Late at night.
The real grain began to be moved.
The first batch of grain sacks was loaded onto carts after dark. No torches were lit, no lanterns hung from the horses, and no orders were shouted.
The soldiers worked in the darkness, moving with extreme care, as though they were carrying out something they had already been instructed to do.
The wheels were wrapped in thick cloth, making almost no sound as they rolled over the snow.
The grain sacks were transported along a small road on the northern side of the camp. Their destination was not Linbei City, but a relay camp to the northwest.
The relay camp was about three quarters of an hour away from the supply camp. It was a much smaller camp, situated in a remote location and not along any major road.
No one would pay attention to it.
Only a small batch was moved each time, in such a small quantity that it attracted no attention at all.
Even if someone happened to see it from a distance, they would simply assume it was an ordinary supply shipment.
The grain sacks in the supply camp were gradually emptied, but there was no visible sign of it.
The empty sacks were stacked again, with old grain sacks placed over the corners. The grain on top was kept exactly as it was.
From the outside, everything looked intact.
Inside, however, the grain was no longer the same batch Jiang Zechen had seen during the day.
By the fourth night, there was very little genuine grain left in the supply camp.
Most of what remained was old grain, inferior grain mixed with impurities, and another batch of stale rice that could no longer be eaten.
The grain sacks looked intact on the outside, but their contents had already been replaced.
Eighty percent of the fake grain carts, mixed with a small amount of real grain, occupied the main area of the camp.
The genuine grain that had been removed had already been transported in batches to the relay camp.
When someone entered the warehouse, they would see the grain sacks and smell the scent of grain.
They would never imagine that what was inside those sacks was something that would be moved away that very night.
The Northern Di spy was already on his way back, carrying all the details he had recorded, preparing to hand over the exact location and defenses of this camp to Helian Cang.
He did not know that all the preparations within that camp had already been completed.
And the details he had seen were precisely the details Xia Lanshi wanted him to see.
Xia Lanshi had not personally gone to the site.
He sat at his desk, with the chessboard already laid out, waiting only for Helian Cang to make his choice.
Everything had already been positioned. Every move the Northern Di made was within his plan.
Even though the enemy had yet to send out their troops, every piece on the chessboard already had its own position, and had even begun moving in the direction he had calculated.
He was waiting for another piece of news.
◆◇◆◇◆
After nightfall, the northern wind grew heavier than usual.
The clouds in the north hung extremely low, like a curtain pulled taut again and again, blocking out both the moonlight and the stars.
The wind came from deep within the wilderness, carrying the scent of withered grass and frozen earth, occasionally mixed with a trace of gunpowder and charred wood.
This kind of weather was ideal for a night raid.
A wolf howl came from the distance.
When Xia Lanshi walked out of the tent, his pace was slightly faster than usual, but there was no hint of panic.
Chi Banyue had originally followed him, but Xia Lanshi stopped her.
“Jiang Zechen will come.”
Chi Banyue paused, understanding what he meant.
In Jiang Zechen’s eyes, she was Xiao Yuan’s favored concubine. She could not appear in a situation like this.
“Fine.”
She could not appear openly, but she could still remain hidden in the shadows.
The main command tent was brightly lit. Xiao Yuan sat at the desk, with a map of the northern borderlands spread out before him.
When Xia Lanshi entered the tent, Xiao Yuan raised his eyes and glanced at his expression.
“He’s here,” Xiao Yuan said.
“He’s here,” Xia Lanshi replied.
Both exchanges were extremely brief, as though something they had already anticipated had simply begun to happen.
Pei Yi arrived shortly afterward, snow still clinging to his armor, as though he had just returned from inspecting the area outside the city.
When he entered the tent, he swept his eyes over everyone’s expressions. He asked nothing and simply walked to his usual position.
When Xiao Yuan raised his head, his voice was not loud, but it had already regained the clarity expected of a commander-in-chief.
“First order. The Northern Outpost withdraws. Do not launch an offensive. Do not light the wolf smoke.”
Pei Yi’s brows immediately furrowed.
“They’re going to seize the grain!”
Xia Lanshi answered gently, “Yes.”
Pei Yi looked at him, as though waiting for what came next.
But Xia Lanshi did not explain. Instead, he pointed to a valley northeast of the Northern Outpost on the map.
“They will take this route. It is the longest route and requires a detour. But the terrain is relatively flat.”
Xiao Yuan nodded, as though confirming a conclusion they had already discussed.
“Second order. At the frontline supply camp, leave the grain behind. Light all the torches. Keep the carts where they are.”
After hearing this, Pei Yi’s gaze moved between Xia Lanshi and Xiao Yuan.
He realized that there was none of the distance between the two men that usually existed between a commander giving orders and a military strategist receiving them.
Instead, they seemed like two people who had already completed their discussion and were now simply carrying out the plan.
He asked no further questions, because he now understood.
This was a plan that had been prepared long ago.
Jiang Zechen was the last to arrive.
Even in his haste, he insisted on straightening his clothes until there was not a single wrinkle.
His footsteps were extremely light when he entered the tent, making almost no sound.
He did not sit beside anyone. He merely stood in a corner, like someone observing a chess game.
The bamboo fan remained closed in his hand.
Xia Lanshi’s gaze rested on him for a brief moment, as though merely confirming his presence.
Xiao Yuan did not look at Jiang Zechen and continued.
“Third order. Pei Yi, lead the cavalry around the northeastern valley and lie in ambush. Block the valley’s exit. Do not pursue them.”
“This subordinate obeys.”
Pei Yi cupped his fist and turned to leave the tent.
Jiang Zechen remained standing in the corner, silent from beginning to end.
He saw Xia Lanshi standing beside the map, not adding a single word.
As though the order required no further explanation.
◆◇◆◇◆
Jiang Zechen followed Xia Lanshi out of the main command tent.
He walked neither quickly nor slowly, as though they simply happened to be going in the same direction.
After the two had walked side by side for a short distance, Jiang Zechen spoke.
“Why didn’t you defend it?”
Xia Lanshi did not stop walking.
“We couldn’t hold it.”
Jiang Zechen did not slow his steps.
“At least we should have blocked them.”
Xia Lanshi finally glanced at him.
“People are more important than grain.”
Jiang Zechen did not ask anything else.
He had already received his answer.
He was not satisfied with it, but he could also tell that Xia Lanshi would not offer any further explanation.
When he returned to his own tent, he opened his notebook and recorded what had happened that night.
His handwriting was as neat as always, but the tip of his brush paused for a moment over the words, People are more important than grain, as though he were judging whether that statement was true.
Then he closed the notebook and did not look at it again.
He could tell that Xia Lanshi was like someone who already knew the ending, merely waiting for it to arrive naturally.
◆◇◆◇◆
The grain convoy of the Cangyuan Khanate gathered across the sheltered slope of the valley.
The sleds and carts were arranged in neat rows, while the horses’ breath condensed into white mist in the cold wind.
Amid the snow and wind, Helian Cang rode past the final row of grain sacks, confirming that the grain seized tonight would be enough to keep the Cangyuan Khanate going for a while longer.
He turned his horse around, preparing to order the convoy to regroup and retreat to the grasslands.
Just as he pulled on the reins, he heard another sound within the wind and snow—
The sound of hoofbeats coming from the south, carrying an unmistakable sense of presence.
Helian Cang abruptly turned around.
As he looked south, dark shadows surged out of the snowy mist.
The Silver Wolf Banner slowly unfurled in the wind.
Helian Cang was silent for a moment before speaking in a low voice.
“Go!”
He let the grain convoy leave first.
The Cangyuan Khanate desperately needed this grain. No matter what, they had to bring it back, or more people would starve to death.
He led half of the light cavalry to delay the enemy.
The two sides engaged in battle in the valley.
◇◆◇◆◇
By the time the Cangyuan Khanate’s troops retreated deep into the snowy plains, the sky was already fully bright.
Helian Cang rode at the very front of the convoy without saying a word, several injuries marking his body.
Although they had lost a considerable amount of fighting strength, at least they had brought the grain back.
When he led the convoy back to the Cangyuan Khanate camp, the snow finally stopped.
Sunlight fell upon the snow, stretching the shadows of the entire convoy long across the ground.
Helian Cang dismounted and walked to the first grain cart.
He untied the rope around the mouth of the sack.
When he reached his hand inside, the texture felt wrong.
He opened it.
The grain was mixed with dust, sand, stones, and bits of grass. Genuine rice grains accounted for less than half of the contents, as though someone had taken part of the original grain away and replaced it with something else.
He opened a second sack.
Then a third.
Then a fourth.
The result was the same.
He stood there in silence.
What they had brought back this time was not grain, but something heavier than grain and far more difficult to swallow.
He remembered the road through the blizzard, those detours with surprisingly good road conditions, and the tracks left by the carts that were far neater than expected.
At last, he understood.
What he had transported back was not grain.
It was a calculated trap that had already been laid out, while he had remained unaware from beginning to end.
His deputy general saw everything and spoke with anger, his eyes red.
“That grain… We hauled it all night!”
Helian Cang did not answer immediately.
He stood among the grain sacks, watching them lined up neatly beneath the sunlight.
He had moved them from the Northern Outpost to the valley, then from the valley to this place.
Only at the very last moment had he realized that he had been deceived.
He no longer had the strength to be angry.
His gaze fell on the distant boundary where the snow line met the horizon.
He simply stood there, as though mentally walking through the route of the previous night once again—
From mobilizing the troops to seizing the grain, from transporting it to retreating.
Every step had been reasonable.
Every step had gone smoothly.
Until the final step, when he finally realized it.
He had stepped onto something he thought was solid ground, only to discover that it was actually the mouth of a pit.
He had heard that beside Xiao Yuan was a talented Chief of Staff named Xia Lanshi.
This plan must have contained his strategy.
He felt no anger, because anger was the reaction to a battle that one had clearly lost.
But in this battle, he had never won from the very beginning.
He had not even come close to winning for a single moment.
“Xia Lanshi.”
He whispered the name once.
It was the first time he had truly remembered that name.
◆◇◆◇◆
In the darkness of night, Xia Lanshi stood beside the grain sacks.
He spoke quietly, his tone as calm as ever.
“Move them in batches.”
Pei Yi approached from a distance and stopped beside Xia Lanshi.
After remaining silent for a while, he finally spoke.
“That grain…”
Xia Lanshi did not raise his head.
“The grain has been seized by the Northern Di.”
Pei Yi asked no more questions and turned to begin directing the soldiers to move the grain.
He understood.
This grain had now become secret grain, absent from the official records.
This grain was a weapon.
The imperial court would see that the grain had indeed arrived, but had been seized, leaving Linbei City still short of food.
The Northern Di would seize the grain, but less than twenty percent of it would actually be usable.
And Jiang Zechen had become a witness to this entire performance, proving to the imperial court that the grain had once existed.
In reality, however, the grain was still here.
It would be secretly moved into that underground space.
Even if the imperial court continued cutting off the food supply, Linbei City would still be able to hold out.
Pei Yi had always felt some fear toward Xia Lanshi.
But in the past, he had merely been afraid of making a mistake and being reprimanded by him.
Now, there was another emotion mixed in.
Awe.
◆◇◆◇◆
The tent fell silent.
Xia Lanshi sat at the desk, the inventory ledger spread out before him.
He did not hurry to put it away.
He simply looked at the numbers.
When Chi Banyue lifted the curtain and entered, she was carrying a bowl.
She placed it on the desk.
“Finish it. Doctor Su says you need to eat your three meals on time.”
Xia Lanshi lowered his head and glanced at the bowl of porridge before picking it up and taking a sip.
Chi Banyue sat across from him.
She did not leave immediately, as though waiting for him to finish.
“How do you think Jiang Zechen will write it?” she asked.
Xia Lanshi’s fingers paused against the rim of the bowl.
“I don’t know.”
Chi Banyue raised a brow at him.
“You don’t know?”
“I don’t know how he will write it,” Xia Lanshi said, lifting his eyes slightly. “But I know he won’t be able to write it.”
A faint smile appeared at the corner of his lips.
Seeing it, Chi Banyue could not help smiling as well.
But she was merely feeling both sympathy and amusement at Jiang Zechen’s predicament.
“Lord Jiang is truly unfortunate to have a classmate like you.”
Anyone Xia Lanshi regarded as an opponent had never managed to escape him.
Xia Lanshi paid no attention to her remark.
“He’ll thank me in the future.”
Chi Banyue asked no more questions.
She rose, picked up the empty bowl, lifted the curtain, and left.
Xia Lanshi remained seated at the desk, listening to the faint sound of the tent curtain falling back into place.
He lowered his head and glanced at the numbers on the inventory ledger.
Outside the tent, the wind gradually weakened, as though the city itself were slowly exhaling, preparing to welcome whatever was supposed to come next.
◆◇◆◇◆
When Jiang Zechen returned to his tent, the notebook was spread across the desk.
The brush lay along the edge of the inkstone, untouched.
He sat down without immediately picking it up.
He merely stared at the pages that had been turned over and then closed again, as though reorganizing the judgments he himself had previously made.
He remembered the words he had written down the previous night:
“Xia Lanshi is passively defending the city.”
“People are more important than grain.”
Looking at those lines again now, he felt that the matter was not nearly as simple as it appeared on the surface.
He wanted to pick up his brush and write something again.
The tip of the brush hovered above the paper, but for a long time, it did not touch down.
In the end, he set the brush aside and closed the notebook without finishing that page.
But before closing it completely, his fingertips paused briefly against the edge of the paper.
He vaguely sensed that everything had gone too smoothly.
He and the grain had arrived in Linzhou at the same time.
Not long afterward, the Northern Di had come to seize it.
The withdrawal of the Northern Outpost had been far too quiet, without a single casualty, as though it had been rehearsed beforehand.
Although Xiao Yuan had sent Pei Yi to pursue them, the grain had not been recovered.
They had only reduced part of the Northern Di’s military strength.
The account books were correct.
The grain records were correct.
The troops were correct.
It was all too clean.
The memorial reporting that the grain had arrived at the warehouse had already been sent out and was still on the road.
And now, he could only write what he had personally seen and heard.
Yet something inside him told him that this was not how he should write it.
He had already written several lines, then crossed them out.
He wrote several more, then stopped again.
In the end, he placed the brush back along the edge of the inkstone.
He could not write it.
Not because he had nothing to write about.
But because the more he saw, the less he knew where to begin.
He stared at the lines he had crossed out on the paper:
“The Northern Di launched a night raid on the Northern Outpost.”
“The grain was seized.”
“Xia Lanshi responded passively.”
Every sentence was a fact.
And yet none of them was the complete truth.
The complete truth was this:
The Northern Di had attacked.
The grain had been transported away.
But he knew there was more to it than that.
Xia Lanshi could not possibly have been this obedient.
Xia Lanshi was not merely intelligent.
He was the kind of person who could calculate every step his enemy would take and incorporate it into his own plan.
What troubled Jiang Zechen even more was that he still had not figured out what words he should use to describe that man.
The grain was gone.
How exactly did Xiao Yuan and Xia Lanshi intend to keep Linbei City alive?
And where would Xia Lanshi’s next chess piece fall?
When he stepped outside the tent, the sunlight had already completely broken through the clouds and fallen across the snow.
But even by nightfall, Jiang Zechen still had not finished writing the memorial.
He did not know how to put the matter into the memorial.
Because Xia Lanshi had violated no law.
And Xiao Yuan had made no mistake.
Jiang Zechen put down his brush and turned the paper to a fresh page.
He did not try to write the memorial again.
Instead, he wrote only three characters on the page.
Then he stopped for a long time.
Those three characters were:
夏蘭時.
Xia Lanshi.
He stared at those three characters as though he were getting to know them all over again.
Outside the window, the wind murmured softly.
He did not pick up his brush again.
He simply sat beneath the lamplight, dismantling a chessboard he was no longer certain he fully understood.