The sun disappeared below the horizon, and tiny fragments of starlight scattered among the branches. The imperial patrols roamed the streets and alleys, while Xiao Chiyu carried Shen Zechuan along the shadowed curb. The summer night was warm; Xiao Chiyu walked slowly, his outer coat left open.
Shen Zechuan tilted his head, resting his chin atop Xiao Chiyu’s hair. Xiao Chiyu was so tall that Shen Zechuan’s upper body was fully exposed to the moonlight; a mere turn of his head could reveal the interiors of neighboring homes.
“Tomorrow morning, I’ll head to the old camp and block his escape from the east. He won’t dare go north, and there are ambushes to the south. At the latest, I’ll be back in three days,” Xiao Chiyu said, holding Shen Zechuan. “It’s been a long time since we had any news from Quan Du. We need to send scouts quickly to track Qi Zhuyin’s movements.”
“The marriage between Hua and Qi keeps being delayed. The Empress Dowager, seeking external support, won’t allow Qi Shiyu and the others to act independently,” Shen Zechuan estimated, “the wedding won’t be postponed past August at the latest.”
“Even if Hua Xiangyi marries, as long as she bears no children, Qidong remains under Qi Zhuyin’s control,” Xiao Chiyu said. “Hua will be the secondary wife, younger than Qi Zhuyin. Should she have a son, he would be Qi Shiyu’s legitimate child. Once Qi Shiyu dies, they would become a potential obstacle to Qi Zhuyin’s command over the army.”
“Does the general truly fear a younger legitimate brother so much?” Shen Zechuan pondered. “If she seeks peace in the household and coexists with Hua Xiangyi, it would save much trouble.”
“Qi Zhuyin’s rise wasn’t easy. Her takeover of Qidong’s five prefectures shows that, besides Quan Du’s unease with a woman in command, even Qidong’s military officials are restless,” Xiao Chiyu paused, then continued, “Moreover, I had the genealogy copied and delivered to Qi Zhuyin while in Quan Du. For this alone, she won’t allow Hua Xiangyi to bear a child.”
As long as Hua Xiangyi’s position in Qidong remains unstable, the Empress Dowager can never turn the garrison into her personal strong arm. But this all assumes Quan Du has no emperor yet. If a new emperor is installed before winter, Qi Zhuyin will be in a position to confront the north.
“I’m worried about Lu Guangbai,” Xiao Chiyu said, his ease fading. “After autumn, the border cavalry will raid for food. Their horses are fattened, and to survive winter, they will risk everything. Border prefecture rations rely on the Great Zhou’s distribution. The twelve frontier units know the region is poor; granaries are nearby, so they relentlessly pursue Lu Guangbai. This year, Qidong’s rations are halved. He struggles, cannot defend well, and with my absence from Quan Du, it’s a disaster.”
This, however, was beyond Shen Zechuan’s aid. If the border prefecture were less easterly, and if Tianfei Que and Suotian Pass weren’t guarding both flanks, they might have communicated with Ge Qingqing in West Ju and arranged for Xi Dan to purchase supplies from there, sending them via Hezhou to Qidong to assist Lu Guangbai. But the prefecture lay east of Cang, hemmed in on both sides. Passing unnoticed through Cang was impossible; Qidong itself was tightly fortified by Qi Zhuyin.
The border prefecture was like a night watchman on the cliff’s edge—a near-impossible position.
Feeling the tension, Xiao Chiyu rotated, carrying Shen Zechuan, and said, “Right now, pursuing Lei Jingzhe is most urgent. Once we secure Zhongbo, aiding the border prefecture becomes much easier; crossing Tianfei Que leads straight there. Smell all this sweat?”
Shen Zechuan wiped the sweat from Xiao Chiyu’s neck, pressing his cheek to his, and said, “Then you run.”
Xiao Chiyu jostled him. “Too tired, I can’t run.”
Shen Zechuan pinched his face. “If you can’t, then I will.”
Xiao Chiyu pretended to set him down. “Get down, and tonight I’ll see how you carry me back.”
Shen Zechuan wrapped tightly, lifting his legs, saying seriously, “Why fight over this? You can do it.”
Xiao Chiyu lifted him higher. Shen Zechuan clung to his back, tracing his coat down with his fingers, whispering in his ear, “Second Master, nothing is impossible.”
Xiao Chiyu tilted his head, unexpectedly calm. “Where to?”
“To—” Shen Zechuan’s words were cut off as Xiao Chiyu sprinted, carrying him through moonlit trees into darkened alleys. Patrols passed back and forth, oblivious to them. Jumping over small steps, shadows splintered across his hair. Their movements shattered the starlight below, like a reckless, free wind sweeping through the world.
The gatekeeper of the small courtyard, still yawning, heard the knocking and assumed the marquis and magistrate had returned. Draped in clothes and carrying a lantern, he opened the door cheerfully, only to find it empty.
“Haunted,” he muttered, peeking outside. Seeing nothing, he quickly ran back, wrapping himself in his coat.
The corridor was dark, no lanterns lit. Shen Zechuan’s steps faltered, nearly tripping. Xiao Chiyu pressed him against the door, pulling the ribbon from his hair as they kissed. Shen Zechuan, gasping, reached for the door lock.
“No key,” Xiao Chiyu said, lifting him slightly, eyes greedy, staring at Shen Zechuan. “Can’t get in.”
Shen Zechuan pressed against him, holding Xiao Chiyu’s chin, teasingly, “If we can’t get in, then we can’t.”
Xiao Chiyu freed his mouth, hungrily taking his tongue. Last night’s exhaustion melted away. Shen Zechuan swallowed, hearing the door creak under their weight. To restrain his voice, he drew closer, pressed against him—no space between them.
“We can be anywhere,” Xiao Chiyu whispered, brushing against him, throat tightening with a soft sigh, “let’s build a home.”
Sweating, Shen Zechuan, blurred by tears, remained silent. He had not done this in a long time; tonight left him trembling. Grasping Xiao Chiyu’s shoulder, chest heaving, after a moment, he whispered, “No… we need to… go inside…”
Taking this as assent, Xiao Chiyu thrust forward, nearly making Shen Zechuan cry out.
“What’s impossible, Second Master?” Xiao Chiyu held him tightly, correcting his face, wickedly, “Everything is possible.”
Shen Zechuan’s eyes reddened, neck flushed. He opened his mouth, releasing only other sounds. Sweat soaked their clothes; Shen Zechuan struggled to breathe, pressed against Xiao Chiyu, overwhelmed by waves of pleasure, surrendering twice within half an hour.
Shen Zechuan fell into a deep sleep. Xiao Chiyu bathed, saw the faint light outside, but didn’t rest. He drank strong tea, crouching by the bed, watching Shen Zechuan sleep.
Back in Li Bei, he intended to summon Master Yideng. After much thought, he suspected that the recurring illnesses and chills Shen Zechuan suffered were closely linked to the medicine.
Too thin.
Xiao Chiyu stared at him in the quiet, reflecting. Though once in Quan Du Shen Zechuan had seemed thin, it was nothing compared to now. After Qi Huilian’s death, his illness came and went quickly, yet he never regained strength. Along the journey, with nothing but Xiao Chiyu’s care, Shen Zechuan had grown dependent, drawing Xiao Chiyu’s attentive protection.
Shen Wei and Bai Cha mattered not at all.
Xiao Chiyu lowered his head, pressing against Shen Zechuan, glaring at the sunlight attempting to touch him. Deep hostility:
Shen Lanzhou belongs to him—Shao Ce’an’s.
When Xiao Chiyu rode out of the city, Zhou Gui and Kunling accompanied him. Pulling the reins, he said, “Three days at most. Success or failure, I will return. The stationed patrols remain in place; if Lei Jingzhe is spotted, notify me immediately. Though Cizhou’s walls are old, we cannot ignore them. Master Lanzhou will explain reinforcement plans later.”
“Rest assured, Marquis,” Zhou Gui said. “Cizhou’s people follow the magistrate’s arrangements.”
“As for rebuilding Cizhou’s garrison…” Xiao Chiyu paused. “I won’t interfere. Lanzhou will consult you on military matters. The patrol only acts on delegated authority; I cannot overstep. If there’s an issue, discuss it with Lanzhou; it is beyond me.”
Kunling’s heart warmed then chilled. They had feared Xiao Chiyu would seize Cizhou’s military authority under the guise of patrol. Hearing this, they first relaxed, then worried again. If he doesn’t claim Cizhou’s troops or take its rations, why exhaust himself battling Lei Jingzhe? Better to return north leisurely.
Kunling prepared to speak when Xiao Chiyu continued, “Since I promised to suppress the bandits, I will not break my word. Lord Zhou risked his life letting the patrol pass; I repay that debt. Moreover, Cizhou’s people have supplied the troops these days. We eat, and the fight is inevitable.”
Zhou Gui bowed. “Then we await your triumphant return, Marquis!”
“Several matters, I’ll also clarify,” Xiao Chiyu said, circling the horse, looking at Zhou Gui and Kunling. “I never intend to take a concubine. While temporarily staying at Lord Zhou’s mansion, no one need be sent. Men or women, I want none. Affairs are too pressing for me to entertain this. Today, I make it clear.”
Kunling knew he referred to the previous matter, cheeks flushed, unsure whether to laugh or respond.
“Lanzhou has lived in Zhongbo long enough; old topics will arise. But Shen Zechuan,” Xiao Chiyu lifted his whip, pointing toward Quan Du, “is the student of the Eastern Palace Tutor Qi Huilian, the closed-door disciple of Duanzhou’s Ji Gang, former North Commander of the Imperial Guard, and future head of my household. Any other name is irrelevant.”
Zhou Gui was dumbfounded, lips trembling. “Ah… ah…”
Xiao Chiyu turned his horse, riding off like a raptor.
Zhou Gui, still stunned, tugged at his sleeve. “Marquis… what does this mean? Then the King of Li Bei—”
“Words have reached this point. He doesn’t care for Cizhou’s troops, and don’t mention Shen Wei,” Kunling said, calmly wiping sweat. “Nor Bai Cha.”