—You, come here!

The Ghost Whisperer recovered from the horse stance and silently left the line. The cold winds of the steppes’ Tenth Moon plundered past, blowing a slicing pain on his empty right wrist.

—The battle training will be finished tomorrow. What are your plans, Black Dog?

He dropped his head in silence. Stabs of pain throbbed beneath his sweaty armpits.

—Or is it like how we said before—the armory workshops just beside your sister’s. I had a word with them. When they’re not busy, they’ll let you go back to live for a few days.

He lightly and resolutely shook his head. The heavy dog chains trailed in the shake, making the clinks and clanks of metallic rust.

—I know you’re unreconciled. But look at yourself, a mute, your hand also crippled. Not this. Then what? (The training captain’s usual icy gaze also seemed to soften.) Sometimes, a man needs to learn to keep a backup plan.

The Ghost Whisperer bowed to his silhouette and returned to the column.

“Amur is going to be the first champion of the steppes!”

He wearily shut his eyes. Far away, the flapping of the great geese sounded gray and faint; ten of so feathers drifted down. Someone was cantering their horse along the Mei waters. Infant crying from the nomads’ yurts.

A pair of raven ink military boots stopped before his eyes. He lifted his eyes to look. It was a very young army officer, riding on a beautiful white horse. The eyes behind the silver blossom mask scrutinized him from the elevated position, looking especially radiant.

“You, lift your head.”

He pulled up the iron chains and examined the dark, gaunt Ghost Whisperer with great interest. His pliant whip had split out a silver thread, and the Ghost Whisperer’s neck was forced to extend a hefty stretch like a dog craning its neck, waiting for battle.

—He’s a mute. (The training captain opened his mouth from behind his back.) He hasn’t gotten a place yet; don’t you bully him.

The one on the horse laughed.

—Funny, I especially like mutes.

He inclined slightly, making hand signs before the Ghost Whisperer’s eyes. On his left hand, he had a huge thumb ring larger than his thumb by at least a whole loop.

The Ghost Whisperer knew this hand sign, but dared not to move. He stared vacantly at the three silver nvquay emblems on his arm—the symbol of the Ghost Army’s millenarian captains — until he made the gesture again in impatience:

“Follow me.”

The Ghost Whisperer followed in silence. The soft tail of the white horse swayed before him. Between the clinking of the horseshoes, there mixed another kind of light clinking. He gazed up from the earth looming of frosty mist, and saw, tied onto the tightly tucked military uniform, four varying-sized golden skulls.

~

“Settled in?”

The Ghost Whisperer’s ears shook, and he turned over somewhat awkwardly. This was an evening three days later, again the same army officer riding that white horse, with a snow-white longbow hanging from the horseback, but in his quiver instead obliquely sat a couple of black arrows.

The Ghost Whisperer nodded, and using his remaining left hand, answered along with lip signs: “I’ve learned a lot.”

“Tell me.”

He hesitated, then started “speaking” one stroke after another.

—Your title is Wind Chaser Thousand Slain, the youngest ever millenarian captain of Chienye.

—The Spring Sun Battalion which you command is one of the most battle fierce squadrons in the Ghost Army. You all have plenty of merits, but a terrible name: arrogance, fights, gambling, corruption, and various other scandals abound. In private, the others call you guys the “Crown Prince Army.”

—Your archery was personally taught by General Yujien. He likes you very much. He is your mastyer and father.

Qu Fongning squinted at his dog chains with utter disinterest in the gossip about himself. When the arduous “speech” was finally over, he laughed, swung the horsewhip, and brought him along.

~

Soundless under the twilight, Wolfbend Mountain looked cold and mysterious. The Ghost Whisperer held considerable fear towards this holy place of machine and devices; he had witnessed with his own eyes the scene of a crescent moon turret shooting out ballista munitions. A whole-zhang-height, curved moon-shaped turret pointed to the sky, while two soldiers actuated the trigger on the two sides. Rapidly, a black rain exploded like a gigantic dandelion. And in an instant, forty or so frantically escaping convicts from Mongus City dissolved into meat pulps. Like the thousands of other nomads, he had countless speculations about this otherworldly General Thousand Arms. But nothing compared to meeting him with his own eyes. There stood an enormous elevating cloud ladder by the training field, and twenty or thirty new man-height trebuchets laid out on the ground. The soldiers huddled by the trebuchets in twos and twos, and a number of technicians were explaining something. A round-faced young technician saw them and waved excitedly.

“Rosürr, what goods have you cooked up this time?”

Rosürr touched the back of his head and made a few bashful laughs. “I don’t have much credit, it’s all the General’s detailed plans. General!” he shouted at the commander’s podium high in the clouds, his voice taking along sparks and flames.

“Look at me,” said Qu Fongning, waving him to a halt. He backed up a few paces, and kicking on soaring steps, perfectly leaped onto the elevating ladder.

Soon, the cloud ladder mechanism rolled in motion. Gowned in the lord commander’s cloak, a beautiful youth in a wheelchair gradually descended. His countenance glacial and his entire body sprawling a gloom isolating beyond a thousand li. The northern winds of the tenth moon were cold, but this young general was ten times colder than the wintry gusts.

“Only know mischief all day. Don’t you want those hooves anymore?” he started icily.

“I want to see you sooner,” said Qu Fongning, giggling.

Little Ting’yu obviously received this well. Though he humphed, his brows relaxed instead. Qu Fongning asked about the matter of the trebuchets, and Little Ting’yu bid people to demonstrate on one side and signed on the other,” I’ve modeled this after predecessors. Apart from long distance projectiles, they can also be used for civil construction. But everything has their pros and cons; to withstand such a large force, the spinal column must be this heavy.” He pointed at the iron spine on the taut body of the mechanism. “Our men’s average distribution of weight is already a large issue. With this on top, it’s really overstretching the burden.”

A trebuchet entered the launching track. The soldiers filled in the stone cannon and unleashed the rope tie. A rumbling boom. The stone cannon made a rainbow-like arc and vanished by the horizon. After a good while, there came an explosive sound of landing from the distance.

Qu Fongning had his tongue caught for a moment and suddenly chortled. “This sort of mighty siege weapons will be a real pity if they’re confined in the garrison. I’ve got a couple of big boys over at my place. You can use them all as you please.”

Little Ting’yu’s face instantly surged with delight and abruptly held still. “No. What about your iron hauling at the Rolling Clouds Mountains?”

“What’s the use of crude iron? Only you can turn rocks into true gold with your hands.” Qu Fongning chuckled.

Little Ting’yu paused and shook his head, smiling.

“Fongning, sometimes I really feel… you are the gift sent to me from the heavens.”

Qu Fongning laughed and soon spun his face back stern. “Our friendship has no need for words, as long as you know it in your heart. If Princes Allonby and them hear it, they are going to mock you again.”

“I can speak as I like. What can others do to me?” Little Ting’yu sneered, lifted his eyes, and noticed the Ghost Whisperer standing bowed and silent beside him. He studied him and frowned. “Why did you take this guard? Ghost head and haunt face, letting all your swagger down.”

“Nothing so much better. I’ve got too much swagger myself,” Qu Fongning laughed. He swiveled for a finger snap, and Rosürr ran over in heaves and gasps. “I’ve, I’ve maintained it for you. I’m afraid, it’s bad to carry it on the body, it’s been soaked in the armory, pool.” As he spoke, he passed over a dark sheathed short sword, and added, “Not to unsheathe, within, three days.”

“Only you got this many rules,” Qu Fongning said with a chuckle. He panned it around his hand for two spins, and with a clank, the icy blade left the sheath.

“Look, General Thousand Arms doesn’t like you either. Best if I kill you!”

A rush of freezing, nailing chill assaulted his neck. The Ghost Whisperer remained motionless in stillness until Little Ting’yu laughed and patted down his hand.

~

When they returned to the city, the sun had already fallen behind the western hills. In the outpouring of human waves from the army, a dozen ruffian looking individuals strutted out in mighty pomposity, and enthusiastically surrounded Qu Fongning’s sides. A baldy sat on a horse’s ass, reporting, “Boss, the little mustachio Baden smashed the account books in public today, and berated us for falsifying the balances and acting smart. Saying when General Yujien comes back, he’s going to report the truth, and let him whip us lawless abjects to tears.”

“The little mustachio is growing more muddled with the years. He doesn’t even understand who the law is in this city, and dares to howl against the old boy?” Qu Fongning tsked, and snapped a crack with his horsewhip. “Roll out! Take you all to some lawlessness!”

The horde answered in a ringing boom and bustled away with the white horse. The Ghost Whisperer also followed in silence, throwing away the whispers of “The crown prince is still as cocky,” “The Spring Sun Battalion’s dogs barking with the owners’ swagger,” “Really youthful frivolity,” utterly behind his head.

~

Nien House’s wine warmed sweetly in the winter, but their business wasn’t much in boom. On a careful look, the center bar was tightly squeezed by a crowd of soldiers, tipsy and hot on their ears. Yelling and howling, the wine and liquor dropping across the floor, two fellows with muscles as hard as steel were rubbing their fist and honing their palm, starting the arm wrestle. The other customers grimaced in dismay, and very few dared to sit by their side.

Qu Fongning’s one shiny boot stepped onto the bar.

“All drunk and cheery?” came insidiously.

The other knew to shut up in his presence. Only Uighshön was unfazed and stuck out his chest and belly for a howl, “Cheery!”

“Know what time it is?” Qu Fongning said coolly.

Uighshön pushed his boot aside. “Yeah, yeah, isn’t it just a name call? Your honor can take care of matters as big as the sky. Would you be afraid of a little assessment?”

The words unfinished—“Ayo!”—he had been kicked headfast to the ground. Qu Fongning fixed him down on one foot. “The boss hasn’t got nothing to do all day; I better put in full-time to wipe your dogs’ asses, yeah? You motherfucker dare to give me this on the battlefield, and this old boy will be first to butcher you!”

The troops witnessed his sudden fury and hurried to fix their dress and stand at attention. Only Cher Bien swung the dice and grinned at Uncle Hwei. “See, the way he curses, exactly one to one like the other.”

Uncle Hwei nodded in profound agreement and made some hand signs. Cher Bien lauded, “Your honor’s right, the father is the son’s mirror, every move and gesture… argh! My bad! My bad! No more, no more!”

Qu Fongning recovered Watering Chill, lifted his leg and gave him a kick. “Scram back to the account books.” And he backhanded for a hook of the dog chains, pulling the Ghost Whisperer to the counter.

Uighshön was oinking and honking on the ground, but his face changed at the sight of the Ghost Whisperer. “Boss, this…where did this one come from?”

Uighshön’s jowl of a face was twitching palely, somewhat in terror. “Your honor don’t know? That chain of his is… the punishment for patricide.” He lowered his voice. “Rumor says that is the true god’s artifact for sealing evil spirits, the most ominous matter on the steppes. Back in Mongus City, none of us dared be near his body.”

Another soldier appeared even more frightened and retreated farther away, as if evading the plague. “We heard…heard he was only ten at the time. When his father was discovered, his lower body was all hacked to mush. Boss, it’s best if your honor… don’t get too close to him.”

Qu Fongning sounded a long “Oh—” and returned to examine the Ghost Whisperer. “I really couldn’t tell. You’re so thin and wan but actually have this much courage.” He extended over his hand and patted his shoulder.

The Ghost Whisperer rooted in place like a cedar, his expression still impassive.

“What is the big deal of a chain? Being a dog for your Captain Qu is what you call better dead than alive,” someone interjected sinisterly from the back. Whence the perfumed winds came, walked in a gracefully beautiful youth with a small wine pot, like a frail willow swaying in the breeze.

Qu Fongning watched him with a smile on the corner of his eye. “Little Hanr, haven’t seen you for a few days, your teeth have sharpened even more. Pity a mouthful of dainty teeth, how come you just don’t know how to speak the human tongue?”

Nien Hanr smiled as well, stroking a bud of Stellera by his locks. “My lips are stupid, be it unavoidable that the words they say are a little strident.” And leaning into Qu Fongning’s ear, he breathed, “Unlike the impressive Captain Qu, who pleases them all snug just by opening his mouth.”

Qu Fongning smiled deeply and also spoke low by his ears. “Big brother isn’t like you, who’s thinking all day how to please others. Oh, I almost forgot. The Crown Prince’s got a dainty wife on his side; even if you have the heart, you can’t offer it over.”

Nien Hanr paled, slammed down the wine pot, and spun to go. Qu Fongning chortled and instead chased in and close.

The Ghost Whisperer’s ears shifted; he watched the two vanish behind the cellar door and drooped his head back down.

Low laughter came through the blue cloth curtain. “Little Hanr, when have you ever won the lip game, how are you never over it?”

Nien Hanr grumbled, “Your lips have got a great mastyer for the teaching, naturally…hmph!” The voice was muffled as if something covered his mouth.

“How goes the manhunt?” He heard Qu Fongning low inquiry.

Nien Hanr paused for a moment and started coldly, “I asked someone to look over the things. They said it’s the elegant script of the ancient Shinran royalty, even the common nobility do not understand it. Where did you get this from?”

Qu Fongning said in muse, “Royalty? Written with such elusion, there must be some secrets. Without further ado, find a translator with all speed.”

“Really taking yourself as the lordling? I take no orders from you!” The cracks of Nien Hanr’s teeth seeped of ice.

“Be good. Our Little Hanr is the most capable. Big brother really admires you and will give you something nice on this completion.” Shifts of footsteps, obviously exiting the cellar.

Nien Hanr snickered behind him and opened his mouth, “Do you know, why your martial god of a general hasn’t come home all this time?”

“Why?” Qu Fongning’s military boots halted. “Isn’t he making a detour at Bailan to discuss the silk trade?”

Nien Hanr tsked, “So you don’t know yet? Aiya, you’ve been with him for this long; by right, you should be the first to know of his impending marriage.”

“He is going to marry… marry who?” Qu Fongning’s voice suddenly changed.

Nien Hanr’s voice changed as well, full of slimy viscosity, like a snake that’d caught its prey. “Naturally, she’s a crowning beauty more stunning than the entire steppes. Have you heard of Princess Herr Chuan of the Bailan Path? She’s got unequaled crafty hands; the noble men and women of the various nations can boost even on receiving a single square of her weaves. But the cloud cloak which she spent three years weaving is now right on Yujian Tianhung’s shoulders. Rumor says they had an agreement: as long as the cloak is not taken off in Chienye territory, it means Yujien Tianhung is willing to marry her.”

He drew a long breath, but the glee in his voice was hard to suppress: “Augh, somebody went through a thousand trials and hardships, used so many despicable methods, and finally climbed onto his bed, now must watch as it changes the owner. What are we to do? Little big brother Qu?”

He spoke coyly; as he called the names, it was almost a tone to a lover. Yet the malevolence in the words was unheard of. Suddenly, a shrill scream, full of shame and anger, “—What are you doing?”

Qu Fongning’s voice rang mildly, “Feeling if your item is still there. Little Nien Sis, everything’s all good in this life of yours, only you’ve gotten the male part wrong.”

The sound of army boots coming up from the cellar. His mocking voice rang behind the curtains, “If you were to spend a half of the thoughts you have on men, perhaps your mother wouldn’t have died so horribly.”

With that said, he sided his shoulders and ducked aside a flying distilling board from the cellar, and strode away like walking with the stars.

Uighshön had sat up. As soon as he saw him out, he instantly flopped back down and crawled on the floor. Qu Fongning didn’t spare him a glance, only lightly sketched with his lips, “Weight-bearing a hundred li. The last man gets twenty poles.” Before pole had fallen, the troops all scrambled towards the door, rushing to roll out, and in the blink of an eye, disappeared by the horizon.

Qu Fongning made a hook with the horsewhip and took the Ghost Whisperer back to the battalion grounds, tossed him a roll of yurt and told him to make do for a few days. He instead rushed to the eastern battalion and halted before a stand with three, five huge eagles, searched for a good while, and then inquired something at the sentry.

“No, Captain,” the soldier answered clearly; “There aren’t any messages.”

Qu Fongning voiced a light oh and stooped into his own black battalion yurt. A long time later, came his evened breathing.

~

On the second day, before light, the battalion grounds already started a hubbub. Qu Fongning came out of the yurt, yawning and snapping, “What’s with the ruckus so early?”

From the black swarm of soldiers, a rites official fought to free himself and hailed, “This subordinate is conducting on General Yujien’s order to present gifts to Captain Qu.”

The Ghost Whisperer also left his yurt and stood at attention. At the words he lifted his eye. The rites official’s hands held in an enameled rosewood tray, on which placed some uniformly colored exotic fruits; Lusty redness piled high on the tray like strings after strings of fire red agates, crystal-clear exquisite, and shimmering like stars of jade.

As soon as Qu Fongning saw this, the jauntiness all across him instantly gained another three-fold. And, affectedly, he nipped a piece into his mouth. “When’s General coming back?”

“This subordinate left a step early. The General marches the army with godly speed, I suppose his honor must be only ten li away from the city by now,” replied the rites official.

Qu Fongning spat out a seed, even neglecting his coat, crossed onto the white horse’s red saddle, and galloped out of the battalion.

“Boss, what ‘bout these exotics?” yelled Uighshön, gulping his drool.

“Reward you all!” Qu Fongning answered with a swing of his whip.

He went for a long time. As Mao time approached, when the sun was breaking, the person and the horse at last slowly returned.

From a distance, the Ghost Whisperer at once knew something was wrong; his breathing was terribly uneven, and his throat trilled, like he was dying to stifle something. As he came closer, the Ghost Whisperer saw clearly, the hands beneath the military bow sleeve had curled into iron fists, with green veins exploded on hands’ banks, and the knuckles on the fingers all ashen. The fury was so intense, as it amassed until the point of dismounting, it had almost turned into the drive to kill.

And there had to be somebody who couldn’t read the air and vied in with the tray in hand, “Boss, the brothers kept these for you.”

Qu Fongning peered at him with a bone piercing glacial gaze, then with a sudden fling, shattered the tray into pieces, sending the red agate fruits tumbling all across the earth.

In an instant, a resounding silence befell the grounds. The crowd mutely watched each other, all shooting accusatory glances at the one holding the tray. The man gaped wide, pointing to himself, not knowing which part he did that wasn’t respectful enough, and was grieved almost to falling tears.

This man truly is wronged, the Ghost Whispered thought in silence.

He lifted his head from the ruler-grid column. Beneath the indigo nvquay-printed banners, the just returned martial god of the steppes was holding his lance, Flowing Fire, and directing his gaze to this direction.

And on his shoulders, a snow-white cloak fluttered like a fluffy cloud falling on a black lake.