The tent stank of wet canvas, sweat, and old oil from spear shafts stacked in the corners. Outside, the fog over Bù Zhèng swallowed twelve thousand men, reducing them to shifting shadows. Their voices were low, strained. The earth had turned to sucking mud under months of raids and false marches. Bare trees clawed at the grey sky like skeletal hands.
Inside, torchlight wavered across lacquered armor, catching uneasy glances.
On the far side of the table sat the delegation from the Southern Kingdom — their pale green banners wrapped tight as if to strangle the breath from them. At their head lounged Zheng Yùhao, his breastplate studded with river pearls, hands folded with studied calm. But his eyes — sharp, restless — darted constantly to the woman beside him.
Lianhua.
My sister. Given to the South in marriage to seal a peace we both knew was rotting.
She sat perfectly straight, her red-and-silver gown pouring across the floor like spilled wine. Her hair was wound into a coronet of black pinned with jade cicadas. She didn't look at me.
I stood at the head of the table. I didn't bother to sit. My hands were clasped behind my back, fingers curled tight enough to leave crescents in my skin. The maps before me were marked in black ink — rivers, towns, supply caches. All delicate veins we could sever.
The torchlight danced over their surface, illuminating the faint stain where I'd once pressed my thumb too hard. A tremor. I couldn't remember when.
"So," said Zheng Yùhao at last, breaking the fragile hush. His accent wound around my language like a serpent. "You wish to recover Bù Zhèng. How very… optimistic, Your Highness. You've just clawed victory from Cao Wen, and already you bleed men across two provinces. Your coffers must rattle hollow by now. The peasants here would rather hang themselves than pledge to another conqueror."
His smile was thin. "Perhaps we negotiate a withdrawal. A shared governance under southern auspices. Bù Zhèng remains a buffer. Less blood. Less ruin."
Behind me, Wu Kang's and Wu Jin's men stiffened. This was not the dance we'd rehearsed. I was meant to press, threaten, break their composure. Not… listen.
I let silence stretch until it quivered.
Then my eyes slid past Zheng. Past his captains. To my sister.
"Sister," I said, voice calm, almost gentle. "Do you still dream of Ling An's gardens?"
The tent seemed to draw breath.
Lianhua didn't look up. Her lacquered nails tapped once on her sleeve.
"Ling An's gardens are cold in winter," she said. "They rot quickly. Even chrysanthemums blacken at the root. Perhaps Bù Zhèng is the same. Perhaps it needs southern care."
Her words were silk steeped in vinegar. Southern officers chuckled, pleased.
I smiled then. A small thing, not reaching the wrongness behind my eyes.
I stepped around the table, slow, deliberate, until I stood before Zheng Yùhao. He straightened, a hand drifting toward his ceremonial blade.
Then I reached out.
Two fingers beneath his chin. Lifting it just enough that his eyes locked fully on mine.
The tent froze. Even breath seemed afraid.
"Tell me something, General," I said softly, savoring each word. "When you were a boy, did you ever watch dogs fight over a carcass? How they snarl and tear at meat, forgetting the butcher's hand on the knife?"
My smile widened. "No? Then let me show you."
I let go. Stepped back.
Then I drew my dagger and drove it into the map. The blade sank into Bù Zhèng's heart, splitting rivers and towns in two. Ink bled like fresh wounds across the parchment.
"I don't negotiate from fear. Or famine. Or even for love of my father's throne. I do it because I want to see what you become when the hounds close in."
My gaze found Lianhua again. For a heartbeat, something gentle stirred in me — then shriveled.
"To win Bù Zhèng," I said, voice cool as a river in shadow, "I'll tear open every city from here to the White River. I'll hang your river lords from their own bridges, feed their entrails to the fish. I'll salt the fields so deeply the earth forgets what wheat is."
Zheng tried to smirk, but sweat beaded at his temples.
I leaned close, so only he heard me. My breath cold against his ear.
"Or… you can flee south tonight. Save your sons for another war. Let me bleed here alone."
When I straightened, I turned to face my own commanders.
"Any man who doubts," I called, voice bright now, bright and hard like a blade catching sun, "may ride home to Ling An. Tell Wu Kang he can keep his precious fleet. Tell Wu Jin he can keep his little poets. But Bù Zhèng will be mine. Because I have something none of them possess."
"What is that, Your Highness?" someone whispered.
I smiled — truly smiled.
"Nothing left to lose."
The tent erupted. Southern officers rose with shouted protests. Black Tiger captains tensed, hands dropping to hilts. Only Shen Yue behind me did not move. Her eyes held something like grief.
I lifted a hand.
Everything stopped.
I looked once more to Lianhua. Her gaze met mine, sharp and dark. I could not read her. I wasn't sure I wanted to.
"When the rivers of Bù Zhèng run clean again, sister," I said, voice lowering, almost tender, "I'll send you lilies. Even if I must plant them myself in your husband's men."
Then I left. The tent flaps crashed behind me, spilling cold air that bit through my robes.
Outside, the camp boiled with tension. Scouts galloped in, breathless — southern cavalry massing on the west ridge. Nanyan banners, lotus crests. Thousands. Preparing to strike before dawn.
Wu Kang's men looked at me as if seeing a demon, not a brother. Wu Jin's lieutenants whispered that I'd finally gone mad.
I mounted my horse. Shen Yue swung up beside me without a word.
"Ready the Black Tigers," I said. "And send for Han Qing. I want the Golden Dragons on the east flank — whether they trust me or not."
I drew in a slow breath. The air tasted like iron. Like promises I could never unmake.
"Tonight," I whispered, "the hounds feast."
Under the bruised sky of Bù Zhèng, the final lines were drawn — not by scribes or delicate hands, but by the sharp certainty of iron. And by whatever monstrous thing now lived inside my chest, waiting to be fed.