Every year when winter comes to Shangjing it turns into something like a frozen city. Surrounded by the crackle and splutter of fireworks, Duan Ling welcomes his fourteenth year. On New Year’s Eve he sits face to face with Li Jianhong.
“This is the first New Year’s we’re spending together.” Smiling, Li Jianhong pours a bit of wine for Duan Ling. “Have some. You can drink wine, but don’t indulge too much.”
Duan Ling and Li Jianhong each sit formally; Duan Ling’s voice is no longer the silvery tone he possessed in childhood. “Dad, I toast to you. Here’s to victory as soon as your banner is raised.”
Across from each other they drink. Beneath lamplight, Li Jianhong solemnly watches Duan Ling. “You’ve grown.”
Duan Ling finishes his wine, and slowly lets out a breath.
I don’t want to grow up at all, actually, he thinks to himself.
But aloud he asks, “Is growing up not a good thing?”
“It’s a good thing. Dad likes the way you look grown up.”
Duan Ling laughs. Li Jianhong is always saying that, but Duan Ling knows he’s never told the truth. For some reason ever since the day Li Jianhong started teaching him the sword, he felt that something has changed between them. From the time they came back from Biyong College they no longer share a bed. But if Duan Ling is sleeping in the bed, Li Jianhong will still sleep in the same room, lying down in the outer room just beyond.
Tonight Duan Ling has had a little bit of wine, he feels a trifle too hot, can’t really stay asleep, and so Li Jianhong comes over to him and lies down on the bed. Duan Ling moves closer to the wall, leaving a place for him.
“Son,” Li Jianhong says, “Dad will be leaving tomorrow.”
Duan Ling turns over, facing the wall. He doesn’t make a sound.
Li Jianhong grabs Duan Lin and turns him around to face him. Sure enough, Duan Ling’s eyes have gone red.
“Why are you embarrassed?” Li Jianhong teases him, smiling, and then he draws Duan Ling close to his chest.
After practicing the martial arts for nearly a year, Duan Ling’s body has gradually matured, but when he’s held by Li Jianhong it’s as though they’ve turned back time to the very first day he arrived. Li Jianhong bends down a little to look into his eyes, reaching out two fingers to draw out the red string around his neck, and takes out the jade arc.
“Dad has let you down, let your mother down.”
Duan Ling looks up into Li Jianhong’s eyes; his pupils are like a drop of the starry sky on a pitch-black night.
“The one thing in this life I regret the most is not coming to look for the two of you.”
“It’s all in the past …”
“No.”
Li Jianhong shakes his head, interrupting Duan Ling. “If I don’t say it my heart is never going to be at peace. Back then, I was callow and impetuous, I just thought Xiaowan couldn’t grasp what was good for her to leave just like that, and I thought she’d come back eventually. A whole ten years went by. I never imagined that she was already gone.”
“Why did she want to leave?”
“Because your grandfather wouldn’t agree to the match. She was a commoner, and I was a prince garrisoned at the border. She was waiting for me to say I’ll marry her all that time, but I never did. They wanted me to marry Mu Kuangda’s younger sister, the current princess-consort to your fourth uncle.”
“Then what happened?”
“Then Lang Junxia made a blunder and I was going to punish him according to the military code. She pleaded leniency for him, as she thought his crime didn’t warrant a death sentence. The two of us fought that whole night, and she left as soon as it was dawn. I told Lang Junxia to intercept her. That guy ran after her with his sword and came back to tell me that she held herself hostage, said she’d kill herself if he made her come back. That unyielding temper … tsk tsk.”
Li Jianhong shakes his head helplessly. “Dad has a huge temper too. I thought since she went back to the south, she was probably going to get married sooner or later, so I simply left things at that. I never asked after her all these years — until the day Zhao kui took away my command of the military in the imperial court’s name. When I was fleeing from Mount Jiangjun, that’s when I finally asked Lang Junxia to go get her.”
“I never expected that she was already gone.” Li Jianhong finishes, “And that for me she’d given birth to you.”
“Do you regret it?”
“Of course. I often think that I ought to confer her a posthumous title someday. But she’s already dead. What’s the use of a posthumous title?”
Duan Ling fiddles with the jade arc hanging from Li Jianhong’s neck, his head pillowed on Li Jianhong’s arm. Once again, Li Jianhong lets out a long sigh.
“Forgive me, Ruo’er. Tell me ‘I don’t hate you, dad’, and I’ll treat it like you and your mom said it together.”2
“No,” Duan Ling says suddenly.
Startled, Li Jianhong bows his head to look at his son in his arms.
“You owe us plenty still.” Duan Ling breaks into a smile. “You’ll have to make sure you stay alive. It won’t be too late to say something like that again when you’re really, really old.”
The corner of Li Jianhong’s mouth curls up slightly.
“Alright. I promise you.”
“Palm strikes as vow,” Duan Ling says.
Li Jianhong had his one arm wrapped around Duan Ling, and now he raises the other, striking his palm against Duan Ling’s three times. That night, Shangjing welcomed the heaviest snow the city had ever seen; snowflakes came down in a flurry of feathery clumps, spilling out against the horizon.
By the time Duan Ling opens his eyes as the sun shines in the next morning, Li Jianhong is already gone.
“Dad!” Duan Ling gets up and searches through the entire house. Everything he needs to take to school is all ready for him; Li Jianhong is the only thing that is missing. A sword is lying on top of his luggage.
Biyong College is quite lively on this first day that school is resumed. The renovations of the buildings have been completed; even their wooden plaques have been exchanged for new ones. Duan Ling moves through the halls as smoothly as a lightly-laden carriage through familiar roads, greeting those people he knows, making his bed himself.
“Where’s your dad?” Cai Yan too, is making his own bed.
“He’s away on business.”
“When will he be back?”
“Probably in a year.”
Duan Ling and Cai Yan sit on their respective beds, meeting each other’s eyes wordlessly. Cai Yan gives him a smile, and Duan Ling smiles back, as though they know what each other is thinking without needing to exchange words.
Xichuan; third day in the first month of the year.
“Li Jianhong is back,” Zhao Kui says. “He’s moving through the Shangjing Road with ten thousand Khitan soldiers, first via Mount Bo, Qixue Spring, Mount Jiangjun, and then by way of the western road into Xichuan. There are natural strategic strongholds all along the way.”
Mu Kuangda, Chang Liujun, Wu Du, Lang Junxia, and a literati are gathered in Zhao Kui’s study, looking at a map hanging on the wall.
“On what grounds?” Mu Kuangda asks.
“Court purge,” Zhao Kui replies.3
“We cannot keep His Highness the Fourth Prince in the dark in regards to this,” Mu Kuangda adds.
“Chancellor, general.” That literati happens to be Mu Kuangda’s top advisor. He says rather politely, “We may as well charge him with defection. That’s the only way to convince the fourth prince.”
Mu Kuangda hums in agreement, nodding.
“We’ll need to issue troop transfer orders,” Zhao Kui says. “When Li Jianhong fled four years ago we already redeployed all the soldiers. Right now, the western road is filled with those who used to serve under his command. They’ll likely surrender without a fight.”
“Redeploy them.” Mu Kuangda rises. “There’s no time to lose. I’ll head to the palace right now. The first thing I’ll do is issue a letter of reprimand in His Majesty’s name and announce to the world that Li Jianhong has committed defection to the enemy as well as treason, list his eight major offenses, and get the transfer orders signed. But I’m afraid if we redeploy the troops now, it’s already too late.”
“I have my own means to contain him,” Zhao Kui says, sounding as though he has it all worked out.
Mu Kuangda narrows his eyes slightly.
Zhao Kui says, “Chancellor, this way please.”
Mu Kuangda leaves the general’s estate with his two confidants, one of the ink and one of the sword, and they board the carriage. Chang Liujun gets into the coachman’s seat while the literati and Mu Kuangda enters the cab.
“Chang Pin.” Mu Kuangda leans back on the padded bench inside the carriage.
“Yes, Chancellor,” the literati named Chang Pin says referentially, “Wuluohou Mu must have found out some weakness of Li Jianhong’s.”
“Whatever could be his weakness?” Mu Kuangda murmurs.
Chang Pin thinks about this for a moment. “Six years ago, when Wu Du and the Shadow Guards rushed to Shangjing, their guard captain died there. Evidently Li Jianhong wasn’t in Shangjing, so what made Wuluohou Mu come out to fight with Wu Du at the cost of showing himself? Even back then I speculated that the only possibility was that Li Jianhong’s wife and child were in Shangjing.”
Mu Kuangda makes a contemplative hum. “That makes sense. If he can use Li Jianhong’s wife and child as hostages, he should be able to delay him for a bit, but I don’t think it’d be able to delay him for long.”
Chang Pin adds, “I’m afraid Zhao Kui doesn’t want to merely stall him, but to kill him.”
Mu Kuangda begins to laugh. “Now he’s really just kidding himself.”
“Zhao Kui deals with other things much as he does troops on the battlefield. He’d never make his move if he hasn’t figured out his next move. If he kills Li Jianhong’s family first it’ll surely mentally destabilise him, thus to bait him, trap him, kill him — it shouldn’t be all that difficult. As long as Wuluohou Mu can manage this much, he won’t even have to go see Li Jianhong personally. He just has to deliver their heads and Zhao Kui will win this for sure.”
Mu Kuangda replies, “That head is probably far more useful than the fourth prince’s.”
Mu Kuangda breaks out into a hearty laugh, and Chang Pin joins him in a few short chortles. Mu Kuangda adds, “This will be difficult to arrange.”
The carriage stops. Chang Liujun gets down, and Mu Kuangda enters the palace.
Li Yanqiu happens to be standing in the gallery as Mu Kuangda approaches, bowing to him as he comes closer.
“Stand down,” princess-consort Mu Jinzhi commands her servants.
Mu Kuangda favours Mu Jinzhi with a smile, and stands in the gallery with his hands behind his back without a word. Mu Jinzhi watches her older brother for a little while, and in the end she has no choice but to turn to go.
Li Yanqiu gives Mu Kuangda a considering look, and so Mu Kuangda bows to him. “Greetings, Your Highness.”
Then Li Yanqiu gives Chang Liujun standing behind Mu Kuangda a passing glance before turning back to Mu Kuangda. “It has been a while since your last visit, Chancellor Mu.”
“There is a most urgent military situation about which I must come to inform His Majesty today.”
“Father has taken his medication. He’s already gone to sleep. Whatever it may be, you can just tell me.”
“His Third Highness has borrowed ten thousand elite troops from Yelü Dashi, and he’s on his way south in the name of a court purge, by way of the western road. He can be at the gates of Xichuan within three months.”
“I just knew that Third brother didn’t die,” Li Yanqiu says insipidly.
Mu Kuangda doesn’t answer him, he merely waits for Li Yanqiu to say that one pivotal sentence.
Li Yanqiu remains quiet for a long time. In the end, he only says one thing.
“I miss him.”
And as those words cease Li Yanqiu turns and leaves.
Mu Jinzhi appears from behind a pillar only then, her eyes fixed on her older brother.
“I have always been a tactful man.” Mu Kuangda smiles faintly, and takes out a memorial to hand to Mu Jinzhi, indicating that she should take care of it.
Lamplight seeps through the window panes, shining onto the cold drizzle of Xichuan’s wintry rain. Mu Jinzhi spreads out a roll of yellow silk on the governing desk, picks up a brush, dips it in ink, and places it in Li Yanqiu’s hand.
Mu Kuangda waits outside with a smile, his hands behind his back. Soon, a loud crash emanates from the study as Li Yanqiu sweeps at the brush holder and the washing cup, knocking them all onto the floor.
Mu Jinzhi brings out the imperial edict and gives it to Mu Kuangda. Mu Kuangda takes it and leaves.
First month, fifteenth day: transfer orders arrive at Yubiguan. Troops begin their redeployment.
Second month, first day: Li Jianhong arrives at the Great Wall and disappears at the end of the desert like a hurricane.
Second month, tenth day: the Yulin and Yudai areas go on the high alert while they wait with baited breath as though for a formidable enemy, but in the blink of an eye Li Jianhong has appeared four hundred miles away at Juyongguan instead. During a night raid, his advance party captures Juyongguan in a coordinated attack with soldiers inside the gate. But once he’s taken Juyongguan, he does not rashly push on. Instead, he sends out a summon to all under heaven to join him in his quest, gathering a military force.
Anyone who pledges allegiance before the city of Xichuan falls will have their previous wrongdoings forgiven without exception.
Third month, first day: Jiangzhou, Yangzhou, Jiaozhou, and Jingzhou are shaken to the core. At the same time, the imperial court hands down an imperial edict stamped with the Seal of the Realm, listing Li Jianhong’s eight offences.
But Li Jianhong is exceedingly patient. He assembles his troops before Juyongguan, waiting for the first battle, which is also the most difficult battle; he waits for the Chen troops to redeploy from east to west — and to attack them while they’re still weary from the journey.
Li Jianhong isn’t with him, but Duan Ling’s life remains quite regular. He studies during the day, and practices swordplay with Cai Yan in the evenings, working on his foundation training.
An omnipresent sandstorm is blowing through Shangjing in this early spring; it is once again time to go home for the month. Duan Ling packs his things himself, and as he’s about to leave, he sees a girl standing not too far away in the alley, speaking with Cai Yan, and when they finish speaking she glances at Duan Ling.
That’s Ding Zhi. It’s been a long time already since he’s seen her. She had a passing affair with Cai Wen once, so Duan Ling is assuming that she probably sometimes looks after the now kinless Cai Yan. Duan Ling greets her, but as he walks her by, Ding Zhi hands him a letter. The envelope is entirely blank; Duan Ling immediately realises it’s from Li Jianhong, and so at once he hurries home to open it.
After scraping away the wax seal, he finds that the calligraphy style isn’t the one his father usually favours, clearly as a way to avoid revealing pertinent information. Instead, he finds blocky, regular handwriting, as though the words are printed with a woodcut. There is no addressee, neither is there a signature.
Tossing and turning, I miss you both day and night. Two out of ten of what needs to be done is now concluded; there is nothing outside the Great Wall but the blowing sand. Of all boundless samsara I miss only your little corner of the world with its gorgeous flowers, budding and full of promise.
With my time on earth, what I’m proudest of doing is only this: with the sword of the realm in hand, I would point you the way.4
Burn!
Duan Ling really can’t bear the thought of burning this letter; he reads it again and again, then he stuffs it beneath the mattress. Finally, he climbs out of bed in the middle of the night, reading it carefully once more before he watches it burn, feeling like a knife is twisting in his heart.
I do not monetise my hobby translations, but if you’d like to support my work generally or support my light novel habit, you can either buy me a coffee or commission me. This is also to note that if you see this message anywhere else than on tumblr, do come to my tumblr. It’s ad-free. ↩︎
-er is a common diminutive suffix used for someone younger. It literally means son, but in a suffix it denotes youth. The speaker also doesn’t necessarily have to be older. ↩︎
Literally “to purge the emperor’s side”, implying to purge those too-powerful officials influencing the emperor. But it was often just an excuse for a coup. ↩︎
There is a double meaning in this, both “I would point you the way” and “I would manage the south for you”. However, the original in the lyrics to 聞戰 was “I have knitted together bright moonlight, and would point you the way”, so I went with the compass interpretation. ↩︎
Every year when winter comes to Shangjing it turns into something like a frozen city. Surrounded by the crackle and splutter of fireworks, Duan Ling welcomes his fourteenth year. On New Year’s Eve he sits face to face with Li Jianhong.
“This is the first New Year’s we’re spending together.” Smiling, Li Jianhong pours a bit of wine for Duan Ling. “Have some. You can drink wine, but don’t indulge too much.”
Duan Ling and Li Jianhong each sit formally; Duan Ling’s voice is no longer the silvery tone he possessed in childhood. “Dad, I toast to you. Here’s to victory as soon as your banner is raised.”
Across from each other they drink. Beneath lamplight, Li Jianhong solemnly watches Duan Ling. “You’ve grown.”
Duan Ling finishes his wine, and slowly lets out a breath.
I don’t want to grow up at all, actually, he thinks to himself.
But aloud he asks, “Is growing up not a good thing?”
“It’s a good thing. Dad likes the way you look grown up.”
Duan Ling laughs. Li Jianhong is always saying that, but Duan Ling knows he’s never told the truth. For some reason ever since the day Li Jianhong started teaching him the sword, he felt that something has changed between them. From the time they came back from Biyong College they no longer share a bed. But if Duan Ling is sleeping in the bed, Li Jianhong will still sleep in the same room, lying down in the outer room just beyond.
Tonight Duan Ling has had a little bit of wine, he feels a trifle too hot, can’t really stay asleep, and so Li Jianhong comes over to him and lies down on the bed. Duan Ling moves closer to the wall, leaving a place for him.
“Son,” Li Jianhong says, “Dad will be leaving tomorrow.”
Duan Ling turns over, facing the wall. He doesn’t make a sound.
Li Jianhong grabs Duan Lin and turns him around to face him. Sure enough, Duan Ling’s eyes have gone red.
“Why are you embarrassed?” Li Jianhong teases him, smiling, and then he draws Duan Ling close to his chest.
After practicing the martial arts for nearly a year, Duan Ling’s body has gradually matured, but when he’s held by Li Jianhong it’s as though they’ve turned back time to the very first day he arrived. Li Jianhong bends down a little to look into his eyes, reaching out two fingers to draw out the red string around his neck, and takes out the jade arc.
“Dad has let you down, let your mother down.”
Duan Ling looks up into Li Jianhong’s eyes; his pupils are like a drop of the starry sky on a pitch-black night.
“The one thing in this life I regret the most is not coming to look for the two of you.”
“It’s all in the past …”
“No.”
Li Jianhong shakes his head, interrupting Duan Ling. “If I don’t say it my heart is never going to be at peace. Back then, I was callow and impetuous, I just thought Xiaowan couldn’t grasp what was good for her to leave just like that, and I thought she’d come back eventually. A whole ten years went by. I never imagined that she was already gone.”
“Why did she want to leave?”
“Because your grandfather wouldn’t agree to the match. She was a commoner, and I was a prince garrisoned at the border. She was waiting for me to say I’ll marry her all that time, but I never did. They wanted me to marry Mu Kuangda’s younger sister, the current princess-consort to your fourth uncle.”
“Then what happened?”
“Then Lang Junxia made a blunder and I was going to punish him according to the military code. She pleaded leniency for him, as she thought his crime didn’t warrant a death sentence. The two of us fought that whole night, and she left as soon as it was dawn. I told Lang Junxia to intercept her. That guy ran after her with his sword and came back to tell me that she held herself hostage, said she’d kill herself if he made her come back. That unyielding temper … tsk tsk.”
Li Jianhong shakes his head helplessly. “Dad has a huge temper too. I thought since she went back to the south, she was probably going to get married sooner or later, so I simply left things at that. I never asked after her all these years — until the day Zhao kui took away my command of the military in the imperial court’s name. When I was fleeing from Mount Jiangjun, that’s when I finally asked Lang Junxia to go get her.”
“I never expected that she was already gone.” Li Jianhong finishes, “And that for me she’d given birth to you.”
“Do you regret it?”
“Of course. I often think that I ought to confer her a posthumous title someday. But she’s already dead. What’s the use of a posthumous title?”
Duan Ling fiddles with the jade arc hanging from Li Jianhong’s neck, his head pillowed on Li Jianhong’s arm. Once again, Li Jianhong lets out a long sigh.
“Forgive me, Ruo’er. Tell me ‘I don’t hate you, dad’, and I’ll treat it like you and your mom said it together.”2
“No,” Duan Ling says suddenly.
Startled, Li Jianhong bows his head to look at his son in his arms.
“You owe us plenty still.” Duan Ling breaks into a smile. “You’ll have to make sure you stay alive. It won’t be too late to say something like that again when you’re really, really old.”
The corner of Li Jianhong’s mouth curls up slightly.
“Alright. I promise you.”
“Palm strikes as vow,” Duan Ling says.
Li Jianhong had his one arm wrapped around Duan Ling, and now he raises the other, striking his palm against Duan Ling’s three times. That night, Shangjing welcomed the heaviest snow the city had ever seen; snowflakes came down in a flurry of feathery clumps, spilling out against the horizon.
By the time Duan Ling opens his eyes as the sun shines in the next morning, Li Jianhong is already gone.
“Dad!” Duan Ling gets up and searches through the entire house. Everything he needs to take to school is all ready for him; Li Jianhong is the only thing that is missing. A sword is lying on top of his luggage.
Biyong College is quite lively on this first day that school is resumed. The renovations of the buildings have been completed; even their wooden plaques have been exchanged for new ones. Duan Ling moves through the halls as smoothly as a lightly-laden carriage through familiar roads, greeting those people he knows, making his bed himself.
“Where’s your dad?” Cai Yan too, is making his own bed.
“He’s away on business.”
“When will he be back?”
“Probably in a year.”
Duan Ling and Cai Yan sit on their respective beds, meeting each other’s eyes wordlessly. Cai Yan gives him a smile, and Duan Ling smiles back, as though they know what each other is thinking without needing to exchange words.
Xichuan; third day in the first month of the year.
“Li Jianhong is back,” Zhao Kui says. “He’s moving through the Shangjing Road with ten thousand Khitan soldiers, first via Mount Bo, Qixue Spring, Mount Jiangjun, and then by way of the western road into Xichuan. There are natural strategic strongholds all along the way.”
Mu Kuangda, Chang Liujun, Wu Du, Lang Junxia, and a literati are gathered in Zhao Kui’s study, looking at a map hanging on the wall.
“On what grounds?” Mu Kuangda asks.
“Court purge,” Zhao Kui replies.3
“We cannot keep His Highness the Fourth Prince in the dark in regards to this,” Mu Kuangda adds.
“Chancellor, general.” That literati happens to be Mu Kuangda’s top advisor. He says rather politely, “We may as well charge him with defection. That’s the only way to convince the fourth prince.”
Mu Kuangda hums in agreement, nodding.
“We’ll need to issue troop transfer orders,” Zhao Kui says. “When Li Jianhong fled four years ago we already redeployed all the soldiers. Right now, the western road is filled with those who used to serve under his command. They’ll likely surrender without a fight.”
“Redeploy them.” Mu Kuangda rises. “There’s no time to lose. I’ll head to the palace right now. The first thing I’ll do is issue a letter of reprimand in His Majesty’s name and announce to the world that Li Jianhong has committed defection to the enemy as well as treason, list his eight major offenses, and get the transfer orders signed. But I’m afraid if we redeploy the troops now, it’s already too late.”
“I have my own means to contain him,” Zhao Kui says, sounding as though he has it all worked out.
Mu Kuangda narrows his eyes slightly.
Zhao Kui says, “Chancellor, this way please.”
Mu Kuangda leaves the general’s estate with his two confidants, one of the ink and one of the sword, and they board the carriage. Chang Liujun gets into the coachman’s seat while the literati and Mu Kuangda enters the cab.
“Chang Pin.” Mu Kuangda leans back on the padded bench inside the carriage.
“Yes, Chancellor,” the literati named Chang Pin says referentially, “Wuluohou Mu must have found out some weakness of Li Jianhong’s.”
“Whatever could be his weakness?” Mu Kuangda murmurs.
Chang Pin thinks about this for a moment. “Six years ago, when Wu Du and the Shadow Guards rushed to Shangjing, their guard captain died there. Evidently Li Jianhong wasn’t in Shangjing, so what made Wuluohou Mu come out to fight with Wu Du at the cost of showing himself? Even back then I speculated that the only possibility was that Li Jianhong’s wife and child were in Shangjing.”
Mu Kuangda makes a contemplative hum. “That makes sense. If he can use Li Jianhong’s wife and child as hostages, he should be able to delay him for a bit, but I don’t think it’d be able to delay him for long.”
Chang Pin adds, “I’m afraid Zhao Kui doesn’t want to merely stall him, but to kill him.”
Mu Kuangda begins to laugh. “Now he’s really just kidding himself.”
“Zhao Kui deals with other things much as he does troops on the battlefield. He’d never make his move if he hasn’t figured out his next move. If he kills Li Jianhong’s family first it’ll surely mentally destabilise him, thus to bait him, trap him, kill him — it shouldn’t be all that difficult. As long as Wuluohou Mu can manage this much, he won’t even have to go see Li Jianhong personally. He just has to deliver their heads and Zhao Kui will win this for sure.”
Mu Kuangda replies, “That head is probably far more useful than the fourth prince’s.”
Mu Kuangda breaks out into a hearty laugh, and Chang Pin joins him in a few short chortles. Mu Kuangda adds, “This will be difficult to arrange.”
The carriage stops. Chang Liujun gets down, and Mu Kuangda enters the palace.
Li Yanqiu happens to be standing in the gallery as Mu Kuangda approaches, bowing to him as he comes closer.
“Stand down,” princess-consort Mu Jinzhi commands her servants.
Mu Kuangda favours Mu Jinzhi with a smile, and stands in the gallery with his hands behind his back without a word. Mu Jinzhi watches her older brother for a little while, and in the end she has no choice but to turn to go.
Li Yanqiu gives Mu Kuangda a considering look, and so Mu Kuangda bows to him. “Greetings, Your Highness.”
Then Li Yanqiu gives Chang Liujun standing behind Mu Kuangda a passing glance before turning back to Mu Kuangda. “It has been a while since your last visit, Chancellor Mu.”
“There is a most urgent military situation about which I must come to inform His Majesty today.”
“Father has taken his medication. He’s already gone to sleep. Whatever it may be, you can just tell me.”
“His Third Highness has borrowed ten thousand elite troops from Yelü Dashi, and he’s on his way south in the name of a court purge, by way of the western road. He can be at the gates of Xichuan within three months.”
“I just knew that Third brother didn’t die,” Li Yanqiu says insipidly.
Mu Kuangda doesn’t answer him, he merely waits for Li Yanqiu to say that one pivotal sentence.
Li Yanqiu remains quiet for a long time. In the end, he only says one thing.
“I miss him.”
And as those words cease Li Yanqiu turns and leaves.
Mu Jinzhi appears from behind a pillar only then, her eyes fixed on her older brother.
“I have always been a tactful man.” Mu Kuangda smiles faintly, and takes out a memorial to hand to Mu Jinzhi, indicating that she should take care of it.
Lamplight seeps through the window panes, shining onto the cold drizzle of Xichuan’s wintry rain. Mu Jinzhi spreads out a roll of yellow silk on the governing desk, picks up a brush, dips it in ink, and places it in Li Yanqiu’s hand.
Mu Kuangda waits outside with a smile, his hands behind his back. Soon, a loud crash emanates from the study as Li Yanqiu sweeps at the brush holder and the washing cup, knocking them all onto the floor.
Mu Jinzhi brings out the imperial edict and gives it to Mu Kuangda. Mu Kuangda takes it and leaves.
First month, fifteenth day: transfer orders arrive at Yubiguan. Troops begin their redeployment.
Second month, first day: Li Jianhong arrives at the Great Wall and disappears at the end of the desert like a hurricane.
Second month, tenth day: the Yulin and Yudai areas go on the high alert while they wait with baited breath as though for a formidable enemy, but in the blink of an eye Li Jianhong has appeared four hundred miles away at Juyongguan instead. During a night raid, his advance party captures Juyongguan in a coordinated attack with soldiers inside the gate. But once he’s taken Juyongguan, he does not rashly push on. Instead, he sends out a summon to all under heaven to join him in his quest, gathering a military force.
Anyone who pledges allegiance before the city of Xichuan falls will have their previous wrongdoings forgiven without exception.
Third month, first day: Jiangzhou, Yangzhou, Jiaozhou, and Jingzhou are shaken to the core. At the same time, the imperial court hands down an imperial edict stamped with the Seal of the Realm, listing Li Jianhong’s eight offences.
But Li Jianhong is exceedingly patient. He assembles his troops before Juyongguan, waiting for the first battle, which is also the most difficult battle; he waits for the Chen troops to redeploy from east to west — and to attack them while they’re still weary from the journey.
Li Jianhong isn’t with him, but Duan Ling’s life remains quite regular. He studies during the day, and practices swordplay with Cai Yan in the evenings, working on his foundation training.
An omnipresent sandstorm is blowing through Shangjing in this early spring; it is once again time to go home for the month. Duan Ling packs his things himself, and as he’s about to leave, he sees a girl standing not too far away in the alley, speaking with Cai Yan, and when they finish speaking she glances at Duan Ling.
That’s Ding Zhi. It’s been a long time already since he’s seen her. She had a passing affair with Cai Wen once, so Duan Ling is assuming that she probably sometimes looks after the now kinless Cai Yan. Duan Ling greets her, but as he walks her by, Ding Zhi hands him a letter. The envelope is entirely blank; Duan Ling immediately realises it’s from Li Jianhong, and so at once he hurries home to open it.
After scraping away the wax seal, he finds that the calligraphy style isn’t the one his father usually favours, clearly as a way to avoid revealing pertinent information. Instead, he finds blocky, regular handwriting, as though the words are printed with a woodcut. There is no addressee, neither is there a signature.
Tossing and turning, I miss you both day and night. Two out of ten of what needs to be done is now concluded; there is nothing outside the Great Wall but the blowing sand. Of all boundless samsara I miss only your little corner of the world with its gorgeous flowers, budding and full of promise.
With my time on earth, what I’m proudest of doing is only this: with the sword of the realm in hand, I would point you the way.4
Burn!
Duan Ling really can’t bear the thought of burning this letter; he reads it again and again, then he stuffs it beneath the mattress. Finally, he climbs out of bed in the middle of the night, reading it carefully once more before he watches it burn, feeling like a knife is twisting in his heart.
I do not monetise my hobby translations, but if you’d like to support my work generally or support my light novel habit, you can either buy me a coffee or commission me. This is also to note that if you see this message anywhere else than on tumblr, do come to my tumblr. It’s ad-free. ↩︎
-er is a common diminutive suffix used for someone younger. It literally means son, but in a suffix it denotes youth. The speaker also doesn’t necessarily have to be older. ↩︎
Literally “to purge the emperor’s side”, implying to purge those too-powerful officials influencing the emperor. But it was often just an excuse for a coup. ↩︎
There is a double meaning in this, both “I would point you the way” and “I would manage the south for you”. However, the original in the lyrics to 聞戰 was “I have knitted together bright moonlight, and would point you the way”, so I went with the compass interpretation. ↩︎
