King Xiyan of Xiqiang had not attended court for five days in a row. He had shut himself away in the innermost chambers of the palace and refused to see anyone.
Most of the meals sent in by the attendants were carried out untouched. The only thing that disappeared, time and again, was the wine.
The court had descended into uproar.
The Xiqiang court was divided into three factions. The war faction, led by General Feng Yuan, believed that although the Dayan army was powerful, Xiqiang held the advantage of terrain. The Huangshui Valley was narrow, making it difficult for Dayan’s vast army to deploy. By holding the strategic passes, they could still put up a fight.
“If the Dayan people want war, then let them come!” Feng Yuan had slammed his fist on the table in court. “The Huangshui Valley will be their grave! We, Xiqiang, have the advantage of terrain. We still have a chance to fight!”
The peace faction was led by Chancellor Zhao Chongli. They believed that Xiqiang had no chance of winning, and that clashing head-on with Dayan would merely mean using the lives of ordinary people to fill a hole that was doomed never to be filled.
After losing three cities and witnessing the superior weapons of Dayan’s elite troops, the civil officials had become even more aware that Xiqiang was far inferior to Dayan in military strength. Its people were reluctant to fight, making this a doomed battle.
“Dayan’s weapons and equipment are far superior to Xiqiang’s. Fighting them head-on would only bring about our own destruction.” Zhao Chongli’s recommendation was, “We still have bargaining chips with which to negotiate with Dayan. If we go to war again, we’ll lose those chips.”
He cupped his hands toward several of Xiyan’s sons, especially giving Xi Yuanshan an extra glance. “Submit as a vassal and pay tribute, while retaining the title of king and becoming a subordinate state of the Dayan court. That would not be a bad choice.”
Xi Yuanshan pretended not to notice. Throughout the entire session, he brought only his ears; as for his mouth, what right did he have to speak?
Apart from the war faction and the peace faction, there was a third group in the court that remained silent. These were the noble lords of Xiqiang. Each held his own territory, with soldiers and provisions at his command. If the court won, they would follow along and take a share of the spoils. If the court lost, they would surrender to Dayan.
In any case, they had already realized that Xiqiang’s chances of victory were slim. Even if they surrendered, Dayan would not kill them. It would merely grant them official positions, estates, and residences, allowing them to remain wealthy and honored for the rest of their lives. This idea had spread widely among the nobles of Xiqiang, and many had long since made their calculations.
Unfortunately, they had calculated everything except whether Dayan’s ruler and ministers would leave themselves such a massive source of trouble. They had also failed to calculate whether Dayan’s goddess would grant them a path to survival.
Xiyan was growing old, and his control over the court had weakened considerably. With a great war approaching, he was caught between two sides, unable to offend either.
The war faction held the troops; the peace faction held the money. He could suppress neither one. His refusal to attend court for several days was less an attempt to devise a countermeasure than an act of escape.
It was not until the seventeenth day of the eighth month, when news reached Jincheng, that he was forced out of his chambers.
The vanguard of the Dayan army had already left Pingchang.
Chancellor Zhao Chongli personally brought the news to the palace. The chancellor, now in his sixties, did not wait outside the hall as he usually did. Instead, he marched straight into Xiyan’s chambers. When the attendants tried to stop him, he sent them sprawling with a sweep of his sleeve. Though Chancellor Zhao was a civil official, he was by no means incapable of fighting.
It could be said that among the Six States, anyone who could stand in court knew at least a few martial skills. This was not an age that favored frail scholars who could not even lift a chicken. The mainstream ideal among learned men of the era was to wage war on horseback and govern from behind a desk. If one insisted on describing the difference, it was simply that, as with scholarship, some were stronger and some weaker, some more accomplished and some less.
“Your Majesty!” Zhao Chongli stood at the entrance to the chamber, his voice hoarse. “The Dayan army has already reached the Huangshui Crossing. How much longer do you intend to drink in here?” Even if he had given up on himself, he could not go this far. Was he truly planning to wait until the Dayan army came knocking at the gates?
In the past, their ruler had raised his sons like poisonous insects in a Southern Zhao gu pot. It was not that the clear-sighted officials had failed to notice. As chancellor, Zhao Chongli had repeatedly offered him subtle remonstrances.
Unfortunately, their ruler had once been a brilliant young sovereign, decisive and absolute in his authority. He believed in the law that the strong survived and the weak perished. How could he have listened to the cautious counsel of aging ministers?
Now, one prince had remained in Dayan for several years without returning. Another was as silent as a gourd with its mouth sawn shut. The remaining princes had certainly become more active over the past two years, but they were also capable of stirring up trouble. Many people had been dragged into the struggle of the succession because of them.
As chancellor, Zhao Chongli knew perfectly well that he himself was a succulent piece of meat, and that everyone wanted to drag him into their own bowl. He had been subjected to one attempt at recruitment after another by every faction, to the point of being thoroughly fed up.
Whenever he thought of the beautiful concubines and favored consorts that had appeared in his household over the past two years, Zhao Chongli frowned. How old was he now? Even if they gave him the finest beauties, he no longer had the teeth for them. His heart might be willing, but his body was powerless.
Xiyan raised his head from the couch. His eyes were bloodshot, and wine stained the corners of his mouth. He looked at Zhao Chongli for a long moment before finally recognizing him.
“Chancellor Zhao,” he said, as though his mouth were full of phlegm. “Has Dayan really attacked?”
Xiyan himself could not understand how matters had reached this point in little more than two years. The emperors he had known had died one after another, and nations had fallen one after another.
Now it was finally the turn of what remained of Xiqiang’s territory.
“It shouldn’t have happened like this!” He patted his head. “These past few days, I’ve had a dream. In the dream, it was clearly Dayan that was supposed to be devoured by several of us. It was clearly my Xiqiang that was supposed to swallow the whole of Lianzhou, as well as most of Yizhou and Quanzhou. How did it…”
Zhao Chongli was helpless. He did not believe a word of his ruler’s delusional rambling, yet he could not help sighing inwardly. With a touch of impertinence, he interrupted Xiyan in a grave voice.
“Your Majesty, dreams are always the opposite of reality!”
“The opposite?” A flicker of bewilderment crossed Xiyan’s increasingly aged face.
Looking at the king he had served for more than twenty years, Zhao Chongli suddenly felt a deep sorrow.
Their ruler was not truly trying to neglect his duties. He simply knew too well that Xiqiang could not win, especially after several other countries had fallen one after another. He had already prepared himself for that possibility.
But being prepared was one thing. Being unwilling to admit defeat and wanting to make one last desperate struggle, while also refusing to drag everyone else down with him, was another. The torment of being trapped between those two impulses was more agonizing than pure fear.
And most of all, Xiyan could not bring himself to admit defeat to that old acquaintance of his—to Emperor Mingxi Xie Fei, whom Xiyan had always believed inferior to himself.
“Your Majesty…” Zhao Chongli lowered his voice. “The Dayan army has already set out. This is no longer a question of whether we want to fight. It is a question of how we are going to fight.”
Or whether they should surrender outright. He wanted to say that, but before Xiqiang suffered its first defeat, their ruler might not be willing to listen.
