When Lu Lingzhen received the handwritten letter bearing Xie Jing’s name, suspicion had in fact already taken root in his mind from the very beginning.
The warfare had reached a temporary stalemate. Although the Hewei and the Yongzhou garrison were not consistently victorious, Lu Lingzhen’s choice of guerrilla tactics had minimized their losses. As a result, the border provinces and commanderies had managed to preserve their vitality, leaving the populace with sufficient strength to withstand natural disasters.
The hardships there were certainly more severe than those in the region between the Yangtze and Huai Rivers. However, because there were no complex, overlapping webs of vested interests like there were in those places, the officials and the commoners pulled together toward a single goal, making matters surprisingly simpler.
Lu Lingzhen requested permission to return to the capital in late spring. By then, the main force of the Northern Desert army had already withdrawn, and Ding Jian, who was leading his subordinates, acted as the rear guard for the great army as they departed the Wuding River, where they had been entrenched and watching like tigers for months.
It was at this precise juncture that Xie Jing’s letter arrived.
Before leaving the capital, Lu Lingzhen and Lu Lingcong had agreed that “everything would be seen in the military reports.” This was essentially a one-way line of communication; Lu Lingcong could learn of her recent situation through military dispatches and He Gao’s memorials, but he never took the initiative to write to her personally. All information was transmitted via official government documents. In several months, Lu Lingzhen had only received one family letter from Lu Shuqing.
She was certain that Lu Lingcong would have informed Xie Jing of the communication methods they had agreed upon. To avoid unnecessary complications, her sister-in-law would never have easily sent her a private letter on his own.
The first matter mentioned in the handwriting letter revealed Ding Jian’s identity and his connection to the cold case of Lu Shuqing’s abduction years ago. Though Lu Lingzhen was shocked upon learning this, her reaction was limited to a sigh of lament; she didn’t truly care whether Ding Jian had actually committed treason. After all, they had already faced each other as opponents on the battlefield multiple times. Delving further into past events, or old and new grudges, served no purpose.
The second matter, however, stated that the Xuanshi had intercepted correspondence between someone in the imperial court and Northern Desert. The letter purportedly disclosed Lu Lingzhen’s return timetable and route to the enemy, in an attempt to orchestrate a pincer attack from both within and without. It claimed they intended to take advantage of the Hewei being far from Yongzhou City and traveling as an isolated force to block the Yongzhou garrison’s reinforcement routes and annihilate the Hewei.
For Lu Lingzhen, the urgency and severity of this information were on a completely different level than the first matter. When the handwritten letter arrived, there were still several days before the Hewei was scheduled to set out, so she went straight to see He Gao.
It wasn’t just the familiar “Quxia Style” calligraphy; what truly caused Lu Lingzhen to stop doubting the letter’s authenticity were the two seals on the paper. It bore both the official seal of the Department of State Affairs and Xie Jing’s personal seal—the latter of which she had seen many times before on invitations at Prince Zhao’s Mansion.
He Gao shared her opinion: in matters such as these, it was better to believe it might be true than to dismiss it. They unanimously decided to reschedule the time and reroute the journey, while also arranging for a portion of the Yongzhou garrison to provide cover in secret.
The handwritten letter was left behind on He Gao’s desk. After Lu Lingzhen and the Hewei departed Yongzhou City under the cover of night, Lord He sat down and happened to glance at it. The more he studied that Quxia Style script, the more he felt a faint, creeping sense of eeriness.
He pulled out the old records Xie Jing had left behind from his time as the accountant of the Prefect’s Mansion to cross-reference them, but to no avail—his eyesight was limited, and he truly could not see any difference at all.
As He Gao’s thoughts deepened, a sudden shiver of horror ran through him. A suspicion surfaced in his mind; one he desperately hoped was not true yet was far from impossible.
He dared not risk the Eldest Princess’s life even by one ten-thousandth. He immediately dispatched the fastest horses availabl; one group to catch up with and recall the Hewei, and another to race toward the capital. Using the method Lu Lingcong had left behind, they were to contact the Xuanshi and confirm with Xie Jing whether the letter had truly been written by him.
Lu Lingzhen strained her ears, but aside from the thundering hooves of the warhorses, she could hear only the surging waters of the Wuding River. The south bank had originally been inhabited, but due to severe spring flooding, the commoners had been forced to move their entire families into the nearby city; He Gao had spent a great deal of effort managing these evacuations two months prior.
Following the Northern Desert army’s withdrawal, a new path had emerged between the north bank and the mountains. Although narrow and cramped, with water reaching knee-depth; sometimes even requiring them to dismount and wade across, it was equally hidden and secluded. This was precisely why He Gao and she had chosen this route.
Her deputy general spurred his horse to her side and said, “Princess, the scouts just sent word back. The Yongzhou garrison troops lying in ambush at the mountain pass are in position. Should anything change, whether it be releasing arrows or rushing to reinforce us, they can act in an instant.”
Lu Lingzhen looked up toward the pitch-black mountain col in the night and replied, “As long as we can pick up our marching speed once we exit this river valley and pass the Great Wall, the risk will be much lower. At that point, have them return immediately.”
The deputy general acknowledged the order and was about to withdraw when he suddenly spotted another figure in the distance, gradually approaching from the direction of the mountain path. He said dubiously, “How are they back again so soon?”
Lu Lingzhen instructed the signal official to blow the “Halt” horn of the Tiger Division. She squinted to get a better look; the newcomer was indeed another Yongzhou scout, but compared to the one before, this one was clearly anxious and panicked. While still dozens of paces away, he was already shouting “Princess!” at the top of his lungs.
“Why the panic?” Lu Lingzhen asked as she rode forward to meet him.
“The sentries just spotted a troop of cavalry heading from the northern mountain path toward Yongzhou City. Judging by the scale, they look like Ding Jian’s soldiers. It seems they turned back and changed routes halfway through their retreat. I don’t know how they learned that a portion of the Yongzhou garrison was away from the city!”
The moment he finished speaking, someone among the Hewei shouted, “Look, the beacon fires have been lit!”
The beacons were lit fast enough so that He Gao inside the city would certainly see them. Lu Lingzhen pondered for a moment before speaking rapidly: “If it is only a force of Ding Jian’s size, they won’t initiate a direct head-on collision. His targets are most likely the scattered settlements and villages outside the city. He is betting on the fact that the Yongzhou garrison is understaffed and that redistributing troops takes too much time. Furthermore, once Lord He deploys his soldiers, the city’s internal defenses will be even more hollow. There’s no telling if he has a follow-up move waiting to strike while the city is vulnerable.”
The scout asked, “Does the Princess mean…?”
“Returning to Yongzhou, neither the hidden garrison on the mountain nor the Hewei will make it in time.” Lu Lingzhen turned and raised her hand to signal the messengers once more. “But as for intercepting Ding Jian before he gets there… we can make it.”
The Yongzhou scout immediately galloped away to notify his commander to leave the mountains, double back, and find a way to halt Ding Jian. Meanwhile, the Hewei would take a shortcut from the mountain pass to circle around the northern hills and launch a surprise attack on the enemy’s rear.
Lu Lingzhen heard her deputy general ask, “Does the Princess believe Ding Jian is acting on his own or under military orders?”
She replied against the wind, “He was assigned to be the rear guard for the Northern Desert army, a position meant for a scapegoat during a retreat. It seems his masters are not satisfied with the results of this winter’s campaign, and they have never fully trusted his Han blood. They would never authorize him to turn back and attack Yongzhou again.”
The deputy general added, “…So he refuses to give up and is making a final gamble to redeem himself through merit?”
“We will know once we face them head-on.” Lu Lingzhen mused.
The northern lands were full of steep cliffs and barren earth. The mountains near the river were not particularly tall and lacked vegetation that could serve as cover. Consequently, the Hewei did not light their torches; instead, relying on years of rigorous training and superior night vision, they marched silently and swiftly. Around midnight, the thousand-strong force had reached the northern mountain ravines. Before a relatively open precipice, Lu Lingzhen reined in her horse and signaled her flanks to halt.
From their elevated vantage point, they could take in the situation in the distance. However, within their field of vision, there was no sign of Ding Jian’s army reportedly “heading toward Yongzhou via the northern mountain path” at all. All they could see were the riding torches at the foot of the mountain—the winding, snake-like trail of the Yongzhou garrison.
The deputy general suddenly pointed toward the mountainside and cried out, “Princess, they didn’t continue forward; they went straight up the mountain!”
Lu Lingzhen followed his gaze. It was indeed Ding Jian’s troop, but they were not on the march; rather, they seemed to be waiting for something in place. She furrowed her brows. From the distance and angle where Ding Jian was stationed, he could clearly see the Yongzhou garrison at the foot of the mountain. Why, then, was he holding his ground by merely watching in silence as they traveled westward?
Although the Yongzhou garrison’s marching speed was not quite as fast as the Hewei’s, they were nonetheless elite cavalry and archers tempered by years of galloping beyond the pass. If he did not seize the moment, this small force of Northern Desert soldiers would find it difficult to gain the upper hand even against isolated villages once the garrison successfully returned.
Just as Lu Lingzhen was about to move closer for a better look, Ding Jian’s unit suddenly stirred into action.
The two signal officers beside him and at the rear of the unit, respectively, waved their flags to communicate. The style of these flag signals originated from the Capital Garrison of Great Qi, a system Lu Lingzhen was intimately familiar with. While the regular army’s signaling methods weren’t as rich or varied as the Tiger Division commands, they were simple and easy to remember; Lu Lingcong had taught them to her years ago.
According to Xie Jing’s letter, Ding Jian was the son of Ding Yuan, a commander in the Northern Camp during the Jianning era. Though twenty or thirty years had passed, Lu Lingzhen could still sense the distinct tactical flavor of the Capital Garrison whenever they clashed; especially when Ding Jian led his own subordinates independently without the collaboration of other Mobei tribal generals. To put it simply, these were the fundamental skills Ding Jian had learned in his youth; though he had been cast out among a foreign tribe, they were not easily changed.
The flag at the rear meant “None,” while the flag at the front meant “Backward.” The former was a report sent from the rear to the commander, and the latter was the subsequent order issued by Ding Jian.
However, “None” usually appeared when scouts or vanguard units failed to find traces of the enemy, indicating the path ahead was clear. In this context, it clearly couldn’t mean “there are no Yongzhou troops ahead.”
Yet Ding Jian’s command was to move backward as if he were deliberately waiting for confirmation that the Yongzhou garrison had completely departed before turning back—waiting like a predator for its prey to entrap the unsuspecting Hewei as they rushed to reinforce.
Lu Lingzhen murmured to herself, “…No, that’s not it.”
Ding Jian’s target was never Yongzhou, nor did he intend to launch a sneak attack, double back, or redeem himself through merit.
From the very beginning, he was coming for the Hewei. He wanted to trick the Yongzhou garrison into leaving and then trap the Hewei within the mountains!
However cunning and battle-hardened the Hewei were, they numbered no more than a thousand men in total. Throughout the various battles of this past winter, they hadn’t even been under the Eldest Princess’s direct command most of the time; Lu Lingzhen would lead the Yongzhou garrison instead, while the Hewei employed “opportunistic” tactics, adapting to situations as they arose.
Ding Jian had committed treason to serve the Northern Desert, yet he wasn’t particularly dedicated to the cause, and there was friction between him and his masters. Truthfully, Lu Lingzhen didn’t see why he would risk deserting his post without orders to pursue the Hewei. Even if he harbored hatred, it should be directed at the Tiger Division and Lu Lingcong, who had dealt him such heavy blows. Could it be that this “None” didn’t refer to the Yongzhou garrison or the Hewei, but rather meant that within those ranks, there was no General Jianwei of Qi, no Eldest Princess Royal, and no Lu Lingzhen herself?
Despite their clashes, she and Ding Jian were not personally acquainted. Lu Lingzhen had studied this opponent closely, but she had only learned a bit about his character and past from that letter a few days ago.
At this thought, her eyes suddenly widened, and a chill instantly soaked her back. That letter!
The letter had specifically mentioned “changing the route.” It was the Northern Desert army that had been stationed on the north bank of the Wuding River all this time; therefore, those most familiar with the retreat times and paths along the river… were naturally the Northern Desert army themselves.
Lu Lingzhen’s mind raced. How could her sister-in-law have known these details? Or rather, Xie Jing couldn’t have known and indeed didn’t know that someone had used his name, imitated his calligraphy, and even stolen his personal seal to forge this letter. The sole purpose was to deliver this information to Lu Lingzhen, lure her into choosing this specific path, and then trap her here along with the Hewei.
If that were truly the case, who could be capable of such a feat? Had even He Gao failed to see through it?
Ding Jian’s troops had already begun their advance. Having clashed with them in this region more than once, Lu Lingzhen could see that he had chosen the exact shortcut where the Yongzhou garrison had previously been lying in wait; the very same path the Hewei had taken to ascend the mountain. Now that the obstacles and ambushes were gone, the enemy could reach and blockade the only mountain pass in less than half an hour. The Hewei’s current position was near the summit; neither the northern nor southern routes would allow them to outpace Ding Jian.
According to Ding Jian’s planned route, he would surely head to the southern foot of the mountain pass himself. The only possibility was for someone to stall him, making it impossible for him to return and redeploy his forces in time. Even if there were troops stationed at the northern foot—currently a blind spot in Lu Lingzhen’s vision—she believed the Hewei had the strength to break free.
Lu Lingzhen turned around, her expression composed as usual. “Divide the forces into three groups; east, center, and west. Descend the mountain via the northern routes. If ambushed, do not engage in prolonged combat; prioritize speed above all and move as quickly as possible. Find a way to take refuge in Yongzhou City for a few days, this was originally your specialty. Stay alert and gather intelligence as you go. If everything remains calm, return to the capital at once to report to Prince Zhao. And remember, do not let Lord He discover that you are in the city.”
The subordinates closest to her did not move immediately. However, the historical nature of the Hewei made them more taciturn than ordinary soldiers, let alone prone to questioning her decisions. After a moment of silence, only one person whispered, “Princess, before His Highness separated us from the Tiger Division and placed us under your command years ago, we swore an oath to serve you as our master and to take your safety as our primary responsibility.”
Hearing this, Lu Lingzhen let out a soft, breathy laugh and turned her face toward the ink-black mountains. She understood what her subordinates meant. From the day the Hewei was formed, they had been trained to protect her, their master, at all costs and to obey her orders unconditionally. If she were a princess, they were to be “loyal to the sovereign”; if she were a general, they were to “fulfill their duty.”
However, this seemingly tight and seamless relationship had its origins with her elder brother, not with herself. Just as her status as a princess of this realm was because she was her emporer father’s daughter, it had nothing to do with who she was as an individual.
In his early years of campaigning, Lu Lingcong’s style was so flexible it bordered on “cunning,” whereas Lu Lingzhen often appeared somewhat simple and direct. During the occasional periods when Lu Lingcong returned to the capital to stay during those three years, the two would chat and discuss the art of war. He once asked, “Why not evolve the way you use a blade or a sword into your strategy? You’ve always been good at using clever leverage; why do you act like a headless fly on the battlefield?”
She gave her answer without much thought: “Using a blade or a sword involves only me. Life and death are up to fate, and I am only responsible for my own life. But as a general leading an army, I am responsible for the lives of thousands. I dare not be anything but cautious and apprehensive.”
After hearing this, Lu Lingcong fell silent. After a long while, he smoothed over the sand table and said, “Run the maneuver for me one more time.”
The later steadiness of the Tiger Division on the march and the ingenuity of the Hewei in combat perhaps both stemmed from that ordinary, chance moment of “discussing strategies on paper.”
Lu Lingzhen was by no means a reckless person who sought to show off her strength, but she couldn’t be certain whether the Hewei was truly Ding Jian’s target. If they were not, then Ding Jian would stop sending men to pursue them to the north once he encountered her. If they were, then by acting as a distraction, she could buy more time for the Hewei to escape.
“Having left Jinling and with the marriage alliance fallen through, there is no longer any need for you to treat me as a princess. Coming to Yongzhou was not of your own volition; the person who promoted you was not me, and your rations and pay do not come from me either. There is even less need to revere me as your general. I am grateful that you were willing to give me that respect in the past, but now that trouble has arisen, I cannot let you risk your lives alongside me.”
Her subordinates looked at one another. Lu Lingzhen had said her piece; she looked up and gave the deputy general a sharpe look. The latter hesitated for a moment before saying softly, “Everyone, enough talk. We must move quickly.”
Seeing this, the men said no more and immediately dispersed. In an instant, they had split into three groups, yet they did not immediately spur their horses, still habitually waiting for the Eldest Princess’s command.
Lu Lingzhen, however, only said, “Until we meet again!”
With that, she cracked her whip without looking back and vanished into the vast darkness of the night.
