Chapter Thirty-Seven: The Minister’s Counsel

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Behind the fire, Chang Geng emerged, his left shoulder still bound in a sling. After several days of treatment, his complexion had notably improved. With a commanding, sonorous voice, he shouted, "The general orders: double the night patrols, watch your camp closely, and be on guard against enemy raids!"

Kaiming nodded approvingly. This was true military prudence; if the enemy discovered their victory had made them lax and struck in the night, all would be lost. Clearly, General Dayin was no mere figurehead.

She smiled, setting her worries aside. With someone wiser and more capable in command, all a common soldier like her had to do was obey.

A few bowls of wine left her uncomfortably full, and she slipped into a secluded thicket to relieve herself. As she fastened her belt and headed back, her gaze happened to wander beyond the camp. Quite casually, she spotted a white figure drifting from the uneven hills, gliding closer.

The sentry at the gate had just swapped shifts and gone inside to ask for wine, leaving her alone at the entrance. A pang of fear struck her, but emboldened by drink, she shouted, "Who's there?"

The white figure gave no reply, continuing to float forward without touching the ground. Terror gripped her—was it a ghost at this hour? Every ghastly visage she'd ever imagined flashed through her mind, and her legs felt weak.

"Answer me, or else..." Her eyes landed on a discarded wooden stake beside the gate. She seized the thick club, trembling, "Or else, don't blame me for what happens next!"

"Don't be so tense." A crisp, low laugh dispelled her dread. "If you mean to be fierce, you needn't be so nervous about it."

The white figure stepped into the circle of torchlight. Kaiming stared wide-eyed—a young man, dressed in a white robe with a dark sash, a trailing band tying his black hair, his face ruddy, smiling warmly. Instinctively, she checked beneath his robe—he had feet!

He eyed her uniform with surprise. "You're a woman soldier?"

"I am!" she retorted, glaring. He clearly had feet—why had he glided like a footless specter? She decided not to blame her drunken vision, but rather his peculiar way of walking. "Who are you? Why have you come to our camp at this hour?"

The man did not answer. She watched him warily. "Are you here to raid the camp?"

He burst out laughing, spreading his arms. "Have you ever seen anyone try to raid a camp alone?" A rough snort sounded behind him; a large horse poked its head into view.

He patted the horse's head and smiled at her. "Well, aren't you going to take me to your general? I bring good news."

Kaiming looked him and the horse up and down. Her gaze paused. "Isn't this..." The horse was a brilliant red, its eyes as bright as lacquer—surely the very steed of the Sikong she had seen on the battlefield that day?

"You recognize it, then. As I said—good news." The man chuckled. "Lead the way!"

Hurriedly dropping the stake, Kaiming realized this was no time to delay—this might concern vital military intelligence.

Dayin received the visitor in her tent. The two sat in their respective places. Dayin's curious gaze fell on the white-robed youth, then shifted to the red horse outside, which Kaiming was busily stroking.

"General, your bearing is truly extraordinary—a worthy first lady general of the palace," the young man praised.

Dayin accepted the compliment without modesty. "Thank you, sir. May I ask where you've come from, and what business brings you to my camp?"

He bowed. "I am Qing Yun, formerly an adviser to Sikong of the Southern Palace. Long have I toiled in obscurity, unable to find proper employment for my talents. Thus, I have grown disloyal."

Dayin smiled coolly. "Are you, perhaps, thinking of changing allegiances?"

"That is my intention." Qing Yun lowered his voice, glancing at the red horse outside. "Does the general know the origin of this horse?"

"Years ago, the Emperor gifted me a similar red horse, said to be bred in the Southern Palace, but I know little of their history."

"This breed descends from the celestial steed, crossbred with earthly horses. Even in the Southern Palace, they are rare, reserved for tribute or diplomacy." Qing Yun spoke with assurance.

"Then I am indeed fortunate to possess such a horse," Dayin replied.

"A fine horse for a noble soul," Qing Yun flattered with subtlety.

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Dayin accepted the praise with a slight smile.

Qing Yun continued, "Since Sikong received this horse from the Emperor, he has treasured it, never letting outsiders touch it. A servant once marred its coat and was whipped to death for it. Now, as I seek a worthy master, I offer this red horse as my first tribute."

"That is quite a gift," Dayin said sharply. "From your tone, sir, do you mean to offer more?"

Qing Yun smiled, tapping his temple. "In time, I shall present the general with even greater gifts—never will you return to the palace empty-handed."

This last promise made Dayin's eyes flash, though she quickly masked it. "In that case, sir, please settle in the camp for now. Forgive us if the accommodations are not refined."

"You are too kind," Qing Yun replied, bowing and withdrawing.

Dayin ordered her soldiers to prepare a clean felt tent for Qing Yun.

As soon as he left, several commanders slipped in behind the tent. "General, what do you make of this man?"

"Arriving at midnight—could he be up to something?"

"Better to kill him quickly than risk it."

Dayin waved them silent. "Good or ill, we keep him for now. He knows the inner workings of Sikong’s camp. If sincere, he could help end the war; if a spy, we feed him false intelligence and end the war all the same. He came at the perfect time. For now, watch him."

"Brilliant, General!" the commanders murmured, thoroughly convinced.

Outside, Qing Yun found Kaiming still stroking the horse's mane. She scoffed, "All that talk of celestial and earthly horses—nonsense. Only the general would listen to your tall tales."

Qing Yun laughed. "It was meant to be nonsense—for those who like to hear it."

"So you're calling the general a fool? Just wait till I tell her!" Kaiming threatened.

Qing Yun laughed even harder. "You're quite the character. Are all the women soldiers in the palace like you?"

"We have everything—but only one like me," she replied smugly. "One of a kind in the world."

Qing Yun laughed heartily, and even Kaiming couldn’t help but smile. Talking with him was as easy as chatting with an old friend.

Seeing her hands still playing with the horse’s mane, Qing Yun warned, "That’s a fine steed—don’t pluck all the hair off. Each strand is worth its weight in gold."

"Who are you kidding!" She glared at him, yanking a few long red hairs free. The horse neighed, and Qing Yun winced as if the pain were his own.

"Gold!" she teased, waving the red hairs at him before tucking them into her belt. "If it’s gold, I’ll keep it safe!"

Qing Yun covered his face and chuckled. "Truly a tragic sight. If Sikong knew, he'd be furious."

"Sikong? You’ve already stolen his horse—what good temper could be left?" She eyed him curiously. "Honestly, I don’t understand it. Such a valiant warrior, yet toppled so easily. It's hard to believe."

"Hard to believe?" Qing Yun smiled. "Victory and defeat are the way of war—nothing unusual about it."

"To be utterly routed—my image of a hero is shattered," she sighed, shaking her head.

"Shattered?" Qing Yun was puzzled. "What do you mean by that?"

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"You’re a scholar. You wouldn’t understand even if I explained," she replied, waving him off. "Go get some sleep!"

Dayin’s guards led the red horse away to be watched by other soldiers and escorted Qing Yun to his quarters. As he walked, Qing Yun turned back to her and called, "If you have time, I’d like to learn more from you, miss."

"We’ll see about that!" she replied politely, waving her hand, though she grumbled inwardly—what a bookworm, who has time to chatter with you.

Even the advisers were defecting—Sikong must really be in dire straits. Kaiming curled up, hugging her knees, thoughts churning too much for sleep. Her body was exhausted to the point of collapse, yet her mind grew ever clearer.

Footsteps approached. Gouzi crept over. "Kaiming, are you cold?"

"A little," she admitted.

"Dew’s heavy at night—here, take this." He draped a robe over her shoulders, and she was touched to the core.

"Gouzi, you’re a good man."

He grinned sheepishly and crawled back to the men’s ranks, lying down among the snoring bodies.

She dozed fitfully, drifting off and waking, her body slumping onto the muddy ground, eyelids heavy as lead. Half-asleep, she heard light footsteps nearby and voices: "You check over there."

A few murmured responses, then the sound of people moving away. Someone seemed to pause beside her, and a soft, heavy object was draped over her.

She startled awake, reached out, and grabbed something—her eyes met another pair.

Bright, startled, deep black eyes met hers. The man, evidently surprised by her abrupt awakening, reflexively pulled back.

"Commander?!" she gasped in a whisper. Why was Commander Chang Geng here?

Chang Geng looked embarrassed, stammering, "The dew’s heavy—I didn’t want you to catch cold." Only now did she realize the dark green cloak from his shoulders was now gently covering her.

"I’m on patrol." He was actually a bit flustered, tugging at his hand. "May I have my hand back?"

Hand? She looked down and saw she was gripping his hand tightly! In her half-sleep, she’d seized his hand—utter humiliation!

"Commander, I didn’t mean… um, this…" Blushing fiercely, she scrambled up to apologize.

He waved it off magnanimously. "No harm done."

Seeing her discomfort, Chang Geng regained his composure. "Has your injury improved?"

"Much better, thank you for your concern." She hurriedly picked up the cloak, brushed off the dirt, and returned it with both hands. "Your wound shouldn’t be exposed to cold. Patrolling is hard work—please take care."

Chang Geng said little more, taking back the cloak and giving her a sidelong glance. "You do know how to speak."

She lowered her head further, unsure what to say.

Several patrolling soldiers called from afar, "Commander Chang Geng!"

He answered and turned away, his boots crunching in the mud. For some reason, she felt a quiet sense of relief.