Volume One: Flames on the Frontier Chapter Seventy-Four: Beauty Amidst Chaos

Lu Yi was receiving the praise of the assembly when suddenly he heard that Yuan Hui was suspected of stealing another’s idea. He flew into a rage and said, “Though this plan is hardly worth mentioning, using it to defeat the enemy does yield some results. For Yuan, the esteemed leader, to pilfer others’ wisdom—how laughable.”

Yuan Hui, too, became incensed. “How am I pilfering others’ wisdom? I clearly thought of it myself. I only asked an extra question, and you rushed to speak first. Every word I spoke was true, as Heaven can attest.”

Lu Yi rolled his cross-eyed gaze, wearing a look of utter disdain. “If that is what you say, Leader Yuan, I have nothing more to say. The Lu clan of Fanyang is a great family known throughout the land. We have no need to stoop to bickering with your clan.”

These words were harsh indeed. Since the fall of the brothers Yuan Shao and Yuan Shu during the Three Kingdoms era, the prestige of the Yuan clan of Runan had plummeted. Though still considered a noble family, they could not compare to the Lu clan of Fanyang. Lu Yi’s words were clearly meant to slight Yuan Hui, and Yuan Hui would not let the matter rest.

Sure enough, Yuan Hui exploded in anger, jumping to his feet and, in a huff, prepared to leave the table. What had started as a harmonious gathering was instantly turning into a contest of egos.

He Yu was caught between amusement and exasperation. Coming from the modern era, he did not share these complicated prejudices about noble clans. Though he was often questioned about his lineage and frequently looked down upon due to his obscure origins, in short order he had earned respect through his remarkable talent. Thus, he had never truly felt the advantages of noble birth.

Cui Liang, seeing things go awry, hurried to intervene. “Leader Yuan, please calm yourself. I have important matters to trouble you with—how can you leave over a single word from Leader Lu? Pray, be seated. From myself to everyone here, is there a soul who does not admire Leader Yuan?”

Cui Liang was a leading figure of the powerful Cui clan of Qinghe, and his words were generous indeed. Yuan Hui paused, torn between wanting to sit and feeling aggrieved, wishing to leave yet unwilling to offend Cui Liang. As commander of the army and scion of Qinghe Cui, Cui Liang was not someone he could afford to antagonize.

Qingyun, glancing at He Yu and seeing him nod, obediently stepped over, tugged Yuan Hui’s sleeve, and urged gently, “Leader Yuan, since Leader Cui has spoken so, let us put the greater good first—perhaps there truly is an important task for you.” As she spoke, she righted the stool and helped Yuan Hui to sit.

Yuan Hui gratefully seized the opportunity to save face and bowed. “Madam Chen, I thank you for your kindness—Lu accepts it wholeheartedly.” Fond of the limelight but hampered by his family’s decline, Yuan Hui always strove to stand out, sometimes to the point of pettiness, but he remained a straightforward man at heart.

Cui Liang smiled, “Now, that’s better. Leader Lu spoke without malice. Now, Leader He has proposed the net-trap stratagem, and Leader Lu has suggested forging spiked maces. If we combine both, victory is within our grasp. So, I would entrust Leader Lu with the task of forging the maces, while only Leader Yuan can be relied upon to train the soldiers.”

Cui Liang truly had a strategist’s touch; in two sentences, he had resolved the tension between Lu Yi and Yuan Hui. The tasks were not difficult, and success would bring prestige—both men were pleased to accept. Yuan Hui, in particular, was gratified: among the assembled leaders, his power was the weakest, and now he had a chance to prove his worth. Though straightforward, he was well aware that Cui Liang was looking after his pride.

“Cui Liang’s way of winning hearts is truly impressive,” He Yu thought to himself.

To break the enemy with nets and spiked maces required teamwork rather than individual heroics. The best method was to form small combat units, much like the Mandarin Duck Formation with which Qi Jiguang later routed the Wokou pirates—a balanced offense and defense was key. He Yu estimated that, given the limited space on the battlements, a four-man team would be optimal: one with sword and shield for close protection, one wielding a long spear for distance, one to cast the net at the opportune moment, and one to strike swiftly with the spiked mace. Such an arrangement would be foolproof.

He Yu quietly relayed his idea to Yuan Hui, who was delighted. With this task in hand, he was wondering how to organize the troops; He Yu’s initiative satisfied his vanity, and, recalling how Qingyun had just offered him an easy way out, he was touched. By now, He Yu was clearly the third most important figure after Tuoba Yan and Cui Liang. The way He Yu supported him made Yuan Hui feel that he was not regarded as an outsider.

Nodding repeatedly, Yuan Hui leaned in and whispered, “Leader He, forgive my poor eyesight and words the other day—they were out of line.”

He Yu chuckled, “Leader Yuan, you’re too kind. In age, you are like a father to me, highly respected. I only wish to honor you, never to take offense.”

Yuan Hui’s greatest pride was his age; he never missed a chance to play the senior, though few took it seriously. Now, hearing He Yu praise his virtue and seniority to his face, he was deeply gratified.

When the meeting ended, Lu Yi and Yuan Hui set about forging spiked maces and organizing troop training. The rain from the previous night had finally cleared by morning; the sky was bright, the temperature rising, and a red sun hung overhead with excellent visibility.

It was not yet lunch. He Yu and Qingyun strolled hand in hand atop the city wall, gazing into the distance. After yesterday’s fierce battle, the Yan army had suffered heavy losses. Fearing a surprise attack from Linghu Xiao, they had fretted through half the night, utterly exhausted, and set up their camps far from the moat. All the tall siege engines—catapults, tower carts, battering rams, scaling ladders, and watchtowers—had been withdrawn. It looked as though there would be no assault for several days.

The defenders on the city wall remained vigilant, however, standing watch behind the battlements every few paces, eyes fixed on the enemy’s movements. Mounted patrols moved constantly along the parapets, inspecting the defenses. Cui Liang’s leadership was evident; even if Murong Lin risked a surprise attack, he would be discovered.

The vast expanse of white Yan tents stretched as far as the eye could see—a magnificent sight, yet He Yu, having understood the enemy’s hand, was less anxious than in days past. In truth, war was always like this: before battle, one fears; once the fighting begins, the fear fades.

Qingyun, seeing He Yu silent and thoughtful, sidled over and asked, “He Lang, what are you thinking about? Does your neck still hurt?”

No matter how strong a woman, her essence is always gentleness. Always forthright and decisive, since marrying He Yu, Qingyun had become more sensitive—though not as tender as Deng’er, she was attentive in her own way.

He Yu, seeing the concern in her eyes, reached out and took her small hand. “Wife, guess what I’m thinking.”

Qingyun knew her husband’s cleverness and quick mind, always with some unexpected idea, so she pouted, “He Lang, you always have so many thoughts—I can’t guess. Are you planning a way to break the enemy?”

Hearing his wife’s assessment, He Yu laughed heartily. “So, in your eyes, I’m a scheming man, lacking in manly spirit? Amusing indeed!”

Qingyun laughed and retorted, “There’s nothing wrong with being clever—I only wish I were cleverer myself.”

He Yu pointed to the tallest tent in the Yan camp below. “Then guess again—who lives in that largest tent?”

Qingyun replied, “Who else could it be? Surely Murong Lin.”

He Yu shook his head slowly. “That’s not a given. If I were Murong Lin, I might not stay somewhere so conspicuous.”

Qingyun considered this. “You’re right—Murong Lin is cunning and may well avoid the main tent.”

He Yu agreed with her judgment, gripping the wall with both hands. “From the current situation, Murong Lin will have a hard time taking this city. But to capture Murong Lin and Murong Shao ourselves will not be easy.”

His meaning was plain: holding Pingcheng was victory enough for Tuoba Yan, Cui Liang, and the others. But for He Yu and Qingyun, their true wish was to take the heads of Murong Lin and Murong Shao, to avenge Deng’er, Chen Jing, and their kin from Chenjiawu. If Murong Lin saw defeat and withdrew, losing the support of Wei, vengeance would become nearly impossible.

To exact their revenge, they needed a plan to shatter the Yan army and, in the resulting chaos, strike down Murong Lin and Murong Shao. Yet the armies were deadlocked, the enemy outnumbering them three to one; to attack rashly would be folly. Moreover, He Yu was unwilling to risk others’ lives for his own vendetta. Even if he were willing, wise leaders like Tuoba Yan and Cui Liang would never allow such reckless action.

Qingyun understood He Yu’s thoughts and sighed softly. “He Lang, do not grieve. One cannot fight the powers that be. To pit ourselves alone against the Yan traitors, the odds are slim. Even if we cannot kill Murong Lin and Shao, so long as they suffer grievous losses, I believe our loved ones will understand in the afterlife.”

Stopping Murong Lin from taking Pingcheng would be a great vengeance in itself, though it could not match the satisfaction of taking their heads. With both armies still facing off, there might yet be a chance.

He Yu rested his hand on the city wall, lost in thought.

“Leader He, Madam Chen, you are here as well.”

Turning, they saw that Tuoba Yan had approached quietly. Today she wore a suit of crimson soft armor, her beauty even more dazzling.

“Your Highness,” they both greeted, bowing.

Tuoba Yan returned their salute and waved her attendants away, smiling warmly. “No need for such courtesy, Leader He, Madam Chen. Military matters have kept me busy these days, and I fear I’ve been a poor host. Are you both comfortable here in Pingcheng?”

She spoke sincerely. Her brother, Tuoba Gui, had entrusted Pingcheng to her care—a tremendous responsibility. Should the city fall, the capital Shengle would be lost, and Northern Wei, not united within, would likely fall into chaos. Since taking command, Tuoba Yan had worked diligently, scarcely resting, and was noticeably thinner. Only now, with the situation stabilized, did her spirits lift.

“Thank you, Your Highness, for your hospitality. We are well,” He Yu and Qingyun replied.

“Good, very good. Without your aid, Leader He, I truly would not have known what to do,” Tuoba Yan said with a smile.

Her beauty was remarkable to begin with; today, in such high spirits, her laughter seemed to make all the flowers of the world bloom in the sunlight.