Breakfast has finished cooking. Wu Du carries in their food, and the two of them sets down utensils in the main hall, getting ready to eat.
Another person has entered the room at some point, and that someone is sitting there drinking tea at his leisure at this very moment; that someone turns out to be Fei Hongde, whom they haven’t seen for such a long time. Fei Hongde is covered in the dust of travel, having only just got here. Those working in the estate had been looking all over for Governor Wang to inform him of Fei Hongde’s arrival, but they never checked the kitchen. Thus, it’s only after Wu Du finished making breakfast that they’re running into each other.
Duan Ling is a touch too stupefied to speak.
Fei Hongde nods at Duan Ling with a smile on his face. They’re old acquaintances by now, so much so that Fei Hongde doesn’t even bother getting up. “I was just thinking that if I hurried it up for a bit, I may be able to make it in time to bum a bite to eat.”
He’s shown up so suddenly that Duan Ling hasn’t even really reacted to the fact that he’s here yet, and he says instinctively, “Master Fei, you’ve come at just the right time. Let’s have breakfast together.”
Wu Du gives Duan Ling a quiet look.
They’re all staring blankly at each other for a little while before Fei Hongde rises to his feet with a smile. “Greetings, My Lord.”
Duan Ling yells at the top of his lungs, “Master Fei —!”
Having one Fei Hongde is more useful to him than giving him an entire army; this is downright direct aid by divine providence! Duan Ling had thought Fei Hongde would either send people to deliver the grain or send him a letter in reply. He never could have imagined that he’d come himself!
Duan Ling eagerly runs up to him, grabs his hand and invites him to sit down again. Then he sits down on his knees in front of the table and gives him a referential bow, so happy he’s not even sure what to say.
Fei Hongde laughs. “When I saw you for the first time last year, my lord, I thought you seemed like a little kid. And now you’re still just like a little kid.”
Right now, Duan Ling is as happy as Wu Du when he did somersaults in the peach forest that night, and he wishes he could run outside and do a few laps. But Fei Hongde is saying that to remind him to settle down and act more mature, so he’s actually starting to feel embarrassed.
“Master Fei, why have you come here personally?” Wu Du puts one fist in his hand and salutes Fei Hongde before both sides take their seats. He then asks the servants to pour another bowl of congee so that Fei Hongde can have some breakfast before they begin.
“I spent too long in Liao and missed the food of the Central Plains,” Fei Hongde says, “Can’t get used to the food there and my stomach doesn’t like it either. Meals from the south is just more fitting for me.”
Duan Ling starts to laugh.
Fei Hongde says, “You two go ahead and eat. Don’t worry about this old man.”
They all start on their congee, and Duan Ling thinks to himself, as long as you’re willing to stay, I may not be able to ask Zheng Yan to cook, but if you want me to cook for you and wait on you that’s all fine by me.
“This congee tastes like it came from a great chef,” Fei Hongde says with a smile after he’s had a bit.
“Zheng Yan was the one who taught me that,” Wu Du says. “In learning to cook, one must begin by making congee.”
“That’s right.” Fei Hongde gives Duan Ling a glance. “From cooking congee, you learn how to control the heat; too much is as bad as not enough. It is a rather difficult thing.”
Duan Ling makes an agreeing hum. It’s already been months, so Duan Ling has gotten used to straightforward conversations. Now it’s almost like he’s back before that chancellor teacher of his, who just loves to play verbal games, insinuating something or other with every word. His brain barely manages to turn the corner and he realises that Fei Hongde is hinting that everything needs finely honed “heat control”.
“I need more practice,” Duan Ling says. “But I fear time won’t wait for us.”
“Well …” Fei Hongde seems pensive, but he doesn’t press him and ask him what he means by “time does not wait”; Duan Ling has his own hints of his worries. And so Fei Hongde asks, “How is His Majesty’s health of late?”
“When I left Jiangzhou, he was still in good health,” Duan Ling replies.
Duan Ling doesn’t rush Fei Hongde and ask about the grain; since Fei Hongde is here, they’ll definitely be able to solve the food problem somehow. Even if he wasn’t able to borrow the grain, he will be able to think of some other way. Meanwhile, this first topic Fei Hongde has brought up after he sat down is actually the most important of them all — whether to themselves or to the entire empire of Chen.
“How long will your term of office last?” Fei Hongde asks.
“The usual rule is three years,” Duan Ling replies.“ But I fear I won’t be able to stay that long.” Once he finishes putting the city of Ye in order, he’ll have to go back.
“No matter,” Fei Hongde says. “Everyone has a lot of time on their hands these days, so you can take your time to think things over.”
They drop the subject at this point. Duan Ling knows that how he’s going to return to the imperial court is crucial, and Fei Hongde hasn’t resolved that either. But since they parted that day in Tongguan, Fei Hongde must have also thought about this problem.
“What is the Liao empire’s answer?” Wu Du asks.
“Fortunately, I have successfully fulfilled your request,” Fei Hongde says with a smile.
Duan Ling lets out a breath of utter relief and rises to give Fei Hongde a bow. Fei Hongde once more declines the gesture modestly and unties his travelling bundle. “After the Prince of Xiliang Helian Bo went home, he wrote a letter to Yelü Zongzhen relating your meeting with him in Tongguan, and His Majesty Yelü allocated the grain with a simple stroke of his imperial brush.”
Thank the heavens, Duan Ling thinks. But then Fei Hongde is adding, “There’s also a handwritten letter here, and it’s for you. He would like you to take a trip to Liao next spring whenever you happen to have the time.”
Duan Ling remains silent at this. He takes the letter, but he doesn’t open it, letting it lie on the table.
Wu Du says, “He’s got it all figured out, it seems.”
Fei Hongde says, “His Majesty Yelü should be allocating this batch of grain, to begin with, for after all, though Chen and Liao had been at war in the past, they’ve become mutually interdependent as brothers in their resistance against the Mongols. General Wu, forgive me for saying something that may seem tactless — there are some things that ought to be let go, and therefore we should let them go for now.”
Wu Du doesn’t speak. To him, the death of his master and his master’s wife in Shangzi had everything to do with the Khitans. Though Xunchun died in Shangjing, if they must look into her death …
“What did he say?” Duan Ling asks.
“He was exceedingly surprised. His Majesty Yelü said that after he read Prince Helian’s letter, he laid awake all night.”
“I see.” Duan Ling thinks, if that’s the case then Yelü Zongzhen probably figured out certain things. Out of the three of them, Batu is the only one who knows who Duan Ling really is; even Helian Bo has no idea that he’s really the Heir-Apparent to Southern Chen. All he would have told Zongzhen is that his name is Wang Shan right now. However, he’s not sure how Zongzhen managed to guess, or whether he’s tried some other methods to test Southern Chen.
There’s a small chest here as well.“ Fei Hongde takes a small wooden chest out of his bundle and hands it to Duan Ling. Duan Ling glances at Wu Du, and Wu Du opens it for him.
Duan Ling is momentarily wordless. “What does this mean?” He stares at the things inside the wooden chest. At first, he’d thought the long rectangular box was a sword case; the inside is lined with velvet on which is placed a row of eleven peaches of various sizes.
Fei Hongede replies, “He said you’d understand as soon as you saw it.”
“Peaches?” Tao-zi? The corner of Duan Ling’s mouth twitches. Is Zongzhen telling to tao, or to run away as soon as possible?
Wu Du asks, “What token of affection did you give him?”
Duan Ling is taken aback for a second.
“I never gave him any token of affection!” Duan Ling quickly explains himself.
Wu Du is already quite used to this kid forming dalliances with men wherever he goes, but there isn’t a thing he can do. This all happened before Duan Ling met him after all, so what’s he supposed to do about it? The Liao emperor even knows Duan Ling longer than he has.
All Fei Hongde does is smile without saying a word. Then he replies, “The grain will be here in a few days. I’m not like you youngsters, and after a few days of fast travelling, it seems I’m quite exhausted.”
“Take Master Fei to a room where he can get some rest,” Duan Ling orders a servant at once.
Duan Ling gets the servants to arrange a place for Fei Hongde to stay, then he remains in the main hall, staring at that box of peaches. Wu Du doesn’t press him either and steps out to have a stroll outside, leaving him by himself in the hall.
“Well you can’t eat them,” Wu Du says from outside the room, “they’re both unripe and small, so I’m sure he’s taken a peach tree’s first crop just to give you a taste of how tart they are. You could plant them though.”
The memory comes to Duan Ling suddenly; there was a peach tree in the courtyard house he shared with his father in Shangjing, and Lang Junxia once told him that his dad would come back when the flowers on the peach tree bloomed.
Yelü Zongzhen had wanted to take him to Shangjing that day. Duan Ling declined, and the token he gave Zongzhen was a branch from the peach tree along with the peaches on it.
No way. Did Yelü Zongzhen really plant the peach pits from that branch in his imperial gardens, and by now it’s already become a tree?
Duan Ling feels rather sentimental over it all, and roughly speculates at all this — that’s probably what happened. Even the peach tree in Zhongjing is grown; in the blink of an eye, two years have already gone by. If that’s so, perhaps Yelü Zongzhen has already figured out everything.
Ultimately, he opens the letter. It’s written in Khitan, and Zongzhen is still referring to him as “Duan Ling”. The gist of it is that it’s been a long time since they parted, and last year when he found out from Helian Bo that he’s doing quite well, he feels very much relieved. Now he seems to move from place to place, his address even less fixed than that of Master Fei’s; resisting the Mongolian military will likely be a difficult task.
He hasn’t forgotten how Duan Ling once saved his life. The grain has already been sent off, he hopes Duan Ling would persevere, and he believes in him. The one thing he worries about is that if Borjigin Batu comes at the head of his army, Duan Ling would dare not fight him, over sentimental reasons.
He’s already been here … Duan Ling thinks. Reading the letter, he’s reminded of the time he spent in Shangjing, and he misses those days very much.
Zongzhen adds: I have received the news of your father’s passing, and laments his loss. I’m sure you’ll have your vengeance someday.
Duan Ling feels vaguely uneasy, but then he remembers — right, Helian Bo was probably the one who told him.
In the end, he mentions that there are peaches in the chest, and they’re from the very same branch Duan Ling asked the messenger to gift him after they parted in Shangjing, taking the idea of “peach trees tender and lush, how brilliant their blossoms”. Once he received them he’d planted them in the imperial gardens, and to his surprise, they actually grew when spring came. This year they produced these eleven fruits, thus he’d picked all of them and sent them along to Duan Ling.
Next spring, if there’s anything he’d like to say, he could come to Zhongjing where they would reminisce.
Duan Ling closes the letter and leans back against the daybed for a long time. Letting out a long breath, he takes the peaches outside and tells Wu Du all about it. Now that they’re on opposite ends of the world, he can only hope things won’t turn out like the way they had between himself and Batu.
But after Wu Du finishes listening to these events of the past, what he’s focused on is something else entirely.
“Someone wanted to assassinate him?” Wu Du says, puzzled.
“That’s right.” Duan Ling recalls, and says, “I blocked that one move for him, so perhaps he’s also lending us grain because he wanted to repay that favour. If I need anything else, we’ll have to meet again before there can be further discussion.”
And this is only human nature; right now, they each must consider their decisions from their respective empire’s positions, and cannot act on their impulses. If they’re not going to collaborate further, of course, Yelü Zongzhen is not about to keep helping him. If he wants him to help, that’s fine, but it’ll need to benefit him also, or at least appear to pose enough of a benefit for it to be worthwhile.
“Don’t think of it as entirely tit-for-tat,” Wu Du says. “I’m sure there’s some sentiment in it. It’s just half and half, that’s all.”
“Yeah,” Duan Ling nods.
Wu Du continues, “I heard the Emperor of Liao has a harem of three palaces and six courtyard homes, and he’s already got an empress by now, not to mention how many concubines, so you’d better …”
“What are you talking about?!” Duan Ling holds up the case and makes as though he’s about to hit Wu Du with it. Wu Du starts laughing and stares at Duan Ling in the sunlight. He lowers his head and kisses him on the cheek.
“I want to plant these peaches,” Duan Ling says.
“Let me help you.”
Wu Du rolls up his sleeves, and together they bury the peaches in the courtyard outside their room, but there’s no telling how many will survive. When they’re done, Duan Ling dusts the earth off of his clothes before calling for Lin Yunqi, Yan Di, Wang Zheng, and Shi Qi, letting them know that he’ll be away for some days, and during this time he’s leaving Fei Hongde in charge.
Zheng Yan’s off fooling around somewhere again. Wu Du leaves a letter behind asking him to take care of the place for now, and he gathers the forces that very day before setting off for Xunshui.
The north shore of Xunshui is veiled in the hazy colours of twilight; all the distant mountains along the shore are enveloped in the dim light of the sunset.
“What do you want to do?” Wu Du says, “Do you feel like plundering Khitan territory now that you’ve read the emperor of Liao’s letter?”
“No,” Duan Ling says. “There aren’t all that many people left in the Xunyang region anymore. The Khitans can’t deal with all these repeated Mongolian attacks, so all they can do is gather the commoners inside their cities. Look over here.”
Duan Ling spreads the map open to show Wu Du. They’re riding on Benxiao with Duan Ling sitting in front, and Wu Du has a casual grip on the reins as he steers Benxiao to pace along the shore, while his other hand is wrapped around Duan Ling, keeping him close.
“Out of the Valley of Heishan,” Duan Ling says, “follow the mountain stream currents and they’ll reach Xunshui. It’s a waterway.”
“Yeah.” All of Wu Du is leaning lazily on Duan Ling’s back as he stares at the map.
“We can cut down the trees right here,” Duan Ling says. “Chop down all the trees here as quickly as possible, toss the logs into the river, let them drift downstream with the current, and wait on either side of the narrow waterway fifteen miles upstream on the northern shore of Ye.”
“I got it,” Wu Du says.
“Let’s cut down eight thousand trees first.” Duan Ling says, “We can worry about other things once we have the charcoal we need for the winter.”
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Breakfast has finished cooking. Wu Du carries in their food, and the two of them sets down utensils in the main hall, getting ready to eat.
Another person has entered the room at some point, and that someone is sitting there drinking tea at his leisure at this very moment; that someone turns out to be Fei Hongde, whom they haven’t seen for such a long time. Fei Hongde is covered in the dust of travel, having only just got here. Those working in the estate had been looking all over for Governor Wang to inform him of Fei Hongde’s arrival, but they never checked the kitchen. Thus, it’s only after Wu Du finished making breakfast that they’re running into each other.
Duan Ling is a touch too stupefied to speak.
Fei Hongde nods at Duan Ling with a smile on his face. They’re old acquaintances by now, so much so that Fei Hongde doesn’t even bother getting up. “I was just thinking that if I hurried it up for a bit, I may be able to make it in time to bum a bite to eat.”
He’s shown up so suddenly that Duan Ling hasn’t even really reacted to the fact that he’s here yet, and he says instinctively, “Master Fei, you’ve come at just the right time. Let’s have breakfast together.”
Wu Du gives Duan Ling a quiet look.
They’re all staring blankly at each other for a little while before Fei Hongde rises to his feet with a smile. “Greetings, My Lord.”
Duan Ling yells at the top of his lungs, “Master Fei —!”
Having one Fei Hongde is more useful to him than giving him an entire army; this is downright direct aid by divine providence! Duan Ling had thought Fei Hongde would either send people to deliver the grain or send him a letter in reply. He never could have imagined that he’d come himself!
Duan Ling eagerly runs up to him, grabs his hand and invites him to sit down again. Then he sits down on his knees in front of the table and gives him a referential bow, so happy he’s not even sure what to say.
Fei Hongde laughs. “When I saw you for the first time last year, my lord, I thought you seemed like a little kid. And now you’re still just like a little kid.”
Right now, Duan Ling is as happy as Wu Du when he did somersaults in the peach forest that night, and he wishes he could run outside and do a few laps. But Fei Hongde is saying that to remind him to settle down and act more mature, so he’s actually starting to feel embarrassed.
“Master Fei, why have you come here personally?” Wu Du puts one fist in his hand and salutes Fei Hongde before both sides take their seats. He then asks the servants to pour another bowl of congee so that Fei Hongde can have some breakfast before they begin.
“I spent too long in Liao and missed the food of the Central Plains,” Fei Hongde says, “Can’t get used to the food there and my stomach doesn’t like it either. Meals from the south is just more fitting for me.”
Duan Ling starts to laugh.
Fei Hongde says, “You two go ahead and eat. Don’t worry about this old man.”
They all start on their congee, and Duan Ling thinks to himself, as long as you’re willing to stay, I may not be able to ask Zheng Yan to cook, but if you want me to cook for you and wait on you that’s all fine by me.
“This congee tastes like it came from a great chef,” Fei Hongde says with a smile after he’s had a bit.
“Zheng Yan was the one who taught me that,” Wu Du says. “In learning to cook, one must begin by making congee.”
“That’s right.” Fei Hongde gives Duan Ling a glance. “From cooking congee, you learn how to control the heat; too much is as bad as not enough. It is a rather difficult thing.”
Duan Ling makes an agreeing hum. It’s already been months, so Duan Ling has gotten used to straightforward conversations. Now it’s almost like he’s back before that chancellor teacher of his, who just loves to play verbal games, insinuating something or other with every word. His brain barely manages to turn the corner and he realises that Fei Hongde is hinting that everything needs finely honed “heat control”.
“I need more practice,” Duan Ling says. “But I fear time won’t wait for us.”
“Well …” Fei Hongde seems pensive, but he doesn’t press him and ask him what he means by “time does not wait”; Duan Ling has his own hints of his worries. And so Fei Hongde asks, “How is His Majesty’s health of late?”
“When I left Jiangzhou, he was still in good health,” Duan Ling replies.
Duan Ling doesn’t rush Fei Hongde and ask about the grain; since Fei Hongde is here, they’ll definitely be able to solve the food problem somehow. Even if he wasn’t able to borrow the grain, he will be able to think of some other way. Meanwhile, this first topic Fei Hongde has brought up after he sat down is actually the most important of them all — whether to themselves or to the entire empire of Chen.
“How long will your term of office last?” Fei Hongde asks.
“The usual rule is three years,” Duan Ling replies.“ But I fear I won’t be able to stay that long.” Once he finishes putting the city of Ye in order, he’ll have to go back.
“No matter,” Fei Hongde says. “Everyone has a lot of time on their hands these days, so you can take your time to think things over.”
They drop the subject at this point. Duan Ling knows that how he’s going to return to the imperial court is crucial, and Fei Hongde hasn’t resolved that either. But since they parted that day in Tongguan, Fei Hongde must have also thought about this problem.
“What is the Liao empire’s answer?” Wu Du asks.
“Fortunately, I have successfully fulfilled your request,” Fei Hongde says with a smile.
Duan Ling lets out a breath of utter relief and rises to give Fei Hongde a bow. Fei Hongde once more declines the gesture modestly and unties his travelling bundle. “After the Prince of Xiliang Helian Bo went home, he wrote a letter to Yelü Zongzhen relating your meeting with him in Tongguan, and His Majesty Yelü allocated the grain with a simple stroke of his imperial brush.”
Thank the heavens, Duan Ling thinks. But then Fei Hongde is adding, “There’s also a handwritten letter here, and it’s for you. He would like you to take a trip to Liao next spring whenever you happen to have the time.”
Duan Ling remains silent at this. He takes the letter, but he doesn’t open it, letting it lie on the table.
Wu Du says, “He’s got it all figured out, it seems.”
Fei Hongde says, “His Majesty Yelü should be allocating this batch of grain, to begin with, for after all, though Chen and Liao had been at war in the past, they’ve become mutually interdependent as brothers in their resistance against the Mongols. General Wu, forgive me for saying something that may seem tactless — there are some things that ought to be let go, and therefore we should let them go for now.”
Wu Du doesn’t speak. To him, the death of his master and his master’s wife in Shangzi had everything to do with the Khitans. Though Xunchun died in Shangjing, if they must look into her death …
“What did he say?” Duan Ling asks.
“He was exceedingly surprised. His Majesty Yelü said that after he read Prince Helian’s letter, he laid awake all night.”
“I see.” Duan Ling thinks, if that’s the case then Yelü Zongzhen probably figured out certain things. Out of the three of them, Batu is the only one who knows who Duan Ling really is; even Helian Bo has no idea that he’s really the Heir-Apparent to Southern Chen. All he would have told Zongzhen is that his name is Wang Shan right now. However, he’s not sure how Zongzhen managed to guess, or whether he’s tried some other methods to test Southern Chen.
There’s a small chest here as well.“ Fei Hongde takes a small wooden chest out of his bundle and hands it to Duan Ling. Duan Ling glances at Wu Du, and Wu Du opens it for him.
Duan Ling is momentarily wordless. “What does this mean?” He stares at the things inside the wooden chest. At first, he’d thought the long rectangular box was a sword case; the inside is lined with velvet on which is placed a row of eleven peaches of various sizes.
Fei Hongede replies, “He said you’d understand as soon as you saw it.”
“Peaches?” Tao-zi? The corner of Duan Ling’s mouth twitches. Is Zongzhen telling to tao, or to run away as soon as possible?
Wu Du asks, “What token of affection did you give him?”
Duan Ling is taken aback for a second.
“I never gave him any token of affection!” Duan Ling quickly explains himself.
Wu Du is already quite used to this kid forming dalliances with men wherever he goes, but there isn’t a thing he can do. This all happened before Duan Ling met him after all, so what’s he supposed to do about it? The Liao emperor even knows Duan Ling longer than he has.
All Fei Hongde does is smile without saying a word. Then he replies, “The grain will be here in a few days. I’m not like you youngsters, and after a few days of fast travelling, it seems I’m quite exhausted.”
“Take Master Fei to a room where he can get some rest,” Duan Ling orders a servant at once.
Duan Ling gets the servants to arrange a place for Fei Hongde to stay, then he remains in the main hall, staring at that box of peaches. Wu Du doesn’t press him either and steps out to have a stroll outside, leaving him by himself in the hall.
“Well you can’t eat them,” Wu Du says from outside the room, “they’re both unripe and small, so I’m sure he’s taken a peach tree’s first crop just to give you a taste of how tart they are. You could plant them though.”
The memory comes to Duan Ling suddenly; there was a peach tree in the courtyard house he shared with his father in Shangjing, and Lang Junxia once told him that his dad would come back when the flowers on the peach tree bloomed.
Yelü Zongzhen had wanted to take him to Shangjing that day. Duan Ling declined, and the token he gave Zongzhen was a branch from the peach tree along with the peaches on it.
No way. Did Yelü Zongzhen really plant the peach pits from that branch in his imperial gardens, and by now it’s already become a tree?
Duan Ling feels rather sentimental over it all, and roughly speculates at all this — that’s probably what happened. Even the peach tree in Zhongjing is grown; in the blink of an eye, two years have already gone by. If that’s so, perhaps Yelü Zongzhen has already figured out everything.
Ultimately, he opens the letter. It’s written in Khitan, and Zongzhen is still referring to him as “Duan Ling”. The gist of it is that it’s been a long time since they parted, and last year when he found out from Helian Bo that he’s doing quite well, he feels very much relieved. Now he seems to move from place to place, his address even less fixed than that of Master Fei’s; resisting the Mongolian military will likely be a difficult task.
He hasn’t forgotten how Duan Ling once saved his life. The grain has already been sent off, he hopes Duan Ling would persevere, and he believes in him. The one thing he worries about is that if Borjigin Batu comes at the head of his army, Duan Ling would dare not fight him, over sentimental reasons.
He’s already been here … Duan Ling thinks. Reading the letter, he’s reminded of the time he spent in Shangjing, and he misses those days very much.
Zongzhen adds: I have received the news of your father’s passing, and laments his loss. I’m sure you’ll have your vengeance someday.
Duan Ling feels vaguely uneasy, but then he remembers — right, Helian Bo was probably the one who told him.
In the end, he mentions that there are peaches in the chest, and they’re from the very same branch Duan Ling asked the messenger to gift him after they parted in Shangjing, taking the idea of “peach trees tender and lush, how brilliant their blossoms”. Once he received them he’d planted them in the imperial gardens, and to his surprise, they actually grew when spring came. This year they produced these eleven fruits, thus he’d picked all of them and sent them along to Duan Ling.
Next spring, if there’s anything he’d like to say, he could come to Zhongjing where they would reminisce.
Duan Ling closes the letter and leans back against the daybed for a long time. Letting out a long breath, he takes the peaches outside and tells Wu Du all about it. Now that they’re on opposite ends of the world, he can only hope things won’t turn out like the way they had between himself and Batu.
But after Wu Du finishes listening to these events of the past, what he’s focused on is something else entirely.
“Someone wanted to assassinate him?” Wu Du says, puzzled.
“That’s right.” Duan Ling recalls, and says, “I blocked that one move for him, so perhaps he’s also lending us grain because he wanted to repay that favour. If I need anything else, we’ll have to meet again before there can be further discussion.”
And this is only human nature; right now, they each must consider their decisions from their respective empire’s positions, and cannot act on their impulses. If they’re not going to collaborate further, of course, Yelü Zongzhen is not about to keep helping him. If he wants him to help, that’s fine, but it’ll need to benefit him also, or at least appear to pose enough of a benefit for it to be worthwhile.
“Don’t think of it as entirely tit-for-tat,” Wu Du says. “I’m sure there’s some sentiment in it. It’s just half and half, that’s all.”
“Yeah,” Duan Ling nods.
Wu Du continues, “I heard the Emperor of Liao has a harem of three palaces and six courtyard homes, and he’s already got an empress by now, not to mention how many concubines, so you’d better …”
“What are you talking about?!” Duan Ling holds up the case and makes as though he’s about to hit Wu Du with it. Wu Du starts laughing and stares at Duan Ling in the sunlight. He lowers his head and kisses him on the cheek.
“I want to plant these peaches,” Duan Ling says.
“Let me help you.”
Wu Du rolls up his sleeves, and together they bury the peaches in the courtyard outside their room, but there’s no telling how many will survive. When they’re done, Duan Ling dusts the earth off of his clothes before calling for Lin Yunqi, Yan Di, Wang Zheng, and Shi Qi, letting them know that he’ll be away for some days, and during this time he’s leaving Fei Hongde in charge.
Zheng Yan’s off fooling around somewhere again. Wu Du leaves a letter behind asking him to take care of the place for now, and he gathers the forces that very day before setting off for Xunshui.
The north shore of Xunshui is veiled in the hazy colours of twilight; all the distant mountains along the shore are enveloped in the dim light of the sunset.
“What do you want to do?” Wu Du says, “Do you feel like plundering Khitan territory now that you’ve read the emperor of Liao’s letter?”
“No,” Duan Ling says. “There aren’t all that many people left in the Xunyang region anymore. The Khitans can’t deal with all these repeated Mongolian attacks, so all they can do is gather the commoners inside their cities. Look over here.”
Duan Ling spreads the map open to show Wu Du. They’re riding on Benxiao with Duan Ling sitting in front, and Wu Du has a casual grip on the reins as he steers Benxiao to pace along the shore, while his other hand is wrapped around Duan Ling, keeping him close.
“Out of the Valley of Heishan,” Duan Ling says, “follow the mountain stream currents and they’ll reach Xunshui. It’s a waterway.”
“Yeah.” All of Wu Du is leaning lazily on Duan Ling’s back as he stares at the map.
“We can cut down the trees right here,” Duan Ling says. “Chop down all the trees here as quickly as possible, toss the logs into the river, let them drift downstream with the current, and wait on either side of the narrow waterway fifteen miles upstream on the northern shore of Ye.”
“I got it,” Wu Du says.
“Let’s cut down eight thousand trees first.” Duan Ling says, “We can worry about other things once we have the charcoal we need for the winter.”
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