He had agreed. Chen Danzhu could not quite tell what she felt inside, nor did she know what would happen next. But since things had come to this, she had to seize what she wanted in her own hands. She said, “I have one condition.”
The Iron‑faced General chuckled. “That is only natural. Li Liang bargained with us for more than one condition. Miss Danzhu may state several.”
Yes, one alone would be too little. Chen Danzhu thought for a moment, then nodded. “Very well, I have several conditions.”
The General mused inwardly—this girl truly hadn’t thought things through.
“My first: before I finish what I must do, you must not attack the city,” Chen Danzhu said.
The General shook his head. “Impossible. At most, I can give you a time limit.” He thought, then extended his hand. “Five days.”
Chen Danzhu had never expected tens of thousands of imperial troops to wait simply because of her words. But five days were far too short. “The journey itself will take me five days. You must give me at least ten.”
From behind the mask came his laugh. “Indeed. What I mean is: once you return to Wu’s capital, I will give you five days.”
She ignored his mockery. What she was about to say was the hardest condition of all. Her hands clenched on her knees. “If I fail, General, you may cross the river, you may storm the cities and seize the land. But I beg you—do not break the river dikes.”
She did not lift her head after speaking. In war, every stratagem was fair; every commander sought the greatest victory with the least sacrifice. To ask mercy of the enemy was cruelty to one’s own side.
To win without losing a soldier, or to win by the blood of countless men—any rational general would choose the former. Her request was powerless, even laughable.
“General, though this is Prince Wu’s fief, it is still Great Xia’s land. They are all subjects of the Emperor. They never wished to be rebels. It was the High Ancestor who granted this land to Prince Wu. How innocent they are.” She kept her head bowed, not hearing the General’s teasing, not seeing the sudden clarity in his eyes behind the mask as he looked at her.
After a moment’s silence, he said, “We march against Prince Wu because he allied with the Princes of Zhou and Qi to plot rebellion. That is Wu’s crime, not the people’s.” He did not say “yes,” but asked instead: “Do you have other conditions?”
Chen Danzhu raised her head and looked at him. “I want to take Li Liang’s two personal attendants with me.”
The General replied, “That can be done. But all the guards who accompany you back must be my men.”
Chen Danzhu smiled at him. “You don’t need to say that, General. Of course, I will take your men back. In fact, give me more soldiers, lest I die before I even begin.”
The Iron‑faced General looked at the man standing beside him. “Mr. Wang, you will personally escort Miss Danzhu back to Wu’s capital with your men.”
The physician addressed as Mr. Wang bowed and answered in assent.
The General then asked, “Does Miss Danzhu have any other conditions?”
Chen Danzhu felt a little lost. Ah, she truly didn’t know what conditions to ask for, because she didn’t know what would happen next. “I can’t think of any right now,” she said. “May I state the rest later?”
The General pressed a hand against the forehead covered by his iron mask. “Second Miss Chen, you are the daughter of Chen Liehu. Even if you are not lovable, he still treasures you as a jewel. But I cannot. Truly, I cannot. You should leave quickly, or else I will never wish to have a daughter in this lifetime.”
Chen Danzhu sighed. “I wish the General would one day have a daughter more lovable than me. As for me—though I am my father’s child, he will no longer cherish me.”
Though all were subjects of the Great Xia, to her father, Prince Wu came first. He revered the Emperor, but he revered even more the decree of the High Ancestor that had enfeoffed the princes. In his eyes, the Emperor’s attempt to reclaim the fief was a betrayal of that sacred edict, an act of injustice, the result of treacherous ministers’ persuasion. He had sworn to defend Wu and Prince Wu to the death.
Even if Prince Wu were to execute her father without distinguishing right from wrong, her father would not utter a single complaint.
But she—she had betrayed Prince Wu. Her father would never forgive her.
Having said this, Chen Danzhu rose and walked out.
The Iron‑faced General watched her departing figure and sighed. He said to Mr. Wang, “Such a pitiful girl.”
Mr. Wang gave a bitter smile. “General, don’t jest. Pitiful? She is frightening. From the moment she entered, my heart kept rising and falling. Every word she spoke was unexpected. Tell me, my lord—do you think Chen Liehu is mad, or is this Second Miss Chen mad?”
Chen Liehu submitting to the court? He would never believe it. The princes had existed too long; in the eyes of their ministers, the Emperor and the court no longer mattered. To them, the court was unjust—especially to men like Chen Liehu. But what was happening now? Ah, he almost thought he himself had gone mad.
The Iron‑faced General was silent for a moment, then considered another possibility. “Perhaps we are overthinking. Chen Liehu may not know of this at all.”
Mr. Wang’s expression grew even more astonished. “My lord, you mean all of this is Second Miss Chen’s own decision?”
To come here, to kill Li Liang, to turn to the General’s side—was it all Chen Danzhu’s doing alone? Did Chen Liehu know nothing? And the military tally—
“Why not?” The General tapped the desk. His fingers were long, yellowed, like branches stained with dye, their true color hidden. “Think of what Li Liang said. He told us he would persuade his wife to steal the tally for him. The tally was stolen.”
Mr. Wang thought for a moment, then slowly nodded. “So, my lord means that the elder Miss Chen did indeed steal the tally, but Second Miss discovered it, and took it from her sister—or perhaps the elder Miss could not come herself and entrusted it to her. No, wait. If the elder Miss entrusted it, why would Second Miss kill Li Liang? If she did not entrust it, then Second Miss came to kill Li Liang. But then why turn to you, and even help us take Wu’s capital?”
The logic did not add up. No matter how he thought of it, something was wrong. Was it a trap?
Second Miss Chen’s actions were indeed difficult to untangle. The Iron‑faced General let his fingers fall upon a spot on the map. “Arrange men to question Zhou Qi—what instructions did Li Liang give him?”
Zhou Qi was the commander stationed at the river crossing camp, but he was Li Liang’s man, not theirs.
Mr. Wang said, “Li Liang relied on another patron, refused to obey our orders, and never told us what he truly intended. I doubt this Zhou fellow will speak.”
The General’s voice was cold. “Then use torture.”
“Torture?” Mr. Wang hesitated. But Li Liang’s patron—
“Li Liang is dead,” the General leaned back, heavy as a mountain. “What use is a patron now?”
True enough. Mr. Wang gave a small laugh. With Li Liang gone, things were no longer the same. He bowed in assent, then asked, “So I will lead men to escort Miss Danzhu?”
The General said, “Take the Imperial Guards.”
These were the most elite, secret troops—granted to the General by the Emperor himself—and they had never left his side. Mr. Wang was slightly stunned. To use them to escort this Second Miss Chen?
“This matter is too important. I cannot entrust it to anyone else,” the General said.
Indeed. This was about taking Wu’s capital, about deciding the outcome of the war and the Emperor’s campaign to eradicate the feudal lords. Mr. Wang bowed again, ready to depart, but was called back.
The General spoke slowly. “If anyone tries to kill Miss Danzhu, you must protect her life. But if Miss Danzhu seeks death herself, do not stop her.”
Mr. Wang understood. If she repented and acted rashly, they would not be blamed for being merciless. He bowed once more, waited a moment to see if there were further orders, then saluted and strode away.
The command tent fell silent. The Iron‑faced General thought: to no longer be her father’s treasure—such pain is truly dreadful. He wondered if this Second Miss Chen could endure it.