The next morning, Wang Jiayin didn't rise.
Not at dawn.
Not after breakfast.
Not even when aides hovered anxiously outside the tent.
Inside, incense burned low.
Zhang Shi lay beside him, her hair loose against the pillow, one arm draped lazily across his chest. Wang Jiayin lay flat on his back, eyes unfocused, breathing heavy, his entire body radiating the aftereffects of indulgence.
Utterly spent.
Zhang Shi leaned closer, her lips brushing his ear, voice soft enough to melt wax.
"My lord…"
Wang Jiayin let out a contented groan.
"My lord," she whispered again, slow and coaxing, "my brother Zhang Liwei… his position in your army is so low."
She paused just enough to let the words sink in.
"He's your own brother-in-law," she continued gently, "yet you won't even grant him a respectable post. People will think… you no longer cherish me."
Wang Jiayin, blissed out and defenseless like any man who had just climbed heaven and fallen back to earth, mumbled without thinking.
"Alright, alright… promote him… promote him… promote, promote, promote…"
Zhang Shi's eyes flickered.
She pressed closer.
"I want him promoted," she said softly, "but I worry for his safety. Battlefields are dangerous."
Her fingers traced idle circles against his chest.
"I think the best arrangement is this: make him your personal commander. He'll always be by your side. The safest place in the world."
Wang Jiayin laughed lazily. "Such a small thing? Fine. From tomorrow, Zhang Liwei will be my personal commander."
Done.
Just like that, Wang Jiayin had handed his own head to another man.
Fourth year of Chongzhen.
Sixth month, second day.
1631.
Chihong Fortress.
Inside Xing Honglang's main tent, the atmosphere was… questionable.
"Peng!"
"Eat!"
"Discard bamboo two!"
Four people sat around a low table, faces slack with boredom.
Xing Honglang.
Gao Chuwu.
Zao Ying.
Lao Nanfeng.
They were playing mahjong.
A brand-new pastime personally introduced by Dao Xuan Tianzun himself, carved from bamboo strips. Portable. Elegant. Addictive.
They had been staring at Xicheng Mountain for days.
Nothing happened.
Wang Jiayin didn't move.
Cao Wenzhao didn't move.
If boredom could kill, they'd all be corpses.
Then—
Clack.
The Puppet Dao Xuan Tianzun, which had been lying limp and unmoving for days, suddenly sat upright.
All four froze.
In perfect unison, they stood and bowed.
"Greetings, Dao Xuan Tianzun!"
The puppet chuckled, bamboo lips clacking rhythmically.
"Tonight, a change will surely come,
Jiayin's escape—quite glum.
Prepare your gear, don't waste the night,
Gather the spoils when stars ignite."
Silence.
Then—
Joy exploded.
Xing Honglang sprang up.
Zao Ying reached for her armor.
Gao Chuwu was already grabbing his saber.
Only Lao Nanfeng calmly reached for a canvas bag.
He opened it carefully.
With a single sweep of his arm, he scooped all the mahjong tiles inside, tied the bag securely, and set it aside with reverence.
"Don't rush," he said solemnly. "Battles are endless. Mahjong is rare."
Then he armored up.
Fast.
So fast it was offensive.
Years on the frontier meant he could buckle armor blindfolded. He finished before the others had even strapped on greaves.
As he mounted his horse, he began humming.
"A world of colors, blossoms in bloom,
Waiting for you, dreaming in tune…"
He paused, glanced sideways.
"Why are you all so slow?"
Then resumed humming.
"I can't escape this dazzling land,
A drunken butterfly, lost and unplanned…"
The others watched in silence.
Even He Jiu, who panicked before every fight and constantly searched for his great-grandmother's spirit, had never been this relaxed.
A scout burst into the tent.
"General! Cao Wenzhao is moving! His troops are forming up—looks like an assault!"
He blinked. "You're… already prepared?"
Lao Nanfeng laughed loudly. "Dao Xuan Tianzun truly sees all. If Cao Wenzhao moves, Wang Jiayin is finished."
He mounted fully.
"Come! Let's fish in troubled waters!"
Three hundred cavalry rode out first.
Infantry followed close behind.
Scout reports streamed in.
"Cao Wenzhao advancing—"
"Cao Wenzhao halted—"
"Cao Wenzhao reforming lines—"
They followed at a careful distance, always just far enough.
By dusk, Xicheng Mountain loomed ahead—a massive black silhouette against the darkening sky.
Cao Wenzhao stopped at the foot of the mountain.
So did they.
Night deepened.
Moon bright. Stars sparse.
Then—
BOOM!
Fire erupted from the mountaintop.
A roar followed, echoing down the slopes.
"Wang Jiayin is dead!"
"Wang Jiayin is dead!"
Cao Wenzhao shouted, "Attack!"
Three thousand Guanning Iron Cavalry surged uphill.
Xing Honglang stared. "What happened up there?"
The Puppet Dao Xuan Tianzun chuckled.
"A common girl, he took by force,
His wife's own kin steered fate's course.
Drunk and careless, head was lost—
Evil deeds demand their cost."
Silence.
Understanding dawned.
Three pairs of eyes slowly turned toward Lao Nanfeng.
"…Why are you looking at me like that?" he asked.
Gao Chuwu sighed. "Lao Nanfeng, one day you might end up just like Wang Jiayin. You drool whenever you see beauty."
Lao Nanfeng scoffed. "I like beauty, yes—but only celestial maidens. Mortal women don't interest me."
Everyone fell silent.
"Even with a hundred times more courage," he added seriously, "I wouldn't dare force a celestial maiden."
Xing Honglang nodded. "True."
Zao Ying nodded. "Agreed."
Gao Chuwu grinned. "You don't have to force them. Just steal their clothes."
Lao Nanfeng froze. "Huh?"
"The Cowherd did it."
Lao Nanfeng's eyes lit up. "How did I forget?! Genius!"
He spun toward the hills. "I'll go guard a mountain pond!"
Everyone panicked.
Xing Honglang kicked Gao Chuwu flat. "What nonsense are you teaching him?! He'll actually do it!"
Gao Chuwu protested, "Would someone really—?"
"Yes!" Xing Honglang snapped. "He would!"
The Puppet Dao Xuan Tianzun laughed so hard its wooden frame rattled.
"Rest easy. The celestial maidens won't descend to bathe."
Lao Nanfeng froze. "…They won't?"
The puppet nodded. "No. Never. Why come down when they have baths up there?"
Lao Nanfeng collapsed face-first into the dirt.
His dream—shattered.