I woke because somebody was whispering outside my room.
This was unacceptable.
Whispering existed specifically to avoid waking people.
I opened one eye.
Morning light had already entered through the window.
Worse.
I had slept through sunrise.
Excellent.
Progress.
Then I tried to move.
Everything hurt.
My legs.
My back.
My shoulders.
My hands.
Several areas I had not known were capable of resentment.
I remained still.
Perhaps death had advantages.
Outside, the whispering continued.
“…really thirty thousand?”
A second voice answered.
“Near enough.”
I closed my eye.
No.
Not this.
“I heard the Young Master trapped ten thousand on the road.”
“That is not what happened.”
Good.
Someone sensible.
“He trapped eight thousand?”
Less good.
Another voice joined them.
“With wagons.”
“Wagons?”
“He broke his own wagons across the road.”
“They were not his wagons.”
I opened my eyes.
Technically some probably belonged to Father.
Which was worse.
The first soldier lowered his voice.
“General Duan changed the battle after that.”
Thank you.
Finally.
“He broke the front force, then the Young Master sent cavalry into their supplies.”
I sat up.
Pain immediately punished me.
Outside:
“I heard he ordered the grain burned.”
Wrong.
“The fodder.”
Closer.
“And then pursued them all night.”
Completely wrong.
I stood.
Slowly.
My body filed several objections.
I ignored them.
Xu An entered just as I reached the door.
“Young Master.”
“Why are soldiers inventing a new battle outside my room?”
He looked toward the door.
“They are discussing yesterday.”
“They are discussing fiction.”
“The distinction may be difficult.”
“It should not be. I was there.”
“So were they.”
That was irritatingly strong.
I pointed outside.
“Tell them General Duan commanded the battle.”
“They know.”
“Apparently not.”
“They also know you devised the withdrawal.”
“Partially.”
“And the roadblock.”
“Under emergency conditions.”
“And the baggage attack.”
“That was already part of the plan.”
Xu An considered this.
“Then perhaps they are discussing yesterday accurately.”
I stared at him.
This was why servants should not develop confidence.
“Where is Qiao’er?”
“Helping with the household wounded.”
Good.
At least one person was behaving normally.
I reached for my robe.
My hands hurt.
I stopped.
Xu An noticed.
Said nothing.
Smart man.
He helped.
I allowed it because dignity was less important than fingers.
The compound looked worse in daylight.
The main gate had been split near the center.
Black marks covered one outer wall.
The burned building beyond the courtyard still smoked.
Broken furniture lay where people had dragged it into barricades.
Blood had dried between two stones near the entrance.
Yesterday darkness had hidden details.
Morning was less considerate.
Soldiers moved everywhere.
Not ten thousand.
Not yet.
But enough that the compound no longer looked like a civilian refuge.
General Duan's banners stood outside.
Mounted patrols moved along the road.
Wounded men occupied several rooms.
Coalition prisoners had been gathered under guard farther south.
And everyone kept looking at me.
I disliked this immediately.
Yesterday soldiers had also looked at me.
But differently.
Yesterday:
There goes the useless son who sits on grain.
Today:
There goes—
I did not know.
That was the problem.
A group of soldiers near the well straightened when I passed.
One bowed.
Then another.
I stopped.
They stopped.
I looked behind me.
Nobody.
“Why are you doing that?”
The first soldier looked confused.
“Young Master?”
“That.”
He looked at the others.
One answered carefully:
“Showing respect.”
Suspicious.
“You showed respect yesterday.”
Not like this.
Nobody said that part.
They did not need to.
I continued walking.
I missed contempt.
Contempt had excellent boundaries.
I found Qiao’er beneath the eastern gallery.
She was kneeling beside one of the wounded household guards.
His shoulder was wrapped.
She was checking the bandage while an older servant held a bowl of water.
Normal.
Good.
Qiao’er looked up.
“Young Master.”
“How is he?”
The guard tried to sit straighter.
I pointed at him.
“Do not.”
He immediately stopped.
Excellent.
Perhaps reputation had practical applications.
Qiao’er said:
“The wound is deep, but the physician says he should recover.”
“Good.”
The guard bowed his head.
“Young Master.”
“What?”
“Thank you.”
I frowned.
“For what?”
His face changed.
Qiao’er looked at him.
Then at me.
The guard apparently reconsidered his answer.
“For coming.”
Ah.
“That was General Duan.”
Silence.
“He brought the soldiers.”
More silence.
I looked at Qiao’er.
“Why is everyone becoming difficult?”
Her eyes lowered.
“I don't know, Young Master.”
Liar.
That was concerning.
She finished the bandage.
I noticed the bruise on her arm again.
Still there.
Still only a bruise.
Good.
“Have you eaten?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“This morning.”
“What?”
“Rice.”
I stared.
She waited.
Right.
That question had been insufficiently specific.
“How much?”
Qiao’er looked at me strangely.
“Enough.”
Fine.
I would accept that.
For now.
She stood.
Her gaze moved briefly to my hands.
The bandages had already stained red in two places.
I hid them in my sleeves.
Too late.
“You reopened them.”
“I used them.”
“That is generally how hands become worse.”
“There were administrative requirements.”
“You slept.”
“Sleeping requires balance.”
Her mouth moved.
Good.
We were returning to civilization.
Then two soldiers passed beyond the gallery.
One was talking.
“…would have been trapped if the Young Master hadn't blocked the road.”
Qiao’er looked toward them.
I closed my eyes.
Not again.
The other soldier said:
“General said the second force would have reached them.”
I raised my voice.
“General Duan saved the battle.”
Both soldiers stopped.
They looked at me.
I pointed toward wherever Duan Wei currently was.
“He did the military parts.”
One soldier said:
“Yes, Young Master.”
“Good.”
They bowed.
Then continued walking.
Quieter.
I looked back at Qiao’er.
She was watching me.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
I hated that word.
General Duan had turned one of the larger rooms into a temporary command post.
Maps again.
My enemy.
He was speaking with three captains when I entered.
They stopped.
All four looked at me.
I immediately regretted arriving.
“Continue.”
Nobody continued.
“Please.”
Duan Wei dismissed two of the captains.
The third stayed.
Traitor.
I walked toward the table.
“How is the road?”
“Open enough for military traffic.”
“Yanshi?”
“Patrols are clearing scattered groups.”
“How many remain?”
“Impossible to say yet.”
I disliked that answer less now.
Hundreds were better than thirty thousand.
“Luoyang?”
“A messenger came before dawn.”
I looked up.
“From Father?”
“Yes.”
Bad.
“What does he want?”
Duan Wei handed me a sealed message.
I stared at it.
Then at him.
“You opened it?”
“It is addressed to me.”
Better.
“What does it say?”
“He received my initial report.”
“And?”
“He wants a complete accounting of the battle.”
Of course.
Government survived everything.
“Send him one.”
“I am.”
“Good.”
Duan Wei remained silent.
I looked at him.
“What else?”
“He specifically asked what role you played.”
No.
“No.”
The captain beside him looked down.
Duan Wei's face remained perfectly still.
I pointed at him.
“Military command was yours.”
“Yes.”
“Tactical deployment was yours.”
“Yes.”
“Cavalry timing was yours.”
“Yes.”
“Then write that.”
“I have.”
“Excellent.”
“I also wrote that the false withdrawal was yours.”
I stared.
“The original idea.”
“Yes.”
“And that when the forward trap failed, you ordered the road blocked.”
“Suggested.”
“Ordered.”
“There was urgency.”
“And the attack on the baggage.”
“That was already discussed.”
“By you.”
“Among everyone.”
Duan Wei looked at me.
I looked at him.
Neither moved.
Finally:
“Young Master.”
“What?”
“You understand I cannot falsify a military report.”
“I am not asking you to falsify it.”
“You are asking me to omit you.”
“Yes.”
“That would falsify it.”
Technicality.
I looked at the captain.
He immediately became fascinated by the wall.
Coward.
Duan Wei continued:
“His Excellency will receive the facts.”
“I dislike facts.”
“I have noticed.”
I leaned over the table.
“What exactly did you write?”
He reached for a tablet.
I grabbed it first.
Read.
Then read again.
This was catastrophic.
Enemy total strength approximately thirty thousand.
Fine.
Young Master Dong Yu identified limitations in enemy concentration due to road capacity and divided deployment.
That sounded much worse when written professionally.
Proposed visible withdrawal west to induce pursuit.
No.
When enemy commitment exceeded planned numbers, Young Master ordered transport wagons sacrificed to block the constricted road behind the forward body.
“Sacrificed?”
I looked up.
“That sounds heroic.”
Duan Wei stared.
“They were destroyed.”
“Destroyed sounds irresponsible.”
“You ordered it.”
“Under pressure.”
He ignored me.
I continued.
This allowed our forces to isolate the enemy front and defeat it before supporting formations could deploy.
Then the baggage raid.
Then the collapse.
Then pursuit.
Then:
Young Master requested immediate eastern movement upon opening of the road due to endangered Dong household personnel near Yanshi.
I stopped.
Read that sentence again.
Qiao’er.
Not named.
Good.
Still bad.
“Can you remove this part?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because that is why we marched east.”
I looked at him.
He looked back.
“This report contains too many facts.”
“Yes.”
“Father is going to misunderstand.”
The captain finally spoke.
“With respect, Young Master, what will His Excellency misunderstand?”
Everything.
I pointed at the report.
“This makes it sound as though I wanted to fight thirty thousand men.”
Duan Wei said:
“You did not.”
“Good.”
“It makes clear you wanted the road open.”
Exactly.
I relaxed.
Then he added:
“Immediately.”
I stopped relaxing.
He was enjoying this.
I could tell.
“General.”
“Young Master?”
“You are becoming unpleasant.”
For the first time, he smiled properly.
Only briefly.
That was worse.
Qiao’er entered while Duan Wei was explaining casualties.
She carried a tray.
Water.
Food.
Medicine.
Completely innocent.
I suspected nothing.
This was a mistake.
She set the tray near me.
“Young Master should eat.”
“I have eaten.”
“When?”
“This morning.”
“What?”
I looked at her.
She looked at me.
Xu An had betrayed me somehow.
“Food.”
“What food?”
I understood now why my questions irritated people.
“Rice.”
“How much?”
Enough.
The word reached my mouth.
I stopped.
Qiao’er waited.
I changed course.
“A bowl.”
“Good.”
Victory.
She began pouring water.
Duan Wei continued speaking to the captain.
“…first enemy body likely between eight and nine thousand once the support units compressed behind them.”
Qiao’er’s hand paused for less than a second.
I noticed only because water nearly missed the cup.
“Tired?”
“No.”
She continued pouring.
The captain said:
“Most losses happened after the wagons closed the road.”
Qiao’er set the pot down.
Nothing in her expression changed.
Duan Wei pointed at the map.
“If the road remained open, their second body reaches us before the infantry strike finishes.”
The captain nodded.
“So the wagons decided it.”
“Partly.”
I interrupted.
“General Duan decided the battle.”
Duan Wei looked at me.
I looked back.
Do not start.
He chose peace.
“For the actual fighting, yes.”
Good.
Qiao’er picked up the tray.
Then stopped.
Her eyes went to the map.
The eastern road.
Xin’an.
Yanshi.
A long distance.
She said nothing.
I thought she was trying to understand the geography.
Reasonable.
Maps were terrible.
She left.
Later, I discovered Qiao’er had become unusually interested in military logistics.
Not openly.
That would have been alarming.
Instead she asked questions that sounded almost normal.
We were checking which household carts had survived.
One destroyed axle.
One missing cart.
One still at the original residence.
Qiao’er wrote everything down.
Then:
“How many carts did Young Master destroy at Xin’an?”
I looked up.
“Twelve.”
Her brush stopped.
“That many?”
“They were government carts.”
“Ah.”
I considered.
“Probably.”
She continued writing.
After a moment:
“And the rest of the evacuation carts?”
“What about them?”
“They went west?”
“Yes.”
“So the enemy saw them.”
“That was the point.”
She nodded.
Nothing more.
Later:
“How many soldiers came east first?”
“Eighteen hundred.”
Her brush paused again.
“And the others?”
“Some followed.”
“How many?”
“I don't know. Several thousand.”
She nodded.
Why did she care?
“Are you planning a campaign?”
Her eyes lifted.
“No, Young Master.”
“Good. One person in this household making military mistakes is enough.”
She lowered her eyes again.
I returned to the register.
The missing cart annoyed me.
By afternoon, more of Duan Wei’s soldiers had arrived.
This created a new problem.
They knew me.
Worse.
They had stories.
Much worse.
Every version became larger.
In one, I had personally ordered the gates opened against thirty thousand men.
False.
In another, I had predicted exactly where the coalition would retreat.
Very false.
One man claimed I had planned the wagon blockage before the battle began.
Completely false.
I found him.
“You.”
He straightened.
“Yes, Young Master.”
“Who told you I planned the wagons in advance?”
He hesitated.
“A man from the third company.”
“Which man?”
“I do not know his name.”
Convenient.
“It happened because the original plan failed.”
The soldier blinked.
I continued.
“The enemy committed too many men. General Duan was withdrawing the ambush. We improvised.”
“Yes, Young Master.”
“Tell people that.”
“Yes, Young Master.”
“Good.”
He bowed.
I walked away.
Behind me, I heard another soldier whisper:
“He changed the plan in the middle of the battle.”
Fuck.
I turned.
They became silent.
This was impossible.
Correcting the story only made it worse.
I finally understood how legends happened.
Poor administration.
Near evening, the household prepared to move.
Not back to the original residence.
Absolutely not.
West.
Qiao’er supervised the surviving servants.
I approved.
Duan Wei had already said the road toward Luoyang was passable under escort.
From there, Mother’s household would continue west as planned.
Good.
Everything returning to normal.
Mostly.
I stood beside one cart while Qiao’er checked the list.
“Food?”
“Loaded.”
“Records?”
“Loaded.”
“People?”
She looked at me.
I reconsidered.
“All accounted for?”
“Yes.”
Good.
“Guards?”
“More than eight this time.”
Excellent.
Duan Wei had assigned forty.
I approved of military inflation when personally convenient.
Qiao’er rolled the list.
Then looked at me.
“Young Master is returning to Xin’an?”
“Yes.”
Her expression changed slightly.
“Why?”
“Because apparently destroying government wagons creates paperwork.”
That was true.
Also Father had demanded reports.
Less pleasant.
“And General Duan?”
“With me.”
She nodded.
Then:
“Will Young Master ride?”
I stared at her.
“Do not become cruel.”
Her mouth curved.
“There is a carriage.”
I looked toward it.
Beautiful.
Four wheels.
Walls.
Floor.
Civilization.
I almost became emotional.
“Yes.”
Qiao’er lowered her eyes.
“Of course.”
Something about the way she said it bothered me.
I studied her.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
Again.
Everyone had become unbearable.
Before she left, Qiao’er walked over.
Not carrying anything.
Suspicious already.
She stopped in front of me.
Then reached for my collar.
I sighed.
“It is straight.”
“It is not.”
“You fixed it yesterday.”
“You slept.”
Fair.
She adjusted it.
Then my sleeve.
Her fingers paused near the bandage around my palm.
Only briefly.
“Does it hurt?”
“Yes.”
She looked up.
I waited.
No joke.
Strange.
Then she said:
“You should not ride again until it heals.”
Finally.
Something sensible.
“I completely agree.”
Her eyes stayed on mine.
I had the uncomfortable feeling she was thinking something else.
Probably about the carts.
Or Mother.
Or the missing household inventory.
Women possessed many thoughts.
Dangerous habit.
Duan Wei found me after the household convoy departed.
He had another tablet.
I distrusted him immediately.
“What is that?”
“The final preliminary report.”
“No.”
“You have not read it.”
“I have learned.”
He handed it to me anyway.
I refused to take it.
He held it there.
Eventually I accepted defeat.
The casualty figures were worse than I wanted.
Ours.
Theirs.
Prisoners.
Captured wagons.
Abandoned grain.
Weapons.
Horses.
Then the section describing the enemy collapse.
Then eastern movement.
Then Yanshi.
I handed it back.
“Send it.”
Duan Wei looked surprised.
“What?”
“I said send it.”
“You do not want anything removed?”
“Will you remove anything?”
“No.”
“Then why are we wasting time?”
He took the tablet.
Progress.
We walked toward the horses.
My carriage waited nearby.
Duan Wei looked at it.
Then at me.
I ignored him.
One of the younger soldiers stood nearby.
The same one, perhaps, who had looked offended when I refused to care about thirty thousand enemies two days ago.
He bowed as I passed.
“General.”
I stopped.
Duan Wei stopped.
I looked at him.
He looked at me.
Then at the soldier.
The soldier went pale.
“...Young Master.”
“Good.”
I continued toward the carriage.
Behind me, someone whispered:
“He heard.”
Another voice answered:
“Of course he heard.”
I climbed inside.
Closed the door.
Sat down.
Then stared at the wall.
This was bad.
Very bad.
I had spent weeks trying to become less important.
Somehow I had accidentally defeated an army.
And now people were getting my title wrong.