2. Coda: Lie Zhanying

10

Lie Yang tarried on his way home with the medicines for his father, knowing that at the end of his journey he would end up back with his tutor, memorizing more Mengzi and practicing more calligraphy. He was good at memorization, fortunately, but that did not make it interesting, so...he tarried. He was not proud of it but he was not guilty enough about it to speed up, either.

“You! Where are we? How do we get back to the eastern quarter?”

He looked at the man in front of him, holding two boys by the scruffs of their necks like puppies. The boys were ill-kept, wearing rags with dirt on their faces, and the man was dressed in the armor of the Chiyan Army. Why an officer had been sent after common criminals he didn’t know, but Lie Yang almost felt sorry for them. They would be flogged to within an inch of their lives, for sure.

But, again: officer of the Chiyan Army. It would not reflect well on Lie Yang or his family to ignore him. If anything, he thought with a welcome insight, he would have someone to blame for taking so long on his errand. He offered to lead them out of his neighborhood.

The youngest boy was vibrant and entertaining, but Lie Yang kept his expression still in the face of his antics. He wondered what it would be like, to live a life so careless and carefree. He had only begun studying for the Imperial exams at the start of the year, but his parents had been training him in courtly manners and etiquette since he could talk.

But then, that careless and carefree life was what was going to get those boys the beating of a lifetime. On the whole, taking such risks were simply not worth the pain, he thought. Anyway, he could not imagine a time when he would do anything without his parents’ approval, and if he ever did, he expected that he would take his punishment like a man, not squirming and moaning about it like that boy.

At Zhuque Street, he saw them off, refusing payment as a young master of his station should do. He tucked the name of the officer into his memory, though. It would be a decade before Lie Yang would take the Imperial Exams, and much longer before he landed a good position as a minister to the Emperor, but it was never too early to collect favors and make connections.

13

Lie Yang stood outside of the military command post long enough that the guards started looking at him suspiciously. He was obviously not carrying anything that would suggest he was on an errand or delivery and had no excuse to be lurking there for any length of time, so before they confronted him about it he went up and asked to speak to Commander Meng Zhi.

It took several tries — he knew he looked even younger than his actual age, and it wasn’t until he played to that by acting as pitiable as possible that anyone decided to at least pass on his request. He half expected the commander not to remember him, but it was a long shot that Lie Yang had to take, if not for himself then for his older sisters. His family truly had nothing left to offer, and everything to lose.

It was shocking to him how much life could change in just three years, and how far down the mountain his family rolled like rocks thrown by angry children. Death and debt collectors stripped them of everything of value, and their pride along with it. He stood as still as possible while his thoughts and worry spun out of control, taking deep breaths when he could, terrified of being turned away after using the last bitter dregs of courage just to get that far.

He knew he was just a boy, and his shoulders were still too narrow for the weight he was trying to bear.

So when the miracle happened and he was shown into the commander’s office, he could not wait any longer. He had planned to be a gentleman, accept tea if offered, talk politely and then artfully work around to his request, but in the end he blurted it out before he even finished bowing.

Commander Meng, for all his blustery behavior with his servants, treated him with respect and they did eventually drink the tea that Lie Yang had hoped might be offered. It was the best tea he had drunk in months, and made putting up with the random, odd questions worth it.

Command Meng leaned back and was clearly thinking something — Lie Yang already picked up the fact that he was not one to be evasive or reserved with his reactions to anything — then slapped his thighs once he had very visibly come to a conclusion. Lie Yang’s heart lurched, and he held still like a prey animal awaiting the verdict.

“In that case, it seems I do have need of a personal assistant!” He smiled broadly.

Lie Yang blinked at him for a moment before the implication sunk in, and then he reeled. “You do?” Hope bloomed in his heart, his stomach, his blood.

“I do!” The smile turned thoughtful. “It would require you being trained as a soldier, though, when not assisting me directly. Martial arts, drills, and tactics.”

Lie Yang blinked again and finally put down his tea cup with shaking hands. “Tactics?”

“Of course! You were studying for the Imperial Exams. Your family name is respected and honorable. You will naturally be receiving training fit for a future officer.” Commander Meng nodded as if this was self-evident and not inconceivable.

Lie Yang’s fists clutched at his robes. “And...and...compensation?” He tried not to flinch. It was a rude question but if he would not be paid, he could not accept. His mother managed to buy a small house with what was left but they were barely able to afford enough food for the four of them. He dreaded the start of winter, when they simply could not buy coal or wood.

“Hmmm. It won’t be much to start. You will be a very low level servant at first, with a tiny training stipend. Enough to keep your household fed and clothed, if you are frugal. If you do well, as I expect, then you will get raises commensurate with your standing on my staff.”

Lie Yang sat in stunned wonder for a long moment with Commander Meng looking at him. The man was kind and genuine and had just saved Lie Yang’s family, not to mention Lie Yang’s own future, and words failed to express what Lie Yang felt in the moment. He scooted back and fell into a deep kowtow.

“Thank you, Commander Meng! I will not disappoint you!”

Command Meng chuckled, but not cruelly, and leaned over to pull Lie Yang back to his knees. “Don’t thank me yet. You remember the ‘criminals’ I captured?”

“Unnn...Yes, I do remember them a little. Are they...are they still alive?”

Commander Meng looked shocked for a moment then laughed loudly.

“I assure you they are alive and well, and will no doubt make your life a living hell. I will introduce you to Young Master Lin and Prince Jing later, though. Enough trauma for one day, hm?”

Young Master Lin and Prince Jing.

Lie Yang felt the blood drain from his face, but Commander Meng just laughed even louder.

15

“What do you think is going on?” Lin Shu tore apart the pancake he was eating and tossed the other sections to Prince Jing and Lie Yang, respectively. Lie Yang, standing as a lookout at the top of the ditch they were hiding in, nibbled on it. The question was not for him, which was a mistake on Lin Shu’s part since of the three of them, Lie Yang was the only one who knew the answer.

“Something to do with palace politics, but my brothers are very carefully keeping me out of the loop,” Prince Jing’s low voice came back softly, vibrating through Lie Yang’s chest as it always did. He knew his crush on the prince was hopeless, but to his horror Lie Yang had discovered that he was at heart a romantic...for the right person anyway. Lie Yang was almost sixteen, a good age to be considering arranging a future marriage, but he had demurred from all the girls his mother kept mentioning as possible wives for him and had not bothered to go visit any tea houses (like so many of his peers) to wistfully sigh over the ladies or boys there. At five years his senior and already married, the prince was out of his league in numerous and insurmountable ways, but that did not stop Lie Yang from pining like an ill-fated hero in a folk tale.

“What do you think, Lt. Lie?” Lin Shu asked with a thoughtful expression. Such a look was something Lie Yang had come to fear.

“I think something dangerous is on the horizon, and your father needed to warn Commander Meng.” That much, at least, he knew was true. He did not mention that he suspected that the three of them had been “sent away” for an afternoon because Marshal Lin intended for Commander Meng to meet secretly with somebody important. Prince Qi, if Lie Yang were a betting man.

Lin Shu nodded with a grimace. “Everyone is holding their own counsel. I can usually stir up Prince Yu to let something slip but the Empress is keeping him on a tight leash.” He sighed and leaned back on his elbows.

Lie Yang’s life would have been much easier if his heart and his body preferred the likes of Lin Shu, who was easygoing and flirty. Instead he glanced over at the brooding, quiet man who owned Lie Yang’s devotion, even if he didn’t know it. Yet.

“Aiya, it’s going to be an interesting few years. I’m sure the crown prince has everything under control but that doesn’t mean it won’t be a bumpy ride for the rest of us.” Lin Shu sighed and kicked out at Prince Jing, who easily avoided him with a slight smile.

“Eldest Brother is competent, and he cares for us. We will be fine,” he said soothingly, with a glance at Lie Yang to include him in the statement.

Lie Yang nodded agreeably and punched down the feeling of unease that had started creeping up his spine. Lin Shu and Prince Jing were both trained soldiers, true, but they were also very spoiled young lords who were not familiar with the knife-sharp edge of an uncertain future. Lie Yang knew better than either of them that life could change drastically and tragically on no more than a whim and some bad luck.

He hoped he was just being paranoid, but he was glad he was going to be able to stick close to Prince Jing’s side regardless of what was in store for them.

17

The messenger from the capital stood grim-faced and unmoving as he handed the missive over to Lie Yang, who turned to give it to Prince Jing. The messenger was an Imperial Guard, not simply a minor soldier sent on an errand, and he was also an elder. He looked weathered and gray like an old tree, and held himself just as rooted and strong as one too. It made Lie Yang’s stomach twist. Nothing about this was normal.

Prince Jing flicked open the letter, scanned it, then gasped and actually stumbled, dropping the paper and bracing himself on the desk.

“Your Highness!” Lie Yang stepped up to where Prince Jing stood motionless and pale as a ghost. The prince used a finger to push the letter toward Lie Yang, but his eyes stayed focused on the unusual messenger.

“Tell me this is a lie. Tell me this is...this is a hoax!”

The soldier shook his head. “If I may speak freely, Your Highness: the capital is in an uproar, but the truth of this news is unquestioned.” He bowed low and held it.

Lie Yang glanced over the words, then stopped, then reread it. “No.”

“My gods in all the heavens, it can’t be,” Prince Jing shook his head. “No!” He shouted and pounded a fist on the table. The soldier dropped straight to the ground in a kowtow. Prince Jing rounded the table before Lie Yang or General Wang could do anything and dragged the hapless but unresisting soldier out of his tent, throwing him like garbage to the ground before pulling his sword and pointing it at the man’s chest. The prince’s own guards pulled their swords out, confused but ready to fight. The soldier just sat there quietly, not daring to look him in the eyes.

Lie Yang shoved the letter at General Wang as they chased after his prince. “Prince Jing! Your Highness! He is just the messenger!”

“He is a liar!”

Lie Yang’s hands were shaking but he put one on the pommel of Prince Jing’s sword. “Your Highness. Please. We must think, we must...we must gather information first. We must find out what really happened.” He moved in front of Prince Jing and started walking, forcing the prince to back up until they were both in the relative privacy of the tent again.

“Lt. Lie—” one of the guards started, clearly trying to ask what was going on, but Lie Yang slashed his hand through the air.

“Get out.” He pointed. When no one moved he yelled. “Get out!”

They stared at him in shock for a moment before scrambling for the entrance.

General Wang looked up from the letter, pale and shaken. “I will go prepare the horses,” he said and left, leaving the damning letter on the table, face down.

Lie Yang closed the entrance to the tent behind him, then turned around.

His prince was standing frozen in the middle of the tent, his sword still in his hand but pointed at the ground, staring at nothing.

“Prince Jing.” Lie Yang slowly moved to stand in front of him again. “Your Highness,” he tried again.

“They can’t be dead.”

They could, and very likely were. Lie Yang did not doubt such a message sent from the palace. Executing an entire army, its grand marshal, and his whole family was entirely within the Emperor’s right. He was also certain that such news would not have been sent to Prince Jing, a particular friend of the Lins, until after the fact. But to say such things felt like betrayal, so he simply reached out and put his hands on his prince’s shoulders. It was a bold move, but Lie Yang could not bring himself to care.

Prince Jing looked at him, his expression lost and broken. “Lin Shu.”

Lie Yang tightened his grip but closed his eyes and lowered his head.

“I cannot believe…” Prince Jing stopped, his eyes bright with denial and fear.

Lie Yang looked up at him again. “The Emperor shows no mercy to traitors, Your Highness.”

Finally Prince Jing sparked to life. “He is not a traitor!” He snarled and walked over the table, picking up the paper. “Marching to attack the palace? Nonsense! Lin Shu just wrote to me that the Da Yu army had been defeated and they were going home to rest! He invited me to his mother’s birthday party!” He picked up another letter, likely the one from Lin Shu, and shook it. “Those are not the words of a traitor!”

“Prince Jing, please lower your voice,” Lie Yang hissed, stepping closer to him again.

Prince Jing blinked at him, likely shocked to be on the receiving end of such a stern command from his subordinate. “What?”

Lie Yang gently took Lin Shu’s letter from his hand. “Whatever the truth is, the situation as it stands now is that the Emperor believes the Chiyan Army was in revolt and that the palace is full of rebels and enemies. As his son you might be above reproach but your staff is not. Your soldiers are not. If word returns to him that you have sided with those he considers traitors, it will not end well for us. For any of us.”

“I don’t care. I will not endorse this action.”

Lie Yang took a deep breath. “Your Highness, if you trust my counsel at all, please listen.” Lie Yang’s mind was whirring, knowing that Prince Jing’s was stuck on the brutal fate of his best friend. How they handled things now might determine the course of their lives for the rest of their lives...however long or short that might be.

Prince Jing seemed to pick up on his thoughts, as he frowned but simply nodded. “Go on.” He crossed his arms and stuck out his chin, looking like the bull-headed man he was.

“Take a small scouting party to Meiling. Go there yourself, to see. I know you won’t rest until you do, but taking your whole army could be read as insurrection. A scouting party can be excused, if the rest of your army stays here where the Emperor sent us.”

Prince Jing looked surprised for a moment, but then nodded again.

“Once you have determined what happened, go to the capital.”

“You don’t think I should return here, then?” Prince Jing asked with one suspicious eyebrow raised.

Lie Yang tried not to scoff, but not very hard. The prince looked affronted. “Your Highness, we both know that unless you find the Chiyan army alive and well, you will not be coming back here. You will go to the capital to confront your father.”

Prince Jing took a deep breath then nodded grimly.

“So go.” Lie Yang swept his arm broadly towards the door.

Prince Jing stopped and studied him with a strangely intense expression. “I want you with me.”

Lie Yang shook his head. “It will look better if I stay. It will look as though you intend to come back.”

Prince Jing tilted his head, almost fond. “As always, you have thought of everything.”

“No, not even close. I am just trying to be cautious. I am trying to protect you, my prince, I...I—” Lie Yang grimaced and looked away, his words failing him completely. He almost missed Prince Jing stepping up to him.

“Lie Yang,” he said softly, and put his hand on Lie Yang’s cheek.

Shocked, Lie Yang just blinked at him.

“I am not ignorant of this potential between us. I am...I am not that blind.” He closed his eyes and rested their foreheads together, going quiet and still for a long moment. He took a deep breath but didn’t move. “If I find...what there is to find, at Meiling, our lives will all be thrown into chaos. I want you by my side, I want...but I want to keep you safe, even when being with me would be the most dangerous place of all.”

“Prince Jing,” Lie Yang finally breathed out, reaching up to rest his hands on Prince Jing’s robes, unable to bring himself to clutch them the way he wanted to, the way he wanted to hold on and never let go.

Prince Jing’s voice dropped to a whisper. “If my father has truly gone mad, if he has ordered the murder of my dearest friend and a loyal army, I cannot guarantee your safety, Lie Yang. Do you understand?”

“I belong nowhere else but by your side,” Lie Yang whispered back as fiercely as he could and gave in to the impulse to fist the prince’s out robe in his hands, twisting the material. “With you and nowhere else, my liege.”

Prince Jing’s head tilted as if he were shaking it. “I told myself to wait until you were older to press my suit. But if this situation is as dire as it appears, then our future is uncertain.” He took a deep breath and gently, chastely, kissed Lie Yang’s lips before pulling away. “And I would not ride away from you without letting you know my heart.”

“My prince—” Lie Yang felt like all the air had been pulled from his lungs.

“When we meet again, in this life or the next, I will tell you my name,” Prince Jing whispered, then lowered his hand and gently uncurled Lie Yang’s fists so that he was forced to let go of the robes. Lie Yang’s skin felt like ice where the prince had touched him.

Prince Jing gave him a curt nod, then walked out.

Lie Yang stood still for a moment before falling to his knees as his world crashed into chaos around him.

28

Lie Zhanying strolled through camp, checking on various preparations for move-out the following morning. He and Prince Jing would ride ahead of the main column, the quicker to get to the capital and submit their reports, and so he wanted to make sure everything was settled and ready to roll after breakfast.

Most everything was squirrelled away except for soldiers’ personal tents, and of course Prince Jing’s own tent. Even the mobile kitchen wagons were packed up and tied down — it would be cold leftover mantou and water in the morning, little else.

“General Lie!” Lt. Wu jogged up. “This one apologizes for the delay. Here is the report on the injured horses.” He held out a rolled-up scroll as he bowed.

“Anything serious?” He tucked the scroll away for reviewing it later.

“No sir, nothing of note. The veterinarian has pulled out a few to walk free, but not many, and none were put down. That might change back at the capital but for now, no losses.”

“Good.” He nodded at his assistant, who very carefully tried not to preen. The boy was only sixteen, still new to the position but well-educated. The youngest son of a noble family, he was eager to prove himself and was probably anxious to be on the road. It would be good to distract him. “Please double check my belongings and see that my tent is packed properly, I don’t want to find mold on it when we get home.”

“Yes sir!” Lt. Wu said with another low bow and dashed off.

Lie Zhanying just watched him. At 28 he was hardly old himself but he longed for the days when he had enough energy to run around camp on small errands. Too many years of travels and battles had worn him down. He appreciated moving slowly, taking his time.

Which was why he loved the nights before roll outs. Everything was as done as it could be, down to written reports and packing. Even the prince’s tent had been stripped of most furniture and other items, nothing but his bed, some rugs, a brazier, and a small writing desk left. It would take mere minutes for his staff to completely dismantle it in the morning.

Lie Zhanying walked in and dismissed the lone guard standing inside the door, tying it closed behind him as he left.

“General Lie,” Prince Jing said, the low timber of his voice shaking Lie Zhanying down to his bones.

“Your Highness,” Lie Zhanying said with a soft smile, removing his sword and armor, letting it pile up in a corner.

“Is that how a gentleman and a warrior treats his armor?” Prince Jing said, still not looking up from what he was writing.

“Perhaps not, Your Highness. I beg your indulgence.”

“You have never begged for anything in your life,” Prince Jing snorted, then waved to the place next to him as he packed up his letter — probably to his mother, which he would hand over in person to her if he could, or have Lie Zhanying deliver if he couldn’t — and brushes.

Like this, behind a closed door that no one would dare open without permission, and shorn of their armor and badges of rank, they were simply two men, familiar with each other. It was an honor Lie Zhanying did not take for granted and wallowed in all the same.

“Tragically, my staff somehow packed up my tent and all my things.” He sat down next to Prince Jing.

“Oh did they? How irresponsible of them. Wherever shall you sleep tonight?”

“I fear I must rely on the generosity of my commander and prince.” Lie Zhanying leaned against him, grinning.

Prince Jing side-eyed him. “You are ridiculous, YangYang.”

The outrageous, old endearment was their code, a sign that Prince Jing was now Jingyan, ready to relax and simply be with Lie Zhanying for a while.

“Mmm. But you allow it.”

“I do, woe is me.”

It was Lie Zhanying’s turn to snort at him. They sat like that for a while as the noise of camp slowly slipped into the night, men bedding down or simply going quiet in the dark. It had been a long, hard campaign and everyone was ready to go home to a regular bed and, if they were lucky, their families.

“I have begged,” Lie Zhanying said, surprising even himself. “Once.”

Jingyan shifted and took him into his arms, pulling him so that Lie Zhanying’s back rested against his chest. “I find that hard to believe.”

“You will be even more amazed to find out that the person I begged was Commander Meng Zhi.”

“Now I know you are lying.”

“Mn, I am telling the truth. I was thirteen.”

“Weren’t you in his service by then? As his so-called assistant?”

“You never wondered how I got the position?”

“Honestly? I assumed your family was associated with the Mengs. It is something they would do, bring in a boy to help promote a friend.”

“We definitely were not friends.” He scooted back into the embrace, felt Jingyan’s huff of breath next to his ear. “It was just after my father died and we had to move. We had...we had nothing. My sisters were not betrothed and mother was deep in her grief. I remembered you and Meng Zhi, so—”

“You remembered me?” He sounded confused.

“From when we met that time Command Meng had to drag you and Lin Shu out of my neighborhood. You were both dressed in rags and I called you criminals.”

There was a pause, and then a chuckle. “That was you? I barely remember it — mostly I remember my punishment, afterwards,” he said with a heavy sigh. They did not mention Prince Qi but he was still there in so many ways, hovering over Jingyan’s shoulder. “Ah,” he added thoughtfully. “You begged Meng Zhi for the position. Or your mother…?”

“No, not her. I did not even tell her, or anyone, what I planned. I showed up and hoped for the best. It was my last option, short of apprenticing myself to a butcher.”

Jingyan hummed and held him tighter. “I’m glad Meng Zhi was compassionate.”

“He was a fool, but that’s never stopped him,” Lie Zhanying said, laughing.

“True!”

They sat there in silence for a while as the lone candle burned down and their own exhaustion crept over them.

“Jingyan.” Lie Zhanying paused.

“Mn?” Jingyan nuzzled his ear again.

He thought that perhaps his memories of Meng Zhi had been inspired by the letter he had received from him the day before. Simple and innocent enough, it appeared as no more than friendly correspondence from a former mentor to his former assistant. But their old code was anything but simple, and warned of treacherous change sweeping in from the Jianghu into the capital, of mysterious strangers and long-lost companions and danger-danger-danger. At heart, it was a plea for Lie Zhanying to keep Prince Jing safe.

“Nothing. I am just tired and looking forward to going home.”

Jingyan chuckled. “Not too tired, I hope,” he said, inviting and warm, and kissed the soft skin below Lie Zhanying’s ear.

“No, not too tired, my beloved,” Lie Zhanying said and turned in his lover’s arms. Morning was still a long ways off, and whatever dangers Meng Zhi was trying to warn him about were, for the moment, even further away.