Chapter One: The Enigma

“Fifth Son, is the pain severe?”

At the sound of the voice, Liu Ji snapped out of his stupor. The corner of his mouth twitched into a somewhat forced smile.

“It’s nothing, I can manage.”

The two spoke in the official tongue—the so-called He Luo accent. With his experience of two lifetimes, Liu Ji knew this pronunciation was neither the Mandarin of later ages, nor did it bear any trace of the local dialects of Shaanxi or Henan, yet it was the language that had flourished across China for a thousand years.

He tightened his sheepskin robe, gripping the walking stick firmly in his hand as he followed in the footsteps of his companion along the winding mountain trail. He trod carefully, for not far to the side yawned a deep river gorge; a single misstep down the jagged, rocky slope would leave his body a battered, bloodied ruin, beyond the help of even the gods.

It was only in those brief moments when he lifted his head that his gaze lingered, lost, on the vast glaciers stretching nearby and the towering, snow-capped peaks in the distance, reaching into the clouds. They looked little different from how they would after a thousand years—he could recognize them at a glance. The tallest among them was the peak that, in a later age, would be known as K2.

The world’s second highest mountain, rising 8,611 meters above sea level.

How had all this come to pass? Merely three days earlier, he had been a soldier of the Republic entrusted with a special mission. Outwardly, he was to join a delegation from a military enterprise, but in truth, he was dispatched as a military observer to a friendly neighbor, Pakistan. While traveling by helicopter toward the front line of the Indo-Pakistani conflict—the region of Habro in the Ganche District of Baltistan, less than a kilometer from the border—disaster struck.

The mission was tied to India’s unusual maneuvers. After China’s New Silk Road policy was enacted, that self-styled great power in South Asia could not sit still; not only did they stir up trouble in the Indian Ocean, threatening China’s maritime trade routes, but their military movements on land grew frequent. Just before the crash, Liu Ji had received word via satellite phone: Indian troops had brazenly crossed the border.

But not the de facto line of control in Kashmir—rather, the national boundary in Bhutan, China’s own border!

Then, nothingness—a Soviet-made SAM-6 struck the helicopter, the missile’s massive warhead bursting through the hull. That was his last memory before darkness claimed him. In retrospect, the crash site must have been on the very edge of the line of control. The Indians had used a surface-to-air missile that only a division-level force would possess, which meant they had amassed troops by divisions at the border.

They dared provoke two nuclear powers simultaneously on two fronts! How would China respond? That year, with the New Silk Road policy underway, all the small, troublesome neighbors leapt at the chance—THAAD in Korea, disputes in the South China Sea, and now the Indians’ brazen incursion. Had China’s policy struck a nerve in some major power?

Liu Ji gave a bitter, self-mocking smile. None of those political or military affairs had anything to do with him now.

He had been unconscious for three whole days. When he opened his eyes, he found himself still in the Pakistan-controlled region of Kashmir, about two hundred kilometers from Skardu, the capital of Baltistan. He didn’t need his companion to tell him this; one glance was enough. After all, as the world’s largest glacial region outside the polar zones, the terrain was unmistakable. With an average elevation of four thousand meters, hundreds of peaks over five thousand meters, more than a dozen over seven thousand, and the world’s second highest peak, this land, ringed by the Himalayas, the Karakoram, and the Hindu Kush, had been embroiled in conflict for nearly seventy years.

Ever since joining the army, he had been stationed on China’s southwestern border. He had taken part in several Sino-Pakistani military exchanges and knew every blade of grass and tree in this area, more intimately than the streets of the Imperial Capital. How could he not recognize it?

Imperial Capital.

At the thought of that place, a pang struck Liu Ji’s heart. There was a girl waiting for him there, but now, it seemed he would never return.

Was love that spanned a thousand years truly the distance between heaven and earth?

Pain surged through him again, as though his head were being split apart by an axe. Unable to help himself, he groaned and crouched down, clutching his head. His companion, startled by the sound, hurried back to support him.

“We should rest awhile. It’s only a day or two’s journey; we’ll make it in time.” Seeing the beads of sweat rolling down Liu Ji’s forehead, his companion hesitated. “I’ll go fetch some water.”

“Zhilie,” Liu Ji unexpectedly grabbed his arm. “You seem in quite a hurry—do you have someone to meet ahead?”

Zhilie was momentarily taken aback, then nodded slowly. “The meeting was arranged for yesterday. We’re already a day late. If we delay much longer, I’m afraid that Gesang Yangcuo will change his mind.”

Liu Ji carefully memorized the name. He was probing, trying to appear as natural as possible, not wanting Zhilie to notice anything amiss.

His instincts as an intelligence officer warned him—until he could be certain of his safety, he must guard himself with utmost caution.

For this body was no longer what it once was. He had not inherited its former memories; only when glimpsing that familiar face did words slip out unconsciously. He didn’t even know if the man was called Wang Zhilie or Zhang Zhilie.

Beyond that, he had no idea why he was here, how he’d been wounded, what he was supposed to do next, or even—

Who he was.

His companion called him Fifth Son—was he the fifth boy of his family? He dared not ask directly, only trying to glean hints by careful questioning.

“Our mission is important. You go ahead and make contact; I’ll follow shortly,” Liu Ji said, feigning nonchalance. “The meeting place hasn’t changed, has it?”

“Well…” Zhilie hesitated, concern on his face. “It’s still over a hundred li to Hepulao City, at least two nights camping in the wild. In your condition, can you manage it? We’re already late; we can take it slow. If they don’t wait for us, they’re unlikely to leave. Even if we miss this chance, there will be others—better to return empty-handed than risk disaster.”

“My mind is made up.” Liu Ji shook his head slowly.

There was a steely resolve in his eyes, and his companion sighed, resigned. “In that case, let’s agree on three…no, five days. I’ll wait for you at the old caravanserai run by Sogdians in the city. Just tell the clerk it’s an order under Old Yang’s name; someone will meet you.”

“Remember, you’re a Sogdian merchant named Kang Cairn, here to buy gemstones.” With this last instruction, his companion gave a parting salute, then strode swiftly up the mountain path, disappearing into the distance.

Liu Ji stood motionless, his expression unchanged as he watched him go. The information in those few words was overwhelming—he needed time to process it all.