In that instant, Qi Zhuyin’s thoughts spun rapidly. She weighed the importance of both sides, searching within this struggle for the alliance most beneficial to Qidong. The outcome of this game mattered just as much to Qidong—it might even determine how long she could remain in the position of Great Marshal of the armies.
After making her decision, she said, “This minister has not yet discussed the matter in detail with the Ministry of War and the Ministry of Revenue, and is not fully aware of the grain reserves in other regions. However, last year Qidong’s harvest across the four prefectures was still acceptable. If we were to deploy troops and pool resources from other granaries, we could barely sustain operations for two months.”
“You are a general,” the Empress Dowager said softly, “so naturally you understand better than I do that marching deep into the desert alone takes at least a month or more. Now it is already the third month. If spring planting in the four prefectures is delayed, and two months later the troops have not returned, then autumn harvests in the seventh month will also be delayed. Zhuyin, it is not that I refuse to send troops—it is that I cannot.”
Qi Zhuyin appeared troubled. The hall once again fell into silence.
The Empress Dowager rose slowly, smoothing her robes as she looked around at the ministers in the hall and spoke with apparent sincerity. “If Great Zhou’s granaries were full, even if Zhuyin did not request it, I would order this war myself. But the treasury is currently empty. I am truly unable to support it. Moreover, the people depend on food for survival—if we fight this war, people across three regions will go hungry. Would that not be putting the cart before the horse? Bolan, you reviewed the Ministry of Revenue’s reports at the beginning of the year and understand the situation across the regions.”
Qi Zhuyin stood within the hall; the ministers could not openly contradict the Empress Dowager. With her calm composure, she was clearly forcing them to bring up the Eight Cities themselves. Kong Qiu held his memorial in hand, expression unreadable.
After a moment, Kong Qiu said, “The deployment of troops in Qidong is no small matter and should be carefully planned. Since the Great Marshal has only just entered the capital and has not yet discussed matters with the inner cabinet, it would be better to wait until tonight’s discussion concludes before making a decision.”
This was a delaying tactic—neither following the Empress Dowager’s intent nor making a decision on Xue Xiuzhuo’s behalf. The ledger compiled by Liang Cuishan was in his possession, yet he could not bring himself to expose the issues in Dancheng.
As the assembly dispersed, officials exited Mingli Hall in order. Feng Quan draped a cloak over Li Jingtian. The Crown Prince slowed her steps slightly, waiting for Kong Qiu to emerge. Kong Qiu raised his arm and guided her down the steps into the open square.
“Your Highness spoke frankly today,” Kong Qiu said. “The proposal to consolidate grain reserves across regions is indeed a viable solution.”
Li Jingtian pressed her lips slightly before smiling. “The Grand Chancellor and I discussed this earlier in the year. I have not forgotten. However, it does seem increasingly difficult to gather sufficient military grain.”
Dawn had fully broken. Puddles on the ground reflected the blue sky, while the eaves still held the last traces of twilight.
As they walked, Li Jingtian said, “That Lord Chongshen is quite remarkable. I hear he is exceptionally skilled at mental arithmetic—his calculations are never wrong. Since the Dancheng tax case has been temporarily delayed, why not have him calculate grain reserves across the regions? If three regions are insufficient, there are still the Eight Cities. Everyone can work together.”
Kong Qiu gave a bitter smile. “At present, military grain requisition must pass through Erxi. The difficulty lies precisely in how to request grain from the Eight Cities…”
He suddenly stopped speaking and looked at Li Jingtian carefully.
What she had said was “have the Ministry of Revenue calculate,” not “investigate.” The difference of a single word carried vastly different implications. The former meant that regardless of the Empress Dowager’s approval, the inner cabinet could have Liang Cuishan calculate the grain reserves of the Eight Cities. Since the Dancheng records were already suspect and Pan Lin was still imprisoned, it was entirely proper for the Ministry of Revenue to recalculate the grain stores of the Eight Cities. It was within their duty.
The red cinnabar mark between Li Jingtian’s brows was vivid, yet did not diminish her presence as Crown Prince. She seemed to have spoken casually, even showing a trace of uncertainty under Kong Qiu’s gaze.
Qi Zhuyin left the palace gates and saw Xue Xiuzhuo standing not far away. She removed the cloak from her shoulders and handed it to Qi Wei, who had come to receive her, then pointed ahead, signaling that they should walk and talk.
“I just heard from Minister Chen that you provided the military funds this time,” Qi Zhuyin said. “Thank you.”
Her words carried deeper meaning. Xue Xiuzhuo understood and followed her for a few steps.
“The Great Marshal’s campaign against the Qingshu tribe is meant to contain Amur,” he said. “The northern front is under pressure. This war should be fought.”
Qi Zhuyin avoided mentioning her existing grain supply. Instead, she said, “Before entering the capital, I heard the military grain would be requisitioned from Erxi. Jiang Qingshan would not agree, would he? You also face difficulties.”
The morning air in Que Du was no longer as cold. Merchants had begun opening their shops. Officials passed by on either side, and commoners kept their distance. After they passed, people whispered among themselves.
The legendary Great Marshal Qi Zhuyin, said to be fierce as a storm over the wild plains, was in fact only tall in stature. She was not especially muscular or imposing, yet she carried an undeniable composure that made others unable to ignore her scrutiny.
“But you are right—this war must be fought,” Qi Zhuyin continued. The five pearls on her crown swayed in the wind, her hair slightly disheveled against her cheek. “Libei has rebelled, but its cavalry still forms the northern barrier of Que Du. The King of Libei is dead, yet there are still no clear victories. The fighting is difficult. Those of you in the capital are far from the frontier and do not understand the Twelve Border Tribes. Reports alone cannot convey Amur’s ambition. Do not assume they cannot break through.”
Que Du was the imperial capital. Its prosperity had lasted a hundred years. Unlike the dusty frontiers, it had never been truly touched by war. It had been seven years since Zhongbo’s defeat, and fear had long faded. The terror of border cavalry no longer lingered here.
“Amur now commands six tribes and has adopted Qidong’s military farming system in Gedale. If Qidong does not deploy troops this year, even Que Du will no longer remain untouched. I will speak plainly—my troops cannot outrun the border cavalry. If Libei falls and Luoxia City cannot hold, even if the border riders reach Que Du, I will not make it in time.”
The wind rose slightly. Qi Zhuyin stopped and turned to look at Xue Xiuzhuo. Behind her stood the towering vermilion palace walls, layered eaves reaching into the clear sky. No clouds hung above—Que Du was exposed in full daylight.
“I must send troops,” she said, her eyes devoid of joy.
Qidong rarely intervened in Que Du’s politics. Qi Shiyu had been astute—he always chose the right moment to align Qidong with Libei or the noble families. Qi Zhuyin, however, lacked such patience. She would rather risk censure from the capital than delay action against the Qingshu tribe, because she knew war mattered more than politics.
The Empress Dowager’s trap against Xue Xiuzhuo was clever, but she had also attempted to force a marriage alliance onto Qi Zhuyin, showing clearly that she would not grant Qi Zhuyin a title—and might even begin stripping her military authority.
At this critical juncture, Qi Zhuyin would not hand Qidong’s army to anyone else. If the Empress Dowager intended to move against her, she would not sit and wait.
“As long as my petition for deployment is approved before I leave, and the Ministry of War issues the order,” Qi Zhuyin said with a faint smile, “blocking your grain supply will not be difficult. I will not forcibly requisition Erxi’s grain.”
Xue Xiuzhuo brushed aside a drifting willow branch. “Agreed.”
The incense inside the palace hall was heavy, and Hua Xiangyi felt slightly nauseated from it. Lady Liuxiang quickly ordered the windows opened and helped her sit by the window. “The Third Miss has only been gone half a year, yet she has already lost weight. Qidong is harsh and sandy—it has been hard on you.”
Hua Xiangyi held her handkerchief and said, “It is you who have grown thinner.” She turned her gaze toward the inner chamber, where a small Buddhist shrine stood.
“The Empress Dowager thinks of you daily,” Lady Liuxiang said. “She prays before the Buddha for your safety. The other night she even caught a chill and wished to see you. The medicine did not help, so she asked us to light lamps and read your letters aloud.”
As they spoke, an eunuch announced someone’s arrival outside. Hua Xiangyi stepped out to greet her. The Empress Dowager did not let her bow, instead holding her hand and examining her carefully at the doorway.
“How have you grown so thin? Is the food in your household unsuitable? I will select several cooks for you from our capital,” she said emotionally, eyes moistening. She stroked Hua Xiangyi’s temple. “My child, are you well?”
Hua Xiangyi held her hand tightly, her voice trembling slightly. “I miss you, Aunt.”
The Empress Dowager brought her inside and sat her close, unwilling to let her sit aside. “Does Qi Shiyu treat you well? Does Qi Zhuyin treat you well? I hear there are restless concubines in his household. If anyone dares mistreat you, have them bound and expelled. I will support you.”
Hua Xiangyi laughed through tears.
The Empress Dowager held her like a child. “I once thought that marrying you off would at least allow correspondence. Only now do I realize how unbearable distance is.”
She had once hoped to choose the best husband for Hua Xiangyi. Qi Shiyu had seemed acceptable—an aging but respectable hero. But his later stroke ruined everything. Now she regretted her decisions and wanted only to give Hua Xiangyi the best of everything.
After their conversation, Hua Xiangyi finally asked softly, “Is Aunt well?”
“The court is in chaos. I eat and sleep poorly,” the Empress Dowager sighed, then added bitterly, “I am simply growing old.”
Hua Xiangyi gently rose. “Aunt, why trouble yourself so much? With the Grand Chancellor assisting and the Crown Prince being diligent…”
But the Empress Dowager interrupted sharply.
“That Crown Prince is not so simple. Just a girl brought in from outside, manipulated by schemers, now trying to challenge me.”
Hua Xiangyi fell silent.
Then she said carefully, “Since marrying into Qidong, I have come to understand both the frontier and Zhongbo. Shen Zechuan has become powerful, but his actions are not without merit…”
The Empress Dowager’s expression hardened.
“I know what you are trying to say. But this is not a time for kindness. I will not share power with that Crown Prince.”
Outside, faint sounds of rain suddenly began to fall—despite the clear sky.