In the sweltering heat of the fifth month, the scholars could no longer endure it and had all taken refuge in the waterside pavilion, drinking tea and smoking while fanning themselves vigorously.
Yu Xiaozi had already drunk too much cold tea and felt a bit unwell. He was thinking of heading to the latrine when he saw Fei Sheng leading Hai Rigu into the courtyard.
“Second Young Master is crossing the border these next few days,” Yu Xiaozi said, wiping sweat from his neck with a handkerchief. “Hai Rigu is going with him.”
“He is a scorpion,” Kong Ling said, who was practicing health regimens and avoiding cold foods, sitting by the water curtain to cool off. “He can go negotiate with the Youxiong tribe.”
This was the Lord’s instruction, so Yu Xiaozi did not object. He nodded and moved a little closer to Yao Wenyu, saying, “I’ve heard the people of the Youxiong tribe are very strong, riding tall warhorses, unlike other desert tribes.”
Gao Zhongxiong had never seen the Youxiong tribe either. He stopped writing, looked up from his inkstone, and waited with Yu Xiaozi for Yao Wenyu’s answer.
Yao Wenyu closed the book on his knees and said, “The Youxiong tribe is a major tribe in the southwestern desert. Before Amur rose to power, the strongest tribes were the Henshe tribe, followed by the Youxiong tribe. They were once stationed east of Suotian Pass and had their own horses, not relying on the short horses of the Gouma tribe. Their horses were called ‘bear horses,’ even taller than the Beili warhorses.”
Gao Zhongxiong had thought Yu Xiaozi was exaggerating, but it turned out to be true. He was shocked. “When I was at the Imperial Academy, I heard of them. Back then, Suotian Pass was guarded by the Feng family. ‘Snow Pass Silver Spear’ Feng Yisheng! It was General Feng who drove the Youxiong tribe east.”
The Four Generals of the Yongyi era were famous throughout the land: the “Swan Geese Iron Wings” Xiao Fangxu, the “Cangjun Thunder Drum” Qi Shiyu, the “Northern Border Frostwind” Lu Pingyan, and the “Snow Pass Silver Spear” Feng Yisheng. They were the men young scholars of Great Zhou spoke of most often.
Feng Yisheng, like Xiao Fangxu, came from humble origins. At fourteen, he pointed at the endless snow peaks of Suotian Pass and vowed to make it the iron wall of Great Zhou. By the time he was forty, he buried his youngest son beneath those snow peaks, and in the end died on the battlefield, leaving only his bone finger ring to his adopted son Zuo Qianqiu.
“You really do know quite a lot,” Kong Ling said to Yuan Jue. “Actually, the earliest warhorses of Qidong were bred from mixing with bear horses. When the Wolf King Xiao Fangxu was still a low-ranking soldier at Luoxia Pass, the horses there were all transferred from Qidong—they were the same breed.”
“Oh my,” Yu Xiaozi exclaimed. “That’s intense!”
“When Amur unified the Henshe, Gouma, Liaoying, and Qingshu tribes, he wanted the Youxiong tribe to submit as well,” Kong Ling said, standing up as he felt the chill and returning to the table. “They fought, but Amur gained nothing.”
Now all three others leaned in with interest.
Gao Zhongxiong said, “Those are four tribes. Even Beili’s iron cavalry would struggle against them.”
“The terrain was different,” Kong Ling said with a smile, describing it vividly. “At the time, the Youxiong tribe was still roaming near Suotian Pass, holding the high ground. The Henshe tribe’s charge was difficult. Once they rushed up close, they were already at a disadvantage. From the snowy peaks, bears seemed to appear everywhere. Warriors in curved blades and leather armor rushed down like storms, knocking Henshe soldiers straight off their horses…”
Yu Xiaozi immediately blurted, “That’s incredible!”
Yao Wenyu almost choked on his tea, covering his mouth with a handkerchief while coughing.
Kong Ling continued, “It was indeed formidable. They beat Amur into submission, forcing him to move the Qingshu tribe to the frontier.”
Yao Wenyu wiped his mouth and said, “The Youxiong tribe also had heroes. When General Feng was alive, the man who confronted him at Suotian Pass was Suhebasu, the ‘Great Bear of Youxiong.’”
Gao Zhongxiong leaned forward. “That Su… Suhebasu? I know him! When I first arrived in the capital, I couldn’t stop hearing tales of General Feng in teahouses. Suhebasu was like… like the Wolf King and Amur!”
“A hero,” Kong Ling said. “Without Amur, the Henshe tribe might have been overtaken by Suhebasu’s Youxiong. He and Feng Yisheng were both enemies and friends. There is a story—possibly fabricated—that when Feng Yisheng shot through the rainbow eagle flag symbolizing the pride of the Border Sands, Suhebasu applauded. The two men laughed across an army of thousands, and before each battle, they would even greet each other.”
Gao Zhongxiong, acting like a storyteller, imitated him:
“General Feng stood without armor, hands behind his back, white robe billowing in the snow. Across the snow curtain, Suhebasu in fur robes clasped his hands and said loudly—”
“The supply carts for the iron cavalry are ready?”
Gao Zhongxiong froze mid-gesture.
Only then did he realize everyone had stood up and were bowing toward someone behind him—Shen Zechuan.
“They are ready,” Kong Ling said. “Fei Sheng checked them this morning. They will be escorted out of the city by Qiao Tianya shortly.”
Shen Zechuan lightly tapped Gao Zhongxiong’s shoulder with his folding fan. “The Bear Tribe’s fierce tiger, Suhebasu, once said: ‘I bring my homeland’s mare’s milk wine. It is very good. I want to wait until the general finishes drinking it before we fight.’”
Gao Zhongxiong hurriedly set down his brush and turned to salute.
“No need to be nervous,” Shen Zechuan said. “As the saying goes, ‘Great Zhou’s sons dream of Snow Pass; who does not know the spear of Suotian.’ Even my master used to enjoy this story.”
Hai Rigu stood at the edge of the pavilion. “Suhebasu, the fierce bear of Youxiong—I know him too.”
Yu Xiaozi, captivated, asked, “What happened to those two in the end?”
Kong Ling did not answer.
Hai Rigu picked up a fruit from the table and took a bite. “Suhebasu killed Feng Yisheng’s youngest son. He also killed Feng Yisheng himself. Then he was driven out by Amur. Before retreating to the rear of the Qingshu tribe, he stayed in Gedale for a time.”
He was a strange man.
Hai Rigu remembered Suhebasu: the legendary warrior who drank and danced rituals in Gedale, a towering man with streaks of white in his hair. He was not yet old, yet he already seemed half-dead.
“I have a friend,” Suhebasu once said by firelight, drinking wine. “He drank my mare’s milk wine and killed my sons. I sought revenge, and he left me.”
He tipped the wine pouch—empty.
“We are eagles on opposite sides of the snowy peak. We are destined to die by each other’s hands.”
“Pity he died,” Hai Rigu said, finishing his fruit. “He caught a chill in Gedale and fell gravely ill. Surrounded by the Henshe tribe, he drank all the mare’s milk wine in his tent alone, then took his curved blade and died in the Gobi desert. The Huluk tribe’s Gergenhas cut off his head and offered it to Amur.”
Silence fell across the pavilion.
Gergenhas used Suhebasu’s head to secure friendship with Amur—and also became Hasen’s ally. Years later, Xiao Fangxu’s iron cavalry broke Gergenhas’s neck. Years after that…
Kong Ling did not finish.
“Will Hai Rigu be accompanied by Huo Lingyun when he goes to the border?” Yao Wenyu changed the subject.
“Huo Lingyun is not going to the border,” Shen Zechuan said, looking toward the water curtain where Huo Lingyun stood. “His firearms are going north.”
The next day, Xiao Chiye led the iron cavalry across the border. Shen Zechuan stood on the city gate’s horse path, watching the yellow sand roll in like a storm.
A hawk circled above, screeching twice before soaring south again.
Fei Sheng stepped forward, intending to shield Shen Zechuan from the sand, but Shen Zechuan raised his folding fan slightly, stopping him.
Luan Taoxuexin, clad in heavy armor, thundered forward with steaming breath, leading the cavalry straight down the road.
Shen Zechuan’s smile gradually surfaced. As Xiao Chiye approached, he raised his right arm; his sleeve slipped down, revealing the arm guard beneath.
Xiao Chiye did not slow his horse. As he passed, he lowered his arm.
A sharp sound rang out—
Their arm guards struck together in a single clash.
In an instant, they had already passed each other.
The wind lifted Shen Zechuan’s sleeves.
“Great victory,” he said.
Xiao Chiye laughed, riding on into the blazing sun.
“Great victory!”