Shen Zechuan’s gaze swept over Xiao Chiye in a way that was subtle, teasing, and fleeting—so quick that Xiao Chiye could only catch the last ripple of it.
“I’ll lend you the trade route,” Shen Zechuan said, “but what does Libei get in return?” Xiao Fangxu wiped his hands clean. “Libei doesn’t rely on commerce.”
“In the past, the noble families used the strategy of allying with distant powers to contain neighbors, isolating Libei to leave it vulnerable. Now, I am willing to reconnect Zhongbo with Libei, creating a buffer zone between Libei and Qidong,” Shen Zechuan explained. “Libei has to wage a protracted war with Biansha. If it cannot ally with Zhongbo, it will be in grave danger.”
Xiao Chiye sat down beside Xiao Fangxu. Morning sunlight highlighted the new chopsticks, and he picked up some lamb from the plate.
Xiao Fangxu glanced at Xiao Chiye, then at Shen Zechuan. “You are not Prince Shen Wei of Jianxing; your words alone don’t represent all six provinces of Zhongbo. I know you seized Chizhou from Zhou Gui under the pretext of ‘borrowing the route,’ and tamed Luo Mu’s Chazhou with the excuse of ‘delivering grain,’ but the Wing Kings of Fan and Deng, and the mountain bandits of Dun and Duan, are beyond your control.”
Shen Zechuan had anticipated this. “The Wing King was a commoner forced into rebellion by bandits. Fan and Deng’s combined forces number fewer than thirty thousand—they cannot defeat Biansha cavalry in the east, nor face Qi Zhuyin head-on in the south. All they could do was establish a small court in Fan, attempting to ally with the Luoshan bandits. He is nothing more than a paper tiger. The Luoshan bandits themselves are fractured by internal strife and no longer a real threat to Zhongbo. Neither of these will negotiate with Libei, only Chizhou approaches with sincerity. Now that the Huaichizhou tea-trade route is in place, Chizhou can bypass Quandu and Juexi for silver transactions. If Libei needs, Chizhou can supply the northeast grain-and-horse route.”
Wealth!
Both Xiao Fangxu and Zuo Qianqiu thought simultaneously.
Supplying the northeast grain-and-horse route meant providing rations for the Libei army. Shen Zechuan’s greatest leverage in Juexi was the Xi family’s trading posts; he had resolved upon leaving Quandu to continue using the northeast route. The grain scandal had exposed Juexi’s illicit resale, but it also revealed an opening for Shen Zechuan. In the past, Xi Hongxuan had to transport grain via the Hezhou waterways, constrained by the Huajia family in Dichen. Now, with Huaizhou in his hand, Shen Zechuan could procure grain from Juexi.
“But at the same time,” Shen Zechuan shifted his tone, “I hope the newly formed garrisons of the six provinces can receive instruction from Libei’s cavalry, so that in the future they can acquire warhorses from Hongyan Mountain.”
Now not only Xiao Fangxu, but even Xiao Chiye, turned their attention.
“You want to form cavalry too?” Xiao Fangxu’s interest was piqued. “In Zhongbo, along the Chashi River?”
Shen Zechuan sipped hot milk to warm himself. “Duan Province needs cavalry.”
Zhongbo lacked pastures, so its provincial garrisons were mainly infantry. But Zhongbo’s terrain was not as naturally fortified as Qidong, with only the Tianfei Que and Suotian Pass as barriers. The open lands along the Chashi River made Duan Province’s defensive line vulnerable to continuous cavalry assaults; Zhongbo had long needed to rebuild defenses along the Chashi.
“My elder brother is Ji Mu. When Zhongbo fell, he was a minor officer in Duan Province’s garrison,” Shen Zechuan paused, “He knows the Chashi River line well. There, the terrain is as flat as Libei’s border. The defensive camps then lacked both Bianju’s beacon towers and Libei’s eagle scouts. When Biansha cavalry attacked, there was no time to relay information.”
This was one reason Duan Province fell. The courier horses could not outrun the Biansha cavalry; midway, they were slaughtered. Messages delayed, the cities behind received nothing, and when gates were breached, they faced the curved swords of Biansha cavalry, followed by massacre.
Ji Mu died unwillingly.
The forty thousand garrison troops in the Chashi sinkhole died unwillingly, too. They had the resolve to defend their homeland but never got the chance. Snow covered the Chashi sinkhole, and from then on Zhongbo’s men became wild dogs of the Great Zhou.
“Duan Province needs light cavalry,” Shen Zechuan said firmly. “After defeat, the Chashi line fell to the Biansha. The remaining defensive camps of Duan Province were all lost. To rebuild, Duan Province needs light cavalry.”
Xiao Fangxu stroked his chin. “If you only want a line to relay military intelligence quickly, there are many ways—rebuild dense courier stations along the Chashi, straighten the routes. You could make it as fast as you want. But if you want light cavalry capable of matching Biansha cavalry, Libei cannot help you.”
Zuo Qianqiu nodded, saying, “Biansha cavalry’s strength isn’t just speed—they are far more accustomed to long hours on horseback than any Zhou troops. Even Libei’s elite cavalry can’t match them in this.”
“Moreover, Duan Province, abandoned, is like an infant,” Xiao Fangxu glanced as Xiao Chiye subtly pushed a plate of meat toward Shen Zechuan. He shifted his foot under the table, nudging his son.
Xiao Chiye inhaled sharply. “I think… it’s doable!”
“You don’t know a thing,” Xiao Fangxu snapped.
Xiao Chiye twisted his bone rings, “Then maybe I know a little.”
He looked at Shen Zechuan again. Their eyes met, a subtle itch ran between them; Xiao Chiye understood Shen Zechuan perfectly.
“Why compare this light cavalry to Biansha cavalry? Even stripping Libei’s elite cavalry of heavy armor won’t match Biansha,” Xiao Chiye said lazily after eating. “Lan Zhou still commands the Embroidered Guard. Using them just for intelligence is a waste. Equip them with the best horses, and they could break through the Chashi line’s Biansha defenses.”
“How many Embroidered Guards?” Xiao Fangxu scoffed. “On the battlefield, they’re like cow hairs.”
“They can expand. By their selection standards, Lan Zhou has the fastest intelligence agents in the Great Zhou and the best disguise-trained assassins,” Xiao Chiye said. “Small numbers aren’t necessarily a weakness. As an assassination cavalry, scarcity is an advantage. Instead of calling them cow hairs, call them steel needles. If used correctly, even a vulture falls.”
Shen Zechuan took inspiration from Xiao Jiming’s methods. If he built forward supply camps along the Chashi River line, he still lacked a heavy hammer force like Libei cavalry. But since Libei cavalry couldn’t be replicated, Shen Zechuan replaced the heavy hammer with steel needles.
Imagine fortifying from Dunzhou to Duan Province, creating thick walls. Infantry behind the walls become archers, fortified with defense weapons, while a stealthy light cavalry operates along the Chashi. Shen Zechuan would then have total control inside and outside the walls. This cavalry—or rather an assassination team derived from the Embroidered Guard—could disguise themselves while acting as eyes and ears.
Silent. Omnipresent.
Shen Zechuan could hear everything if he wished.
Zuo Qianqiu shivered. Having served at Tianfei Que for many years, he knew the peril of such assassins. The plan alone was terrifying.
The tent fell silent, awaiting Xiao Fangxu’s words. He thought for a long moment, then said to Shen Zechuan, “Exchanging grain for horses is fine, but if this light cavalry is successfully formed, do not let them step into Libei.” He pushed aside the plate, rested his arms on the table, and smiled at Shen Zechuan. “Otherwise, I’ll kill them. And you.”
The tangible weight of authority pressed down. Before Xiao Chiye could speak, Shen Zechuan grabbed his arm. Under the gaze of the wolf-like father, he slowly said, “Deal.”
Xiao Fangxu snapped the edge of a bowl with his fingers, controlling himself with ease.
After everyone left, Xiao Fangxu sat by the fire, sharpening a dagger.
“Regret it?” Zuo Qianqiu sat down. “It’s not too late.”
The firelight reflected on Xiao Fangxu’s side profile. “That kid is too dangerous.”
“Do you know who his teacher is?” Zuo Qianqiu comforted. “He’s Ji Gang’s disciple. His heart isn’t bad.”
“Don’t try to placate me with that. Even nine sons of a dragon differ. Qi Huilian isn’t exactly upright either,” Xiao Fangxu rubbed the blade. “The world has countless gaps. Such men may not fight in conventional battles, but they can stand atop mountains of corpses.”
Zuo Qianqiu was silent a long while. “Then why agree to him?”
Xiao Fangxu watched the edge glide slowly, tinted red by the fire. Listening to the crackle of the fire, he examined himself in the blade. Finally, he said, “My son has made a lock.”
Shen Zechuan undid his buttons, weary under the candlelight.
He hadn’t felt this way in a long time—that stinging failure of disguise.
Regarding Duan Province’s light cavalry, he had told no one, not even Qi Huilian or Xiao Chiye. Many of his actions were driven by impure motives; once he obtained something, he used it to the utmost. He called them “hypocrisy.” Before Xiao Chiye, they were even more fearsome. He could not—he dared not—speak.
He loosened his collar, finally able to breathe.
Outside, footsteps approached. Xiao Chiye was speaking to the guards. Shen Zechuan heard him, stopping his hands as Xiao Chiye lifted the curtain and entered.
“Ah Ye.” Shen Zechuan didn’t turn, only slightly tilted his head.
Xiao Chiye pressed against him from behind.
Shen Zechuan’s tension eased under Xiao Chiye’s breath. They pressed together intimately, warmth rising, sweat forming. Shen Zechuan exhaled, feeling as if the kiss burned him; his expression showed a twinge of pain, yet his eyes glimmered with pleasure.
He liked Xiao Chiye’s kisses.
Xiao Chiye took Shen Zechuan’s hands, binding them behind him. He extinguished the candle, and in the curling smoke, trailed along Shen Zechuan’s nape, burying his frustration.
“Lan Zhou,” Xiao Chiye whispered.
The desk was suddenly cleared. Shen Zechuan tried to reach for it, but his hands were bound. Xiao Chiye held firm; Shen Zechuan tilted his head, seeing his profile.
Kiss me.
Shen Zechuan silently thought.
But Xiao Chiye didn’t. Across that small distance, he didn’t move again.