The first enemy column entered the eastern approach before sunset.
Then another followed.
Then another.
Duan Wei watched from the wall.
I watched Duan Wei.
That seemed safer.
“How many?”
“Four thousand.”
Good.
That was close to what we wanted.
The first body had moved quickly after seeing our wagons leave west.
Their scouts had apparently decided we were abandoning Xin’an.
Excellent.
For once, lying had produced immediate results.
More dust rose beyond the approach.
One of the captains narrowed his eyes.
“Another banner.”
Duan Wei said nothing.
I looked at him.
“Is that good?”
“No.”
Of course not.
The second force followed much faster than expected.
Another three thousand.
Then more behind them.
Men filled the road.
Infantry.
Archers.
Mounted officers forcing the column forward.
The first body had already entered the narrower ground.
The second was pressing behind it.
This looked promising to me.
Duan Wei's expression said otherwise.
“How many now?”
“Seven thousand forward.”
“Good.”
“No.”
I looked at him.
“You said five thousand was manageable.”
“Five thousand was.”
He pointed beyond the ridge.
“More are coming.”
Another officer arrived.
“General. Southern contingent moving north.”
Duan Wei turned.
“How many?”
“Several thousand.”
That sounded less ideal.
“How quickly?”
“They are forcing the march.”
Duan Wei's face changed.
Not panic.
Worse.
Calculation.
I had learned to dislike that expression.
“What?”
“They committed faster than expected.”
“How much faster?”
“Too fast.”
Extremely precise military terminology.
Another banner appeared behind the forward column.
Then another.
The road that was supposed to make thirty thousand men smaller was filling with men faster than Duan Wei could isolate them.
“How many can reach the forward body?”
“If they continue like this?”
“Yes.”
“Ten thousand soon. More behind.”
I stared at the road.
“That was not the plan.”
“No.”
“You approved the plan.”
“I approved five thousand entering far enough to cut from support.”
“Can we still do that?”
Duan Wei did not answer.
Bad.
One of the captains said:
“If we strike now, the second body reaches them before we finish.”
“And if we wait?”
“They deploy.”
Also bad.
Duan Wei turned toward the signal officer.
“Call the hidden infantry back.”
I looked at him.
“What?”
“The trap is gone.”
“No.”
“Young Master.”
“We spent an entire afternoon filling carts with dirt.”
His stare did not change.
This was apparently not a military argument.
He pointed toward the approach.
“If I commit three thousand infantry there now, they will have seven thousand in front of them and thousands more arriving behind.”
“How long before the rear reaches them?”
“Not long enough.”
I looked at the road.
Men.
More men.
Too many men.
The entire plan had depended on separating them.
Instead we had encouraged them to hurry.
Wonderful.
I had taken thirty thousand enemies who were comfortably sitting outside our walls and convinced them to become enthusiastic.
Perhaps I should return to grain.
Duan Wei was already issuing withdrawal orders.
The hidden troops would return behind the defenses.
The cavalry would remain concealed.
We could still hold Xin’an.
Which meant the road east remained closed.
Which meant Qiao’er remained there.
No.
I looked at the map again.
Not the soldiers.
The road.
A narrow approach.
The enemy forward force.
The second body behind them.
The third trying to reach the same place.
How many men could pass?
How quickly?
How many wagons?
Yesterday we had spent hours asking those questions about the western gate.
Because movement was not determined by how many things existed.
It was determined by how many things could fit through the same space.
I looked west.
At our fake evacuation column.
Thirty-two carts.
Already outside.
“General.”
Duan Wei kept giving orders.
“General.”
He looked at me.
“How narrow is the road behind their forward body?”
“What?”
“The section here.”
I pointed at the map.
“How wide?”
“Enough for two wagons abreast in places.”
“Three?”
“No.”
I looked toward the captain responsible for transport.
“How many of our carts are still near the western bend?”
He stared.
“Most of them, Young Master.”
“Turn twelve around.”
Silence.
The captain looked toward Duan Wei.
Duan Wei looked at me.
“For what?”
“Send them east.”
“Into the enemy?”
“No.”
I pointed at the narrow section behind the first enemy body.
“There.”
He stared.
Then understood.
His eyes moved from the road to me.
“You want to block it.”
“Yes.”
“With our own carts.”
“Yes.”
Another captain said:
“They will clear them.”
“Eventually.”
That was the important word.
“How long?”
Duan Wei thought.
“If the road is completely blocked?”
“Yes.”
“Depends how badly.”
I looked toward the transport officer.
“Can we make it very badly?”
He actually smiled.
A military man finally understood my field.
“Yes.”
“Good.”
Duan Wei stepped closer to the map.
“You would need to get the wagons there before the second body reaches the constriction.”
“How fast?”
“Immediately.”
“Then why are we talking?”
The order looked ridiculous.
Twelve wagons turned around on the western road.
Drivers whipped the animals east.
Empty crates bounced.
Dirt-filled grain sacks shifted.
Soldiers stared as the fake evacuation column suddenly became the least convincing evacuation in history.
At the narrow approach, our men abandoned the wagons.
Then ruined them.
One wheel smashed.
Another axle cut.
Two carts tipped sideways.
Animals were cut loose and driven back.
Crates emptied across the road.
Dirt-filled sacks burst under boots.
Three wagons were shoved together until none could move.
One captain asked whether they should burn them.
Duan Wei looked at me.
“Not yet.”
I surprised myself.
Smoke would tell the enemy too early that the blockage was deliberate.
Better if the second body reached it first.
Better if thousands of men discovered the problem at the same time.
Duan Wei gave the order.
Our men withdrew.
Then the first signal sounded.
The trap changed.
Not the trap we planned.
A worse one.
But still a trap.
Duan Wei moved fast.
Three thousand hidden infantry attacked the forward enemy body from the side.
The defenders at the eastern approach pushed out at the same time.
The first coalition force suddenly found soldiers in front of them and soldiers coming down from the ridge.
Their officers tried to turn.
Then discovered the road behind them was no longer a road.
It was twelve broken wagons, loose crates, dirt, animals and several thousand angry men trying to move through the same space.
The second enemy body crashed into the blockage.
Men behind them kept advancing because they could not see what had happened.
The road filled.
Stopped.
Filled more.
From the wall, I could see movement become confusion.
“Now?”
I asked.
Duan Wei did not look away.
“Not yet.”
The forward enemy body was still organized.
Shields together.
Officers shouting.
They pushed against our infantry.
For several moments, I thought they might break through.
Then Duan Wei raised his hand.
The cavalry moved.
Not thousands.
Hundreds.
They came from the concealed northern route and struck the exposed side of the forward formation.
That was the part I could not have planned.
Duan Wei knew exactly where.
Exactly when.
Exactly how many.
The enemy front turned toward the cavalry.
Our infantry pushed harder.
Their formation bent.
Then broke in one place.
Only one.
But one was enough.
Men behind began stepping backward.
The ones behind them could not.
The road was blocked.
The second body was still pressing forward.
For the first time, thirty thousand men began getting in each other's way.
I understood that.
Very well.
“Now?”
Duan Wei finally nodded.
“Now.”
The wagons burned.
Flames climbed quickly through dry wood and empty crates.
Smoke rose directly behind the forward enemy body.
The men trapped between our attack and the blockage could see it.
They did not know there were only twelve carts burning.
From where they stood, their rear was on fire.
That was enough.
The forward line broke.
Not all at once.
One group ran.
Then another.
Then hundreds.
They fled toward the blocked road.
Which made the blocked road worse.
Men climbed over wagons.
Some abandoned weapons.
Some shoved their own soldiers aside.
Officers screamed for them to reform.
Nobody listened.
The five thousand men we had wanted had become closer to eight or nine.
The plan had failed.
The road saved it.
By late afternoon, the forward coalition force was finished.
Not dead.
Finished.
Thousands fled.
Some surrendered.
Some scattered south.
Some tried to force their way back through the road.
Our soldiers pursued only far enough to make sure they did not reform.
I watched from the wall.
My hands had stopped shaking.
I had not noticed when they started.
An officer reached Duan Wei.
“General. The center is pulling back.”
Relief moved through the men around us.
Good.
They were retreating.
The road would open.
We could move.
Then Duan Wei said:
“How?”
The officer hesitated.
“In order.”
My relief disappeared.
Duan Wei looked east.
The surviving coalition forces were not running.
Not all of them.
Farther back, officers had pulled several contingents away from the blocked approach.
Banners were reforming.
Cavalry moved along the sides.
Men were falling back toward the rear camp in groups instead of individually.
I looked at Duan Wei.
“What does that mean?”
“They still have command.”
“How many?”
“Perhaps eighteen thousand still organized. Maybe more.”
Eighteen thousand.
Wonderful.
“How long before they can block the eastern road again?”
“A few hours if they choose the right ground.”
“No.”
Duan Wei looked at me.
“No?”
“We just did all of that.”
“Yes.”
“I am not doing it twice.”
One captain almost laughed.
Nobody else did.
The enemy was retreating.
But retreating correctly.
That meant tomorrow morning they would still be an army.
Tomorrow morning was too late.
I pointed toward the rear camp.
“The cavalry raid.”
Duan Wei frowned.
“They will guard the baggage now.”
“How well?”
“Better.”
“How many men?”
“Enough.”
That was not useful.
I looked at the retreating troops.
Men moving backward.
Wounded.
Broken units.
Messengers.
Officers.
Thousands of people trying to understand what had happened.
Then the rear camp.
Wagons.
Animals.
Food.
Fodder.
Guards.
The same roads.
“They don't know how badly they lost yet.”
Duan Wei looked at me.
“What?”
“The men in the rear.”
He followed my eyes.
“They can see the retreat.”
“Yes.”
“But they don't know why.”
Silence.
I pointed toward the men falling back.
“They see their own soldiers running toward them.”
“Yes.”
“If our cavalry comes behind them now, how do they know how many?”
Duan Wei's expression changed.
“They don't.”
“How do they know whether we broke through completely?”
“They don't.”
“How do they know whether the road behind them has been cut?”
“They don't.”
One captain said:
“They will send scouts.”
“How long?”
“Not long.”
“Then hit them before the scouts return.”
Duan Wei looked at the map.
The baggage raid had been designed as a distraction.
Now it would become the second attack.
Not against the army.
Against what the army believed.
“Two hundred cavalry isn't enough,” he said.
“Then send more.”
“How many?”
This time I did not answer.
He was the general.
He understood.
“Six hundred,” he said. “Maybe seven.”
“Can they get there?”
“Yes.”
“Can they get out?”
A pause.
“If the enemy collapses.”
I hated answers that depended on themselves.
“And if they don't?”
“Some will not return.”
There it was.
Men.
Again.
Not markers.
I looked toward the retreating coalition.
Then toward Yanshi on the map inside my head.
“Do it.”
Duan Wei nodded once.
No argument.
That was worse.
The second attack began while the sun was dropping.
Coalition soldiers reached their rear camp expecting safety.
Instead, smoke rose behind it.
Our cavalry came through a shallow route north of the main road.
Seven hundred men.
Fast.
No baggage.
No attempt to hold ground.
They struck the outer wagon line.
Cut animals loose.
Set fodder stacks burning.
Overturned carts.
Killed anyone who tried to form a defense.
Then moved.
Never stopping long enough for the enemy to surround them.
The rear camp saw cavalry.
The retreating troops saw smoke.
The guards saw thousands of their own men already coming backward.
Then somebody ran.
I never learned who.
One man.
One unit.
One contingent.
It did not matter.
Retreat became panic.
A rumor moved faster than any order.
The rear had been cut.
Xin’an had broken through.
The baggage was lost.
Cavalry were behind them.
Different men heard different versions.
All of them were bad.
The orderly retreat stopped being orderly.
Men pushed west.
Others pushed east.
Some abandoned wagons.
Some tried to save them.
Loose horses ran through the camp.
Burning fodder spread to two supply carts.
Then six.
Then more.
One coalition contingent began leaving south without waiting for the others.
Another followed.
Duan Wei watched through narrowed eyes.
Then turned.
“Second signal.”
The drums sounded.
Our soldiers pursued.
Not blindly.
Duan Wei controlled it.
Infantry pushed only as far as ordered.
Cavalry struck retreating groups that tried to reform.
Archers fired into concentrations that stopped moving.
Every time a group of enemy soldiers tried to become a unit again, Duan Wei broke it before it could.
That was the part that looked like genius to me.
Not the trap.
Not the wagons.
This.
Knowing exactly when frightened men were becoming soldiers again.
And stopping it.
By sunset, the coalition no longer had one retreat.
It had several.
Different contingents moved in different directions.
Banners disappeared.
Messengers stopped finding commanders.
Supply wagons were abandoned because nobody wanted to die protecting flour.
The thirty thousand men still existed.
Mostly.
But the thirty-thousand-man army did not.
It had become groups of tired men trying to get away from Xin’an.
Duan Wei stood beside me while reports arrived.
“Center contingent broken.”
“Southern force withdrawing.”
“Enemy cavalry moving east.”
“Rear camp abandoned.”
“Road clearing.”
That last one mattered.
I turned.
“How clear?”
The officer hesitated.
“Enough for cavalry.”
“And infantry?”
“Soon.”
I looked at Duan Wei.
He already knew.
“Young Master.”
“How soon can ten thousand men move?”
He stared at me for a moment.
Then looked east.
His men had fought all day.
Some were wounded.
Some dead.
Everyone was tired.
He could have said tomorrow.
He could have said dawn.
Instead:
“Give me an hour.”
I nodded.
“Take it.”
Then I turned toward Xu An.
He had been quiet for most of the battle.
Now he looked at me as though he had misplaced something.
“What?”
He shook his head.
“Nothing.”
I looked back toward the east.
Somewhere beyond that darkness was Yanshi.
Somewhere beyond Yanshi was Qiao’er.
Thirty thousand men had been in the way this morning.
Now they weren't.
“Find my carriage.”
Xu An blinked.
“Young Master?”
“We're going east.”