"Three strikes and you're out. The first two times I let it slide, but this time, think carefully before you speak, Madam."
Pei Ying's breath hitched. In that moment, countless explanations flashed through her mind, only for her to dismiss them one by one as flawed.
Huo Tingshan didn’t rush her. Instead, he idly played with her hand, his gaze drifting from her pink-tipped fingers upward until it settled on her fluttering lashes. Her features were exquisite—her eyes like clear pools reflecting stars, or like the first bloom of crabapple after a misty spring rain. Even her lashes were unusually thick, and when she looked at someone, her gaze was always soft, mirroring her gentle demeanor.
The woman in his arms trembled visibly, betraying her unease. Perhaps she was struggling to confess, or perhaps she was crafting yet another lie. Huo Tingshan wasn’t in a hurry; he was content to enjoy the warmth of jade in his embrace.
Pei Ying, indeed, had thought of many things. Her mind raced, and soon she reached a decision. Lifting her eyes, she forced herself to meet his gaze, trying not to appear too guilty. "The high-bridge saddle and stirrups... I didn’t learn of them from my late husband. It was an immortal who appeared to me in a dream one night and told me about them."
Huo Tingshan’s brows rose in surprise.
Of all the possibilities he had considered, this was not one of them.
An immortal’s dream revelation?
Huo Tingshan didn’t believe in such things.
He had no faith in gods or spirits, not even when, earlier that year, fishermen in Yizhou had discovered a red-scripted prophecy inside a fish’s belly that read, "The Great Han shall rise, Wei Cong shall reign." Nor when, later that same year, rumors spread of a fox spirit appearing in a Yizhou temple, shouting the same proclamation.
To Huo Tingshan, this was nothing more than a carefully staged performance by Yizhou’s governor, Wei Cong. With Emperor Zhao’s authority waning and regional warlords carving out their own territories, everyone coveted the throne. But such ambitions required justification—a divine mandate to cow the superstitious masses.
"Madam," Huo Tingshan said, "this is the third time you’ve lied to me."
"I’m not lying!" Pei Ying protested urgently. "The burden of proof lies with the accuser. If you claim I’m lying, General, where is your evidence?"
Huo Tingshan’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he remained silent.
Three lies to his face, and now she had the audacity to demand evidence? This Madam Pei was truly the first.
Pei Ying pushed against the arm encircling her waist, but it didn’t budge. Her cheeks flushed darker with frustration. The closeness terrified her—it felt like standing between the jaws of a beast, where the slightest snap could reduce her and her daughter to nothing. In her panic, she blurted, "The immortal also said something else—that you hold all the advantages of terrain, that you’ve been dealt an excellent hand."
Huo Tingshan laughed—a dismissive chuckle, amused that she would resort to a tale even a child wouldn’t believe.
He was the governor of Youzhou, yes, but everyone knew Youzhou was a barren wasteland. Thick with forests and unsuitable for farming, it bordered the northern tribes, who raided constantly. Food was scarce even without their interference, and the imperial court often sent exiled criminals to this very region.
Since Emperor Zhao had fallen under the sway of eunuchs and relatives, no military funds had been sent to Youzhou. In the early days, the soldiers had nearly resorted to eating tree bark.
And though their recent meals had been lavish, those were only possible because the magistrate of Beichuan had stockpiled supplies. Huo Tingshan would never spend so extravagantly from his own coffers.
"Don’t laugh, General. I’m telling the truth," Pei Ying insisted, seeing his disbelief. "Look at all the provinces—none hold land as strategically vital as yours."
Hadn’t history shown that, thousands of years later, the new capital would be called Beijing? And Beijing sat precisely where ancient Youzhou once stood.
Huo Tingshan still didn’t respond.
Pei Ying pressed on. "To the north and west, Youzhou is shielded by the Yan Mountains and Taihang Range—natural barriers, rugged and impregnable. When the northern tribes raid, they can only send small forces, never enough to threaten your foundation. But the northern grasslands have no such defenses. If you led an army there, you could strike straight at their royal court, while they struggle to penetrate the central plains. Cavalry is useless in mountainous terrain."
The arm around her waist suddenly tightened. Pei Ying, mistaking his reaction for impatience, hurriedly continued, "To the east lies the Bohai Sea—plenty of fish and aquatic resources. To the south, fertile plains with rich black soil, perfect for farming and herding. Even the hills can be terraced for extra crops. And the northern horses are strong, their breeds superior. You could raise them in abundance and forge an army of heavy cavalry. If Shu is the paradise of the southwest, then Youzhou is the crown jewel of the land, blessed by mountains and rivers. How is that not an excellent hand?"
Most saw Youzhou through a narrow lens—poor, frigid, harassed by northern tribes, and vulnerable to attacks from the south.
Pei Ying didn’t know whether Huo Tingshan shared this view, but she suspected he might. The constant raids were exhausting, and the reliance on imperial funds had become a habit.
She finished speaking, yet the iron band around her waist didn’t loosen. Instead, it squeezed tighter, nearly stealing her breath. The look in Huo Tingshan’s eyes was dark, fathomless—terrifying, as if he wanted to devour her.
This reaction... he must not believe her.
The thought that she had only just reunited with her daughter, only to face death because this man deemed her a liar, made her eyes sting with unshed tears.
Abruptly, the pressure around her waist eased. Huo Tingshan reached up to brush the corner of her eye. "Don’t cry, Madam. I’ll believe you."
His fingers were rough with calluses, and though she had only been on the verge of tears, the scrape of his touch drew a single drop down her cheek.
Huo Tingshan froze.
Hearing his words, Pei Ying pushed again at his arm—this time successfully. The moment he released her, she scrambled back as if burned, barely remembering propriety in her haste. "I just recalled something about the funeral rites that I must discuss with my daughter. Forgive me, General."
Without waiting for a response, she fled the room. It wasn’t large, and in seconds, she was gone.
Huo Tingshan stood motionless, staring at the doorway where her figure had vanished.
The last sliver of daylight spilled through the door, gilding his face in warm, golden light. Yet his eyes remained shadowed, deep and unreadable as the abyss.
......
Magistrate’s Manor, Study.
After Huo Tingshan finished recounting Pei Ying’s words, the room fell so silent one could hear a pin drop. Every face wore an expression of shock.
Those gathered were the finest minds in Youzhou. Ever since Emperor Zhao had cut off military funds, Huo Tingshan and his advisors had sought ways to survive—encouraging farming, reclaiming wasteland, raising livestock and horses.
The strategy to save Youzhou—many might offer an idea or two, but none could have imagined a woman secluded in the inner chambers could lay out such a comprehensive framework for rescuing the entire region.
Analyzing the situation from all four directions—east, west, south, and north—she addressed both the livelihood of the people and the vulnerabilities of the enemy, concluding with a bold proposal to breed horses on a massive scale, which could make the region unrivaled under heaven. Even educated men, let alone those who prided themselves on their vast knowledge, couldn’t help but marvel at her brilliance.
The clouds parted, and the path ahead became clear.
Gongsun Liang rose and bowed. “What a phrase—‘The mountains and rivers bow in reverence, a land of unmatched strategic advantage.’ My lord, once we breed enough horses and equip them with stirrups, with troops, provisions, and natural defenses, Youzhou will indeed become an unparalleled stronghold. Congratulations, my lord!”
The others in the room stood as well.
“Congratulations, my lord.”
“Congratulations, Grand General.”
“Congratulations, Grand General.”
Huo Tingshan acknowledged their words with a smile, then shifted his tone and called out a name: “Xiong Mao.”
Xiong Mao stiffened, a sense of foreboding washing over him—and the next moment, his fears were confirmed. The man at the head of the room commanded, “Investigate Lady Pei. I want to know everything about her, down to the smallest detail.”
Though he had told Pei Ying he believed her story about an immortal’s revelation in a dream, those were merely empty words. In truth, Huo Tingshan remained skeptical.
If immortals truly existed, why wouldn’t they use their divine powers to save the people when famine ravaged the land? If immortals truly existed, why would they allow mountains to crumble and the earth to split, burying over twelve thousand men and women alive?
Tales of gods and spirits were nothing but baseless superstition.
Still, since she had said, “Let the doubter provide the proof,” very well—he would gather that proof himself.
Xiong Mao’s mouth went bitter. The lingering pain from the twenty military cane strikes on his back throbbed faintly. After his last investigation into Meng Ducang, and his chance encounter with the Grand General in the front courtyard, he hadn’t neglected to look into Lady Pei. Though his inquiry had been cursory, nothing suspicious stood out in her past. He had no desire to take on another such assignment, yet his response came swiftly: “As you command.”
......
While Huo Tingshan gathered his advisors in the study, Pei Ying lay in bed, pressed close to her daughter.
The lamps had been extinguished, leaving the room pitch-black—perfect for sleep—yet Pei Ying tossed and turned, wide awake.
She had assumed that after presenting the high-bridged saddle and stirrups, Huo Tingshan would keep his word and let her and her daughter go. But his declaration—“My admiration for you, my lady, has never wavered”—had struck her like a blow. The realization dawned on her: his intentions had not faded in the slightest.
They could not stay in the magistrate’s residence any longer. No—they could not remain in Beichuan County at all.
Beichuan was the only county in Ji Province under his control. If they left, heading for other commanderies in Ji Province, his reach would not extend there.
She had to take her daughter and flee!
First, they would go to a neighboring county south of Beichuan, then choose a path to Chang’an.
