Lei Changming was originally from Chazhou. In his early years, he worked as a caravan guard, doing hard labor, never having the benefit of formal education. During the Yongyi era, his sister was taken as a concubine by the Commander-in-Chief of Duanzhou’s garrison, gaining favor within the command headquarters. For a time, Lei Changming’s life improved, and he spent his days frequenting gambling halls. But the good times did not last: the Commander-in-Chief was not a long-suffering lover, and within a few years he grew tired of Lei Changming’s sister. All the debts Lei Changming had incurred were left unpaid, forcing him back into the caravan business.
At the end of the Yongyi era, Lei Changming accepted a mission for the Yan family of Hezhou. On the road, to protect their young master, Yan Heru, he risked his life fighting bandits, earning the Yan family’s favor. After Zhongbo’s forces suffered defeat during the Xiande era, Lei Changming used the Yan family’s funds to recruit troops, instigate a mutiny in Duanzhou’s garrison, and eliminate the commander appointed by the court, fully descending into the life of a bandit lord.
At first, Lei Changming commanded only a few thousand men. But as the court’s passive responses left Zhongbo weakened, more commoners fell into banditry, and Lei gradually became the dominant power in Duanzhou. By now, his army far outnumbered the official garrisons across Zhongbo’s prefectures.
“Half a year ago, Lei Changming had over fourteen thousand men spread across Duan and Dun prefectures,” Zhou Gui said, rolling up his sleeves as he pointed to a map for Xiao Chiyie. “He made Mount Luoshan between the two prefectures his stronghold, establishing a bandit nest there. When the court tried to rebuild the Dengzhou garrison, they attempted to suppress Luoshan several times, but failed each time and eventually gave up. No one bothered with it afterward.”
Xiao Chiyie leaned against the table, arms bound, studying the map. “If he’s bringing forty thousand men toward Cizhou, he must still leave enough to guard Luoshan. That means he commands at least sixty thousand troops—equal to the garrisons of Qidong’s two counties.”
Though he bore no blame, Xiao Chiyie’s words made Zhou Gui sweat. Across six prefectures in Zhongbo, each with official governance, they had watched in six short years as one bandit gang grew into a force comparable to a regular army.
“Though Your Lordship has no dealings with Duan or Dun, field officers normally handle garrison matters there,” Kong Ling said, seated. “In just half a year, he’s gathered so many men, yet we received no word of it.”
“My Lord,” Zhou Gui said earnestly, “I initially thought Lei Changming’s force of just over ten thousand would take only a month to suppress. But now he comes with forty thousand directly toward Cizhou. With only twenty thousand troops from the imperial army, it’s dangerous! Perhaps we should—”
He trailed off. The unspoken thought: send word immediately to Li Bei, alert Xiao Fangxu, and have the Li Bei cavalry guarding the northeast grain and horse route march south to assist.
Xiao Chiyie remained silent, arms bound. Zhou Gui wanted to press the point further, but Kong Ling read something in Xiao Chiyie’s quietude. Using the motion of serving tea, he pressed Zhou Gui’s arm, and Zhou Gui swallowed his words.
“Your Lordship and Mr. Chengfeng need not panic,” Shen Zechuan said from another chair, still reading the courier report. “Lei Changming’s forty thousand men still need to eat. He can’t march at full speed; his supply lines must carry enough provisions to reach Cizhou. Moreover…”
Shen Zechuan’s expression turned slightly strange.
“This report may not even be accurate.”
“Why would you say that, Deputy?” Zhou Gui hurried forward, robe in hand, scanning the report. “This is an urgent dispatch sent by the officials from Cizhou handling bandit cases in Dunzhou. How could it be inaccurate?”
“He didn’t see Lei Changming’s forty thousand personally,” Shen Zechuan mused. “Relying solely on traces at the camps, believing what Lei said—it’s too hasty. I suspect Lei already knows the imperial army has reached Cizhou, so he raised the banner claiming forty thousand troops to unsettle us.”
“Exactly,” Xiao Chiyie lowered his gaze. “If he really has forty thousand, a prolonged battle would be more taxing. The attrition would exhaust him faster than us.”
“But he still has the support of the Yan family in Hezhou,” Zhou Gui said anxiously. “His power comes from their funds. With the river route directly connecting Hezhou to the western granaries, supplying him would be easy.”
“You’re mistaken, Your Lordship,” Shen Zechuan suddenly smiled. “If he still had full backing from the Yan family, why rush to Cizhou? Didn’t you forget—he’s here for provisions.”
“He visited a few months ago; now he comes again,” Xiao Chiyie said. “This indicates he may have fallen out with the Yans, and that his reserves at Luoshan aren’t enough. To the east lies Chashi River, whose border cavalry are even more predatory. Without allies, he must repeatedly turn to Cizhou for supplies.”
“Then why come now, waiting until the imperial army arrives? It only brings him harm,” Kong Ling said, pacing around the table.
“Because Han Jin is in the imperial army,” Shen Zechuan said, closing the dispatch and rising. “His survival relied on the Yan family. Now that they’ve parted ways, if he wants to seize mountains and rule, he must seek new support. He’s a bandit; more men mean more trouble. Elsewhere, he could live off the land, but Zhongbo is barren—he can only scrape by. This man seizes opportunities; he rose because at three key moments in life, he boarded the right ship. He has troops, Zhongbo lacks soldiers, but no official connections. If he can defeat the imperial army and rescue Han Jin, he can report success to Qudu and leverage the Han family to gain official rank.”
“He’s clever—trying to transform himself into a legitimate court official,” Zhou Gui fumed, stomping. “Completely disregarding the people of Cizhou!”
“This is conjecture; we must first engage him to understand fully,” Xiao Chiyie said, hanging the Wolf Fang Blade. “Cizhou is backed by Li Bei. Lei Changming cannot bypass the border to surround us. Immediately order the city gates sealed, even dog holes must be blocked. His men are all unregistered rabble—unpredictable.”
“Your Lordship intends to hold the city against them?” Kong Ling frowned. “Cizhou’s walls are old; they may not withstand Lei Changming’s assault.”
“The imperial army cannot defend inside the walls,” Xiao Chiyie said, hand on the blade, teeth bared. “I’ll bet Lei Changming won’t dare attack my troops head-on. That’s where fear lies.”
At dusk, Xiao Chiyie and Shen Zechuan patrolled the city walls, each carrying a blade, walking side by side.
“The last repair to these walls was during the Yongyi era,” Shen Zechuan said, pressing on the battlement. The soil eroded by wind and rain fell in clumps.
“Zhou Gui is poor,” Xiao Chiyie said, picking up a handful of dirt and crumbling it. “He’s spent these years worrying about food, not fortifications. The imperial army can rely on Cizhou, but cannot retreat inside.”
Zhou Gui had sought Li Bei’s support, and Xiao Chiyie knew it, yet he refused to ask. Though he could return to Li Bei soon, arranging the twenty thousand troops accompanying him would be tricky—they had not yet been coordinated with the Li Bei cavalry. Requesting reinforcements now would risk Xiao Fangxu arriving, leaving Xiao Chiyie no chance for agency upon returning home.
This battle was his first since returning. He had to win. He had to win by his own hand.
The sunset stretched across the horizon, staining half the sky red. In the city below, houses packed tightly, smoke curling from chimneys, voices lively. Shen Zechuan let his hand rest on Xiao Chiyie’s head, the two of them standing and crouching, gazing downward.
“Lei Changming is capable,” Shen Zechuan said. “But whether he’s a mere bandit or a true hero of chaos depends on you.”
“In chaos, heroes emerge,” Xiao Chiyie said, arm on his knee, slowly rising. “I’ll bring the Tyrant Bow with me.”
He stood there like a mighty tree in the evening light, or a mountain before the city wall. Shen Zechuan watched restraints fall away, saw Xiao Chiyie poised for action, ready to cut through the disorder.
“When we return to Li Bei,” Shen Zechuan said, gazing at him, “Prince will notice you’ve grown taller.”
“Last time, already taller than him,” Xiao Chiyie smiled. “As a child, Father seemed like a towering tree. He lifted me on his shoulders, telling me I could touch the clouds. My elder brother wanted to ride too, but at that time he was already at school, feeling his responsibility as the elder, never spoke to Father, only watched me with joy.”
Shen Zechuan smiled, looking at the horizon. “They say the heir resembles the princess consort.”
“Somewhat,” Xiao Chiyie said, eyes reflecting the vast sunset. “Just not as much as me with Father. My brother once fretted—when Father, ill, retired to the mansion, he was only a teen, suddenly having to find a path among men like wolves and tigers. Hard times. Early on, he was ridiculed for not resembling Father, lacking a robust physique. He once told Chaohui…”
Xiao Chiyie’s profile darkened with memory, a subtle melancholy settling. He turned and took Shen Zechuan’s hand, throat moving as he finally said, “Being brothers is strange. I envied my elder brother’s composure, his calm. I used to think, ‘If only I were born a few years earlier,’ then I’d be the elder, the heir, able to ride freely without leaving Li Bei. Yet one day, he returned injured, saw me practicing archery in the courtyard, and told Chaohui, ‘Truly envy Aye.’”
“I thought Father and brother wouldn’t feel pain, wouldn’t falter, bleeding without tears. But on his wedding day, drunk, the composed one carefully took his new wife’s hand, as if foreseeing future, his eyes reddening. He treasures family, and he fears too.”
“I have no merit over my brother. If anything, I only inherited Father’s physique,” Xiao Chiyie said, clutching Shen Zechuan. “I never understood why he reddened at his wife’s eyes, now I do.”