Shu, Qinghe Palace.

Two palace lamps cast a faint, hazy glow over the sleeping chamber.

Du Yizhen lay facing the inside of the bed for a while, eyes open, then turned over to face outward. Restless though she was, she considerately made no sound.

Even so, the soft rustling of her tossing and turning eventually woke Jinzhu, the senior maid who had spread her bedding on the raised platform beside the enclosed bed to keep watch through the night. Once she realized her mistress would not be falling asleep again anytime soon, Jinzhu asked quietly, “Would you like something to pass the time, Miss? I can light the lamps.”

Du Yizhen looked down in surprise. “You’re awake too?”

Jinzhu threw back her quilt with a rueful smile. “I knew you’d have trouble sleeping in an unfamiliar bed, so I never really slept deeply.”

There was nothing unusual about being particular about one’s bed. Plenty of people were. Even when Du Yizhen moved between the Du and Zhou residences, she needed time to get used to the change.

And now she had been forced to move into the imperial palace.

One exquisite gilt-lacquer palace lamp after another was lit. Once the inner chamber was bright enough, Jinzhu extinguished the tinder and turned around.

Behind a thin veil of gauze, Du Yizhen was already sitting up. The soft, warm quilt lay bunched around her waist, revealing only the upper half of her pale inner robe.

The garment had been made from the finest silk Shu could produce, yet lifeless fabric was still lifeless fabric. It could never compare with the beauty of her natural complexion—white as fine mutton-fat jade, yet suffused with a delicate flush that made her seem almost luminous with life.

Had it been another mistress keeping her awake simply because she could not settle into a new bed, Jinzhu might well have felt resentful.

But Du Yizhen was simply too beautiful.

Even after serving her for ten years, Jinzhu remained perfectly willing to wait on her hand and foot. In fact, seeing her mistress uncomfortable only made her secretly resent the emperor instead.

They were not even related by blood, yet he had insisted on adopting Du Yizhen as his daughter, going so far as to hold a grand ceremony and formally confer upon her the title of princess.

What a joke.

In the more than thirty years since Shu had been founded, its one and only princess was a woman who did not even share the imperial surname.

Returning to the bedside, Jinzhu hooked up the gauze curtains. Her gaze swept over the dozen or so gems inlaid into the rosewood frame, and she teased, “You were born into a nest of gold, Miss. You’ve handled so many precious things since childhood that even a bed like this fails to impress you. If it were me, I’d fall asleep stroking those jewels and wake up grinning from my dreams.”

Suspicious though the emperor could be, he did have some genuine affection for Du Yizhen.

Before making her a princess, he had specifically ordered Qinghe Palace renovated. Everything inside had been chosen from among the finest treasures in the imperial storehouses, including this bed.

Supposedly, it had originally been made for the future Crown Princess. Since the Crown Prince was still young and his marriage remained years away, it had been taken out and temporarily bestowed upon Du Yizhen instead.

Du Yizhen truly did not care about the gems.

Not because she disliked them, but because she knew perfectly well that her rank as a princess was only temporary.

If the soldiers at the front could not stop the fiercely advancing Qi army, and the capital fell, then she, a princess by adoption and in name alone, might not even be able to keep her life.

What use were luxuries, however numerous or extravagant, to a dead woman?

******

Jinzhu accompanied her through several games of chess.

Eventually Du Yizhen’s eyelids grew heavy. At first she propped herself up stubbornly on one arm, but in the end she slumped sideways beside the board and fell asleep.

She had no idea how much of the night remained.

Her sleep was broken by a succession of fragmented dreams.

The first person she dreamed of was her grandfather, who had died of illness the year before last.

Her grandfather.

The Grand General who had supported the late emperor in founding Shu.

For thirty years he had served the kingdom without suffering a single defeat. It was only because he had guarded Shu’s borders so steadfastly that the kingdom had managed to preserve a corner of peace in an age ravaged by war on every side. Its people had lived and worked in security, enjoying prosperity, while the region around the capital had flourished most of all.

Then Du Yizhen dreamed of her mother, whose face she could barely remember anymore.

She had been only three years old then.

Unable to catch a brightly colored butterfly, she had gone to her mother in wounded disappointment, seeking comfort. Her mother had gently gathered her into her arms, while little Du Yizhen had been sensible enough not to press against her mother’s swollen belly.

But the warmth of that moment vanished in the blink of an eye.

The steward came with news that her father had fallen in battle.

The shock sent her mother into premature labor.

That endless night took her mother away.

All it left behind was the sound of a newborn baby crying.

Her grandfather had only ever had two sons. His eldest had died on the battlefields of Eastern Chu before even reaching twenty.

After Du Yizhen lost both her parents, her grief-stricken grandfather knew that his duties to the state left him no time to raise two young grandchildren. He therefore sent Du Yizhen and her younger brother to live with their maternal grandfather, Zhou Tai.

And so the siblings grew up in the Zhou residence, only returning to the Du estate for short stays whenever their paternal grandfather came back to the capital.

Unlike her grandfather of the Du family, who excelled on the battlefield, her maternal grandfather Zhou Tai was a gifted statesman.

Even before the late emperor’s death, he had already risen to become Chancellor of Shu. For twelve years, he had exhausted himself assisting the new emperor.

But after General Du’s death, Zhou Tai lost his strongest supporter.

Faced with a new emperor who was weak-willed and perpetually indecisive, he gradually lost ground to the faction of corrupt courtiers.

In a mere two years, both the morale of Shu’s army and the confidence of its people began to collapse.

Qi, whose fortunes were at their height, immediately seized the opportunity and launched a two-pronged invasion of Shu.

When war came, the emperor and his ministers naturally thought first of the Du family.

Without controversy, the emperor sent out two renowned commanders from the younger generations whom Du Yizhen’s grandfather had personally trained: her brave and battle-hardened elder cousin Du Yuanhui, and Zhu Tao, an old family friend who had always treated her like one of his own.

Du Yuanhui led twenty thousand troops to defend Jianmen Pass.

Zhu Tao commanded fifty thousand troops by land and water to block the river route.

Both men had been undefeated commanders before this campaign.

Yet against Qi, they suffered setback after setback. Now they had been locked in a stalemate for more than a month, surviving only by relying on the natural defenses of the terrain.

When the military reports reached the capital, rumors swept through court.

People began to suspect that the two generals had been influenced by Chancellor Zhou Tai and were secretly considering surrender to Qi.

Those rumors entered Du Yizhen’s dreams as well.

Silently, she cried out against the injustice done to them.

A powerful enemy had invaded. Her maternal grandfather had advocated surrender only because he wanted to preserve the dignity of the imperial house and save the lives of the soldiers and common people.

But generals had a duty to defend their country.

As long as the emperor chose to resist, Du Yuanhui and Zhu Tao would never betray their sovereign.

The emperor and ministers of Shu did not believe that.

To guarantee the loyalty of Du Yuanhui and Zhu Tao, the ministers who opposed surrender joined forces and petitioned Emperor Li Ye to take the sixteen-year-old Du Yizhen as a Noble Consort.

That would bind Du Yizhen’s fate to that of the imperial family—sharing its glory if it prospered and its ruin if it fell—and thereby force the two generals to fight with everything they had.

Li Ye was already forty.

He was old enough to be Du Yizhen’s father.

He was merely incapable of deciding whether Shu ought to surrender or continue resisting. In the end, the louder anti-surrender faction prevailed.

But Li Ye was not a lustful man, nor did he wish to force himself upon the granddaughter of the late Grand General.

After much deliberation, he issued an imperial decree.

Instead of taking Du Yizhen into his harem, he adopted her as his daughter and made her a princess.

******

Du Yizhen’s final dream that night was of her maternal grandmother’s tear-filled eyes when she had been taken into the palace.

And so she woke from her dream sniffling.

When she opened her eyes, she found Jinzhu, Yinzhu, Yuzhu, and Zhenzhu—her four senior maids—standing in a row beside the bed.

All four gazed at her with the same distress and concern.

Du Yizhen fell silent for a moment.

“…I’m fine. I dreamed about Grandfather again.”

There had been too many things lately that could make their mistress cry.

And not one of them was something the maids could truly console her over.

Rather than offer empty words, it was better not to mention them at all.

Jinzhu sat down with the cloth she had prepared earlier and gently wiped the tears from Du Yizhen’s face.

“Her Majesty sent someone over just now. She said she and His Majesty would come have breakfast with Mis—”

She caught herself.

“—with Your Highness. Since Your Highness is awake, we should get you ready. It wouldn’t do to be discourteous before the emperor.”

Yinzhu coaxed softly, “I heard that even when His Majesty especially favors one of his consorts, he only summons her to Chongguang Hall to dine with him. Yet now he’s actually coming here himself to eat with Your Highness. That does show rare consideration.”

Du Yizhen understood.

Li Ye was not a bad emperor.

He was simply not a particularly capable one.

Nor had fate blessed him with being born emperor of some great unified dynasty. Instead, he had been forced to face the crisis before him.

But Li Ye was hardly alone in that regard.

North of the river, four petty dynasties that had lasted only a decade or several decades had already fallen. South of the river, Wu, Chen, and Chu had all been absorbed into Great Qi.

Only Shu remained, standing alone.

Her maternal grandfather was right.

The unification of the realm was the tide of history.

It was not something a single sovereign, or even a handful of worthy ministers and brilliant generals, could stop.

Du Yizhen washed and dressed somewhat absentmindedly. After waiting for roughly a quarter of an hour, Emperor Li Ye arrived with Empress Liu.

Du Yizhen stepped forward and greeted them with flawless etiquette.

In her naturally soft, gentle voice, she addressed them with perfect intimacy.

“Imperial Father. Imperial Mother.”

Li Ye had come burdened by guilt.

On the way there, he had already prepared himself to face tears and accusations from his newly adopted daughter.

He had not expected Du Yizhen to behave so affectionately.

It was as though a spring breeze had suddenly swept away the weight on his conscience.

Li Ye made a gesture to help her rise. Then he noticed the faint shadows beneath the young girl’s eyes, and guilt stirred again.

“Zhenzhen, did you not sleep well last night?”

So she did blame him after all?

Of course Du Yizhen blamed him.

She simply had no right to show it.

If Du Yuanhui and Zhu Tao won at the front, Li Ye would remain securely seated on the throne of Shu, and the title of princess would merely add another layer of prestige to her name.

But if the front collapsed, Li Ye might very well turn his anger on her.

So if she behaved sweetly and obediently now, perhaps he might retain at least a little pity for her later.

Her paternal grandfather had taught her to keep her backbone straight.

Her maternal grandfather had taught her how to protect herself in dangerous times.

Du Yizhen had remembered both lessons.

She intended to use whichever one circumstances demanded.

Seeing Li Ye’s guilt, Du Yizhen slipped around to Empress Liu’s side as though embarrassed and explained softly, “Imperial Father, it’s only because I’ve always had trouble sleeping in unfamiliar beds. Whenever I move somewhere new, it takes me two or three nights to adjust. I’m afraid I’ve wasted all the thought you put into giving me such a magnificent bed.”

At that, Li Ye remembered.

Whenever he brought his senior officials and their families to the summer palace, he would occasionally overhear Chancellor Zhou complaining about his granddaughter’s difficulties sleeping.

Once, a colleague had advised Zhou Tai not to bring his delicate little granddaughter the following year.

Zhou Tai had replied, “The summer palace is the finest place to escape the heat. Trading two restless nights for two months of cool weather is an excellent bargain. Of course I’m bringing her.”

Chancellor Zhou…

Forgetting Du Yizhen standing only a few steps away, Li Ye found himself thinking instead of Zhou Tai, who had failed to persuade the court to surrender and then been hounded so badly by his political enemies that he had taken sick leave.

Li Ye had never discussed making Du Yizhen a princess with him beforehand.

Zhou Tai must be furious with him.

He must blame him.

******

Jianmen Pass.

Du Yuanhui had no idea whether Chancellor Zhou resented the emperor.

But once he learned that the emperor, though he had not taken his younger sister as a Noble Consort, had forcibly brought her into the palace and turned her into a princess in name and a hostage in truth, Du Yuanhui was so furious that he did not sleep all night.

For a time, he even had the impulse to turn his army around, march back to the capital, and take his sister away by force.

Only the teachings of his grandfather and the responsibilities of a commanding general finally crushed that impulse.

At first light, Du Yuanhui put on his armor and made a circuit of the walls.

Seeing the Qi army at the foot of the mountain opposite still resting, he thought nothing of it. Qi’s assault two days earlier had failed, and their morale had taken a blow.

He descended from the wall and returned to his quarters for breakfast.

He had barely eaten half of it when a sentry horn suddenly blared overhead.

The corner of Du Yuanhui’s eye twitched.

He threw down his chopsticks and strode outside.

Before he even reached the top of the stone steps leading to the wall, he saw an entire line of soldiers staring not north toward the enemy, but south—toward the interior of the pass.

That meant the Qi army outside was not attacking.

The danger was coming from behind them.

Taking two steps at a time, Du Yuanhui reached the top and spun toward the south.

At that exact moment, the rising sun cleared the distant line of rolling mountains.

Morning light flooded the road by which the Shu army had originally arrived.

And illuminated the force now advancing toward Jianmen Pass in ordered ranks.

Roughly five thousand infantry.

Every one of them wore fitted black clothing with narrow sleeves.

Not a single man was armored.

Yet all five thousand were broad-shouldered and powerfully built.

Especially the man walking alone at their head.

He had to stand close to eight and a half chi tall, with broad shoulders and long legs, towering above those behind him like the highest peak in a range of mountains.

They were still too far away for Du Yuanhui to make out his face.

“General! The Qi army is preparing to attack!”

Du Yuanhui whipped around.

Sure enough, the Qi troops north of the pass were rapidly assembling siege equipment.

In that instant, he understood.

Those five thousand black-clad soldiers to the south were Qi troops.

Somehow, they had found an obscure mountain path, bypassed Jianmen Pass, and climbed into Shu territory from behind.

They had only been waiting for the Shu army to sound the alarm.

Once battle began, this surprise force would attack from within at the same time as Qi’s main army struck from outside.

Du Yuanhui’s gaze locked onto the man leading the black-clad troops.

He still had more than ten thousand men under his command.

If he left two thousand to defend the pass and sent the rest against these five thousand Qi soldiers behind them, he would still have a reasonable chance of victory.

But the build of that leading man matched the stories all too well.

Qi’s Crown Prince.

A man said to have been born with monstrous strength.

A peerless commander.

A warrior capable of facing a thousand men alone.

A man who had never met an enemy he could not crush.

If it was truly him, then morale alone would place Du Yuanhui’s side at a disadvantage.

At last, the five thousand black-clad soldiers drew near.

They stopped beyond bow range.

Only the man Du Yuanhui had been watching continued forward another hundred paces.

At that distance, any ordinary Shu soldier could loose an arrow and potentially take his life.

If an enemy commander had the courage to approach alone, however, Du Yuanhui would not stoop to such a contemptible act.

From high atop the wall, he looked down and called out, “Who are you?”

The man raised his head.

He seemed to glance at Du Yuanhui, or perhaps merely at the walls of Jianmen Pass.

His voice was deep and cold.

“Zhao Xuan, Crown Prince of Qi.”

Exactly as Du Yuanhui had expected.

The mere sound of that name changed the faces of the Shu soldiers around him.

Their morale wavered.

Before Du Yuanhui could ask another question, Zhao Xuan calmly stated his purpose.

“If you surrender, you will become soldiers of Great Qi. Your past actions will not be held against you. From this day onward, merit will be rewarded accordingly.”

“If you refuse, then when my army takes Jianmen Pass, every one of you will be buried with Shu.”

Having said that, Zhao Xuan fixed his steady gaze on Du Yuanhui.

He remained exactly where he stood, unmoving in the deadly open ground before the pass, waiting for Du Yuanhui’s answer.

Du Yuanhui had been raised in a military family and was himself a formidable commander.

Whether dealing with the scions of noble houses in the capital or exchanging challenges between two armies on the battlefield, he had never once met anyone arrogant enough to speak to him like this.

And yet the arrogant man below was Zhao Xuan.

Crown Prince of Qi.

The commander who had personally led armies to destroy the other three southern kingdoms.

The man universally acknowledged as the foremost general under heaven.

He truly did possess the ability to drown Jianmen Pass in blood.

Du Yuanhui did not fear death.

But he had no desire to die for a foolish emperor who suspected him and had imprisoned his sister.

Nor did he want the soldiers around him to throw away their lives for that emperor.

Once he had made his decision, there was no reason to hesitate.

Du Yuanhui left the pass alone.

Standing face-to-face with Zhao Xuan, who was nearly a palm taller than him, he gave a single condition.

“I can surrender. But you must guarantee that once Qi destroys Shu, no one will harm my family—not you, not your soldiers, and not the imperial family in Luoyang.”

He paused.

“Especially my sister, Du Yizhen.”

The more beautiful a woman from a defeated kingdom was, the more likely she was to attract covetous eyes—and humiliation.

Before launching the campaign, Zhao Xuan had investigated the backgrounds of Shu’s commanders.

He knew that Du Yuanhui was merely an orphan whom the old General Du had adopted. He had been entered into the family register under the name of the general’s eldest son, who had died young, so that the dead man’s line would have an heir.

There was no blood relation between Du Yuanhui and the Du family’s children.

Zhao Xuan had not expected that with Shu on the verge of destruction, Du Yuanhui would ask neither for rank nor wealth.

His thoughts were entirely with the Du family.

Zhao Xuan respected men who valued loyalty and affection.

And the request did not violate his own principles.

So he agreed.

Chapter 1

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