The northern frontier night came early, and cruel.The wind, as if tempered from a wolf's maw, howled through the camp gates, snapping the banners so violently it seemed the heavens themselves would tear.
Chu Hongying swung down from her horse. Her silver spear, Windbreaker, clanged onto the rack, blood droplets still dripping from its tip, blossoming into crimson plum petals upon the snow.
"The patrol line—third stake has been tampered with."Her voice was not loud, but carried a force that could not be restrained."Tomorrow, move the hidden stakes twenty paces north. Reset all ballistae, every string drawn taut."
Deputy Zhao Dashan's brush quivered, his tongue quicker than his hand."Yes, ma'am! … Eh, General, you fought them off too fast this time. The Di tribesmen didn't even get a—"
"Better quick feet than a quick tongue." Chu Hongying shot him a glance."Half a stick of incense from now, I want to see those ballistae in position."
Zhao Dashan scuttled away, then darted back, lowering his voice:"One more thing! The capital sent a strategist—surname Shen, given name Yuzhu. They say the new emperor himself picked him, the brightest mind in the realm. He's entering camp tonight."
Chu Hongying's brows arched. "At this hour?"
"They said his body's frail, insisted on avoiding daylight blizzards…" Zhao hunched his neck, muttering,"Heard he's like a painting come alive—one gust and he'll topple."
Chu Hongying scoffed. "Can paintings block arrows?"
She yanked off her blood-soaked cloak. Beneath the shoulder armor peeked a white band binding her throat—a scar hidden there, ground smooth like a blade worn by snow and wind.Zhao Dashan's eyelid twitched. He quickly averted his gaze. Only he knew the truth—beneath this "female general's" armor lay the bones of a youth.
"When he arrives, bring him in." Chu Hongying's armor rang as she turned."I want to see what kind of precious jewel the court has sent."
At the gate, a mule-drawn cart jolted to a halt. From within, a pale hand emerged first, joints slender as carved jade.
"Careful." The voice that drifted out was warm, wrapped in snow-laden air.
The next instant, the mule startled at the wind's roar, hooves striking. The cart lurched. The passenger stumbled—then toppled out, all elegance collapsing into an awkward fall.
"Ah—!" Zhao Dashan cried, lunging forward.
But a shadow was faster. Chu Hongying swept in, one arm catching the man by the waist. A chill fragrance brushed her face, clean as herbs after snowfall.
The man lifted his gaze. At the corner of his eye, a single tear-mole burned like cinnabar. His lips were so pale they seemed translucent. For a heartbeat, their eyes locked. His lashes trembled; then he coughed softly, voice weak but melodious:"My thanks… General."
His tone was like a jade flute, clear yet husky, tinged with illness.The tumble had loosened his robe half an inch, revealing a tightly bound waistline. Chu Hongying's palm tightened—beneath it, something rigid, icy. A flat blade.
"Shen Yuzhu, sent under imperial decree." He stepped back, bowing with dignified composure, posture upright as bamboo."The snow delayed me. I beg the General's pardon."
Zhao muttered from the side, "Fell before he even served—"
Chu Hongying's glance silenced him.
Shen Yuzhu acted as if he heard nothing. Lifting his eyes, his gaze like moonlight on frozen lake, he smiled faintly:"The camp is bitter cold. Might the General grant me a tent for discourse?"
The brazier in the command tent crackled, light flickering red across iron armor. Chu Hongying flung her cloak onto a chair. "Speak. Why has the court sent you?"
Shen Yuzhu did not answer immediately. He warmed his pale fingertips by the fire, then said slowly:"The General's stakes are cleverly placed. Yet the third is vulnerable. If the Di probe, they will strike there."
Chu Hongying's gaze sharpened. "And how would you know?"
"Hoofprints," Shen replied, tone calm but precise."In the snow, old and new overlap. Yet behind the third stake, footprints hugged the edge—stride long, neither soldier nor farmer. Clearly a scout, testing your defenses."
Zhao Dashan whistled. "Does the lord have hawk's eyes on the back of his head?"
Shen's lips curved slightly. "No. Only that the General's troops march straighter than the wind itself."
The words cut with both frost and honey.
Chu Hongying folded her arms, a cold smile at her lips. "And your solution?"
"Troops weave like cloth—cloth must have a gap." Shen smoothed his sleeve."Withdraw the third stake. Leave an empty seam. Move the ballistae to either flank, form a snare. If they come, the trap closes. If they do not—"
"And if not?"
"All the better." His lashes lowered, a subtle smile playing."They will think the line altered, probe again—and in probing, reveal their flaws. The northern wind… is best at stripping fools bare."
Zhao nearly choked on laughter. "So the north wind is our brother?"
Shen's eyes flashed sharp. "The north wind is the General's brother."
The brazier popped, sparks leaping. Light fell across Chu Hongying's white throat-band. She tapped the table with one knuckle. "You do notice much."
Shen offered a slight bow. "It is my duty to observe. One more note—the northern plague cough spreads fast. If any soldier wheezes, decoct mahuang at once."
Zhao gaped. "The lord even knows medicine?"
"Merely dabble." Shen's tone was as light as falling snow.
Chu Hongying suddenly stepped closer, armor brushing his pale robe."Your plan is sound. But my men are too few. The ballistae can't cover all flanks. What men did you bring?"
"Two clerks. One servant." His reply was smooth, then softened into faint helplessness."The servant… climbs walls."
Zhao snorted aloud, only to be frozen by Chu Hongying's glare.
She stared at Shen Yuzhu's fine-cut profile, voice slow and deliberate:"Tonight, we try your snare. You rest in a side tent. If the lines break—you come with me to the front."
"As you command." Shen sat as straight as a bamboo stalk. Then leaned slightly forward, voice lowered:"Only… know this. At the east-south corner of the gate, a man hides. He's been there since before I entered."
Chu Hongying's eyes chilled. "Why not say sooner?"
"When the General was… occupied catching someone, her hands were full." His eye-mole shifted faintly as he smiled."I dared not intrude."
Chu Hongying: "…"
Zhao's shoulders shook, barely stifling laughter.
Night deepened, the wind keening like wolves. In the side tent, Shen Yuzhu reclined against bedding, fingers stroking a thin blade. Cold gold shimmered along its spine, wolf-head sigil etched faint beneath the light.
A cough wracked him. He covered it swiftly with a kerchief; crimson stained the cloth, wiped away before it could glisten.
The flap snapped open with the wind.
"Enter," he said without looking up.
Chu Hongying stepped in with the chill, tossed an oiled packet onto the table. "Mahuang decoction."
His brow lifted. "The General delivers it herself?"
"I'll see you drink it." She took two steps closer, eyes cutting over him like a blade."And another matter—the man by the wall has been caught. Not one of ours. His knife bore a wolf's head."
The thin blade stilled in Shen's fingers. He raised his gaze, smiled lightly: "The General is swift."
"Do you recognize the mark?" Chu Hongying's stare bored into him.
The fire flared, catching a shadow that flickered across his eyes. His fingers lingered on the wolf-sigil, voice a whisper, soft as breath over steel:"I do not."
Silence stretched taut as a drawn bowstring.
At last Shen's lips curved once more. "If the General doubts, then tonight—let me guard the snare."
Chu Hongying's gaze slid to his sleeve, where a bandage slipped, revealing a faint dark pattern beneath, beast-like, sigil-like. She betrayed nothing, only nudged the bowl toward him."Don't die before I do."
Turning to leave, she paused at the flap, voice edged with dry amusement:"Oh, and your short blade at your waist—next time you fall, keep it sheathed."
Shen: "…"
He raised a teacup, masking the quirk of his lips. "Then the General should keep her cloak secured. The north wind… devours men."
The flap fell shut.
Half an hour later, a sharp whistle split the snow-dark. From the third stake's gap, flames flickered—shadows in fur cloaks slipped silently into the breach.
Before the ballistae loosed, Shen Yuzhu was already at the tent's threshold. The thin blade turned in his palm, wolf-head sigil glinting bright.
He lowered his gaze, whispering into the storm:
"They've come."