After breakfast the next day, Xiao Chiye put on his heavy armor and prepared to head to the Northern Plains hunting grounds. Shen Zechuan had slept little these past few days, only getting a good night’s rest last night, so when he stood under the eaves to see him off, there was still a trace of languor about him.
The snow had stopped, and sunlight made the courtyard gleam. Xiao Chiye steadied Meng and turned back to speak, only to see Shen Zechuan standing by the doorway, drowsy and faintly displeased.
“When will you be back?” Shen Zechuan asked.
Xiao Chiye removed Meng’s shackles. Meng immediately tried to pounce toward Shen Zechuan, but Xiao Chiye held it down. “As early as I can. If anything comes up, send someone to call me.”
The sunlight made Shen Zechuan glow as well. Shielding himself from the glare, he narrowed his affectionate eyes and called out, “A—Ye.”
Xiao Chiye made as if to kiss him. Shen Zechuan started in surprise. Taking advantage of his height, Xiao Chiye braced an arm against the doorframe and pulled him back just as he tried to retreat. The curtain fell over the back of his head, but Xiao Chiye did not bother moving it.
Shen Zechuan was kissed.
Chen Yang was preoccupied with the upcoming transport arrangements back at the frontier camp and did not notice. Gu Jin saw the curtain sway and the figures disappear, fumbling for words as he pulled off his gloves. “The lord and… the master…”
Unable to find the right phrasing, he looked to Chen Yang for help.
Chen Yang understood—Gu Jin had been startled by last night’s meeting held in the main hall. Closing his booklet, he looked over as well and, after a moment, said, “Since the prince passed, the master has fought hard on the front lines. He looks fine now, but who knows if inside he’s still like the wound on his back—healing, but not yet whole… Being so close like this is a good thing.”
Since that night, many had wanted to take care of Xiao Chiye. They avoided the snow when possible, watched him carefully, as if he had become fragile, like a piece of porcelain. Shen Zechuan was the opposite. He offered no verbal comfort, yet his gaze conveyed dependence—as if taking even half a step away from Xiao Chiye would make the cold unbearable or the medicine too bitter. Beneath that dependence was another message: Xiao Chiye was strong.
He was not porcelain—he was iron, steel, and Shen Zechuan’s Hongyan Mountain.
And Xiao Chiye responded in kind.
Before the meeting, Shen Zechuan had Fei Sheng summon Gao Zhongxiong. Gao Zhongxiong stood outside the study waiting. When Shen Zechuan arrived, he waived the formalities and said, “I had your measurements taken last night. Your winter clothes will be delivered in a few days. It’s cold now—do you have enough charcoal in your room?”
Gao Zhongxiong had once served as Han Jin’s aide. When he came to Cizhou, he knew he would not be highly valued, which was why he had taken a lesser path. Only through Yao Wenyu’s strong recommendation had he secured a position. Shen Zechuan rarely spoke with him, which made him uneasy.
Whenever Gao Zhongxiong grew nervous, he would sweat and stammer—aftereffects from years of ridicule in Dancheng. Now wiping his brow, head nearly bowed to his chest, he stuttered, “My lord’s instruction is… my lord, my lord…”
The advisors were already gathered inside. Kong Ling stood under the eaves waiting for Shen Zechuan. Knowing his own clumsiness with words, Gao Zhongxiong grew more anxious, sweating profusely as he struggled to speak.
Shen Zechuan recalled how, a year ago, Gao Zhongxiong had knelt in the rain denouncing the eunuch faction with fervor. Listening patiently, he said, “You’re not yet married, and your salary at the yamen isn’t enough. If you need anything, just ask the residence.”
Gao Zhongxiong had thought Shen Zechuan disliked him, only tolerating him out of respect for Yao Wenyu. Now, hearing such kindness, he was overwhelmed. His voice choked. “I have already received your great favor—having a post and regular pay. How could I take more…”
Shen Zechuan’s tone softened further. “You are also one of my advisors. Do not belittle yourself like this.”
As Gao Zhongxiong wiped his tears, his emotions surged. Shen Zechuan was not only willing to use him but to respect him. A man would die for one who truly understood him—Gao Zhongxiong was willing to follow him wholeheartedly. He wanted to express more gratitude, but Shen Zechuan raised a hand to stop him and gestured for him to follow into the study.
For this campaign against Fanzhou, they had originally intended to borrow a general. But seeing that the Prince of Yi had long accumulated public resentment and that Fanzhou was hollow within, Shen Zechuan chose instead to appoint Yin Chang, commander of the Cizhou garrison.
Before the Zhongbo defeat, Yin Chang had been an officer in the garrison. After the commander died, Zhou Gui promoted him. Until Shen Zechuan arrived, Yin Chang had been little more than a figurehead.
He was about the same age as Ji Gang, fond of drinking, with a red nose and a full beard. He hated bathing, making him appear particularly unkempt. He and Qiao Tianya had once gotten along well over drinking.
Kong Ling hesitated. “Yin Chang is advanced in years and has been away from the battlefield for many years. I fear he may not be up to the task.”
Zhou Gui did not agree this time. “Old generals have their own strengths. Since my lord has chosen him, he will surely give it his all.”
“Besides Yin Chang,” Shen Zechuan added unexpectedly, “Fei Sheng will accompany this campaign.”
Yao Wenyu adjusted his sleeve, a cat curled beneath it. “With the horse routes now open, provisions can be supplied from both Cizhou and Chazhou, reaching Fanzhou in a day.”
“Exactly.” Shen Zechuan rested his fan across his knees. “Time is pressing. We must take Fanzhou and Dengzhou. This battle must be swift.”
Everyone voiced agreement and began discussing how to fill administrative vacancies afterward.
Yin Chang set out with orders, accompanied by Fei Sheng and forty Embroidered Uniform Guards.
Fei Sheng met Yin Chang only just before departure. The old man’s hair was even whiter than Ji Gang’s, short in stature, with a bulbous red nose. Fei Sheng saluted him by the horse. Yin Chang, seeming still half drunk, muttered, “Up.”
Fei Sheng had taken advice from Qiao Tianya and brought good wine as a gift. Yin Chang sniffed it and shouted “Good!” so loudly it startled Fei Sheng’s horse.
Seeing him about to drink immediately, Fei Sheng hurried to stop him with a smile. “Elder Yin, this wine is strong. It’ll be hard to travel if you’re drunk. When we return victorious, I’ll treat you to your fill!”
But Yin Chang had already gulped several mouthfuls. He sighed in satisfaction, nose reddening further, clapping Fei Sheng heavily on the shoulder. “Don’t worry! I’ve roamed Zhongbo for over a decade—I could find my way blindfolded! This wine clears the mind!”
Fei Sheng sized him up and thought that if they weren’t attacking Fanzhou, he might just turn around and leave. This old drunk hardly looked like a general. Still smiling, he said, “Then I’ll follow your lead.” He took the reins. “Shall I help you up?”
Yin Chang grinned. “Watch me—”
But his foot slipped on the stirrup. Fei Sheng quickly caught him. “Careful!”
Helping him up, Fei Sheng felt the surprising strength in his legs. Perhaps he had some substance after all. Yet before long, Yin Chang began nodding off on horseback, nearly falling several times—only saved by constant vigilance.
The journey took two days. Fei Sheng was on edge the entire time, afraid the commander might fall to his death before reaching the battlefield. They arrived safely, set up camp, and Fei Sheng waited for orders—only for Yin Chang to collapse into sleep, snoring thunderously.
Standing outside the tent, Fei Sheng looked around. The garrison troops were all green recruits, sprawled about with no discipline.
How the hell are we supposed to fight like this?
He spat, nearly deciding to write to Shen Zechuan. The night watch fell to the Embroidered Uniform Guards. By dawn, Fei Sheng’s eyes were bloodshot.
Yin Chang emerged refreshed.
“Sleep well, Elder Yin,” Fei Sheng said, forcing a smile. “When do we attack?”
Yin Chang sat, poured himself wine, and said, “No rush.”
“This weather is ideal—we shouldn’t miss it,” Fei Sheng pressed.
Yin Chang smacked his lips. “Why so anxious? It’s not time yet.”
Fei Sheng suspected cowardice. Yin Chang had no record of merit—he had risen only because others had died, and Zhou Gui was lenient.
Even after promotion, he had done nothing—drinking while others worked.
Shen Zechuan had chosen him partly because there were no better options, and partly because Fanzhou was easy to take. This was meant to give the garrison a chance to stand on its own.
Fei Sheng watched Yin Chang kick off his boots and start picking at his feet. The stench drove him away before he could speak.
Yin Chang muttered to himself, even disgusted by his own smell.
Meanwhile, Hairigu remained at the Northern Plains training ground. Shen Zechuan had left the Scorpion unit there. At first, they clashed with the garrison, but mediation prevented fights.
Hairigu had just finished bathing bare-chested in the cold when he saw the camp gates open.
Heavy armored cavalry surged in, splashing mud over him. He cursed under his breath, wiping his face, when the leading horse turned to face him.
Recognizing the mount, he raised his wooden basin. “Hello, Second Master.”
Xiao Chiye, encased in armor, was imposing even without revealing his eyes. The horse advanced, forcing Hairigu to look up.
“My lord said to keep me,” Hairigu said, glancing at the surrounding cavalry. “I think he’s right.”
“I’ll give you horses today,” Xiao Chiye said. “Bring your men to the training ground.”
Hairigu understood. He had been training with them already. Setting down the basin, he said, “I can also bring my iron hammers… You can try our new formation.”
“New formation?” Xiao Chiye pressed.
Hairigu stepped back and answered honestly, pointing to his nose. “I learned it from an old man… a red-nosed old man.”