DARK CLOUDS LOOMED OVERHEAD, heavy enough to collapse the sky.
The willow branches had shed their green, leaving stark limbs jutting stiffly from the ground. The first snowflakes drifted gently down but found no purchase on the withered branches. Instead, they timidly fluttered to the ground, where they piled into sparse white drifts within the hollows between the roots, revealing patches of dark soil underneath.
A carriage rolled toward the city gate. At a command from its master, the driver slowed, and the rhythmic patter of the horse's hooves eased.
This carriage was in the center of a convoy, with riders both ahead and behind. As it came to a stop, the horses at its rear had no choice but to follow suit. Up ahead, their guide slowed and glanced back, puzzled by the change in pace. He was first to spot the hand that reached out from the carriage in an apparent attempt to catch the falling snowflakes. The action held the careful wonder of someone who'd traveled from the northern deserts to the capital of the Central Plains for the first time. Understanding dawned, and the guide raised a hand to signal the riders ahead to wait.
Within the carriage, the Göktürk prince Kuhezhen shifted his gaze from the straight back of their guide ahead to the bare willows and the city wall. Finally, his eyes came to rest on the bustling scene at the city gate, where horses and carts came and went. He looked ahead again, his disappointment apparent. "They say the drifting snow at the ancient Baqiao Bridge is one of the capital's most magnificent sights. I had no idea the first snowfall in the Central Plains arrived this late!"
The snowflakes melted almost as soon as they landed on the ground. The view was desolate. Where was the towering, snow-clad majesty of the northern empire's city walls?
Just that autumn, the Sui dynasty had succeeded in uniting the various powers that opposed Ishbara Khagan under its banner, then led them in a decisive battle against Ishbara's Göktürk army.
The Sui army had dispatched generals Gao Jiong and Yu Qingze along the roads from Ning and Yuan Provinces, encircling the main Göktürk forces. At the same time, the actions of Zhangsun Sheng, Yuan Hui, and Cui Buqu had intensified the internal strife within the Khaganate. In response to a formidable common enemy in Ishbara Khagan, the various Göktürk factions finally united, and tens of thousands from the Göktürk Suni tribe directly pledged loyalty to the Sui dynasty.
With the additional pressure from the Khitan in the east, Ishbara realized he stood to face an attack on three sides. He was compelled to submit to the Sui dynasty. Princess Qianjin, his wife and a descendant of the Yuwen clan of Northern Zhou, came before the Sui emperor and expressed her willingness to change her surname to Yang. Delighted by the gesture, the emperor bestowed upon her the title of Princess Dayi—great righteousness—in honor of her profound understanding of all that was good, and showered Ishbara with rewards of gold and silver.
Now the seventh prince of the Göktürks, Kuhezhen, had entered Sui to formally greet the emperor. Arriving with him were warhorses from the Western Regions, intended as their yearly tribute. Before he'd even set out, the emperor had already declared the young prince a great pillar of the nation and conferred upon him the title of Duke of An, at the same time bestowing the surname Yang upon Princess Dayi and adding her to the family register.
Everyone knew these were nominal titles only. Even as a so-called pillar of the nation, the seventh prince could hardly participate in governance—though at least he didn't lack status. In reality, he was a hostage the Khaganate had sent to Sui.
Kuhezhen's carriage at last rolled into the capital with his entourage. He'd requested to travel by carriage rather than horseback the entire way from the desert to Daxing City. He wished to make a good impression on the emperor, he claimed, and maintaining his appearance and manners was more convenient this way. His guide not only had no objections, he privately thought this seventh prince rather astute. A tidy and compliant visitor who openly demonstrated his submission was much more appealing than a travelworn Göktürk appearing in dusty foreign garb.
Indeed, at that moment, the seventh prince Kuhezhen was wearing Han attire. Even his hair, normally braided in the traditional style of his tribe, had been pulled into a neat topknot. If not for his prominent nose and brow, he might have been indistinguishable from one of the capital's citizens. Missing, however, was the straight-backed posture of a Han scholar. His legs were leisurely crossed, as they would be in the royal yurt.
By the time he looked away from the window, the last traces of curiosity on his face had vanished.
"This is Chunming Gate. If the prince wishes to see Baqiao Bridge, he must head out of Yanxing Gate," said the man sitting beside him with his eyes closed.
He was ordinary in appearance, as inconspicuous as the roadside grass and stones when motionless. Yet the moment he spoke, the dull atmosphere in the carriage livened, and his face and brows grew mobile and spirited.
Had any martial arts master been present in that carriage, the transformation would have alarmed them—they would surely consider this man a formidable foe. But the seventh prince Kuhezhen had no reaction at all. He was a middling martial artist at best, insensitive to the subtle ebb and flow only experts could perceive. Moreover, he had known this man for years; he was used to him.
Kuhezhen let the carriage curtain fall. He'd lost interest in the capital's sights. "I thought the Sui capital would be bursting with talent, busy and vibrant. It's just a larger city with people in brighter clothing. I haven't spotted anyone particularly extraordinary. The people out there trying to squeeze through the gate are all commoners, not worth a second glance. Tu'an, what do you think?"
Tu'an Qinghe finally opened his eyes. "This is because the people Your Highness wishes to see are not here."
Kuhezhen smiled. "I heard the Sui dynasty is filled with the wise and gifted, that there are brilliant men everywhere. I hoped to meet them and exchange ideas; at least that way my trip to the Central Plains wouldn't be in vain."
"What qualifies a man as brilliant in your eyes, Your Highness?"
"There are many brilliant individuals in the world," Kuhezhen replied. "But I've met only a few. For instance, my father, Ishbara Khagan, and that Han envoy, Zhangsun Sheng."
Tu'an Qinghe frowned slightly, then offered up two more names. "The khatun? Yuxiu?"
He referred, of course, to Kuhezhen's father's wife: the empress of the Eastern Göktürk Khaganate, Princess Qianjin, now dubbed Princess Dayi. Princess Qianjin had left the royal family of Northern Zhou and married into a nation of wind and sand. Everyone had expected her to take after her predecessors. Too delicate to withstand the hardships beyond the border, such women grew bitter and melancholy, and ultimately passed away young. But Princess Qianjin did more than survive—when the Northern Zhou dynasty fell, she'd won her husband's heart and, with it, a share of the power within the Göktürk court. One had to admit she was exceptionally clever.
As for Yuxiu, the monk had been the princess's favorite subordinate. But she'd sent him to the Central Plains long ago, and Kuhezhen hadn't seen him since.
He shook his head. "Tu'an, there are many kinds of brilliance. Some are hailed as great minds yet seek only short-sighted gains, while others find their judgment impaired by their emotions. Princess Dayi is the former, while Yuxiu was the latter. I once had high hopes for that man. When someone like him enters the Central Plains, they're destined to stir up great storms. Yet he ultimately met with failure. Without the princess, he might have gone further."
Tu'an Qinghe nodded slightly in agreement. "Perhaps Your Highness has someone specific in mind."
"A truly brilliant individual possesses not only the wisdom to choose the opportune moment, but also a fair amount of good fortune," Kuhezhen replied. "From my perspective, both the current emperor and empress of Sui embody these traits. If their heir inherits these qualities, this dynasty could remain prosperous for at least three generations. If not—"
"If not?"
Kuhezhen smiled. "If not, no matter how many geniuses like Cui Buqu exist, it will make no difference."
Tu'an Qinghe considered him. "I thought Your Highness agreed to come thanks to Xiao Lü's invitation."
"Xiao Lü is also a brilliant man; alas, he's short on luck." Kuhezhen sighed. "If only he'd been born to a better fate. Think how different the world would look if he'd been born the son of the Southern dynasty's emperor."
Thus was Xiao Lü unlucky, and the Northern dynasty, brimming with talent of its own, stood in his way. The path before him was fraught with difficulties, and the fate that awaited him might be an ill one. If Kuhezhen were to cooperate with someone like that, his own luck might be affected.
"Tu'an, I never asked you. What made you decide to come with me to the Central Plains?"
"I've broken through my bottleneck." Tu'an Qinghe's expression was serene, as if the statement was of no consequence.
"That hurdle was one even the mightiest expert of the Göktürks, Hulugu, could not overcome." Kuhezhen's eyes shone with interest. "I remember you secluded yourself for three years back then, but this time it only took you three months."
Tu'an Qinghe nodded. "It went much smoother this time. The notes Hulugu left were a great boon to me."
Kuhezhen chuckled. "To me, Hulugu is just a legend. But I imagine you must now be much stronger than the previous expert my father favored, Fo'er. Tell me, if you were to duel with Fo'er, how long would it take you to defeat him?"
Tu'an Qinghe thought a moment. "Between three and five moves."
Surprise colored Kuhezhen's face. "I heard Feng Xiao expended no small effort to defeat Fo'er. Even if he, too, has improved since then, surely he won't stand a chance against you now."
"Not necessarily," Tu'an Qinghe admitted. "There are no limits to martial arts. Until I see him, I cannot be sure."
Kuhezhen smiled, the dark clouds of his disappointment at the scene outside the city gate dispersing at last. "The finest experts of our time—Yan Wushi, Yi Pichen, Ruyan Kehui, Shen Qiao, Guang Lingsan, Feng Xiao. None of them are in Daxing City. As vast as this capital is, few martial artists here can truly be called experts: no more than two or three. If you wish to spar with them, I fear you'll have to wait. In due time, the capital will descend into chaos. Many experts will emerge to attempt to turn the tide. But they likely won't compare to the grandmasters I just mentioned and aren't worth your intervention. Instead, we should observe patiently. Once the waters are sufficiently murky, we can give things another stir."
He raised the carriage curtain once more just as their guide turned his head. Their eyes met. Seeing Kuhezhen's expression, full of shy anticipation, their guide imagined this seventh prince must be a modest, approachable young man. Kuhezhen readily embraced this impression, looking back with a nod and a smile.
Yet by the time he lowered the curtain again, his posture and expression had transformed. If he had seemed lethargic, even petulant, just moments ago, now he was like a wolf excited by the scent of prey.
"Yuxiu is dead," he said. "The princess is furious in her grief—her hatred for Yang Jian has only intensified. The Thirteen Floors of Yunhai have already lost too many members; they are sure to bet everything on their next move. Tu'an, none of the other princes were willing to come to the Sui dynasty, but I'm different. The people of the Central Plains have a saying: Everything is ready save for a gust of the east wind.1 I believe I am that east wind, the catalyst that sets everything in motion."
Kuhezhen's blue eyes darkened as if glimpsing the impending storm, a hint of bloodlust visible within his joy. "I spoke too soon: Daxing City deserves its reputation as a world-famous capital. The throngs of citizens and carriages flowing through its gates far surpass those of our royal court. If a storm were to come to such a great capital, it would surely be a sight more magnificent than the likes of you or I have ever seen."
***
The carriage rocked as it sped down the road, as if to lull its occupant to sleep.
But Cui Buqu was not asleep—in fact, the swaying made his head throb.
The grain embezzlement case had drawn to a close, at least for now. The Zuoyue and Jiejian Bureaus had arrested most of the relevant county officials, and the Ministry of Personnel had swiftly dispatched their own people to reassure the victims and distribute grain, a process that took nearly half a month. Cui Buqu's assistance was no longer required, but the flare-up of his old symptoms had prevented him from traveling. It was only several days after Rong Qing escorted the suspects to the capital that he finally set out himself.
Practically everyone in their group was a patient. Guan Shanhai had sustained serious injuries in battle, his condition even worse than Cui Buqu's. In the carriage behind them, the third chief of the Jiejian Bureau, Ming Yue, fared only marginally better. To avoid reopening their wounds riding, they traveled slowly by carriage with frequent stops to rest.
Qiao Xian had planned to escort them back to the capital before heading southwest to her new post, but Cui Buqu told her it wasn't needed. She departed in sorrow, embarking on her journey alone.
After all their time together, poor young Pei-langjun was at last forced to say goodbye. In the days that followed, his mind wandered so much even Ming Yue asked jokingly if his soul had left with Qiao Xian.
Despite it all, what truly troubled Cui Buqu was not the discomfort of the jostling carriage but rather…
Someone lifted the curtain and entered. His guest waited for no invitation but sat down unbidden, as if the carriage was his own home.
"My venerable legs are sore; I came in to rest."
There he went again. Cui Buqu sighed.