Upstream of Jizhou.

The dam had already been blown apart. The turbid yellow waters flooded over the riverbed, surging downstream with the force of the torrential rain.

The rain poured down like a waterfall. After the slaughter, the camp was left with nothing but a field of corpses and a suffocating silence.

The surviving soldiers, braving the rain, were cleaning the battlefield. An old man stood beside the general in charge of building the dam, both gazing through the curtain of rain at the roaring floodwaters and at the fresh corpses of the young soldiers who had fallen that night—their faces heavy beyond words.

After a long time, the general finally asked, “Grand Preceptor, tell me—now that we’ve released the flood downstream, will it still serve any purpose?”

The old man trapped in this camp alongside Fan Changyu for several days was none other than Grand Preceptor Tao, who had long since resigned from office and withdrawn from the world.

Raindrops slid down the wrinkles of his eyelids. With his hands clasped behind his back, he looked toward the heavens and said, “We have done all that men can do, now we leave the rest to Heaven.”

Ahead, the soldiers cleaning the field suddenly froze in their movements. They turned toward one direction, murmuring in low voices. Grand Preceptor Tao and the camp’s commander followed their gaze, only to see a woman on horseback emerging slowly from the dark, rain-soaked mist.

Lightning flashed and thunder rolled. As she came closer, everyone could see that several riders followed behind her, all dressed in the armor of Jizhou soldiers—and hanging from their saddles were several heads, washed clean of blood by the pouring rain.

That woman was Fan Changyu.

Grand Preceptor Tao seemed to have guessed what had happened. He lifted his aged eyes to meet hers—three parts surprise, three parts admiration, and four parts satisfaction at not having misjudged his pupil.

The riders soon arrived before them. The soldiers dismounted and knelt in the muddy ground, reporting in the rain, though their faces could not hide their joy.

“General! We went to pursue the three fleeing scouts, but found that they had all been slain by this young lady! We brought back their heads as proof.”

The general who had been supervising the dam’s construction was first startled, then overjoyed. Stepping forward through the rain, he cupped his fists toward Fan Changyu.

“Heroine, by stopping those rebels from returning to report, you have saved the hundreds of thousands of soldiers and civilians in Lucheng from fire and flood. Tang speaks here on behalf of the people and troops of Lucheng to thank you.”

Fan Changyu led a dark-red warhorse she had seized from the scouts and said, “General, you are too polite. This common woman merely fulfilled the dying entrustment of the general from the mining camp.”

Raindrops slid from the general’s lashes as he let out a long, heavy sigh.

“That was the General of Anding North.”

Anding North? Fan Changyu thought. That truly is a name befitting a great general.

Those who perished this rainy night—whether generals or common soldiers—knowing that their desperate struggle had not been in vain, could perhaps rest in peace.

Her purpose in returning this time was mainly to retrieve her bundle. When she had crossed Mount Wu to intercept those three scouts, she had left her pack on her horse’s back. But upon her return, the horse was gone from where she had tied it. Thinking that an old horse would find its way home, she guessed it had returned to camp, and thus followed the riders who had gone after the scouts back to the encampment.

After a brief exchange of words, Fan Changyu explained her reason for coming. Yet that night had been far too chaotic, and no one had noticed whether a lone horse had returned from outside the camp.

The commander arranged a tent for Fan Changyu to rest in and ordered his men to search for her belongings.

Fan Changyu, having traversed mountains in the stormy night, was covered with bruises, and her clothes were soaked through. She did need to tidy herself, so she accepted his offer with gratitude.

There were no women’s garments in the army camp. The commander ordered that a new set of soldier’s clothes—the smallest size—be brought to her, which fit her perfectly.

Once she had washed and changed, she could not wait any longer and went to the stables herself to search for her bundle. When Grand Preceptor Tao came looking for her, she was already gone.

That night, the rain poured ceaselessly. Even though word of victory had already returned, no one in the army had time to rest.

They cleared the battlefield, searched for the wounded, dug graves, and buried together the soldiers who had died in battle…

Even the stables were swamped with work; some warhorses had been cut, some had trodden on sharp objects during battle—the camp’s veterinarians were as busy as the military doctors, not even pausing to take a sip of water.

Fan Changyu was asking a soldier where General An’s warhorse was kept when she heard an old, familiar, hoarse voice: “There’s a wooden wedge stuck in this hoof, bring me a pair of pincers.”

Fan Changyu leaned in to look, overjoyed, and called, “Uncle Zhao!”

Carpenter Zhao was examining a warhorse’s wound. At the sound of Fan Changyu’s voice he thought he had misheard; he squinted his old eyes toward the doorway. When he saw that it truly was Fan Changyu, he was equally delighted—but his face then changed instantly when he noticed she was dressed in a soldier’s uniform.

He directed the soldier holding the horse’s leg, “Go fetch the pincers.”

After the soldier left, he beckoned Fan Changyu forward to help. A young soldier leading her to the stable was about to refuse, but Fan Changyu said they were from the same hometown and stepped forward warmly to speak.

Carpenter Zhao almost had tears in his eyes. Using the pretense of having her assist, he lowered his voice and asked, “Why are you here in the army? If others find out you’re a woman, they’ll execute you!”

After changing into dry clothes, Fan Changyu had even loosened her hair to wipe it and then tied it back again.

This was a military camp; she was wearing a soldier’s outfit and it would be improper to pin up a maiden’s coiffure—so she hastily bound her hair. It was not a deliberate disguise as a man, but there was a heroic quality at her brows; at a glance she did indeed look somewhat like a finely featured youth.

Seeing Zhao’s misunderstanding, Fan Changyu quickly summarized the events of the past days.

When Carpenter Zhao learned she had not joined the army disguised as a man, the tight knot in his chest loosened. But hearing that Qingping County had been pillaged and burned and that his wife had been injured, his heart ached; he repeatedly wiped his eyes with his sleeve.

After tending the wound on the horse’s front hoof, the two found a moment and sat to chat.

Fan Changyu asked, “Uncle Zhao, were you also conscripted here to repair the dam?”

Carpenter Zhao sighed, “I used to make defensive machines for Lucheng. Later, when I heard Yanzhou needed twenty thousand troops, these old bones of mine were sent as well. We trudged for several days before the army encamped here; only then did I learn we were to build a dam. Along the way the warhorses sometimes fall ill, and the mules carrying stones get pebbles stuck in their hooves—those need treating too. I’m mainly here to tend the animals.”

Previously, when Fan Changyu had been detained to dig earth and stones, she never came to the army’s inner camp, and Carpenter Zhao had not been to that other camp either, so they had not crossed paths; both sighed at the coincidence.

Fan Changyu thought of Yan Zheng and asked, “Then, Uncle Zhao, since you joined the camp these days, have you heard any news of Yan Zheng?”

At the mention of his name, Carpenter Zhao hesitated and glanced at Fan Changyu, then said, “He was among the first batch of soldiers lent to Yanzhou. The things you asked me to bring, I had them passed on to him. I originally thought he was here repairing the dam, but after asking around these past days, it seems he was transferred to Yanzhou.”

Yanzhou borders the front line and is engaged with the Northern Jue; in some respects, it is more perilous than staying in Lucheng.

After a moment of silence, Fan Changyu said, “With his abilities, he should be able to make a good future for himself.”

Carpenter Zhao, unaware that the bundle contained a writ of divorce, laughed, “If he makes his fortune, girl, you’ll benefit too.”

Fan Changyu did not intend to hide from Carpenter Zhao that she and Yan Zheng had divorced. She pressed her lips together and said, “Uncle Zhao, Yan Zheng and I have actually already divorced.”

Carpenter Zhao was holding a coarse pottery bowl, drinking hot water to ward off the cold; at her words he nearly dropped the bowl. He narrowed his wrinkled eyes and asked, “What’s the matter?”

Fan Changyu answered truthfully, “The marriage-into-the-family was a sham from the start—only to placate Fan Dabao and keep the estates.”

Carpenter Zhao set down his water bowl, sat in silence for a long while to digest the news, then sighed and said, “Changyu girl, I watch that Yan Zheng boy and he doesn’t seem indifferent to you. Young married couples are always headstrong and apt to go astray. If you should meet again someday, it’d be best to lay things out clearly—don’t let yourselves grow old and leave behind a muddled account.”

Fan Changyu recalled the day Yan Zheng left—she hadn’t spoken properly to him then—and felt a pang in her chest; she lowered her eyes and murmured agreement.

Outside the tent, the soldiers led in another injured warhorse and shouted for Carpenter Zhao to hurry and take a look.

Fan Changyu found her bundle and, having nothing better to do, went to help Carpenter Zhao as his assistant.

Grand Preceptor Tao, having waited and waited at his tent without seeing Fan Changyu return, came personally to look for her—and found her unhesitatingly mucking in the stable, helping an old veterinarian lift a horse’s leg. The eager energy she showed there was a complete contrast to the distant way she treated him.

Grand Preceptor Tao’s face turned a little sour; he’d taught the girl things, and though she refused to be his disciple that was one thing, but now she was so short-sighted as to turn and learn craft from some old veterinarian?

He stood outside the stable and coughed several times, but the noise of the stable and the thunder successfully drowned out his coughs.

While a veterinarian was pulling an arrowhead from a warhorse’s leg, the horse suddenly panicked, kicked the veterinarian, and then ran amok inside the stable, knocking over a wooden pillar and causing the whole stable shed to collapse. For a moment, every warhorse was spooked and stampeded out; the soldiers could not restrain them.

Quick-handed and sharp-eyed, Fan Changyu grabbed Carpenter Zhao and pulled him out, dodging the collapsing shed. She looked up to see the old man standing dazed at the doorway with horses charging toward him. Without thinking, she rushed over and hauled him into an open space.

After setting the man down, Fan Changyu, bedraggled, wiped the rain from her face and asked Grand Preceptor Tao, “Why have you come over here, sir?”

Carpenter Zhao asked, “Who is this?”

Fan Changyu said, “This is the old gentleman I told you about earlier, the one I met while being held to dig stones.”

Grand Preceptor Tao had been practically carried over by Fan Changyu, it was no wonder his stomach churned and his head felt dizzy; concerned for his dignity, he hurriedly smoothed his robe and didn’t want to pay her any heed.