Chapter 37

Xie Ci learned that the commander of the Northern Army was Lu Xinyi, Grand Protector of Andong, concurrently Military Governor and Transport Commissioner of Fanyang and Luchuan, as well as Prefect of Fangzhou, on the second day after the Yunzhou army set forth.

The selection of the supreme commander for this northern border war had been delayed. It was not until the third day after the mobilization order arrived, the second day since the Yunzhou army departed, that they received a second imperial edict delivered by express rider.

After receiving the decree, Chen Yan personally escorted the imperial envoy a short distance out, and upon his return, he informed Xie Ci, “It was all thanks to the recommendation of Imperial Uncle Lin.”

The mention of Imperial Uncle Lin—a figure heavily implicated in the Lingzhou case—made Xie Ci’s eyelids suddenly lift. Gu Wan, Qin Ying, Zhang Qing, Zheng Ying, Chen Luo, and the others all looked up, exchanging glances.

Chen Yan exhaled, carefully rolled up the imperial edict, and placed it reverently in an open nanmu box. The guards closed it with due respect and withdrew to store it away. Chen Yan said, “Don’t overthink it. For now, let’s proceed to Lu’an and join up with the main forces.”

At present, everything was still premature. First, assemble the troops; then consider the rest.

Chen Yan left ten thousand men to defend Yunzhou, and with the remaining thirty-two thousand elite infantry and cavalry, set out to Lu’an on the twenty-first of the second month, to complete the grand assembly of the Northern Army.

That spring, there was little rain. After the snow melted, only a few sparse showers fell. As soon as the sun shone, the earth dried quickly.

Banners fluttered, and the rhythmic pounding of hooves raised billowing dust. Here, Xie Ci officially began his military career.

The warhorses were armored, the heavy and brilliant armor weighing on their bodies. The thunderous sounds of hooves and boots made the very ground tremble.

His first battle in life came even sooner than he had anticipated. Passing through the southern border of Shuozhou, they rendezvoused with the Lingzhou army of Qin Xian, who had purposefully slowed their march.

The atmosphere was jubilant.

Chen Yan, a bit embarrassed, quickly lightened up in the embrace and laughter of Qin Xian, who clapped him on the back. Chen Yan reciprocated with a hearty hug and a smile of excitement.

They then pressed eastward.

They were now close to Lu’an, just over a hundred li away—two days’ march.

Yet that very afternoon, amidst the rolling dust of the advancing army, a shrill whistle was suddenly blown by the forward scouts, followed by the mournful blare of ox horns. A lone rider, bloodied, galloped toward them—his armor marked him as a soldier of Wei’s Qizhou garrison.

Qizhou Pass had just suffered a surprise and violent attack from the northern Rong cavalry. The garrison fought desperately, and this was a plea for urgent reinforcements.

Qin Xian frowned, spurred his horse to the very front, stood gazing toward the horizon, and sniffed the faint scent of gunpowder on the wind. Xie Ci leaned close to Gu Wan and spoke a few words. Gu Wan quickly rode up, saying, “A’ci says there’s a strong smell of gunpowder and blood.”

Qin Xian and Chen Yan exchanged glances—no hesitation. Orders rang out: the left wing became the vanguard, and the army marched at double speed to Qizhou, abandoning all supply wagons. Their pace quickened dramatically.

Over the next two days, they received three urgent military dispatches from Lu’an: the northern Rong’s four hundred thousand horsemen, without warning, had accelerated. The previously scattered eighteen divisions of northern Rong cavalry had swiftly concentrated into three main forces, racing three hundred li in a single day—before Wei’s northern army could fully assemble—launching fierce assaults at Qizhou and Wild Fox Ridge.

When Qin Xian and Chen Yan reached Qizhou, the battle was at its peak—smoke and blood everywhere. With no time for words, they led the charge.

Hooves thundered. In Xie Ci’s hands, his long-bladed golden saber swept out—a group of northern Rong horsemen were felled, blood spraying over him.

Sweat ran down his spine; his blood seemed to boil. He paused only a heartbeat before leading his troops into the fray.

The first great battle of this Guimao year erupted in white-hot ferocity, locked in a stalemate for half a month. In the end, the northern Rong king Huyan De, whose flanking attacks failed, ordered a gradual retreat due to the weather.

The northern border of Wei was, for now, restored to calm.

The anticipated grand assembly and oath-taking of the army came belatedly, only after a fierce battle had already been fought.

Qin Xian, Chen Yan, Su Zhen, and Kou Wenshao, with their various commanders, entered the great camp at Qizhou at a rapid pace. Due to the war, Qizhou had been designated as the temporary command center.

At that moment, the supreme commander’s headquarters, the prince’s entourage, the inspector-general, and the logistics chief were all stationed within Qizhou city.

When Qin Xian and Chen Yan arrived, the hall was already packed. Only they were missing.

Once they were in place, the long-waiting imperial eunuch unfurled the brilliant yellow dragon-edict and proclaimed:

“By the mandate of Heaven, the Emperor decrees: I have inherited the ancestral throne for forty-two years, nurturing the people and seeking the benefit of all under Heaven, steadfast in heart for the realm’s well-being, defending the nation before peril arises, and securing order before chaos unfolds...

Now, the foreign barbarians have long coveted our glorious dynasty, casting hungry eyes upon our northern borders. I hereby appoint Lu Xinyi, Grand Protector of Andong, concurrently Military Governor of Fanyang and Luchuan, Transport Commissioner, and Prefect of Fangzhou, as Supreme Commander of the Three Armies, with full authority over all military orders and tokens, to repel the invading foes without error. Thus is my command—”

The tiger tally consisted of two iron pieces forged in the shape of tigers, split into halves. In peacetime, the left half was held by the northern army’s commander, the other by the court. Only at the assembly for war would they be joined as one.

Lu Xinyi received the two jet-black, gleaming tiger tallies. The eunuch withdrew. Lu Xinyi, clad in black chainmail and a crimson commander's cloak, holding the tally, turned to face the assembly.

All the generals and officers—save for the two princes serving nominally as deputy commanders and inspectors—immediately knelt, bowing to their new commander.

Even Xie Ci—and Qin Xian—found this hard to accept.

That left half of the tiger tally had always belonged to Xie Xinzhong. After his death, it was reclaimed by the court, and only now, handed to Lu Xinyi.

He knelt, teeth clenched.

It was both familiar and foreign—everything had changed. Lu Xinyi raised his hand at once: “Generals, please rise.”

With a gentle tone, he declared, “By His Majesty’s command, I accept this heavy duty, not daring to utter a single false word. I only hope for unity above and below, to exert all our strength against the invaders! Gentlemen, with this tally in hand, I will reward and punish as is right. Any who violate military discipline or my commands will be executed without mercy!”

A chorus of voices echoed in response.

“With one heart, we fight the invaders with all our might!”
“Any who violate orders or discipline should be punished by death!”

These were customary phrases, meant to encourage the troops. Among those present were many whose abilities rivaled Lu Xinyi’s. The old Xie family command—Qin Xian, Chen Yan, Su Zhen, and Kou Wenshao—now reunited, formed one such bloc. Zheng Shoufang was another, as were Marquis Lü Guo, He Xin, and Duke Ying, Cheng Lizhang.

No one showed their true feelings, but it was clear that everyone noticed Lu Xinyi had replaced Xie Xinzhong as commander. Their eyes drifted toward Qin Xian and the group of officers behind him.

—Xie Ci was Xie Xinzhong’s fourth son, still new to the army and little known, but even those least informed had heard that the Xie family forces had reunited.

They were searching, making guesses—looking for Xie Ci. Lu Xinyi was searching too.

Xie Ci must be among these assembled officers and commanders, but this was absolutely not the moment for Lu Xinyi to publicly demand he reveal himself.

Lu Xinyi’s gaze lingered on Chen Lang’s face. Several others looked there as well. Zheng Shoufang sneered, “You must be Chen Jiulang?”

Chen Lang jumped out at once: “Yes, that’s me! What do you want?”

He’d only been dragged back to the army by his father.

Chen Yan barked, “Shut your mouth! Is this a place for you to speak?”

Chen Lang wanted to retort, but caught his father’s glare and only rolled his eyes, falling silent.

His face was an open book—let them look as they pleased.

Chen Yan bowed, “Forgive him, Commander. Forgive us, Your Highnesses.”

Lu Xinyi smiled coolly, “It’s nothing. Now, let us hear from Their Highnesses.”

The two princes—third and fourth—seated on grand armchairs as deputy commanders, now took the floor. The third prince stood and spoke at length, in ornate phrases, confident and self-assured.

Gu Wan’s eyes flickered to him. This young man in gleaming silver armor and a bright yellow cloak was the third prince—the future emperor who would personally lead the army on a disastrous campaign.

The fourth prince was a mere fifteen-year-old, his features still boyish.

Behind them stood several familiar faces—among them Li Yi, who, after stepping down from his military post, now oversaw logistics and supplies, and was present for the army’s grand assembly.

Xie Ci stood toward the rear. Some glanced his way but quickly moved on. Gu Wan had deepened his cheekbones and eye sockets, and with his helmet on, he blended into the crowd.

Gu Wan and Qin Ying stood even farther back, among the personal guards, but Gu Wan’s sharp eyes could still make out the proceedings.

Several gazes fixed on the stage—from Lu Xinyi to Zheng Shoufang. The latter, after being rebuffed by Chen Lang, shot him a sinister look.

This night, the sky was starless and moonless.

A sudden sandstorm had separated the opposing armies. Even the next day, a faint yellow haze lingered in the sky.

Yet from the city walls, one could glimpse the endless expanse of the northern Rong camps on the steppe—the view’s end shrouded in dense, menacing formations, their latent power overwhelming.

“Northern Rong is far stronger than seven years ago,” Qin Xian said, frowning with concern.

Regardless of the oath-taking, Qizhou remained heavily fortified. As the first to arrive with reinforcements, Qin Xian and Chen Yan’s troops held the critical positions on the north wall.

That very night, after this gathering of so many powerful and rival factions, after seeing Lu Xinyi and Zheng Shoufang at close quarters, Qin Xian brought Xie Ci up to the city wall.

Gazing into the night at the vast, lurking northern Rong camp, Qin Xian finally turned to Xie Ci and said:

“My first time on the battlefield was at sixteen. The general told me something I will repeat to you today.”

He solemnly relayed to Xie Ci the advice Xie Xinzhong had never had the chance to give his son:

“Behind us lie thirty-five million households, the lifeblood of Wei, our home and country. As generals, once we don our armor, we must ride forth and wield our blades, giving our utmost to protect the peace of our land and its people.

Looking out at the darkness, Qin Xian spoke quietly: “I know you want revenge and justice—I do too! But no matter what, we cannot afford defeat.

Everything must be built on that foundation.” He turned to Xie Ci. “Fourth Young Master, do you understand?”

The weight of dozens of pounds of armor pressed on him—a sensation he had never known. In his hands, the heavy golden saber, not a silver spear, yet after ten years of hard training, it was finally wielded from horseback.

It was hard to describe what Xie Ci felt, overlooking the steppe and the northern Rong camp crouching like wolves and tigers. His father and brothers had once stood here, armored for war, gazed from these very walls, and fought bloody battles to defend the realm.

Xie Ci drew a deep breath. His voice was hoarse: “I understand.” The lessons of his father and brothers, instilled for over a decade, he had never dared forget.

He was Xie Ci—a son of the Xie family.

Beyond hatred, surely there was more he must carry.

Qin Xian smiled—the seasoned general’s crow’s feet deepening. He patted Xie Ci’s shoulder. “Enough, let’s head back. I expect Gu Wan is waiting for you.”

Xie Ci turned and left, emotions surging. The further he walked, the faster he went—suddenly, he yearned to see Gu Wan.

As for Gu Wan, she was lying on a rooftop.

Hands behind her head, she gazed up at the yellow-tinged sky and a smattering of dim, blinking stars.

This was her first glimpse of ancient warfare—cold steel and close combat.

She had witnessed the ferocity of northern Rong cavalry; she had seen the serpentine mass of their camps from the city wall, shrouded in dust.

Today, beyond the less-than-pleasant oath-taking, the four core generals of the old Xie family army—Qin Xian, Su Zhen, Chen Yan, and Kou Wenshao—had finally reunited.

It was thrilling, stirring, just like the recent battle that had driven off the northern Rong.

But Gu Wan knew—victory and stalemate were only temporary.

There was something Gu Wan had always kept to herself, something she dared not and could not share. This war of the Guimao year would ultimately end in utter defeat.

How bad was it?

So bad that the old emperor was driven to death by rage.

Almost all the great generals of the north were lost.

Huyan De led his cavalry across Yinshan, through Qinggu, and over the Yellow River, at one point threatening Zhongdu itself. If not for the outbreak of plague in the northern court, it was uncertain whether Wei would have survived another two years.

In any case, that disaster ended the already-precarious golden age of Wei. The new emperor led a campaign in person; the national gates were breached, and the realm collapsed.

Those Gu Wan had come to know—Chen Yan, Su Zhen, Kou Wenshao—would all die in this war. As for Qin Xian, it was uncertain whether he would fall in the Lingzhou affair or here.

The people beside Gu Wan now—none of them survived in the original timeline; all perished in the brief, tragic “catastrophe of the Guimao year.”

Dust drifted, stars flickered. Gu Wan heard footsteps on the tiles—she turned and saw Qin Ying, who climbed easily onto the roof, bringing with her the shy Qin Wenxuan.

“What are you doing up here? What’s on your mind?”

Qin Ying joined her, sitting side by side. Qin Wenxuan, cautious at first, soon came over as well. As a general’s daughter, she had trained her body, though not as much as some.

In recent times, Qin Wenxuan had worked hard—Gu Wan saw it. The usually quiet girl worried about being a bother. “Sister Gu...”

Gu Wan smiled. “Sit. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about.” Qin Wenxuan hugged her knees and sat beside them.

The night breeze was tinged with dust, and the stars were faint. Gu Wan and Qin Ying sat shoulder to shoulder. After a while, Gu Wan asked, “Sister Ying, if you knew in advance that something would end in defeat, what would you do?”

Qin Ying was surprised, “Isn’t that a blessing? If you know why you’ll lose, you can avoid it and win instead!”

Gu Wan burst out laughing, “Exactly! That’s right!”

She clapped her hands—her second sister-in-law was just the kind of person she liked, thinking exactly as she did. She wasn’t afraid of defeat—she was certain that this time, they would not lose! In the original timeline, she’d be farming in Tieling by now.

The clouds moved in the wind; a star brightened. Gu Wan and Qin Ying exchanged a glance and both laughed heartily.

Qin Ying hooked an arm around Gu Wan’s shoulders, glancing at the girl whose painted face hid a pair of shining eyes. After a while, she too lay back and stretched out, relaxing.

The three chatted and laughed until Xie Ci arrived, galloping through the night.

After leaving the city wall, Xie Ci rode hard back to camp. From a distance, he heard Gu Wan’s clear, lively voice. He smiled and quickened his pace.

But before he could leap onto the rooftop, the three women spotted him. Qin Ying, noticing the emotion in his eyes, called out first, “Fourth, hold on, I need a word with you.”

Xie Ci paused, nodding quickly, “Yes, Second Sister-in-law.”

This was a place for family—no need for caution. Qin Ying smiled, then hopped down and walked shoulder to shoulder with Xie Ci, following the long path between the barracks.

At the end of the dusty road, beneath a great willow, with its tender shoots swaying in the breeze, Qin Ying brushed a branch aside, smiling at Xie Ci for a moment. “Fourth, you like Yuan-niang, don’t you?”

Xie Ci flushed. After a long pause, he nodded. His second sister-in-law had known all along—no need to hide it.

As he nodded, his face warmed, and his beautiful, rose-tinted eyes seemed to brim with spring water, overflowing with pure emotion and joy.

Qin Ying smiled, but after a moment, her smile faded. She spoke seriously, “Do you like her, or do you love her?”

Spring was in the air. Xie Ci froze, the joy and laughter in his eyes fading. But Qin Ying continued, “I know—young feelings are always passionate, intense. But that isn’t necessarily love that can’t be replaced.

But once some things are broken, they’re like a shattered mirror—never whole again.

Qin Ying had always supported Xie Ci’s feelings for Gu Wan, but she hadn’t forgotten her promise to Gu Wan: if Gu Wan’s heart remained unchanged after a year, Qin Ying herself would oversee the divorce.

Over time, Qin Ying had seen that Gu Wan’s feelings had not changed.

Mere affection is not enough; if it’s only a crush, I hope you’ll think carefully, Fourth.

Who hasn’t had a few infatuations in youth? First love always feels like the whole world. Qin Ying herself had once fallen for an opera singer in her youth—she even redeemed him from servitude just to have him sing for her alone.

But in the end, it was meeting the second Xie son that truly changed her life.

Such a feeling was something Qin Ying had never imagined possible.

She’d never thought she could love someone for a lifetime, content to be alone as years passed, sustained only by memories of him. Qin Ying was both Xie Ci’s second sister-in-law and Gu Wan’s dear friend.

—She was too good, really. So Qin Ying didn’t want mere adolescent infatuation to disturb her.

She didn’t want things between Xie Ci and Gu Wan—or within the family—to be left irreparably changed.

Although Qin Ying believed that after all Xie Ci and Gu Wan had endured together, his feelings should not be shallow, she knew he did not yet understand this. So she hoped he would sort out his heart before confessing or acting.

“She’s A’wan—not just anyone, right?”

Finally, Qin Ying softened her voice.

“Give yourself time—think it through before telling her, all right?”

Beneath the willow, Xie Ci stood stunned. Somehow, his passionate mood suddenly cooled... Right. He’d wanted to speak, but his words failed him.

It was as if he’d been thrown onto a vast, bewildering plain—so much difference, even in liking someone? He felt Qin Ying’s care for Gu Wan, but he realized that, for now, he had no answer for her question. He wanted to retort, but thinking of Gu Wan, he suddenly feared damaging their bond.

More than that, Xie Ci remembered something more urgent—the divorce. He’d promised Gu Wan a written divorce after a year! It was now February—just four months left.

Caught off guard, his heart seemed to drop to the ground.

Author’s note:

Xie Ci: Thank you, Second Sister-in-law, for reminding me of such an important thing, QAQ! Xie Ci: Is passion not enough? What more do you want, wuwuwu...