Qu Fongning had already made a spectacle of himself, and now, holding in a breath full of foul air, he stormed toward the Ulan campgrounds. But the guards at the camp were no pushovers. He was stopped behind a barricade of spears and glaives, only allowed into the central ger after he managed to reach Cher Vei through a contact.

To his surprise, Cher Baochi’s stance was unyielding. He rejected both soft words and hard threats, throwing down the belt saber on the spot, maintaining that the adulteress may be spared, but the adulterer must die—and not by any swift execution. He must savor his death, slow and piecemeal.

Qu Fongning lowered his head, apologizing for the greater half of the day. In the end, he had no better plans but to grit his teeth and bring up the fact that he had once risked his life to save Cher Vei. Never in his life had he leaned on a favor. As soon as the words left his mouth, even the back of his head turned red, he was so ashamed he would rather dig his head into a hole. Cher Vei offered weak support from the side, but this father and son had never been close. His fumbling words amounted to little more than, “Mother never liked these seductive women, his elder brother is also consoling mom,” and such.

Cher Baochi paced barefoot across the Persian carpet, squinting in thought. Then he suddenly scowled and shook his massive head. “Captain Qu, let’s keep matters separate. Old Cher is grateful you saved this little rascal. If you want gold or women, come to me anytime. But if you’re the one who stuck his cock in that bitch, I’ll let it go. That other brute though? He has no favor to trade—just takes off his pants and sticks his balls in my woman. If it were you, could you take it?”

Qu Fongning listened to the irrational rant, knowing all hope of negotiation was lost. He stepped back and begged for a chance to see Gerrgu. To this, Cher Baochi agreed readily and even personally sent guards to escort him to the place of imprisonment. At a glance, it was the underground iron jail where the military kept serious felons. His four limbs were chained to the bars, his clothing in tatters, though he remained conscious. Qu Fongning quickly asked for water. Gerrgu roused himself to drink, his eyes bloodshot.

“They didn’t hit hard, it doesn’t hurt! Don’t cry, little brother. What about her?” he consoled him. “General Cher said he won’t be hard on Madam Danki,” Qu Fongning replied quietly. Gerrgu nodded. “That’s good,” he said, and then cracked a faint smile at him, “Brother Gerrgu can’t keep his words —can’t go back to Little Sparrow Mountain with you anymore!”

Qu Fongning held it in and finished feeding the water, when he left the underground prison, his eyes were so red he could barely see the road. He rode through the night, headed for Wolfbend Mountain.

“I’ll go to General Cher right away,” Little Ting’yu said as soon as he heard the news. “But… Cher Vei and I have some history. He might not grant me this favor.”

He wheeled himself to the Great Ulan Ger. Cher Baochi was polite enough, but resolute about the death sentence, and since General Thousand Arms had raised his voice, he would be made free of living punishments. Ting’yu, sensitive to tone from a lifetime in a wheelchair, would have left at the first sign of refusal—if this were his own request. But knowing it was Qu Fongning’s plea, he persisted, speaking many words of appeal.

Cher Baochi sighed deeply. He shuffled over on his enormous belly, tucked Ting’yu’s blanket in gently, then turned the wheelchair toward the door. “Good nephew! Your Uncle Ulan really has no other way with this matter,” he said, patted his shoulder, and order him to be sent away.

Little Ting’yu misunderstood, and thought Madam Danki must be his favorite concubine and he couldn’t swallow in his pride. If so, nothing could be done. He went back and explained and saw Qu Fongning’s face going white and also felt terrible. Then, as if remembering something, Ting’yu brightened. “Wait—Fongning, did you forget? General Yujien and General Cher are sworn brothers. They’re close. You just need to ask him to give him a word, and won’t it be all fine?”

Qu Fongning’s eyes pulsed with rancor. “He wants me to beg him, I ain’t giving him that satisfaction,” this sentence was let out through the cracks of his teeth.

Little Ting’yu watched his decided look, was briefly taken aback, and laughed. “You’re a family, what’s with the beg or not? And they say some close father and son, and you just spite and bicker all day!” He waved his hand and shooed him towards the City of Ghosts.

~

Qu Fongning returned to his yurt for the night. By daybreak, with no alternative remaining, he forced himself toward the main pavilion. For three years he had walked this path, but never had it felt so interminable—each pace as arduous as traversing a thousand mountains and ten thousand li. He got to the mountain base checkpoint with weighted step, but the guard intercepted him at his path, barring passage. “Trespassing the Commander General’s Great Pavilion—identify yourself!” barked the guard captain.

Qu Fongning raised his head, dazed. “Spring Sun Battalion, Li Ignis Division…” he began, then faltered. The words “Captain of the Ninth Team” caught in his throat and would not come out.

The guard captain obviously didn’t believe him and pointed the spear tip at his chest. “Where’s your uniform? Your mask? Shoulder and arm badges? You claim affiliation, but bear no proof. How do I know you’re of the Eight Divisions?”

Qu Fongning dropped his head and took a look at himself, there was nothing on his body to prove his identity, and he had to hold his breath. “I came in haste. There wasn’t time to dress properly. I ask for your leniency,” he said.

The guard’s eyes narrowed, then softened slightly, and pointed the spear slightly upwards. “Papers,” he demanded.

“Papers?” Qu Fongning echoed, bewildered.

The captain’s expression turned to disbelief. “Any soldier of lower rank wishing to see the Commander General must pass three reviews and six checks by Military Affairs and carry Article Papers. You speak like someone trained—but how do you not know this?”

Qu Fongning had leapfrogged for audience no less than a thousand times, not once did he not ram straight in, since when would he know such convoluted procedures? “I have urgent matters for the Commander General, might you grant an exception?” he bowed and said.

“Even the Emperor himself wouldn’t pass without approval from Military Affairs,” the guard captain refused resolutely. Finding his tone imploring, his tone softened somewhat, “If you have something to report, you should report to your immediate superior. The foot soldier’s request would not reach them in no less than ten days or half a month. If it’s a commander, deputy commander, and a Centurion Captain, the Military Affairs won’t put it aside so easily. What’s your current rank?”

Qu Fongning had never imagined such bureaucratic rigor. He opened his mouth and said, “I…,” and only then remembered: he had resigned the day before, and his resignation had already been accepted. Speechless, he thought bitterly that he should have waited a few more days to burn his junior marshal’s uniform.

The guard captain shook his head, stepped back, and raised his spear at him once more. Left with no choice, Qu Fongning turned and began to leave. Just as he went along the path, the guard captain came after him and said quietly, “Your Spring Sun Battalion’s got someone called Qu Fongning currently on the Ninth Team. This one’s got a big act, but he’s not a bad person. He has close connections with the Commander General, maybe he’ll pass a word for you. When you’re looking for him, look for the one with the silver mask.”

Qu Fongning paused, nearly laughing aloud at the irony. Fortunately, two senior guards from Sky Gale Cliff, returning from a supply run, recognized him from their time in food service and intervened. The captain, stunned by the coincidence, looked at him anew. Qu Fongning thanked him curtly, and thought, “Now I wouldn’t know pathetic I must look in other’s eyes.” As he thought, his resentment towards Yujien deepened.

Having gotten on the Cliff after a thousand troubles, Yujien was not in the ger. Qu Fongning stood waiting outside the pavilion, frustration mounting. “Morning drills are over. Even practice is done. Where is he? Lounging in some woman’s bed, no doubt.” The bitter thought surged in his chest, unrelenting. The chill morning mountain gales of the Tenth Month pierced trough the bones, but Qu Fongning stood his ground for nearly an hour, numb to the cold.

At last, the guards let him into the pavilion. His hands and feet were frozen stiff, his eyes bloodshot, his complexion iron green. He waited a moment longer in the ger before he saw Yujien —shirt open, lance in hand, sweat soaking his chest and back, breeches tight to his thighs. Entering, Yujien dropped Flowing Fire, drank deeply from a leather skin, sat in the Wolfhead throne, loosened two buttons, and finally glanced at him.

“Looking for me?”

Qu Fongning had intended to remain stoic, but he was in need of a favor. He could only draw a shallow breath, barely audible.

Yujien gave him no reprieve, and repeated clearly, “Yes or no?”

Qu Fongning’s shoulders twitched with suppressed rage. But he didn’t dare refuse. “Yes,” he bit out.

Yujien reclined back in the seat, crossed one leg and dangled up and down. “Do you know what crime your sworn brother has committed?”

Qu Fongning fixed his gaze to the ground, willing himself deaf. “It’s the offense of… of…”

“Of what?” Yujien’s tone sharpened.

Qu Fongning broke. He turned toward the door, ready to abandon it all. “To hell with Gerrgu. I don’t want nothing no more! I’m going back South with Uncle Hwei!” he thought.

But Yujien’s voice came, calm and cold. “Gerrgu, a rank-and-file soldier, consorted with a general’s wife. That’s a defiance of military order. General Cher has summoned the nobles and commanders of Chienye to witness his execution by a thousand cuts.”

At the words “a thousand cuts,” Qu Fongning bit down so hard he tasted blood. He halted, turned, and looked at Yujien.

“Can you… please… can you please save him?” His voice trembled.

Yujien leaned on one armrest, white sleeves folding. “I can’t hear you clearly.”

Qu Fongning shuffled back like a wandering ghost. “Can you please save my brother?” he said hoarsely.

Yujien lifted his eyes at him. “You’re asking here? Is this an order? Or a request?”

Qu Fongning held his fist white and pale, couldn’t imagine how much more of his dignity he would step on. By this point, how was he going to take out the attitude of a plea? He saw Yujien’s thumb ring shift—his body suddenly seemed to sprout full of spikes. “If he is going to hold this over me to touch me, I’ll drive a knife over right now,” he tought

But Yujien merely reached for a commander’s uniform and tossed it over him, then cast a disinterested glance, obviously not admiring his solemn display. “Fine, no need to be so grim and tragic. I’ll have a talk with Brother Ulan in the evening. Ask him to let your brother out. Only this matter… Gerrgu is of fault; I can only promise him to live, I can’t guarantee anything else. Do you hear me?”

Qu Fongning never expected him to suddenly become a buddha. For a moment he couldn’t turn it around, stood stupidly for a while, before nodding quickly.

“If you heard clearly, then go.” Yujien said and waved his hand.

Qu Fongning was a moment nervous, a moment resentful, his heart fluttered up and down, his whole-body bathing in sweat, as if he just had an intense battle. His limbs had all gone limp.

Yujien watched him staying still.

“Anything else?”

Qu Fongning couldn’t be more familiar with his tone of dismissal. When they were still intimate, that was how Yujien dismissed Erdun and Suerhu out of the ger at the time to retire. He even did so to the one as noble as the national sovereign, King Andai. He would be eating snacks on the grand bed waiting for Yujien, and be only happy and full of delight to hear it. How would he imagine having the same treatment befalling on him one day? He fell silent for a moment, before starting blanking, “No. Your… I’ll take my leave.”

As he turned and went off a few steps, Yujien called once again from his back, “Hold.” And he ordered a guard outside, “Fitch Captain Qu’s clothes.”

Qu Fongning stayed in place, not understanding his intention. Soon, the clothes arrived. It was a half-new uniform he had left here at the dawn of spring this year. Yujien ordered it to be brought before him with a green wood mask.

“Wear this on the way down,” Yujien said. “Avoid questions.”

Qu Fongning had to put it on. The suit was neat and ironed, and the insignias weighed heavily on his shoulders. As he went down, truly, no one took another look at him. When he returned to the battalion grounds, Cher Bien and Uighshön rushed to surround him, bombarding him with questions about Gerrgu. Qu Fongning calmed all around and sat down to eat with them. When he loosened his collar, he sniffed the crisp, clean scent of meticulously ironed fabric. This was the unique scent that suffused Yujien’s sleeping quarters, from the bed coverings, to blankets, to his uniforms and inner clothes. Qu Fongning shook the arm badges, watching the fires, his heart heavy and restless. “If I just give everything up and walk away, can I really leave it all behind?”

~

That night, ushered into the Ulan ger, he found Cher Vei already waiting furtively at the side. As soon as seeing him dismounting, he immediately grabbed him towards the back of the ger and whispered cheerily, “The warden sent word—my father agreed to release!”

The stone in Qu Fongning’s chest dropped. “Thank you!” he said sincerely, holding his hand.

Cher Vei looked awkward. He coughed. “I couldn’t say much. It was General Yujien who came this afternoon and asked for a few words of favors.” He patted his arm. “What I owe you is still what I owe you,” he said. Seeing Agula approaching with a wobbling head, he said no more, and swiftly withdrew.

Qu Fongning waited until the evening feast and was finally called into the center ger. Gerrgu was bound hand and foot, kneeling front and center in the ger, looking wan and gaunt with eyes sunken. Madam Danki knelt beneath Cher Baochi’s head seat, her beauty dimmed, her sheer dress swept the ground, her tears dried. Cher Baochi sat gloomily on the head seat, when the guests all sat down and prepared to watch this spectacle, he finally stormed down, not giving a look to ashen-faced Danki, stopped before Gerrgu and kicked him square his chest. “Filthy bastard! Screwing in the same place as the lord!”

The other never had much respect for him to begin with, hearing him open his mouth, laughter rippled across the space. Cher Baochi drove another kick. “Screwed all comfortable, ah? Other people’s meat smells better, ah?” The laughter from the two sides echoed endlessly, the sounds of tables slamming and cups clanging rose and fall. Gerrgu’s tower-like figure fell unnaturally to the ground with two green bruises on his chest, looking especially in pain.

When Cher Baochi was going to kick again, Yujien raised his voice from the leftmost seat. “Brother Ulan, enough.”

By this, Cher Baochi finally paused his gestures and spat at Gerrgu. “You animal sullied my beloved concubine. A thousand slices would not suffice the hatred in my heart. If General Yujien didn’t speak on your behalf, I’d to carve out your bones and broil you into a meat soup for the dogs!” he snarled irritably.

Suerhu laughed, cradling a maid. “Old Cher, this is where you are wrong. You have at least eight hundred, if not a thousand, women at your place. What’s wrong with letting other people having a taste? You’ve only got one belly. Can you eat it all?”

Cher Baochi spat. “Even if this lord won’t eat it all, can I have them sit pretty?” He walked back and forth, giving Danki a dirty look. “I clothed you in gold and silks, and you lay with the first brute who came. Sleeping with this thing!”

The others laughed and giggled, not taking this seriously at all, and even started jeering. “Already slept together. So what?”

“What is there to do? Yujien vouched for him. Can I really kill him now?” he scoffed, and waved his hand as if waving away bad luck. “Enough, enough. Get out of my sight.” he said with disgust.

Qu Fongning had long waited by the side, and hearing this, rushed out to help Gerrgu loosen the hand and feet bounds. Finding his ankles swollen, he kowtowed towards Cher Baochi, and took him upon his back.

Going only three steps, he heard Cher Baochi calling from his back, “What? Done fun with my women, and not going to own up?”

Qu Fongning had a pause and stopped in his track. And found Cher Baochi pointing at Danki, fury in his face. “This woman made me wear such a tall green hat. Would I keep her? You all just ate and wiped your mouth and patted your ass to go. What does this mean? Fine, you don’t want it? Men, send Danki to the military brothel!” he shouted.

Gerrgu hadn’t yet processed what happened, Qu Fongning already swiftly guided him to kneel. “Thank you, General Cher, for your generosity.”

Cher Baochi clicked his tongue, didn’t spare him a glance, and gruffly waved them off. The others watched his frustrated, brooding look, and laughed even more uncontrollably.

“Brother Ulan,” Yujien said, laughing, “you’re letting go of a treasure.”

“What treasure, just throwing away a tramp,” said Cher Baochi, waving away, and directed at Danki. “You’ve done such despicable things, you’re not to take anything you’re wearing away! However you were, you’re leaving however you came!”

Danki never expected to live. How would she care about any wearables? She banged her head on the ground repeatedly, hair disheveled.

Yujien said calmly, “We can’t have our hands empty at Brother Ulan’s sumptuous reception. Gerrgu, I name you the Deputy Captain of Spring Sun Battalion, Li Ignis Division. All wedding expenses shall be carried by Military Affairs. Do not mistreat the madam.”

Gerrgu just had his feet step beyond death, suddenly hearing the good news, he almost couldn’t believe it. His whole body petrified for a moment before reawaking, he was so overjoyed his mouth opened, and suddenly collapsed to the ground and gave Yujien a dozen kowtows, and then frantically kowtowed to Cher Baochi.

The audience witnessed a torture display becoming a wedding service, got rowdy and slammed the tables, laughing and cheering. Yujien saw Danki kneeling beneath the steps, afraid to move, Gerrgu also not daring to come forth, and thus got up to help her up, and said gently, “You may go!”

As soon as Danki was enveloped in his scent, her breathing quickened and her cheeks flushed, her beautiful eyes turned sensual, and suddenly held her face tight, cannot move another step.

Qu Fongning saw her snow-white hands shaking ceaselessly and thought, “Madam Danki is finally getting her wish.” He sensed Yujien’s brows shifting and saw him passing Danki to waiting maids, and Gerrgu was escorted away with guards. He was about to bid his farewells, and found Cher Baochi reproaching him with a cup of wine in his hand, “Captain Qu, General Yujien went on great lengths for this brother of yours. You should at least make a toast, eh?”

How would Qu Fongning be wiling to toast him? But for Cher Baochi’s favor, he reluctantly walked before Yujien’s seat, and cast his eyes aside, not going forward.

“How could I expect his toast? It’s only right to do anything I can; I owe him,” said Yujien lightly. He raised his eyes at Qu Fongning. “Right?”

“I know, right? Being dads, we all owe these ancestors because of fate,” remarked Che Baochi, and hurried, “Pour the drink, pour the drink! Fill your dad up!”

Qu Fongning could not think of anything and drew up his sleeves with a thousand reluctances. Suddenly, the corner of his eyes got a glance of a slender, flat-bellowed vessel sitting beneath the diaz, blood red inside, grape wine offerings from the west. Yujien loathed this the most in his life, calling it “Women’s liquor,” because of its rouge colors and femineity. Seeing this, an idea took hold, he lowered and picked up the bottle, and poured slenderly into a tall-legged jade cup and filled to the rim.

Yujien watched knowingly but said nothing, when he finished pouring, he said, “I also have one matter.”

Qu Fongning’s skin stirred, he smelled the scent of danger and all the spikes on his body propped up once again, and fixed his eyes at him stiffly.

Yujien also met his gaze, amused. “You can refuse.”

Qu Fongning stood by his seat, his legs away from him in only an arm’s length. Seeing him about to loop him in between his legs, he couldn’t help drawing a fist.

Yujien waited for him to brace up the air of defense and finally pointed towards the outside with a smile. “You can take that horse of yours. It’s waited long enough for its owner.”

Outside, Wind Chase stood beneath the moon, in the scarlet saddle with the Frosty bow on its back, her hair snow-white, clean and stately. The amber eyes met his. She raised a hoof and sneezed.

Qu Fongning’s resentment cracked, at this moment, he knew he was all wrong. Emotion caught in his throat, no words emerged. He turned and walked away.

Cher Baochi finally came before Yujien’s seat, watching Qu Fongning’s back going far away. “All that effort for nothing, and still didn’t coax your good son back?” he quipped.

Yujien drew back his gaze and laughed. “What is there to do? Owe him,” he said, and held his shoulders. “Brother Ulan, much appreciated to you this time. The twenty virgins are already on their way.”

Cher Baochi grinned sleazily and licked his tongue. “I’ve got plenty of women. But the girl who danced on the silver bowl from Old Sha’s—Palis, right? Didn’t Brother Andai gift her to you?”

Yujien instantly understood. “I’ll sent her over in a moment,” he said graciously.

Cher Baochi had been coveting Palis for a long time, his face glowed with glee, but had to say, “The hummingbird of Ikh Zuugiin, and you give her away so lightly? How could I possibly…?”

“So what even if I must give you the entire Ikh Zuugiin Federation?”

His gaze fell back beyond the ger. He raised his cup, sipped the crimson wine, furrowed his brows—then smiled and downed the drink.