Prologue

Year twenty of the Kaihuang era, Great Sui. Within the city of Chang’an.

A man not yet forty, bearing an air of gravity and authority, paced restlessly in the courtyard. This was but a garden before his private study, intended for the master’s promenade, yet it sprawled generously, spanning dozens of paces in every direction. Stones and timber, once belonging to the now-vanquished Southern Chen dynasty, had been transported from Jiangnan to this land, and here in Guanzhong they had been assembled into a small retreat, replete with the elegant, refined charm peculiar to the south of the Yangtze.

Though the Great Sui had been founded for years and unified the realm, the prosperity and splendor of Jiangnan since the days after Jin had long outshone the war-worn Central Plains. Now, each year, the grain and silk amassed at the granaries of Luokou and Liyang owed their abundance to the bounty shipped north from Jiangnan, sustaining the very heart of the empire. The sophisticated airs inherited from the Jin still lingered, quietly envied by the northern gentry, though seldom acknowledged aloud.

To possess such an expansive estate within the precious confines of the capital, and to cultivate a southern-style garden before the study, spoke volumes of the owner’s power and wealth.

Yet, this man of substance and presence now wore an anxious expression.

Footsteps sounded beyond the gate. A military officer, helmeted and clad in gleaming armor, strode in and saluted.

The master had already hurried forward. “How is the situation?”

The officer lowered his voice. “The Duke of Yue commands in person. The elite of the Twelve Imperial Guards have all been deployed. Tonight, the Eastern Palace will be purged. The deposed Crown Prince has already been removed from his quarters.”

The master’s body jolted. “And the Eastern Palace’s guards?”

The officer’s voice dropped further. “I was among them. By the Duke’s order, all the palace guards were executed.”

The man seemed to breathe a little easier, yet his voice quavered as he asked, “And the family of Xu Wei...?”

The officer replied, his tone flat and unyielding. “Xu Wei, commander of the Left Encampment’s palace guards, and his entire family, shut themselves inside and perished by fire. None survived.”

At last, the master’s features settled into calm. He shook his head. “A pity about Xu Wei. He was a fine man—unmatched on the battlefield. But he chose the wrong master. His loyalty was misplaced.”

The officer spoke, still impassive. “Before his death, Xu Wei entrusted his infant child to the former deputy commander of the Left Guard, his father, Xu Gan. Tonight, Xu Gan has already left Chang’an. Shall we pursue him?”

The master raised his hand instinctively, then let it fall with a heavy sigh. “Xu Gan served under my forebears and accomplished much. If I cannot protect his family, let them go... Do we know where he’s headed?”

A trace of emotion flickered in the officer’s eyes. “Xu Gan was once a tiger general under the old Pillar of State. Alone, he crossed the river into Northern Qi’s camp to scout, and returned with the heads of seven enemy officers. If he truly wishes to flee, how could I hope to catch him?”

The master was silent for a time, then shook his head. “Let it be. With his skill, he should escape unharmed. Leave him to his fate.”

Night had fallen. An old man, perhaps fifty years of age, rode swiftly beneath the stars, spear in hand.

Behind him, the towering walls of Chang’an had dwindled to a faint, dark line.

Before him, tied securely, was a swaddled bundle. As he urged his mount onwards, he repeatedly glanced down.

Within the swaddling clothes was a baby, pale and rosy, no more than eight or nine months old, sucking contentedly on its fingers. Though the horse’s gait was rough, the child made no sign of crying or distress; each time the old man looked down, the infant answered with a wide, toothless grin.

Tears slipped from the old man’s eyes, but he wiped them away with a rough hand.

“Another fighting son of the Xu family! One day, you’ll surpass even your father!”

A deep, bitter sigh followed, the force of his grief and rage seeming to sweep out into the vast night.

“But even if you’re as capable as your father, what good will it do? In the eyes of the great clans, our lives are worth less than nothing! All that matters to your grandfather is that you live well. I’ll protect you, always.”

Through the darkness, the old man, the baby, a lone horse, and a single spear pressed on, with no clear path before them.

The infant in his arms waved its hands and feet, suddenly pointing northward, babbling incomprehensibly.

The old man looked north and sighed. “Then north it is.”