"Let's talk somewhere else," General Wei Qiang said, his voice cutting through the tension. He gestured to the soldiers guarding Yuelai. "Release her. And leave us."
The soldiers hesitated only briefly before obeying. As they filed out, Wei Qiang led Yuelai and Wei Han through the fortress corridors to a strategy room. Maps covered the walls, markers indicating troop positions and defensive preparations. A large table dominated the center, Longmen's layout spread across it in meticulous detail.
Wei Qiang closed the door and turned to face them both. "We can't wait for reinforcements."
Wei Han's jaw tightened. "Father, surely the Emperor will send—"
"The Emperor won't send anyone." Wei Qiang's voice was flat, certain. He moved to the map, his fingers tracing the walls of Longmen. "His Majesty is wary of me. I hold too much power in court. I have military command, noble blood, and—" he glanced at Yuelai "—family connections to the Shen Empire. He suspects my loyalty."
"But you've served faithfully for twenty years!" Wei Han protested.
"Which means nothing when an emperor feels threatened." Wei Qiang's expression was grim. "The moment I refused to hand over Yuelai, I confirmed his suspicions. He thinks I'm involved in Shen's internal politics, possibly conspiring with her. He won't send reinforcements because he's hoping this siege will weaken me. Or eliminate me entirely."
The words settled over them like a death sentence. No reinforcements. No relief. Just them, their garrison, and an army that outnumbered them three to one.
"Then we launch a surprise attack," Wei Han said, his hand moving to his sword. "Tonight. Take them while they're unprepared."
Yuelai had been silent until now, studying the map with growing understanding. "It won't work."
Both men turned to her.
"Why not?" Wei Han's tone was sharp, defensive.
"Because Tianyu knows about the peace pact. He knows the Emperor is wary of Uncle. He'll have calculated that reinforcements won't come, which means you're forced to break the siege yourselves." Yuelai pointed to the enemy positions on the map. "He's expecting a surprise attack. Look at their formation—they're spread thin at the front, but concentrated at the flanks and rear. Classic defensive positioning against a sortie."
Wei Qiang leaned forward, his eyes sharp. "You're right. Any attack from the main gate would be suicide."
"Then what do we do?" Wei Han demanded. "Sit here and wait for the walls to fall?"
"No." Yuelai's mind was racing, pieces clicking together. Strategy lessons from her tutors. Stories Junwei had told her about historical sieges. The terrain, the enemy formation, the limitations of their own forces. "Uncle, may I see a more detailed map of Longmen? The inner city layout?"
Wei Qiang pulled another map from the table, spreading it out. This one showed Longmen's streets and districts in precise detail.
Wei Han frowned. "Who is—" He stopped, remembering. "You're Princess Yuelai. You're my cousin."
Despite everything, Yuelai felt a flicker of warmth. Wei Han. She remembered him vaguely from childhood—a serious boy of ten who'd visited the Shen palace once with his father. He'd been so formal, so determined to appear mature and dignified. Even then, she'd thought he took himself too seriously.
Looking at him now, she saw he hadn't changed. Still stiff, still carrying the weight of duty like armor. Some people never changed.
"Now it makes more sense why Shen is attacking," Wei Han continued, his voice cold. "You brought this to our doorstep."
"Wei Han—" his father started.
"I didn't like that Gu Tianyu from the start," Wei Han interrupted, surprising them both. His expression softened slightly. "Acting all sweet and honorable. It was obvious he was hiding something." He looked at Yuelai directly. "Whatever you're planning to do, you don't have to worry. We'll find a way out of this."
Yuelai met his eyes. "Do you trust me?"
"Yes. Why wouldn't I?" Wei Han's answer was immediate. "Someone like you, who followed Junwei around like a puppy since childhood, could never kill him. That's obvious to anyone with eyes."
The casual mention of her brother hit like a physical blow, but Yuelai forced herself to focus. "We don't have much time. Let me look at this map."
Wei Han pulled the inner city layout closer, pointing as he spoke. "Longmen shares borders with Shen at three cities. This one is the farthest from the Luo capital compared to the other two. Normally, if someone wanted to attack Shen, they'd target those closer positions. But Tianyu chose this one because—" he glanced at Yuelai "—he knows you too well. He knew you'd come here."
Yuelai said nothing to that. It was true, and they all knew it.
She studied the map in silence, her finger tracing streets and alleyways, noting the narrow passages and choke points. The others waited, watching her think. Minutes passed.
Finally, she looked up. "I think I have a plan."
Wei Qiang's expression was carefully neutral. "I expected nothing less from my niece. What are you thinking?"
"The enemy expects us to defend every wall, to make them pay for every inch. But we can't. We're outnumbered and the main gate is already weakening." Yuelai pointed to the map. "So we don't defend it. We let it fall."
"What?" Wei Han leaned forward. "That's suicide—"
"Let me finish." Yuelai's voice was steady, certain. "We evacuate all civilians from the market district and inner city. We don't reinforce the main gate—in fact, we make it look weaker than it is. But we strengthen every choke point behind it. The narrow streets. The side alleys. Every rooftop position."
She traced a path on the map. "When they break through the gate, they'll pour in, thinking they've won. Their formation will break in the narrow streets. They'll be disorganized, celebrating, pushing deeper to claim the fortress."
"And then?" Wei Qiang was watching her intently now.
"Then we close the trap. Soldiers on the rooftops attack from above—arrows, stones, burning oil. Forces in the side streets attack from the flanks. A reserve unit seals the streets behind them, cutting off their retreat." Yuelai's finger marked the kill zone. "The enemy will be trapped in a narrow space where their numbers become a disadvantage. They won't be able to reform ranks, can't use cavalry effectively, can't retreat quickly."
The room fell silent as both men studied the map, seeing what she saw.
"It's brilliant," Wei Qiang said quietly. "And ruthless. You're turning the city itself into a weapon."
"But someone needs to hold the final alley." Yuelai pointed to a narrow passage that led to the inner fortress. "Here. This is the exit route if they realize it's a trap. We need soldiers positioned here to prevent their escape, to keep them contained in the kill zone long enough for the trap to work fully."
Wei Han was already nodding. "I'll take that position. My unit—"
"It's dangerous," Yuelai interrupted. "You'll be exposed, possibly surrounded—"
"Which is exactly why I should lead it." Wei Han's expression was determined. "My soldiers trust me. They'll hold that position as long as necessary."
Wei Qiang studied his son for a long moment. Something passed between them—an understanding Yuelai couldn't quite read.
"Very well," the general said finally. "Wei Han commands the rear position. I'll coordinate the rooftop and flank forces. Yuelai—" he looked at her "—you'll be in the command post with observers. You designed this strategy; you need to see it executed."
"But I should fight—"
"You're injured and exhausted. You'll command, not fight. That's final." Wei Qiang's tone left no room for argument. "Now, we have maybe four hours until dawn. That's when they'll launch their next assault. Let's prepare."
---
The preparation was controlled chaos.
Civilians were evacuated to the inner keep, confused and frightened but trusting their general's orders. Soldiers moved to their assigned positions—some to the rooftops with stockpiles of arrows and stones, others to the side streets with spears and shields, a reserve unit positioned to seal the trap once sprung.
Wei Han assembled his elite unit—thirty of the garrison's best fighters. They would hold the final alley, the last exit before the enemy reached the inner fortress. Their position was exposed, dangerous, but critical.
Yuelai watched him prepare, something nagging at her mind. The way his soldiers looked at him—respect, certainly, but also something else. The way his father had agreed so quickly. The way Wei Han himself seemed almost... resigned.
No. It was just her imagination. Just the stress of battle preparation.
The sun rose, painting Longmen's walls in shades of gold and red.
From her position in the command tower, Yuelai could see everything. The Shen forces assembling for their assault. The siege engines moving into position. The battering ram approaching the main gate.
And on Longmen's walls, the deliberately thin line of defenders.
"They'll think we're at the end of our strength," Wei Qiang murmured beside her. "That we can't properly man the walls anymore."
The ram struck the gate. Once. Twice. The wood splintered but held.
On the third strike, it gave way.
Shen soldiers poured through the opening like water through a broken dam, cheering, triumphant. Their commanders followed, eager for the glory of taking the fortress.
Everything was going exactly as Yuelai had predicted.
The enemy flooded into the market district, their formation breaking as they navigated the narrow streets. They were celebrating already, convinced the battle was won.
Wei Qiang raised his hand. Waited. The enemy pushed deeper, more and more soldiers cramming into the confined space.
"Now," he said quietly.
Drums sounded—a reversed rhythm, the prearranged signal. Smoke began rising from side alleys.
And Longmen transformed from a conquered city into a killing ground.
Arrows rained from the rooftops. Stones crashed down on helmeted heads. Burning oil turned streets into rivers of fire. Soldiers emerged from side passages, spears striking in coordinated attacks. The reserve unit sealed the streets behind the enemy, cutting off retreat.
The Shen forces realized too late that they'd walked into a trap. They tried to reform, to organize a defense, but the narrow streets made it impossible. Their numbers, which should have been an advantage, became a liability as soldiers trampled each other trying to escape.
It was carnage. Efficient, brutal, exactly as designed.
And in the final alley, Wei Han and his unit held their position.
Yuelai watched through the chaos, her heart pounding. The plan was working. The enemy was contained, being systematically destroyed. They just needed to hold a little longer—
Then she saw it.
A group of enemy soldiers had found the exit—the alley Wei Han was guarding. They were pushing hard, desperate to escape. Wei Han's unit was holding, but barely. The enemy numbers were overwhelming that position. Even as she watched, two of his soldiers fell.
"He needs reinforcements," Yuelai said urgently. "Uncle, send—"
"No." Wei Qiang's voice was stone. "The other units must maintain their positions. If we pull anyone from the rooftops or flanks, the enemy might break out elsewhere."
"But Wei Han—"
"Is doing exactly what needs to be done."
Something cold settled in Yuelai's stomach. She looked at the general's face, saw the terrible resolve there, and understood.
Wei Han wasn't supposed to retreat. This wasn't a position that could be held and then abandoned. It was a sacrifice. The strategy required someone to die in that alley, holding it long enough for the trap to work.
He'd known. They'd both known.
"No," Yuelai whispered. Below, more of Wei Han's soldiers were falling. The enemy was pushing harder, sensing weakness. "No, I never meant—"
She didn't finish. Couldn't finish.
Because she was already moving.
"Yuelai!" Wei Qiang's shout followed her as she grabbed a sword from a nearby guard and ran. Down the tower stairs, through the corridors, toward the sounds of battle.
Her shoulder screamed in protest with every movement. The wound had been healing, but this—this was too much. She felt something tear, warm blood soaking through her bandages. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered except reaching that alley.
She burst onto the street into chaos. Smoke and screams filled the air. Bodies lay everywhere—enemy soldiers, fallen in the trap she'd designed. She ran past them, her breath coming in ragged gasps, following the sounds of the fiercest fighting.
The alley came into view. Wei Han was still standing, but barely. His unit had been reduced to fewer than ten men, surrounded by at least thirty enemy soldiers. Blood ran down his face from a cut above his eye. His sword arm moved with mechanical precision, but she could see the exhaustion in every strike.
Yuelai didn't think. She charged into the fray, her sword finding the nearest enemy soldier. He went down with a surprised grunt. She kept moving, cutting through the press of bodies, her training taking over where strength failed.
But she was too slow. Her injured shoulder made her movements clumsy, her strikes weak. She couldn't generate proper force, couldn't defend her left side effectively. An enemy blade grazed her ribs—she barely felt it. Another caught her arm, drawing blood.
She was getting closer to Wei Han, but not fast enough. Not nearly fast enough.
"Yuelai?" Wei Han's voice cut through the chaos, disbelieving. "What are you—get back!"
"Not without you!" She cut down another soldier, but two more took his place. There were too many. Her shoulder was on fire, her vision blurring with pain and exhaustion.
An enemy spear thrust toward her—she tried to dodge but wasn't fast enough. Wei Han was suddenly there, his sword deflecting the blow. He positioned himself between her and the enemy, his back to hers.
"You shouldn't have come," he said, breathing hard.
"I'm not letting you die for my plan," she shot back, parrying a sword strike. "Not you too."
For a moment, they fought together. Cousin and cousin, back to back, holding the alley that would determine if Longmen survived. Yuelai felt a strange clarity—this was what she'd been trained for. Not court politics or diplomatic marriages, but this. Standing with family, fighting for something that mattered.
But her body was failing. Each strike took more effort than the last. Her injured shoulder was barely responding now. She was becoming a liability, and they both knew it.
"Listen to me," Wei Han said, his voice urgent. More enemies were closing in. His remaining soldiers were falling one by one. "When I give the signal, you run. Back to the fortress. Don't stop, don't look back."
"No—"
"This is my choice, Yuelai." His voice was fierce, final. "I'm not dying because you forced me into this. I'm dying because it's what needs to be done. Because this city—my home—needs to survive. And because—" he deflected a strike, his movements slowing "—because you need to survive. To go back to Shen. To make that bastard pay for what he did."
"Wei Han—"
"Promise me." He was fighting three soldiers at once now, his technique still perfect despite his exhaustion. "Promise me you'll survive this. That you'll make it all mean something."
The words tore at her heart, but before she could answer, everything happened at once.
An enemy soldier broke through, his sword aimed for Yuelai's unprotected side. Her injured shoulder made her too slow to react. She saw the blade coming, knew she couldn't dodge—
Wei Han moved.
He shoved her behind him, his body intercepting the strike meant for her. The blade drove deep into his chest, punching through armor and flesh.
"No!" Yuelai's scream was raw, primal.
Wei Han staggered but didn't fall. With his last strength, he ran the enemy soldier through, then collapsed against the alley wall. His sword clattered from his hand.
Yuelai caught him as he fell, dragging him back against the wall. Enemy soldiers were still pressing forward, but suddenly other Luo forces were there—the reserve unit, finally free to reinforce now that the main trap had closed. They pushed the enemy back, buying moments.
Wei Han looked up at her, blood on his lips. "Tell... my father..." Each word was a struggle. "Tell him I chose this. That I'm... proud..."
"Don't," Yuelai begged, pressing her hands against his wound. Blood poured between her fingers, hot and unstoppable. "Don't you dare. Wei Han, please—"
"You were always... following Junwei around..." A ghost of a smile. "Now you have to... stand on your own..."
His eyes fixed on something beyond her shoulder. Beyond the smoke and blood and battle. His chest rose once more, then stilled.
Wei Han was gone.
Yuelai knelt in the alley, covered in her cousin's blood, her hands still pressed uselessly against his wound. Around her, the battle was ending. The trap had worked. The enemy was defeated.
But the victory meant nothing. Nothing at all.
Strong hands pulled her up—soldiers, dragging her back toward the fortress. She let them, numb with shock and grief. She didn't even notice that her own blood was mixing with Wei Han's, that her shoulder wound had torn open completely, that she was leaving a trail of red behind her.
All she could see was Wei Han's face. The boy who'd been too serious, too formal. Who'd grown into a man willing to die for his city. For his family.
For her.
The trap held.
Within two hours, the battle was over. The Shen forces that had entered Longmen were destroyed—their officers dead, their soldiers captured or killed, their banners trampled in the bloody streets.
The siege army outside, seeing the disaster and fearing ambush, broke camp and retreated in disarray.
Longmen had won.
The cost was written in blood on the streets. In the bodies being carried from the alleys. In the smoke rising from burning oil and burning men.
And in the general's son, laid carefully on a table in the strategy room, his face peaceful despite the dozen wounds that had killed him.
Yuelai stood in the doorway, unable to enter. Unable to look away.
"He volunteered," Wei Qiang said. His voice was steady, but his hand shook as he reached out to close his son's eyes. "I told him the plan required someone to hold that position. That whoever took it likely wouldn't survive. He insisted it be him."
"I didn't know," Yuelai whispered. "I never meant for him to—"
"You designed a strategy to save this city with minimal forces. It was brilliant." Wei Qiang finally looked at her, his eyes ancient with grief. "But war always has a price. Wei Han paid it willingly. For his city. For his family. For you."
The words were daggers. Yuelai wanted to argue, to say she would have found another way, to insist she never wanted this. But the truth was inescapable: her plan had worked because Wei Han had died. The victory was real because the sacrifice was real.
She had won. And it tasted like ash.
"General Wei!" A messenger burst into the room, then stopped short, seeing Wei Han's body. His face paled, but he pressed on. "General, a summons has arrived from the capital. His Majesty commands your immediate presence to report on the battle and—" he swallowed hard "—to explain why you engaged Shen forces without authorization."
The room fell silent.
Wei Qiang's expression didn't change, but Yuelai saw the implications immediately. The Emperor, already suspicious of her uncle, now had the perfect excuse. An unauthorized battle. Casualties, including the general's own son. And once the Emperor learned they'd been sheltering Yuelai...
"When does His Majesty require my presence?" Wei Qiang asked calmly.
"Within five days, General."
After the messenger left, uncle and niece stood in silence, surrounded by the aftermath of victory and the shadow of what came next.
"If the Emperor learns I sheltered you," Wei Qiang said quietly, "he'll use it as proof of treason. Especially now, with Wei Han dead defending against a Shen army. He'll say I sacrificed my own son for Shen's interests."
" Then I'll go with you," Yuelai said immediately. "I'll tell him the truth—"
"And be immediately arrested and returned to Tianyu? No." Wei Qiang shook his head. "You stay hidden. I'll handle the Emperor."
"But if he accuses you of treason—"
"Then we'll deal with that when it comes." Wei Qiang moved to the window, looking out over his city. His city that had survived. His son who had not. "For now, we have five days to decide what story to tell. And how much truth an emperor can handle."
The sun was setting over Longmen, painting the blood-stained streets in shades of gold and crimson. The city had been saved. The enemy defeated.
But Yuelai stood in the strategy room, staring at Wei Han's still form, and wondered if any victory could be worth this price. If any plan she designed would ever be free of blood.
She'd wanted to save her uncle. Instead, she'd lost her cousin.
And now, with the Emperor's summons hanging over them like an executioner's blade, she had five days to figure out how to keep from losing anyone else.
END OF CHAPTER 6