying his soldiers would hold off the King of the North.

The Xianbei Grand General was also a Murong. In fact, most high-ranking Xianbei shared that surname. Their world was divided by tribe, and once the Murong tribe rose to power, all the others were pushed aside.

The emperor had changed, but the general hadn’t—he was still the same one who had followed the late emperor through countless battles. When he saw the Northern Army’s formation, something felt off. Their steps were unsteady, the formation was loose—this wasn’t the army he had known in the past.

Then again, most of the old Northern Army was dead. Nine out of ten had fallen to the Xianbei.

Including Qu Yunmie’s father, mother, and elder brother.

This would be a brutal battle. Even the General himself wasn’t sure if he would make it out alive.

He subconsciously gripped his weapon tightly. By the time Qu Yunmie’s army finally stopped, his palms were already sweating.

In the next moment, all he heard—besides the fierce wind—was a crude voice shouting, “Xianbei scum, do you dare come out and fight your ancestors?”

The Xianbei Grand General: “…”

You guys never issue challenges! What’s with this new behavior?!

The one shouting was the increasingly loud Jian Qiao, but he didn’t plan to fight himself. The Xianbei had been in the Central Plains long enough to know what a challenge was. Since Qu Yunmie hadn’t attacked, the Xianbei General wasn’t foolish enough to make the first move.

However, he had already fallen behind—his soldiers had come with the mindset of dying to defend the capital. The longer the standoff, the more their morale fell.

Just like Qu Yunmie wouldn’t send his men to die needlessly, the Xianbei General didn’t want to either. He had reinforcements fight first. He picked a Rouran warrior to go out. Seeing that the Rouran had a longbow, He Tingzhi couldn’t sit still.

He had a man skilled in archery under his command—and this was the perfect opportunity.

Qu Yunmie sat on horseback and heard He Tingzhi ask for permission to let his man take the challenge. Qu Yunmie glanced at the young general behind him and nodded.

The young man was indeed skilled. On the march, he could shoot geese from the sky. No need to pretend at first—a win or two, followed by some losses, would look more natural.

Following He Tingzhi’s signal, the young man rode out and announced his name, saying he was a duwei (Captain) of the Yong Dynasty, here by imperial decree to help Prince Dongyang punish the Xianbei rebels.

The Rouran warrior: “…”

He didn’t understand a word.

Although he didn’t understand, others did. Many nodded in approval. That’s how it should be—only the Emperor was legitimate. Qu Yunmie shouldn’t steal all the glory. Good for Dongyang Wang. He deserved a drink or two when they got back.

The Rouran warrior actually spoke some Central Plains language—but not the complex kind. He said his name, and the two began circling each other on horseback. The young man shot three arrows, each aimed at the Rouran’s heart, but the Rouran’s horsemanship was impressive. He dodged the first two, and the third grazed his scalp.

His hair was a mess, and seeing himself about to lose, the Rouran suddenly shouted in rage, “What land of propriety?! You’ve already shot three arrows and given me no chance!”

The young man had already notched another arrow, but he froze. He was a loyal follower of He Tingzhi and believed in all his values. The problem was—He Tingzhi was faking it. He believed it for real.

With a cold laugh, he actually put his bow away. He provocatively looked at the Rouran, ready to let him shoot three arrows, then die a noble death.

The Rouran seized the moment, raised his bow—whizz!

–and shot him dead with one arrow.

Qu Yunmie: “…”

He Tingzhi: “…”

The rest of the spectators: “…”

He Tingzhi’s face was a sight to behold—ashamed, angry, and a little frightened. He glanced at Qu Yunmie and found his expression still tolerable.

Stiff, yes—but tolerable.

Who would’ve thought that nearly a thousand years later, history could repeat itself?

Swallowing the surge of emotion, Qu Yunmie expressionlessly looked at He Tingzhi and said, “I’ll give you a merit for this.”

He Tingzhi: “…”

A merit for losing?

Qu Yunmie thought, of course. Now he had more material to write in his letters tonight. Lots and lots.

 

Edited by: Antiope

 

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