Unyielding Spring Mountains - Chapter 95: Weakness

Chapter 95: Weakness

The letter stated that the Chu army was feigning an attack on border fortresses to confuse the Wei border troops, but in truth, their main force, led by Jing Heng, had taken a detour and was marching straight toward the capital.

As soon as Wei Zhen received the letter, she lifted her skirts and ran toward the royal hall.

Along the way, palace attendants cleared a path in haste.

She arrived at the royal hall and reported the matter to the King of Wei, who quickly summoned his trusted ministers to discuss countermeasures.

The air inside the hall froze — heavy and oppressive.

The King of Wei, dressed in plain, thin robes, stood beside a writing desk, frowning deeply at the map sprawled across it.

Wei Zhen said, “Ji Yuan adopted the strategy of ‘besieging Wei to rescue Jin.’ He aims to force Wei troops to retreat from the front by threatening the capital.”

The King of Wei nodded. Chu’s army came well-prepared and had advanced like a raging fire through Wei territory. This was in no small part due to the lack of competent generals in Wei, allowing Chu to penetrate deep into their lands with alarming speed. The situation was far from optimistic.

The king asked, “How long before the Chu army reaches the capital?”

Wei Zhen replied, “Three days. Since they’ve traveled from afar, they won’t attack immediately. They’ll rest for at least a day. In other words, we have three to four days to prepare the capital’s defenses.”

The king said softly, “Indeed, that is soon… cough, cough…”

Suddenly, he clutched his mouth and coughed violently, his face flushing red. Wei Zhen rushed to support him, worry rising in her eyes. Their eyes met, and the king gestured toward the ministers. Wei Zhen immediately understood and slowly turned to address them herself.

“Thus, we must immediately prepare the city’s defenses. Seven thousand against an army of thirty thousand — the disparity in numbers is too great. We cannot engage in a direct battle. All we can do is hold the walls. We must order the troops at once to prepare for war.”

These were the king’s most trusted ministers. Loyal to Wei Zhen, they accepted her words without dissent.

“But Princess, even if we assemble all available troops, can we truly withstand the Chu army?” The speaker’s brow was marked by sorrow and unease.

If ministers of the court already expressed such deep concern, one could well imagine the kind of panic that would spread among the common people once the news broke.

Wei Zhen lowered her gaze to the map before her. “The Chu army charges like a ferocious tiger. Their strategy will be to launch a fierce assault shortly after their arrival. As long as we can weather their initial attack and hold out until their morale wanes, we have a chance to win.”

Although Wei Zhen had never led troops into battle, she had grown up in the company of her grandfather, a seasoned general, and had spent a significant amount of time with Qi Yan. She was far from ignorant about military tactics.

Facing the ministers’ startled and uneasy eyes, she declared resolutely, “I will write to Wei Ling, instructing him to return from Jin as soon as possible to reinforce us. So let us not waste a second. Begin mobilizing rations and counting weapons. At this moment of life or death for our capital, I ask all of you to aid me.”

Her crisp and decisive tone left the ministers with no space for panic. They quickly clarified their responsibilities.

Wei Zhen kept the military commander behind to discuss defensive strategies. Outside the hall, the sky turned from azure to ochre and then gradually into darkness. Only then did she exit the palace.

In the night, a cold wind rose, sending her robes fluttering.

Beneath the desolate moonlight, white jade steps lay layered and uneven. In the distance, the palace walls stood in rows, the mountains behind them like resting beasts in the dark.

From the beacon towers, signal fires flared up one after another. At first, they were barely visible glimmers, but soon enough, they lit up half the sky.

One spark after another rose into the night, trailing southward in a brilliant line of fire that stretched endlessly from tower to tower.

Footsteps sounded behind her. Turning, Wei Zhen saw the ailing king slowly climbing the steps with the support of palace servants to stand beside her, gazing into the distance.

Perhaps it was the intensity of the wind, but the sharp whistling that tore through the air sounded like mourning wails.

The King of Wei asked softly, “Are you afraid?”

Wei Zhen tightened the hand resting on the stone railing. The King continued, “It’s alright, Yangyang. Everyone feels fear. In all these years, your father too has never passed a single day without anxiety for the fate of Wei.”

He wore the same gentle expression as always and placed his hand over hers. “If you’re afraid, come into Father’s arms.”

She threw herself into his embrace. “Father.”

The king gently stroked the pearls adorning her temple and looked at her face. “Ah Zhen, in the night, you may feel fear, and you may take refuge in Father’s arms. But once dawn comes, you must never let anyone see your weakness.”

Wei Zhen raised her head, confused. Under the moonlight, the king’s face seemed covered in a thin layer of frost.

“When word spreads that the Chu army is approaching, panic will grip the entire city. The people will look to you. In that moment, you cannot show even a hint of fear. Remember — you are the sovereign here. Every pair of eyes will be fixed on you. You bear the hopes of an entire people. You don’t have the right to falter.”

The king’s gaze was solemn; his words measured and firm.

Wei Zhen had maintained outward calm all day, but now, in the absence of others, the fear began to rise steadily within her.

She had never commanded a battle, never faced an invading army. She was uncertain if her decisions would justify the hopes of the city’s people.

But the king had only one child — her. No one else could rise to meet this moment.

“Do not doubt yourself,” the king said gently. “Yangyang, you have already learned so much since coming to Wei. I believe that this time as well, you will do splendidly.”

“Father,” Wei Zhen whispered, her gaze unsteady.

The king turned to her. “Beneath your feet lies your city, your nation. Should you retreat, the people will retreat with you, Yangyang.”

From the high platform, she looked down. The people of the capital had not yet realized the danger approaching. Laughter, street vendors’ cries, and the sound of flutes still drifted through the air — peace as it had always been.

Though she hadn’t yet conquered her fear — images of war flashed before her eyes, making her feel sick — this was a battle she had to face. As a princess of Wei, she could not retreat.

“Father,” she said softly.

The King of Wei turned again and saw the reflection of the beacon fires in her eyes. Her voice was clear and firm:

“I believe in our people. We will survive until reinforcements arrive.”

Just like the breeze that rises unnoticed from the edge of the grass.

Though they were small, like a whispering wind, enough of them together could form a fierce and unstoppable gale — a fire that could ignite everything.

The Chu army would soon arrive. When news broke, panic spread throughout the capital. Some prayed for divine mercy, others tried to flee. Wei Zhen sent envoys to calm the masses, reminding them that no other fortress in the region was as secure as the capital. As long as the capital stood, they stayed safest there.

On the streets of the capital, hurried figures bustled about. Soldiers intensified their drills, craftsmen worked on weapon repairs, and laborers reinforced the walls.

But no one expected the Chu army to arrive sooner than anticipated.

Scouts returned and reported to Wei Zhen that the enemy had approached within ten li (approx. 5 kilometers) of the capital’s outskirts.

Her heart leapt wildly. She could no longer sit still and exited the palace.

She knew — the first battle had begun.

Outside the capital, she had laid a trap for the approaching Chu army. Two thousand Wei soldiers waited in ambush in a mountain valley.

Dust billowed into the sky, and the thunder of hooves shook the earth.

Chu soldiers galloped ahead, knowing that this next fortress was thinly manned, had long been at peace, and suffered from disorganized command. The king was sick, and he had foolishly allowed a mere princess to govern. With a force this large bearing down, the city would fall like a fragile egg against a rock.

And once the city was theirs, wealth and noble titles would be within reach.

King Jing Heng of Chu shouted to rouse his soldiers: “Take the city! Break through the Wei capital! Revive the might of Chu!”

The soldiers echoed, “Revive the might of Chu!”

Their army reached a narrow valley shaped like a gourd. The path ahead grew tight and winding.

Scouts returned, saying, “Your Majesty, we’ve checked ahead — no ambush lies in wait!”

Jing Heng nodded and ordered the troops to proceed.

Meanwhile, Wei soldiers lay in wait atop the hills, hidden beneath grass, watching closely. The Chu troops advanced cautiously. Wei troops were in no hurry — they had the patience to lure the snake into the trap.

This ambushing force was essentially a death squad. Missioned with stalling the enemy at all costs, they likely would not return.

But those two thousand soldiers were ordered to inflict five-, eight-, even ten-thousand casualties — their lives to buy time for the capital.

This first battle had to break the enemy’s morale.

This narrow, lengthy gorge had always been a natural bulwark protecting Wei’s capital. Now every peak was laden with archers.

The front ranks of Chu soldiers safely exited the canyon, reassuring those behind. Jing Heng, surrounded by guards, was just about to enter when a thunderous cry rang out:

“Release arrows!”

In an instant, black shafts rained down from every direction. Soldiers fell with cries all around.

“Your Majesty! Go back!” guards with shields surrounded the king.

Jing Heng’s eyes turned red. Realizing the situation, he shouted for his troops to retreat!

But the canyon had become a death trap. Arrows continued to fly. Bodies piled up like spilled grain.

That first skirmish — victory went to Wei.

When news reached the palace, it was already late at night, and barely a thousand men had returned from battle. Wei Zhen went out herself to greet them.

Leading them was Commander Yan Zhong, who gave her two updates: the good news — over ten thousand enemy soldiers died in the gorge; the bad — Chu’s forces were far more numerous than originally believed, more than triple the reported thirty thousand.

Wei Zhen’s expression turned grave. Still, she told the weary soldiers to rest — no matter what, they had won the first battle, lifting people’s morale and giving the capital hope.

But Chu did not back down. The next afternoon, they started building camps outside the city.

They were ready to strike at any moment.

From night to dawn and into the following day, the city remained deathly quiet. Citizens hid indoors. The capital hadn’t seen war in years, and fear was palpable. No one knew how it would end — whether Chu would breach the gates, or if Wei defenders would hold fast.

All they could do was pray.

A trumpet blared — clear and piercing — signaling Chu’s advance on the capital.

Wei’s archers stood atop the fortress wall. With one order, bows were drawn in perfect unison.

Wei Zhen had climbed the watchtower outside the palace. From the lofty height, she watched her soldiers go into battle.

With a command, “Enemy in range — loose arrows!”

A volley rained down. Chu soldiers fell in droves. Yet behind them more troops surged forward, as though unending.

“Second volley! Fire!”

Another wave struck. Yet the Chu troops kept coming.

Their dark silhouettes rolled forward like a living, breathing storm.

Soon, a Chu unit broke through the arrow shower and rushed to the wall, raising ladders to scale it. Wei’s archers pulled back, and other soldiers threw flaming rocks and boiling oil. The ladders ignited with a roar, screams and fire echoing across heaven and earth.

From atop the tower, Wei Zhen shouted, “Do not fear! The Chu may be many, but we have waves of soldiers too!”

Attacking a fortress required far more troops than defending it. Despite their numerical weakness, Wei had won the first battle. Victory was not impossible.

She shouted again, “Hold your ground! They’ve marched far and are tired. We wait in strength — we need not fear!”

Wei soldiers, spurred by her voice, shouted, “Kill!”

Still, the wounded kept coming. Wei Zhen descended the tower.

“Princess, where are you going? It’s not safe!” guards tried to stop her.

Ignoring the warnings, she removed her cloak, took bandages from a medic, and approached the injured soldiers.

“Chu forces are advancing,” someone reported. At the gate, wood splintered under the battering rams. The deafening sound struck Wei Zhen’s heart like thunder.

Her hands, stained in blood, trembled. But she forced herself to stay calm.

She was princess of Wei. All eyes were on her. If she faltered, others would too.

The air reeked of iron. She hadn’t bandaged wounds in a long time. The smell overwhelmed her.

But she steadied herself, smiled at a gravely wounded soldier, and said, “Let me dress your wound.”

She silently begged — for Wei Ling to return, and quickly.

Against such odds, whether they could hold the capital was anyone’s guess.

But Wei Zhen held one hope — that fortune would stand on their side.

She believed it would.

Meanwhile, in Jin, a hundred li from the Wei capital…

The night sparkled with stars, cool and still. Inside the commander’s tent, lights stayed lit despite the late hour.

A young man clad in silver armor strode out, lifting the flap. His gaze was sharp and icy, and he called for his horse. Mounting swiftly, he prepared to ride.

Behind him, another figure rushed out.

“Wei Ling called out, ‘Qi Yan!’”

Soldiers of the camp turned toward them. Wei Ling waved them off and strode forward, grabbing the reins of the starry steed.

Through gritted teeth, he hissed, “My sister’s letter asked only me to return. She specifically wrote that you mustn’t come. At this crucial moment, if anything happens here while you’re gone—what then? I am enough.”

Qi Yan yanked the reins and said coldly, “I understand.”

“Then why are you going?” Wei Ling snapped. Only now did he realize how rash his friend could be.

Qi Yan looked out at the plains ahead, his voice calm.

“She is my wife. I know full well I have responsibilities here, and I do believe she can hold the city without me. But I cannot do nothing.”

The wind stirred. He lowered his head and added quietly, “I must see her with my own eyes.”

Wei Ling froze. At that moment, the reins slid from his hands.

He watched his friend ride off, gripping his hand — a red welt stinging across his palm.

He murmured, “My sister… she’s your weakness, isn’t she?”

In the cold wind, Qi Yan rode alone into the night. Behind him, an army gathered. But he was alone at the forefront, the moonlight casting silver along his path.

He clutched at the pendant she had once given him — a token that now burned cold against his chest.

He knew it was foolhardy. Wei Ling returning made better tactical sense.

But deep in his heart, a single terror echoed louder than reason — his fear of losing her.

He tugged the pendant free, pressed it to his heart, as if her presence could be felt through it.

Before him, mountains rolled into one another. Beacon smoke trailed in the sky. Grass glistened with star dew.

His memories flooded back — her face through seasons past:

A spring night, tending his wounds; a summer roadside kiss underneath the stars; autumn’s fireflies and her confession under wine; a winter chase through snow, shielding him from harm…

And the spring after, when she traveled thousands of miles to stand beside him in his darkest hour.

If she had once run to him without a second thought, then he could do the same.

“O heavens,” he prayed, “grant me just a little more time. Let me see her once more.”

Qi Yan wrapped the keepsake in his hand, spurred his horse forward, and under a canopy of stars, he rode with no hesitation.

“Hyah!”

Across the plains, the white steed galloped into the night — toward destiny, toward love.