Before she had time to fully turn that remark over in her mind, the vehicle lurched into motion. Xiao Nanhui’s expression shifted.
“Where are you taking me?”
Lu Songping said nothing. He gave the reins a sharp snap, and the carriage accelerated forward.
“Let me out! I want to go find Mo Chunhua!”
Lu Songping, in his green robes, with his long neck and his slender waist, sat there as immovable as a green mountain despite the moving vehicle. “Save it. His Majesty has handed you over to me — which means you do as I say.”
Apart from Xiao Zhun and that old Emperor, there was no one in this world with the right to give her orders!
If he wouldn’t let her out, she’d get out herself. Wasn’t that an option?
She gripped Pingxian and prepared to swing it at the carriage window.
Without turning his head, the man at the front spoke into the air behind him with chilling calm: “That is His Majesty’s carriage. If you have the nerve, go ahead and wreck it thoroughly.”
Xiao Nanhui stumbled and fell back onto the cushions, resentment simmering in her chest as she glared at that indifferent back and laid Pingxian across her own chest.
“The carriage is so cramped — if you insist on holding that up, that is your own affair.”
The carriage jolted forward, flying quickly away from the Black Feather Division’s column, heading up into the dark hills rising above the gobi.
---
The Black Feather Division’s column retreated steadily in the direction of the southeast, not halting until it had put some twenty li between itself and its former position.
This order had come directly from the Emperor. No one in the army dared question it — though more than one general privately harbored doubt and discontent. They all turned it over privately, wondering what the Emperor was trying to accomplish with this move.
That night, one hundred thousand troops made camp on a high ground several dozen li east of the Tianmu River. In the main command tent, the Emperor summoned all the generals and high officers for a conference, to deliberate on how to coordinate with the Guangyao Division in the north and the Suibei Camp in the center, and launch a full assault on Bijiang.
The conference began just after the seventh watch hour and stretched through the night until well into the fourth — and still the Emperor had not given his approval to any single proposal.
The generals went from vigorous argument and heated debate to utter exhaustion, mouths dry and tongues numb. Throughout, the Emperor maintained the same unmoved, noncommittal air, as though he found every strategy inadequate.
At last, the tent fell into a prolonged silence.
Whether it was some private quirk of the Emperor’s, no one knew — but the bronze water clock from the Yuanming Hall had somehow been transported and set up inside the command tent, its drips and trickles setting every nerve on edge, each drop seeming to stretch time into something infinite, making the waiting all the more excruciating.
It was plain enough: the conference was a pretext. Something else entirely was the true business of the night.
Serving beside the Emperor was not like serving beside a tiger. It was like standing at the edge of an abyss. And who could ever know what lay hidden in the depths of an abyss?
Ah — to serve as an official in Tiancheng was truly too difficult.
At last, someone’s composure cracked.
Yan Guang stepped forward, resolved to pierce the paper screen the Emperor had set up.
“Your Majesty has summoned us here tonight — is there perhaps another matter you wish to discuss? This officer is a straightforward sort and does not understand subtlety. Better to simply tell us plainly, rather than waste everyone’s time standing here.”
The Emperor still sat like a statue in his meditation chair, the black outer robe making his expression seem even more remote than usual. But there was something in those eyes — a flicker of something like amusement.
“The general is forthright, and we have no wish to prevaricate. Half a month ago, the Left General led the Guangyao Division’s finest troops in a surprise assault on Bijiang through Famang Ridge and failed — he nearly lost his life at the hands of the Bai Family. He sent word to us, reporting that the reason the Bai Family was prepared was because the marching orders had been leaked. We have turned this over and over in our mind and cannot make sense of it. That is why we have invited you all here tonight. Does anyone have anything to say?”
The moment those words landed, a thousand waves crashed through the tent.
This was as plain as it could be: there was a spy in the army.
More than a few people thought back to the prisoner who had been buried at the riverside a few days ago. It now emerged that there had been far more to that story than met the eye.
The Emperor had kept everyone trapped inside this tent — surely those outside were already guarded by trusted men. Was he about to close the trap and flush out his prey?
The principal secretary of Jizhou, Huang Yu, hesitantly spoke up: “May I ask Your Majesty — is this intelligence reliable? Given the gravity of the matter, one must proceed with care and verify whether it is true—”
“Why is Lord Huang so quick to cast doubt?” This voice belonged to Sun Zhuo, the senior military commander of the Suibei Camp’s advance division. He had no patience for the fussiness of officials, and he was also eager to declare his own allegiance. He spoke up at once: “It seems to me that since His Majesty has raised the matter, the intelligence must be quite credible. Perhaps we should begin the search immediately — I can lead my men to start with my own encampment.”
The exchange had barely begun before an edge of discord was already felt inside the tent.
The Upper Army’s adjutant, Zhu Tingmao, glanced a couple of times at the Emperor seated above, and decided to smooth things over: “Commander Sun makes a good point, and Lord Huang need not be anxious. His Majesty has summoned us here — that must mean he trusts us, which is why he does not fear alerting the suspect. We will all work together wholeheartedly to help Your Majesty clear away the treachery. Only—”
Zhu Tingmao’s face wore a careful, hesitant look. Sun Zhuo, too impatient to watch, said curtly: “Is Lord Zhu still going to say half and hide half in front of His Majesty?”
Zhu Tingmao gave a good-natured, rueful smile, and seemed to steel himself before bowing deeply: “This subject merely feels that the Left General has been out of contact for more than half a month, and that this news has come at such a critical juncture in the battle between the two sides — and yet the man himself has not appeared—”
A veteran of battles and stratagems, Yan Guang grasped the meaning behind Zhu Tingmao’s words before they were fully spoken.
“If you ask me, Lord Zhu raises a fair point. Putting aside whether the assault on Famang Ridge was ever a sure victory to begin with — the Guangyao Division is thick with imperial relatives and nobility, people who likely have tender pride to match their clumsy hands. If the Left General led his men poorly and was humiliated by it, he might have invented this tale of a spy to save face. And given how dangerous Bijiang is — even if he was lucky enough to escape with his life, why will he not show himself in person? Why this ghostly performance, stirring up alarm and confusion in the ranks?”
Yan Guang had come up through the Yanyiying, the Western Garrison Division — a force distributed across the most arduous postings, filled with men who had clawed their way up from nothing through real fighting. And the Guangyao Division, with its abundance of imperial connections, had never sat particularly well with them.
This sort of comment might have been forgiven in the privacy of one’s own camp. But today, inside the command tent, there were men from the Guangyao Division present.
The imperial-blooded Commander Wei Yuanxiu, bearer of the golden seal and purple sash, took immediate offense.
“When the Guangyao Division was holding Famang Ridge against all its perils, not one of you came to offer any assistance. Now that something has gone wrong, you turn to place blame. Does Commander Yan have any evidence for what he is claiming? If not, how is this different from some gutter ruffian throwing mud and impugning people’s character?”
Yan Guang was rebuked to his face, and fury flickered behind his eyes. “What do you mean by that? I am a serving commanding general of the western frontier — what do I have in common with that sort of street scoundrel?!”
It seemed they were on the verge of coming to blows right there, and Zhu Tingmao quickly spoke up: “Lord Huang has followed Prince Kang for many years and has served under not a few regional governors — surely he has the greatest understanding of the hearts of these vassal kings and nobles. Perhaps he can offer an impartial word.”
Singled out at this moment of crisis, beads of sweat slid down Huang Yu’s face — yet he knew that rather than offend everyone in this tent, he could not afford to deceive the one sitting above them. After careful thought, he spoke truthfully.
“The Left General comes from the household of Duke Xuanyuan. In this subject’s assessment — with Your Majesty personally leading the campaign, while Duke Xuanyuan has been left alone to hold the capital, the image of a lone wolf guarding an empty mountain does tend to breed certain ambitions.”
The atmosphere inside the tent, at those final words, reached the burning point of ignition.
Yet the scorching tension seemed to stop short of reaching the Emperor. He and the meditation chair beneath him maintained the same glacial temperature as the air outside.