Mosa Three Rivers lay east of Gedaler, named for the continuous three river systems that stretched into the desert. Dozens of li of barren wasteland and Gobi desert spread out, with only clusters of desert poplars breaking the emptiness. While Qudu was already in night, this place was still in the glow of dusk.
Xiao Chiye lay with his arms behind his head, watching the final sunset.
The sky over Mosa Three Rivers was too vast. If one lay on the sand and stared for too long, it would feel as if the heavens were embracing you. The setting sun looked like flowing syrup, thick light spilling and swallowing the land.
Meng leapt down beside Xiao Chiye and landed on his chest. It held a grass stem in its mouth; the weight pressing down made Xiao Chiye’s chest sink slightly, and the grass stem fell from his mouth.
“Hey,” Xiao Chiye said, “you’re heavy, brother.”
Meng tilted its head, giving him a sidelong glance with one eye.
Xiao Chiye could only free one arm and roughly stroke Meng. He gave a whistle toward Lang Tao Xuejin drinking water by the stream, signaling it to come play with Meng. Lang Tao Xuejin lifted its front hoof, turned its rear, and continued drinking.
The Iron Cavalry had been stationed here for several days. Lu Guangbai removed his helmet and walked over, brushing sand off his body.
“Great Marshal Xiao,” Lu Guangbai said, sweat soaking his neck as he followed Xiao Chiye’s gaze westward. “You’re quite leisurely.”
“Not really,” Xiao Chiye said seriously, still stroking Meng and pointing west. “My wife is over there, crying her eyes out every day waiting for me to return.”
“Write that down,” Lu Guangbai said, tossing his helmet to Chen Yang. “Go back and tell your governor and see who exactly is crying.”
Xiao Chiye waited until Lu Guangbai sat down and asked, “What did the Mongdu tribe say?”
“Same answer,” Lu Guangbai said, resting his hands on his knees. “Bayar is determined to marry his daughter to you. If you refuse, he refuses alliance with the Lianbei Iron Cavalry.”
“That old camel Bayar,” Xiao Chiye said, sitting up as sand slid off his back. He looked at Lu Guangbai. “He’s trying to use his daughter to bind me, afraid I’ll turn on him. If I were truly someone without loyalty, even if he sent me his wife, I’d still kill him.”
Lu Guangbai pointed at him. “You should go meet him with that expression. Of course he’d be afraid.”
Xiao Chiye raised an eyebrow. “I don’t need him.”
“Stubborn,” Lu Guangbai said. “The Mongdu territory blocks the western mouth of Mosa Three Rivers. If we can’t win Bayar over, then fighting Amuer risks being surrounded.”
“Then tell him,” Xiao Chiye said, arms crossed, “my household has a fierce tiger. I’m henpecked.”
“He’s even prepared the dowry for his daughter, just waiting to properly serve your ‘first wife’ after marriage.” Lu Guangbai laughed despite his worry. “Everyone loves Xiao Ce’an.”
Bayar had once favored Hasen as a son-in-law, but Hasen insisted on marrying Hu Lu tribe’s Duolan, causing friction with Mongdu. After Hasen died, when Xiao Chiye came to negotiate alliance, Bayar saw his tall build, outstanding presence, and the fact that he had killed Hasen himself—the Lianbei wolf—and began considering marrying his daughter to him.
“The Hu Lu tribe retreated to the banks of the Chiti Lake. Why are they back again?”
“You killed Hasen,” Lu Guangbai said. “His wife rode east, gathered the scattered Yixiong tribe warriors you had broken apart, and pleaded for the retreating tribes to assist Amuer again. Duolan swore before the Great Desert Eagle Banner that she would kill you.”
Xiao Chiye remembered the red Chiti flower drifting away in Hasen’s final moments.
“Also,” Lu Guangbai’s expression turned serious, “Duolan was already pregnant when she went east. It is Hasen’s posthumous child.”
Xiao Chiye silently adjusted his arm straps. The sunset vanished, leaving a brief stillness in the sky—neither sun nor moon, only a heavy blue dome above. Eagle cries cut through fluttering banners, and Duolan stood beneath the wind, one hand resting on her abdomen.
Barin draped a thick coat over her and said softly, “The night is cold. Go back.”
“My husband is in the west,” Duolan said, lifting her head as an eagle crossed the sky. “When will my eagle return?”
Barin could not bear to look at her.
“The wolves of Lianbei killed my brother, and killed my husband.” Duolan’s green eyes were filled with hatred. “Barin, he is coming to kill my child.” She covered her abdomen and stepped back. “I must protect my child.”
“Ursun and Ri will not let Xiao Chiye harm you,” Barin said gently. “Your father won’t either. The desert will protect you together—this is Hasen’s child.”
“You are wrong,” Duolan said. “Look at the desert. Three tribes have already followed his Iron Cavalry.” Her voice trembled beneath her cloak. “Even Bayar is willing to send his daughter to our enemy just for peace. No one can protect me except Hasen.”
Barin lowered his gaze. “I failed Hasen’s command. I was deceived by the Yixiong tribe. I am his strategist, yet I did not let him gain the glory he deserved. Xiao Chiye has come to the desert—but Duolan, we will take revenge.”
He drew his dagger and placed it into her hands.
“I swear.”
“My wolf cub, treat this letter as if you were seeing me.”
“The bed in Cizhou has been unused recently. I follow the army and sleep in the tent, not well.”
Xiao Chiye sat by the campfire, reading the words. The ache in his chest melted into a bittersweet warmth of being remembered. Lan Zhou slept every night against Xiao Ce’an’s chest; without him, even the best bed could not bring rest. Xiao Chiye took a sip from his wine pouch and let the feeling settle before reading on.
“The Master left the blade with me. Shao Chengbi, an old minister, has fallen in battle. Everything in Qudu is stable and under control—do not worry. The expedition is hard; you must take care of yourself. Second brother, if one battle can be won, then from now on every year, every moment, we will no longer be separated. When winter returns, I will come home to warm spring curtains. I miss you when I sleep.”
Xiao Chiye set down the wine pouch and saw at the bottom a small drawing: a fox with drooping ears and a curled tail. He could not help but smile.
Lu Guangbai threw a sweet potato at him. Xiao Chiye caught it midair.
“It’s almost November,” Lu Guangbai said while eating. “What are your plans for the Mongdu tribe?”
Xiao Chiye opened the pouch beside him—beef jerky neatly packed inside—and tossed one marked “Lu” to Lu Guangbai.
“If he’s afraid I’ll turn on him,” Xiao Chiye said, “then I’ll turn on him.”
He was not here to negotiate peace. With ninety thousand iron cavalry, ten thousand imperial guards, and twenty thousand border garrison troops, he did not need courtesy. The reward had already been given; if Bayar kept hesitating, force would follow.
“Tell Bayar,” Xiao Chiye said, chewing the jerky, “I’m in a hurry to go home for New Year. If he wants to drown together with Amuer, I’ll send him off tonight.”
Chen Yang nodded and left to relay the order.
When the main army withdrew, Dancheng was left without garrison. As the Danzhou defense troops entered, the city fell silent. Rumors of the rebel army spreading to Dancheng had already caused panic, and many citizens fled toward Qudu that night.
Dantai Hu tightened discipline, afraid to make mistakes again after the Liu Kong incident. He brought his own elite guards and enforced strict rules—no disturbance of civilians by night or day.
Yao Wenyu had been buried in paperwork for nearly a month. Now he walked with Shen Zechuan outside Dancheng, studying the marks on the city walls.
“Dancheng was taken without catastrophe,” Yao Wenyu said. “Luo Mu has already reached Hezhou. Qudu will be harder next. This morning I heard news that Qi Shiyu has sent three urgent letters, pressing the Great General in Tianfeique to return.”
“Qi Shiyu is bedridden and cannot lead troops,” Shen Zechuan said, basking in the rare sunlight. “The sons of his household are inferior to Qi Zhuyin. Even if he removes her title, he cannot strip her command.”
The key to Qidong lay in Qi Zhuyin.
“As long as the Governor gives him a promise,” Yao Wenyu said, “merit in following the dragon surpasses all.”
Shen Zechuan said calmly, “I’ll give Luo Mu to Xue Xiuzhuo if he wants him.”
And then—
“I want Jiang Qingshan. I just don’t know if Xue Xiuzhuo is willing.”
Qudu grew increasingly bleak as November approached. Streets were emptying; fear of rebellion spreading from Dancheng filled the city.
Kong Qiu said, “Snow will come early this year.”
Raising his head, he could not tell whether he was speaking of the weather—or the empire.
And somewhere beneath all shifting fronts, the invisible thread called Feng Quan had already been driven deep enough to draw blood.