"Shen Wei, the Prince of Jianxing, suffered a crushing defeat at Chashi River in the northeast. The prefecture of Dunzhou's front line fell into enemy hands, and thirty thousand soldiers were buried alivein the Chashi Sinkhole. You were among them—so how is it that you're the only one left allive?"

Shen Zechuan's eyes were glazed and unfocused. He didn't answer.

The interrogator slammed his hands on the table and leaned in, a vicious glint in his eyes. "Shen Wei had long been in secret communication with the Twelve Tribes of Biansha. He intended to hand the six prefectures of Zhongbo to our enemies on a silver platter. Together with your Biansha allies, you planned to breach the defenses of Qudu from within and without. This is why the Biansha Horsemen spared your life, is it not?"

Shen Zechuan's dry, chapped lips parted as he struggled to understand the interrogator's words. The jut of his throat bobbed as he answered with difficulty, "N-no."

"Shen Wei immolated himself to escape judgement. The Embroidered Uniform Guard has already presented correspondence proving his secret liaisons with the Biansha tribes to the emperor. And yet, boy, you still deny it. Your stubbornness borders on stupidity!" the interrogator snapped.

Shen Zechuan's head felt heavy, his mind dazed. He had no idea how long it's been since he'd last slept. He felt as though he was hanging from a single thread thousands of feet in the air. If he negligently let go for so much as an instant, he would plummet to the ground and be smashed to pieces.

The interrogator opened Shen Zechuans's written statement and gave ut a cursory glance. "You said last night you were able to climb out of the Chashi Sinkhole alive because your elder brother protected you—is that so?"

The scene swam hazily before Shen Zechuan’s eyes. The sinkhole was so deep, countless soldiers packed together within. But even as the pile of corpses grew higher and higher beneath their feet, still they could not reach the edge. No matter how they struggled, they couldn’t climb out. The Biansha Horsemen surrounded the sinkhole, and the whistle of arrows mingled with the frigid night wind. The blood rose up to his calves as the anguished wails and final gasps of the dying crowded close to his ears.

Shen Zechuan’s breaths came fast and shallow, and he shivered in his seat. He clutched at his hair despite himself, unable to prevent a strangled sob from escaping his throat. “You’re lying.” The interrogator held up the statement and flicked it with a finger. “Your brother is Shen Zhouji, the eldest lawful son of the Prince of Jianxing. This brother of yours abandoned thirty thousand soldiers before the Chashi Sinkhole and attempted to stealthily flee with his own private guards. The Biansha Horsemen lassoed him with a rope and dragged him to death on the public road along the Chashi River. He was dead by the time the Twelve Tribes of Biansha slaughtered those soldiers in the sinkhole. It’s impossible for him to have saved you.”

Shen Zechuan’s mind was awhirl. The interrogator’s voice sounded so far away; all he could hear were the unending wails.

Which way out? Where are the reinforcements?

The dead crowded against the dead. Putrid, decaying flesh pressed down on his hands. Mu-ge1 shielded him from above, sprawled over the bloodied corpses. Shen Zechuan listened to Mu-ge’s ragged breaths, and the cries that escaped his throat were those of despair.

“Your brother is invincible.” Ji Mu struggled to squeeze out a smile, but tears were streaming down his face and his voice hitched as he continued, “I’m an impregnable fortress! Hang on just a bit longer; it’ll be fine. Reinforcements will arrive soon. When they come, we’ll go home and get our parents, and I need to find your sister-in-law…”

“Come clean with it!” the interrogator barked, banging on the table.

Shen Zechuan began to struggle as if to break free of invisibleshackles, but the Embroidered Uniform Guard swarmed over and pinned him to the table.

“Since you arrived in our Imperial Prison, I’ve taken your youth into account and haven’t meted out severe punishment. But it seems you don’t know what’s good for you—don’t blame us if we’re ruthless. Men, carry out his punishment!”

Shen Zechuan’s arms were bound with rope; they dragged him to an open space in the chamber. Someone set down a bench with a clatter and tied his legs to it. The burly man beside him lifted his broad wooden staff, hefted it briefly in his hands, and swung it down.

“I’ll ask you one more time.” The interrogator brushed at the foam on his tea with the lid of his cup and took a few unhurried sips. “Did Shen Wei collude with our enemies and commit treason?”

Shen Zechuan gritted his teeth and refused to yield. He shouted between strikes of the heavy staff, “N-no!”

The interrogator set his cup aside. “The Shen Clan wouldn’t be in this position today if you’d shown such fortitude on the battlefield. Continue!”

“Shen Wei didn’t collude with the enemy…” Shen Zechuan rasped, his head hanging and his voice hoarse. He was crumbling, bit by bit.

“We suffered a crushing defeat at the Battle of Chashi River all because Shen Wei recklessly met the enemy head-on. After that loss, he had a chance to turn the tide at the Dunzhou front line—yet despite his great advantage in strength over the enemy troops, he withdrew his forces. Because of this, the three cities of Duanzhou Prefecture fell into enemy hands. Ten of thousands of common citizens lost their lives on the edge of Biansha scimitars.”

The interrogator heaved a lengthy sigh and continued with rueful disdain, “All six prefectures of Zhongbo were bathed in blood. Shen Wei took his troops and retreated south once again. But the battle he fought in Dengzhou Prefecture was the most suspect of all. The Chijun Commandery Garrison from Qidong had already crossed Tianfei Watchtower to provide assistance—yet he abandoned this pincer attack. Instead, he mobilized thousands of cavalry to escort his own family to the city of Dancheng. The entire front line at Dengzhou Prefecture collapsed without these troops. Was this not intentional sabotage? If it weren’t for the Libei Armored Cavalry racing three days and nights to cross the Glacial River, the Biansha Horsemen would even now be at the gates of Qudu!"

Shen Zechuan was drenched in cold sweat, his consciousness fading. The interrogator flung the statement at him in contempt, and it slapped against the back of his head.

“Rather a dog than a man of Zhongbo, eh? Shen Wei is a sinner before Great Zhou. Do you yet deny it? You have no choice but to accept your guilt!”

Shen Zechuan was in agony, half of his body numb. He lay collapsed on the bench, the paper fluttering before his eyes. The ink strokes on it were clear, every character like the humiliating lash of a whip on his face, announcing to the world:

Shen Wei betrayed his country. He’s less than a dog.

They had left the six prefectures of Zhongbo piled high with bodies. To date, the corpses at the bottom of the Chashi Sinkhole remained uncollected. Everyone in the cities of Dunzhou who might have collected them had been massacred.

Shen Wei had burned himself to his death, it was true—but this debt of blood must be borne by a living person. Shen Wei had a harem of wives and concubines who bore him a bounty of sons, but every one of them had perished when the Biansha Horsemen entered Dunzhou. Only because Shen Zechuan was of low birth, raised far from the family, had he managed to escape with his life.

They dragged Shen Zechuan back to his cell, his heels leaving twin trails of blood in their wake. He faced the wall and gazed at the small, narrow window. Outside, the frigid wind howled, and the snow came pelting down. The night, black as pitch, stretched without end.

In his head was primal chaos. Amid the cries of the wind, his mind wandered back to the sinkhole.

Ji Mu was dying. His breathing had grown labored. Blood dripped down his armor onto the back of Shen Zechuan’s neck, where it quickly turned cold. The wails around him had quieted, leaving only the groans of unendurable pain and the bellows of the biting wind.

Shen Zechuan lay nose-to-nose with a dead man whose features were no longer recognizable. His legs were pinned under the weight of human bodies; a shield dug painfully into his ribs. All he could smell as he gasped for air was the thick stench of blood. He gritted his teeth, tears streaming down his face, but he couldn’t afford to cry aloud. In despair, he stared down at the face trampled beyond recognition, yet could not tell if this was a soldier he knew.

“Ge,” Shen Zechuan sobbed softly, “I…I’m scared…”

Ji Mu’s throat bobbed. He gently patted Shen Zechuan’s head. “It’s all right… We’ll be okay.”

Shen Zechuan heard the singing of the soldiers at death’s door. The gale tore apart the sound of their songs and sent tattered pieces fluttering away into the frigid night.

“Battle in the city south… Death within the city north...

Graveless, left exposed to rot… May the crows feed.”

“Ge,” Shen Zechuan whispered beneath him. “I’ll carry you on my back… Ge.”

Ji Mu’s body was like a bent and broken shield. He smiled and said in a hoarse voice, “I can walk on my own.”

“Were you struck by an arrow?”

“No.” Ji Mu’s tears had dried up. He said breezily, “Those Biansha baldies have no aim.”

Shen Zechuan’s fingers were soaked in flesh and blood. He wiped his face with some difficulty.

“Shiniang made dumplings. Once we get home, we can eat as many as we like.”

Ji Mu sighed. “I’m a slow eater. Don’t…snatch.”

Shen Zechuan gave a firm nod beneath him.

The snow gradually blanketed Ji Mu’s body. He seemed very tired, so quiet was his voice, and he hadn’t even the strength to move his fingers. The song was sung achingly slow, and when it reached the line, “the valiant rider died in the fray,” Ji Mu closed his eyes.

“I…I’ll give Ge my money too, to get married…” said Shen Zechuan.

“Ge.”

“Ge.”

Ji Mu remained silent. As if he were weary of listening to Shen Zechuan speak and couldn’t help but drift off.

Shen Zechuan trembled all over. He didn’t remember when the Biansha Horsemen left or how he had clawed his way out. When he finally pushed himself up and pulled himself out, it was to dead silence amid the heavy snow. The stacked corpses cushioning his knees had the look of discarded burlap sacks.

Shen Zechuan turned to glance down and choked with sobs.

Ji Mu’s back had been pierced with such a dense cluster of arrows that his body was like a curled hedgehog. All his blood had trickled down onto Shen Zechuan’s back, but Shen Zechuan hadn’t realized it. The thunder of horses’ hooves came swiftly toward him like the looming storm.

Shen Zechuan shivered and jolted violently awake.

He felt like retching. But then he realized—his wrists had been firmly bound, and a burlap sack filled with soil was pressing down on his body.

The sack became heavier and heavier as it crushed his chest. He couldn’t make a sound. This was an old prison trick habitually inflicted on prisoners whose jailers would rather see them dead than alive. By smothering them with an earth-filled sack, they would leave no trace of injury. Had Shen Zechuan not woken when he did, by daybreak, he would’ve been but a corpse gone cold. Someone was trying to kill him.

IN THE GLOOM of the Imperial Prison, Shen Zechuan desperately twisted his wrists, but his hands were cold, his lungs were beginning toache, and the rope was so tight it was futile. The sack of earth pressed downon his chest. He felt as if he’d been thrown into a deep pond—his ears rangand his breath came in frantic bursts, like he was drowning.

Shen Zechuan shifted his gaze to the candle light beyond the bars.

In the hall, several members of the Embroidered Uniform Guard were drinking and shouting as they played a finger-guessing game, too preoccupied to spare Shen Zechuan a glance. The sack of earth nailed himto the crude straw mat, and suffocating nausea engulfed him like flood water. His vision swam. Shen Zechuan raised his head and gritted his teeth to move his legs. They had been flogged numb; he felt nothing when he raised them. He placed his foot against the left corner of the wooden bed where vermin had eaten away its sturdiness; on his first day, he’d damaged it just by sitting down. He struggled to gather a breath.

Shen Zechuan braced himself and kicked at that rotten corner with all his strength. His legs were so weak the bed didn’t even groan; the planks hadn’t moved an inch. Cold sweat streamed down his back, soaking his shirt.

Shen Zechuan braced himself and kicked at that rotten corner with allhis strength. His legs were so weak the bed didn’t even groan; the planks hadn’t moved an inch. Cold sweat streamed down his back, soaking hisshirt.

He yearned to live. Shen Zechuan whimpered frantically; he bit his tongue until it bled and kicked the planks again. Ji Mu’s mangled, barely recognizable body was the horse whip at his back, spurring him on. His brother’s voice echoed in his ears.

He must live.

Shen Zechuan struck the plank furiously until he finally heard a dull thud. Half the slats collapsed, and he slid off to one side, the heavy sack tumbling down beside him. He hit the ground and gasped as if breaking through the water’s surface.

The ground of his cell was icy. Shen Zechuan’s injured legs were useless, so he propped himself up with his elbows. Sweat trickled down the bridge of his nose. Despite the cold of the prison, his body burned as if his insides were coming to a boil. At last, he put his head down to dry heave.

Shen Wei deserved to die.

There were one hundred and twenty thousand troops in Zhongbo, divided among the six prefectures to form a defensive perimeter. After the defeat at Chashi River, the Biansha Horsemen had invaded Dunzhou. It was as the interrogator said: at that point, there had still been a chance to turn things around. Not only did Shen Wei have a well-trained and powerf ulcarmy, he had ample provisions and the authority to deploy the garrison troops in the three cities of Duanzhou. Yet, to everyone’s surprise, he had abandoned the prefecture and cowered back into the Dunzhou Prince’s Manor.

This retreat was prelude to the fall of Zhongbo. The Biansha Horsemen slaughtered Duanzhou’s three cities, after which the garrison, their morale shattered, fled south in a panic. Everyone had thought Shen Wei would make his stand against the Twelve Tribes of Biansha in Dunzhou—yet he had taken to the road again at first news of their arrival.

Time and time again the Zhongbo army had retreated in defeat while the Biansha Horsemen cut through the six prefectures’ territories like a steel blade. They traveled light, feeding on the spoils of war as they advanced, until they were within eight hundred li of Qudu, the capital of the Zhou empire.

Had Shen Wei implemented a scorched-earth policy during his retreat and burned the granaries in the cities he left behind, there would have been nothing left for the enemy, and no way for the Biansha Horsemen to advance so far. The invaders carried no supplies and relied solely on the cities they conquered to replenish their provisions. If the grain had beenash, the Biansha Horsemen would have starved.

A starving soldier could not fight. The Libei Armored Cavalry could have seized the chance, crossed the Glacial River, and intercepted the Biansha Tribes’ retreat while the garrison troops from Qidong’s five commanderies sealed off their escape route from Tianfei Watchtower. The Biansha scimitars would’ve been trapped like turtles in a tub; they wouldn’thave survived the winter.

But Shen Wei had done none of that.

Not only did he abandon any resistance, he abandoned the city granaries, still intact. The enemy fed on Zhou grain as they razed Zhoulands. Thanks to Shen Wei, the Biansha horses were well-fed enough to herd Zhongbo’s common folk and captured soldiers all the way to Chashi River, where the Horsemen butchered them all in a single night.

Shen Zechuan had escaped by the skin of his teeth. Now that Qudu wanted to settle accounts, it was obvious that Shen Wei’s deployment orders had been unusually sloppy. All signs pointed to his collusion with Biansha. Yet to escape justice, Shen Wei had not only immolated himself but destroyed any relevant documents along with him. Even the Embroidered Uniform Guard, notoriously effective and efficient in their investigations, were at their wits’ end. If the emperor wanted the truth, his only recourse was to get answers, at any cost, from the only remaining individual who might know: Shen Zechuan.

However, the son of a dancer in Duanzhou—Shen Wei’s eighth son of common birth—had no place in the clan, whether in rank or age; the man had too many sons. Shen Zechuan had been sent away to Duanzhou long ago to fend for himself, and Shen Wei had likely forgotten this son’s existence.

And yet, someone wanted to kill him.

It was no secret that many wanted him dead. He had been brought to Qudu as a scapegoat for his father. As the last member of the Shen Clan in Zhongbo, he was obligated to pay his father’s debts. Once his interrogationin the Imperial Prison was over, the emperor would no doubt offer Shen Zechuan’s death as appeasement to the souls of the thirty thousand soldiers who lost their lives at Chashi River.

Even so, it shouldn’t happen through an assassination in the dead of night.

Shen Zechuan spat blood and wiped his lips with his thumb. If ShenWei had indeed conspired with the enemy, then Shen Zechuan’s death was only a matter of time. Why bother to assassinate an insignificant commonson? Someone in the capital was worried about the interrogation—and if that was the case, then there must be more to the defeat of Shen Wei’s troops than met the eye.

But Shen Zechuan knew nothing.

He had a shifu in Duanzhou. His brother, Ji Mu, had been his shifu’s only son. To Shen Zechuan, Shen Wei was merely the Prince of Jianxing. Shen Zechuan had nothing to do with him, and absolutely no idea whether Shen Wei had committed treason.

Nevertheless, he had to deny it. Sprawled on the frigid ground of hisc ell, he felt even more alert than during the day. He knew he was a felon held by the Embroidered Uniform Guard under imperial edict. All arrest warrants, summons, and official documents came directly from the top, consigning him straight from the hands of Xiao Jiming, the Heir of Libei, to the Imperial Prison. They had bypassed even the Joint Tribunal of the Three Judicial Offices: the Ministry of Justice, the Court of Judicial Review, and the Chief Surveillance Bureau. It was clear that the emperor was determined to get to the bottom of this. Who had the guts to risk silencing him before the emperor could complete his interrogation?

The bitter wind howled at the window. In the darkness, Shen Zechuan stared at the wall; he dared not close his eyes again.

Dawn had scarcely broken when Shen Zechuan was escorted back tothe hall. A snow storm raged outside. Ji Lei, the interrogator, had been nothing but grim these past few days. Yet now, he was all smiles as he waited deferentially beside a wooden arm chair and served tea with both hands.

A fair-faced, beardless old eunuch sat in the chair, resting his eyes. He wore the official hat of a eunuch in velvet for the wintry weather, with an ornately embroidered mandarin square on his robe—a gourd at its center to mark the season. His overcoat was draped over his shoulders, and he held an exquisite plum blossom hand warmer of gold and jade. Sensing movement, he opened his eyes and looked at Shen Zechuan.

"Godfather,” Ji Lei bent to say, “Here is the filthy descendant of the Prince of Jianxing.”

Pan Rugui eyed Shen Zechuan. “What happened here?” Pan Rugui was not asking how Shen Zechuan had ended up dirty and stinking, but why Ji Lei hadn’t yet pried the hows and wherefores from him.

Ji Lei’s forehead ran with sweat, but he didn’t dare wipe it. Stillhunched, he responded, “The boy is ignorant. He’s been delirious since they brought him back from Zhongbo. Who knows who put him up to it, but he refuses to confess.”

"A felon, by His Majesty’s own decree.” Pan Rugui did not accept the tea. “A child no older than sixteen sent to the famed Imperial Prison to bepersonally interrogated by your esteemed self, and you can’t get aconfession out of him.”

Still holding the teacup, Ji Lei smiled sheepishly. “His importance is precisely why I didn’t dare use harsher methods without authorization. He was already ill when he arrived. If he dies in our hands, the case against Shen Wei will go cold.”

Pan Rugui scrutinized Shen Zechuan for a moment. “We are all our master’s dogs. There’s no point keeping a dog whose fangs have dulled. I know you have your own challenges, but this is part of your duty. His Majesty wishes to see him now; this is his way of showing consideration for the Embroidered Uniform Guard. What do you have to complain about?”

Ji Lei hurriedly prostrated himself. “It is as Godfather says. This son has been duly castigated.”

Pan Rugui snorted. “Clean him up. He can’t appear before His Majesty covered in filth.”

An attendant led Shen Zechuan away to wash and bandage his injured legs, then gave him a set of clean cotton clothes. He allowed himselfto be shuffled about; he was in such pain he could barely walk, and it took quite an effort even to step up into the carriage.

As Shen Zechuan departed, Pan Rugui finally accepted the cup fromJi Lei. Staring after the carriage, he asked, “Is he truly the last of the ShenClan?”

“Yes. The sole survivor of the Chashi Sink hole. The Heir of Libei captured him personally. He was detained in the Libei Armored Cavalry’s prisoner wagon the whole way and had no contact with anyone else.”

Pan Rugui sipped his cold tea. After a long time, he gave Ji Lei a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “The Heir of Libei certainly is discreet.”

Shen Zechuan stepped down from the carriage and let the guards hustle him down a long path. The heavy snow blew into his face, and the eunuch leading the way hurried along without any unnecessary chatter.

When Pan Rugui arrived before Mingli Hall, his arrival had already been announced. The junior eunuch waiting under the eaves stepped forward and took Pan Rugui’s overcoat, helped him shrug on his outer robe, and took over the hand warmer. Pan Rugui kowtowed by the door and said,“Your Majesty, this lowly servant has brought the boy.”

There was a pause. A low, unhurried voice rang out. “Bring him in.”

Shen Zechuan’s breath hitched, but they were already dragging himinside. Though there was incense burning, it wasn’t stifling. He heardintermittent coughs and caught a glimpse of feet lined up on both sides ofthe hall.

The Xiande Emperor was dressed in a deep blue day robe that couldn’t hide his frailty; illness had constantly plagued him in the three years since he had ascended the throne. His pallid complexion made hisoblong face look all the more gentle and delicate.

“Ji Lei has been trying him for several days now.” The Xiande Emperor glanced at Ji Lei, who was kneeling at the back of the hall. “Have you discovered the truth?”

Ji Lei kowtowed. “To answer Your Majesty, this boy’s words are in coherent and his story is full of holes. Nothing he’s said can be believed; all of his words are contradictory.”

“Present his testimony,” the emperor commanded.

Ji Lei produced a written statement from within his robe and handed it respectfully to Pan Rugui, who in turn hurried forward to present it to the emperor with all due reverence.

The Xiande Emperor read it through. When he reached the part about the Chashi Sinkhole, he covered his mouth and began to cough. He refusedto let Pan Rugui help him; instead, he wiped the blood from his lips himself with a handkerchief. “Thirty thousand soldiers lost their lives in thatsinkhole,” he said solemnly. “Had Shen Wei lived, he would have suffered the wrath of all!”

Shen Zechuan closed his eyes as his heart began to pound; he alreadyknew what was coming.

“Raise your head!”

His breathing quickened. His palms braced against the floor were numb. Shen Zechuan raised his head slowly, his eyes carefully landing onthe Xiande Emperor’s boots.

The emperor looked down at him. “As Shen Wei’s son and the solesurvivor of the Chashi Sinkhole, what do you have to say?”

Shen Zechuan’s eyes grew red at the rims. He shivered with wordless sobs.

The emperor’s expression never changed. “Speak!”

As Shen Zechuan raised his head, tears rolled down his cheeks. He glanced up for a fleeting moment, then kowtowed hard again, his shoulders shaking as the sobs rose in his throat. “Your Majesty, Your Majesty! Myfather was devoted to the nation and his countrymen in Zhongbo. He was too ashamed to face them after his losses on the battlefield. That’s why heset himself on fire—to atone!”

“What nonsense!” the emperor barked. “If he was devoted to the nation, why did he retreat time and time again?”

Shen Zechuan’s voice was hoarse from weeping. “My father sent allhis sons into the field. My eldest brother, Shen Zhouji, was tortured to deathby the Biansha rider who dragged him behind his horse along the Chashipublic road! If it were not for undivided loyalty, why risk his own heir?”

“You dare bring up Chashi! Shen Zhouji fled from the front lines. Hiscrime is unpardonable!”

Shen Zechuan looked up at the emperor, tears leaving tracks down his cheeks. “The battle at Chashi was a bloodbath,” he rasped. “My eldest brother might be incompetent, but he defended Chashi for three days. In those three days, vital intelligence was able to reach Qidong and Libei. If it weren’t for those three days…” He was so choked with emotion he couldn’t go on.

The emperor reread the statement in his hand. The hall was quiet save for the sound of Shen Zechuan’s sobs. In the interminable silence, ShenZechuan dug his fingernails into flesh.

Abruptly, the emperor let out a long sigh. “Did Shen Wei colludewith the enemy?”

“Never.” Shen Zechuan’s voice was resolute.

The emperor set down the statement and declared in a voice that hadgone frigid: “This cunning boy attempts to deceive his sovereign. He must not be allowed to live. Pan Rugui—have him flogged to death at Duancheng Gate!”

“Yes, Your Majesty!” Pan Rugui immediately bowed and retreated.

Shen Zechuan went cold, as if doused with a basin of icy water. Struggle as he might, it was useless; the guards clamped his mouth shut asthey dragged him out of Mingli Hall.

PAN RUGUI STRODE toward Duancheng Gate. The Embroidered Uniform Guard flanked the path, silent as cicadas in winter. The instant Pan Rugui announced the emperor’s edict, the guards began their work. They gagged Shen Zechuan and swiftly wrapped him in a thick cotton-padded garment, forcing him face down on the ground.

In the freezing wind, Pan Rugui leaned over to observe Shen Zechuan’s predicament. He raised his fingers to delicately cover his lips and coughed a few times before murmuring, “You’re a mere child, yet you had the gall to put on such a mawkish display before His Majesty. If you had truthfully confessed Shen Wei’s treason, you might have stood a chance.”

Shen Zechuan shut his eyes tightly. Cold sweat soaked his clothes.

Pan Rugui straightened. “Begin.”

The guards shouted in unison, “Begin!”

A thunderous roar followed: “Strike!”

Before the word was out, the iron-wrapped staff with its hooked barbs whistled down onto Shen Zechuan’s back.

After three strikes, another shout: “Harder!” The searing pain of the blows built into a fire, until he couldn’t move except to bite desperately on the gag between his teeth. The blood in his throat pooled faster than he could swallow, and the coppery taste of it coated his mouth. Shen Zechuanclung to his last breaths as dripping sweat stung his wide-open eyes.

The sky was overcast, and the heavy snow fell like catkins.

Flogging was not a task assigned to just anyone. As the saying went, “faint at twenty, lame at fifty”—to do it well required skill. It was handed down the generations, a family trade. Moreover, this job required not just physical prowess, but also a discerning eye. The experienced flogger needed only glance at the expressions of the high-ranking eunuchs from the Directorate of Ceremonial to determine who should receive superficial wounds but serious internal injuries and vice versa.

The emperor’s decree was death by flogging, and Pan Rugui seemed to show no sympathy. There was no chance of an about-face; this person had to die. Thus the Embroidered Uniform Guard held nothing back—they would make certain Shen Zechuan was dead within fifty strikes.

Pan Rugui, minding the time, noticed Shen Zechuan had already gonemotionless, his head lolling. Placing a hand on the hand warmer, he was about to give further instruction when he saw an umbrella drifting toward them on the path, hiding a beauty in royal garb.

The dark clouds on Pan Rugui’s face were instantly dispersed and replaced by a smile. Though he did not personally step out to receive her, the quick-witted junior eunuch beside him rushed over to offer his arm.

“My sincere respects to the third lady. It’s such a cold day. If Her Majesty the Empress Dowager has any instruction, surely someone else would do to carry the message,” Pan Rugui said, coming forward.

Hua Xiangyi raised her hand lightly to stay the Embroidered Uniform Guard. Delicate and beautiful, she had been raised at the empress dowager’s side since childhood and was said to bear quite a resemblance to her aunt in her youth. Although she was addressed as the third lady of the Dicheng Hua Clan here in Qudu, everyone knew she was a distinguished lady of the palace. Even the emperor doted on her as if she were truly his younger sister.

“Gonggong, is this the boy from Zhongbo’s Shen Clan, Shen Zechuan?” Hua Xiangyi said in a soft, measured voice.

“The very same,” Pan Rugui replied, keeping pace with Hua Xiangyi’s steps. “His Majesty has issued the decree to flog him to death.”

“His Majesty spoke in anger earlier,” Hua Xiangyi said. “If Shen Zechuan dies, we’ll never get to the bottom of Shen Wei’s treason. Her Majesty the Empress Dowager arrived at Mingli Hall a little while ago. HisMajesty heeded her advice, and he has calmed himself.”

“Oh, my,” Pan Rugui exclaimed. “His Majesty always listens to the empress dowager’s counsel. He was in such a terrible rage earlier, I dared not say a word.”

“His Majesty’s decree was ‘flogging.’ Haven’t you done so?” Hua Xiangyi said, smiling at Pan Rugui.

Pan Rugui took a few more steps and smiled in return. “Of course. I was in such a rush earlier. As soon as I heard the word flog, I made sure to give him a good beating. How should we deal with him now?”

“Keep him in the Imperial Prison until His Majesty wishes to question him again. Preserving the boy’s life is of utmost importance. I’m counting on Gonggong to inform Lord Ji to take good care of him,” Hua Xiangyi said, her gaze sweeping over Shen Zechuan.

“Say no more,” Pan Rugui replied. “Ji Lei wouldn’t think of turning a deaf ear to the third lady’s wishes. The weather is cold, and the ground is slippery. Xiaofuzi, be sure to hold the third lady steady.”

The moment Hua Xiangyi had gone, Pan Rugui turned to the two rows of guards. “His Majesty gave the order to flog, and we’ve done what’s required. Drag him back. You heard the third lady; it is the empress dowager’s wish. Tell Ji Lei: everyone with a hand in this case is leagues above his level. If something happens to the boy on his watch…” Pan Rugui coughed once. “Even the Jade Emperor himself couldn’t save him.”

Xiaofuzi returned to support Pan Rugui by the arm. The long stretch of road was empty, but still he furtively whispered, “Lao-zuzong, if we lethim go like this, will His Majesty not blame us later?”

“His Majesty knows in his heart that the blame does not lie with us,” Pan Rugui said, pacing through the snow. Snowflakes squeezed their way under his fur collar. “A promise is worth a thousand gold; a sovereign reneging on his word does not bode well. His Majesty has suffered another bout of illness from the stress of the Biansha invasion. He will accede to anything the empress dowager asks these days. To please her, the emperor is even considering elevating the third lady to a princess—never mind sparing one man’s life.” Pan Rugui looked over at Xiaofuzi. “And when have you ever seen the empress dowager change her orders?”

In every case, the real master was the one who stood by their word.

Shen Zechuan was delirious with fever. One moment, he saw Ji Mu dying before him, the next, he saw himself still living in Duanzhou.

The wind brushed the banners. His shiniang lifted the curtain and stepped out carrying a white porcelain bowl of plump dumplings with thinskins. “Go tell your brother to come home!” she called. “He can’t sit stillfor a second. Tell him to hurry back and eat!”

Climbing over the veranda railing, Shen Zechuan bounded over to his shiniang and bit the dumpling right off the chopsticks before running off. It was so hot it scalded his tongue. As he went out the door, huffing to cool hismouth, he spotted his shifu, Ji Gang, on the stairs and squatted down besidehim.

Ji Gang looked up with a grunt from the rock he was grinding in his hands. “Silly boy, a dumpling is worth hardly anything. You treat it like some kind of treasure! Go get your brother, and the three of us will go to Yuanyang Tavern for a proper meal.”

Before Shen Zechuan could answer, his shiniang was pulling JiGang’s ear. “Turning your nose up at my dumplings, huh? Good for you. If you’re so rich, what are you doing with a wife? Take these silly boys and go live on your own!”

Shen Zechuan laughed as he leapt down the stairs, waving to his shifu and shiniang before racing out of the alley to find Ji Mu. But it was snowing heavily; Shen Zechuan couldn’t find any trace of him. The longer he walked, the colder he became.

“Ge!” Shen Zechuan called into the storm. “Ji Mu! It’s time to come home!”

The sound of hoof beats rose around him; snow obstructed his vision. Shen Zechuan was trapped in the thunder of hooves, but he couldn’t see anyone. The sound of slaughter exploded in his ears and warm blood splattered his face. Shen Zechuan felt stabs of pain in both legs as an overwhelming force pinned him down. He saw the dead man’s face inches away from his. The deluge of arrows whistled in the wind. The man on his back was heavy, and something warm and sticky trickled down his neck and across his cheeks.

This time, he knew what it was.

Shen Zechuan woke trembling, drenched in sweat yet shivering uncontrollably with cold. He sprawled over the wooden slats of the cot as his eyes struggled to adjust to the darkness. He wasn’t alone in the cell. Anattendant had been cleaning up, and now lit the oil lamp.

Shen Zechuan’s throat was painful with thirst. The attendant seemed to anticipate this and set a bowl of cold water on the bed. Waves of sweat and chills washed over him as he slowly nudged the bowl toward himself, spilling half the contents in the process. Neither spoke. The attendant withdrew and left Shen Zechuan in the cell.

He slipped in and out of consciousness. The night dragged on without end; no matter how long he waited, dawn never came.

When the attendant again came to change Shen Zechuan’s bandages, his mind was clearer. Ji Lei looked at him through the bars and said coldly,“You’re one lucky bastard. A scourge truly never dies. The empress dowager spared your life; I suppose you don’t know why.”

Shen Zechuan lowered his head and kept still.

“I know your shifu is Ji Gang, the outcast of the land,” Ji Lei said. “We were fellow disciples twenty years ago and served together in the Embroidered Uniform Guard here in Qudu. You probably don’t know, but he was once a vice commander of the Guard and a third-rank official. I’mtrained in the same Ji-Style Boxing he practiced.”

Shen Zechuan raised his head and looked at Ji Lei, who opened the door of the cell and waited for the attendant to leave. Once they were alone, Ji Lei sat at the edge of Shen Zechuan’s bed.

“Later, he got into trouble bad enough to warrant losing his head. But the late emperor was benevolent and spared his life—just banished himbeyond the pass.” Ji Lei propped his elbows on his knees and grinned at Shen Zechuan from the shadows. “Your shifu is no talented man; he’s just a worthless wretch with good luck. You know how he survived? Just like you did—because of your shiniang. You probably don’t even know who she really is. Her name is Hua Pingting, from the same Hua Clan of Dicheng that produced the current empress dowager. It was for your shiniang’s sake that the empress dowager spared your life today.”

Ji Lei leaned in and whispered, “But who’d have known your shiniang already met her end in the chaos of the attack? Ji Gang really is a worthless wretch. To lose his father twenty years ago, then lose his wife and son now. Do you know who’s to blame? You must know better than anyone—the culprit is Shen Wei!”

Shen Zechuan’s breath hitched.

“Shen Wei abandoned the defensive line at Chashi River; he allowed the Biansha Horsemen in. A scimitar slit your shiniang’s throat, but what she suffered before her last breath would make Ji Gang wish he’d died instead.”

He continued mercilessly, “Duanzhou fell into enemy hands. You said your brother saved you.” Ji Lei sat up and studied the back of his hand. “Ji Mu, huh? Ji Gang raised you, and Ji Mu was your older brother: Ji Gang’s only son, the only continuation of Ji Gang’s bloodline, and the Ji Clan’sonly descendant. But because of Shen Wei—because of you—he’s dead too. Pierced by a thousand arrows, his remains forgotten in the sinkhole, humiliated and trampled under the hooves of Biansha horses. If Ji Gang’sstill alive, I wonder how he felt as he collected his son’s body.”

Shen Zechuan surged up, but Ji Lei easily shoved him back down and held him there.

Shen Wei colluded with the enemy and betrayed his country. That is a debt you must shoulder. When you plead for your life today, know that countless ghosts of Zhongbo are wailing for justice. When you dream tonight, seek your shiniang and your shifu among the dead. You might bealive, but it’s a life more agonizing than death. Can you forgive Shen Wei for all this? If you exonerate him, then you’ll be letting your shifu and his entire family down. Ji Gang raised and nurtured you. How could you disgrace him with such a disloyal and unfilial act?

“Besides, even if you drag out a feeble existence, not a soul in this world will pity you. Now that you’re in Qudu, you’ve become Shen Wei. The rage of the common folk cannot be quelled; countless people hate you to the core. Your death is a foregone conclusion. Rather than dying for nothing, why not speak frankly to His Majesty and come clean about Shen Wei’s crimes? It would comfort your shifu’s departed spirit.”

He suddenly stopped. Shen Zechuan, still pinned to the wooden bed, smiled up at him, his deathly pallor gone frostier still.

“Shen Wei did not collude with the enemy.” Shen Zechuan bit each word out through clenched teeth. “Shen Wei never colluded with the enemy!”

Ji Lei lifted Shen Zechuan from the bed and slammed him against thewall. Bits of earth and dust rained down, and the impact was enough to setShen Zechuan coughing.

“There are so many ways to kill you,” Ji Lei said. “Unappreciative little bastard. You managed to escape death by the skin of your teeth. Doyou think you can survive past today?” He kicked the cell door open and dragged Shen Zechuan into the hall.

“I’m impartial in my duties and serve at the pleasure of the empress dowager. But there are plenty in Great Zhou who can do as they please without consequence. If you’re so hopelessly foolish, I’ll honor yourwishes. You want to die so badly? Well, someone’s here to kill you!”

The city gates of Qudu opened wide, and a line of pitch-black armored cavalry stormed through like rolling thunder. Ji Lei dragged Shen Zechuan along the main road to meet them. The Embroidered Uniform Guard scattered, and the packed crowd parted to make way for the horses.

A Libei gyrfalcon circled overhead as the clang of armor rever berated in Shen Zechuan’s chest. The rumble of hooves drew nearer. He opened his eyes and saw the horse in the lead charging straight for him. The steed beneath the heavy armor was a ferocious beast, huffing out hot clouds of air. It skidded to a stop just as it threatened to crash into them and reared back dangerously. Before its front hooves hit the ground, its rider had already leapt off.

Ji Lei stepped forward, calling, “Welcome, Xiao—”

The rider didn’t spare Ji Lei a glance. He marched straight up to Shen Zechuan, who barely had time to shift his shackles before the rider kicked him square in the chest, swift as lightning. The kick was so powerful he had no chance to steel himself; the impact sent him tumbling. Shen Zechuan opened his mouth and vomited until nothing was left but blood.