The Company

Chapter 42: Coin Without Back

Bianjing, Kaifeng, 1066 AD

The morning sun had not yet fully risen, with only a faint red glow tinting the eastern sky, when the clear crowing of roosters pierced through the morning mist, echoing over Bianjing. The dawn bells of major temples rang out one after another, and in an instant, the quiet streets grew noisy as early-rising citizens gradually appeared.

Hou Fangjie rubbed his eyes and leaned against the palace wall, bidding farewell to his colleagues filing out. He was waiting for his friend Di Yong, who had also been on night duty. Their posts differed—Hou was merely one of many guards at Qianyuan Gate, while Di Yong served at Chuigong Hall where the emperor held court, a position brimming with promising prospects.

This was no surprise, for Di Yong had an illustrious father—Di Qing, also known as Di Hanchen, the Military Star of the Great Song Dynasty. Though Di Qing had passed away years ago, he had once held the position of Deputy Commissioner of Military Affairs, the highest rank a military officer could achieve in the Song Dynasty. It was well-known that the Song Dynasty valued civil officials over military ones, and ultimately, it was the collective suppression by civil officials that led to Di Qing's depression and death.

Hou Fangjie sighed inwardly. Every man dreamed of becoming a hero on the battlefield, and Di Qing had been his childhood idol. Yet, this renowned general, before even growing old, succumbed to public suspicion—a truly lamentable fate.

Lost in thought, Hou heard the palace gate creak open once more. An exceptionally handsome young man pushed the door open, and the first rays of sunlight fell upon him, casting a faint golden halo around his figure that left onlookers breathless.

He truly left no room for others to compete.

Hou Fangjie gritted his teeth in a mix of envy and resentment.

Di Qing was renowned as the most handsome man of the Song Dynasty. However, in his youth, he had taken the blame for his elder brother and received facial tattoos, earning him the nickname "General Miannie." When charging into battle, Di Qing, like the Lanling King four centuries before him, wore a fearsome mask—not to hide his tattoos, but because his beauty was too distracting.

In fact, Di Qing was only the second man in history so handsome that he needed to wear a mask in battle, a testament to his unparalleled charisma. Even after rising to the rank of Deputy Commissioner, he refused to remove his facial tattoos with medicine, remaining unmoved even by the emperor's personal persuasion. This became a regret shared by everyone, from the emperor to the common folk.

Thus, Hou Fangjie fully understood why Di Yong was assigned to serve at Chuigong Hall near the emperor—he was the very image of Di Hanchen reborn.

Now, Di Yong strode gracefully through the crisp spring breeze. His eyebrows arched like distant mountains, his eyes cold as winter stars—even the most critical observer could find no flaw in his features. He wore the same armor as other guards: silk-faced with dark blue linen lining, painted with green leaf patterns, red brocade trim, red leather straps, leg bindings, and a ring-pommeled sword at his waist. This ceremonial, tight-sleeved uniform, more for show than practicality, somehow accentuated his imposing and sharp presence, further highlighting his tall, handsome, and valiant figure矜持而冷峻。For the umpteenth time, Hou Fangjie cursed himself for befriending this fellow. The pressure of walking alongside such a handsome man was simply overwhelming! No wonder Di Yong had been isolated since childhood—ordinary people with weak resolve couldn't possibly endure it.

But the ever-carefree Hou Fangjie merely grumbled internally as usual before shaking off his resentment. Yawning, he asked, "Sty, what are we eating this morning? Red bean dumplings from Xiaoren Lane? Bean cakes from Guanqiao Street? Four-colored stuffed buns from Taiping Ward? Blood sausage noodle soup from Temple Alley? Or pork pancreas pancakes from Zhong'an Bridge..."

Though imperial guards were provided meals after their shifts, young nobles like them naturally disdained the monotonous official fare. In the bustling capital of Bianjing, anything was possible with coins in one's purse. As Hou Fangjie rattled off snack names without pause, his drowsiness vanished, replaced by copious drooling.

Noticing his friend's salivating expression, Di Yong's stern lips quirked slightly. He sighed softly, "Let's go to Breeze Pavilion. My treat today—to thank you for swapping shifts with me."

Breeze Pavilion was a renowned Bianjing establishment that not only operated at night but also gathered the city's finest breakfast delicacies during morning hours. Rubbing his empty stomach, Hou Fangjie chuckled, "Enough with the formalities. We're brothers—how could I watch you suffer that torment daily?" Though his words sounded earnest, they carried unmistakable teasing.

Mentioning this matter, even the habitually stoic Di Yong exhaled in rare frustration.

Originally, he had served daytime shifts at Chuigong Hall—a prime position allowing daily exposure to the emperor and opportunities to observe court deliberations outside the hall. But the frenzy of onlookers mobbing him after each shift grew increasingly unbearable, eventually forcing him to request shift changes for peace.

"Pfft! Who told Princess Bao'an to declare she wants someone like you as consort? Even the emperor called you 'the human ideal'—of course everyone wants to see this famously imperial-endorsed paragon!" Hou Fangjie reveled in schadenfreude.

Di Yong couldn't be bothered to engage his mockery, knowing full well Hou Fangjie could happily monologue without responses.

Understanding his friend's temperament, Hou Fangjie didn't expect reactions anyway. Slapping Di Yong's shoulder, he grinned, "So? How does it feel to catch a princess's eye?"

Di Yong remained expressionless, knowing this was utterly impossible.

As Empress Gao's eldest daughter, Princess Bao'an stood far above his station—how could she marry a mere fifth-rank Eastern Gates Commissioner? He'd never entertained such fantasies. Recently, the emperor himself had summoned him, hinting at arranging a marriage with a commandery princess to make him a commandery consort.

This already constituted immense honor, which he wouldn't dispute. But marriage wasn't his pursuit—he'd rather follow his father's path, battling on frontiers and defending borders with bloodshed.Hou Fangjie walked alongside Di Yong towards West Corner Tower Street in the western part of the city, recalling the spectacle when Di Yong had stepped out earlier. He couldn't help but chuckle and tease, "You should be grateful those young ladies threw hairpins and flowers at you instead of melons and fruits, or you'd have ended up as another tragic tale like Wei Jie, who was literally stared to death."

Di Yong's handsome face darkened slightly as he contemplated whether to follow his father's example and wear a bronze mask. But that would be far too ostentatious in Bianjing and might instead give people more to gossip about.

Hou Fangjie leaned in closer, lowering his voice with feigned mystery. "You know, there's a rumor going around that the great handsome Di never wears flowers because he's waiting for the one from his beloved."

In their dynasty, it was customary for men, especially among the upper class, to adorn themselves with flowers. During major festivals, the emperor would bestow flowers upon his officials, and these imperial gifts varied according to rank. There were even strict rules about which flowers to wear on different occasions, in different seasons, and with different attire. For instance, there were dozens of varieties of silk flowers alone, and one wasn't allowed to wear gold-threaded flowers when meeting foreign envoys. Sometimes even the number of petals mattered.

Di Yong had always despised this overly effeminate tradition and steadfastly refused to wear flowers regardless of the occasion. Some colleagues who disapproved would privately mock him, saying his father came from humble origins, his upbringing was crude, and he lacked manners.

However, Di Yong knew he stood out too much. He never paid any mind to such gossip. Besides, it was true that his father came from a poor background, had been punished and branded, and was no descendant of the famed Duke of Liang, Di Renjie. Why should he stop others from talking? So he took Hou Fangjie's words as mere jest, the tension in his handsome features easing into a rare softness.

Encouraged, Hou Fangjie redoubled his efforts to gossip. The two walked side by side through the Youyemen gate, arriving at the southwest section of West Corner Tower Street. They followed the relatively broad Yonglu Street, passing by the Kaifeng Prefecture, the Palace Command, and the Department of State Affairs. In front of these solemn government offices, early-arriving officials were already gathering sporadically. Those who recognized them greeted the pair and exchanged pleasantries. Di Yong, never one for many words and with a limited circle of friends, mostly left the chatting to the smiling Hou Fangjie.

When they reached the end of Dragon Ford Bridge, they saw an elegant and magnificent tall building.

The Qingfeng Lou was quite famous in Bianjing. Located near many government offices, it was a popular spot for officials to rest and converse. Upon entering the painted and carved gate, a poem by Sima Guang titled "Harmonizing with Sun Qi at Qingfeng Lou" hung on the wall of the main hall to the right. Though the morning sun had just risen, the Qingfeng Lou was already bustling with activity. Knowing Di Yong disliked being stared at, and that sitting in the main hall would draw everyone's attention, Hou Fangjie headed straight for a private room on the third floor.

Hou Fangjie casually ordered a few breakfast items he fancied. Before the food arrived, a waiter came in again to inform them that someone wished to intrude. Hou Fangjie figured it might be an acquaintance who had seen them come up and wanted to join their table. Seeing that Di Yong didn't object, he nodded in agreement.Before long, someone knocked and entered. The man was dressed in a wide-sleeved, form-fitting Wrapped Robe from the Qin and Han dynasties. The black robe accentuated his jade-like complexion, and his long hair was not tied up but loosely draped behind his ears, making him look like an elegant figure straight out of an ancient painting. Even if he wasn't as handsome as Di Yong, such a person would leave an unforgettable impression. Hou Fangjie immediately recalled the man's identity and stood up to greet him.

"Yo! What wind blows you here today? What a coincidence to run into you!" Hou Fangjie familiarly pulled the man to sit at the table and introduced him to Di Yong: "This is the owner of an antique shop over at Caihe Bay. I've bought things from his store before."

Di Yong nodded slightly as a greeting. He had always been cold by nature, largely because showing too much kindness would only attract unwanted attention and disrupt his peace. He preferred to remain aloof.

After exchanging a few pleasantries with Hou Fangjie, the shop owner turned to Di Yong and said slowly, "I'll be leaving Bianjing soon. Recently, my shop received an item, and I thought that even if it can't be returned to its original owner, it should be given to the person who ought to inherit it."

"Ah? Is Dumb Shop closing?" Hou Fangjie was startled and suddenly felt a sense of loss. He calculated that the shop had been open for several years, yet the owner always seemed to remain this young...

"Ah, it's time to return to my hometown," the shop owner replied with a faint smile, offering no further explanation. He took out a brocade handkerchief from his robe, placed it on the table, and slowly unfolded it.

Lying quietly on the handkerchief was a copper coin.

The moment Di Yong saw it, his pupils contracted, and his thin lips pressed into a tight line.

"What is this..." Hou Fangjie examined it curiously for a moment, stroking his chin hesitantly. "Could this be the legendary Imperial Song Nine-fold Seal Script?"

The Imperial Song Nine-fold Seal Script was the rarest type of Imperial Song Tongbao coin issued during the Huangyou era of Emperor Renzong of Song. Although it had been minted just over a decade ago, its scarcity had made it priceless and virtually impossible to find on the market. The so-called Nine-fold Seal Script was based on small seal script, with strokes repeatedly folded, coiled, and curved. The number of folds for each character depended on the complexity of the strokes. It was called "nine-fold" not because it was folded exactly nine times, but because nine symbolized the ultimate number, indicating the abundance of folded strokes.

Hou Fangjie rubbed his hands together and chuckled. "Shop owner, why go through the trouble of bringing this Imperial Song Nine-fold Seal Script here? Although this coin is valuable, my friend here isn't short on money!"

He glanced at Di Yong, implying that he wanted to snatch the treasure for himself to collect. After all, he wasn't planning to take it for free—he intended to pay for it.

The young shop owner narrowed his eyes, and his entire face suddenly took on a vivid yet eerie expression. Without saying a word, he reached out and flipped the Imperial Song Nine-fold Seal Script coin over.

Hou Fangjie gasped sharply, pointing at the coin and gritting his teeth. "A fake! This has to be a fake! What kind of coin has inscriptions on both sides, both as the obverse? This is clearly a counterfeit!"

The shop owner smiled mysteriously. "Are you sure? Are you certain there has never been a coin without a reverse side—a coin with no back?""I... indeed..." Hou Fangjie's voice caught in his throat, as he suddenly remembered there truly was such a thing, and he recalled that incident with vivid clarity, almost able to recite it by heart.

During the Huangyou era, General Di Qing, the "Scarred General" also known as Di Hanchen, led troops to suppress the rebellion in Liangguang. Facing unfavorable circumstances, he made a vow before a temple to the Buddha, pledging to toss a hundred coins—if they all landed heads up and tails down, it would surely ensure a great victory for the entire army. After stepping out of the temple, he waved his hand publicly, and the hundred coins fell to the ground with a clatter. Astonishingly, every single coin landed heads up, causing an uproar among the onlookers.

Di Qing ordered his attendants to fetch a hundred iron nails and had the coins nailed firmly to the ground on the spot. He declared that upon their triumphant return, he would retrieve the coins to thank the gods, rebuild the temple, and regild the statues. Thus, the army's morale soared, and they soundly defeated the rebel forces. After their victory, when everyone looked again at the hundred coins, they discovered that each coin had heads on both sides—no tails at all.

This tale had circulated among the people for a long time, and everyone admired the resourcefulness and strategy of Duke Wu Xiang. Hou Fangjie had momentarily forgotten this allusion, but upon recalling the shopkeeper's earlier mention of returning the coin to its inheritor, his eyes immediately lit up.

"Is this the legendary tailless coin? But why is there only one? Wasn't there supposed to be a hundred of them back then?"

"This copper coin isn't just for fortune-telling. It can also buy one's life," the young shopkeeper said in a low, elegant voice that sent shivers down one's spine.

"I understand the fortune-telling part—many people use copper coins for divination, and Duke Wu Xiang utilized that too. But... buying one's life?" Hou Fangjie asked, puzzled. He had never heard of such a thing.

"Haven't you received 'yasuiqian' before? 'Sui' sounds like 'evil spirits', so it's said that yasuiqian can suppress evil influences. Those who receive yasuiqian from their elders can safely pass through the year. It's believed that when filthy demons and monsters try to harm a child, the yasuiqian can be used to bribe them," the young shopkeeper said, a meaningful smile curling at the corners of his lips. "That's what's meant by buying one's life."

"Uh... when I was a kid, I spent my yasuiqian as soon as I got it every year... I guess I should thank the Buddha that I managed to grow up safely..." Hou Fangjie felt a chill, never having known that yasuiqian had such a purpose.

"This tailless coin was specially made by Duke Wu Xiang. It's said he later distributed the hundred tailless coins among his subordinates—they could ward off disasters and buy one's life."

The shopkeeper slowly stood up and addressed Di Yong, who had remained silent throughout, saying calmly, "I happened to come across this tailless coin and am returning it to you, Young Master Di. It would be best to keep this coin close to your person." With that, ignoring Hou Fangjie's eager attempts to detain him, he gracefully pushed the door open and left.

The staff at Qingfeng Tower, knowing the two had matters to discuss, had only served a pot of tea at the beginning and hadn't brought any breakfast. After the shopkeeper left, they quickly entered the private room and laid out the ordered dishes all over the table in record time.

Seeing that Di Yong remained expressionless, Hou Fangjie didn't pay it much mind. Once the attendants had withdrawn, he wrapped the tailless coin in a brocade handkerchief and pressed it into Di Yong's hand, muttering admonishments: "Since he said to keep it close to your person, find a string later and hang it around your neck."

Di Yong took the handkerchief, smiled self-deprecatingly, and said calmly, "I perform my duties in the imperial palace every day. When would I ever face a life-threatening situation?"Though serving the sovereign is like living with a tiger, the Great Song Dynasty had always refrained from unjustly executing the innocent. Not only were civil officials exempt from beheading, but military officers, though prone to suspicion, were still treated with dignity. Even commoners were rarely wronged. With the emperor being courteous and amiable, Di Yong truly wondered if he would ever have use for this backless coin.

Though his thoughts were clear, his words carried a tone of unfulfilled ambition. How could Hou Fangjie fail to notice? He could only offer comforting words. In truth, Di Qing (styled Hanchen), much like the Lanling King, was so handsome that he had to wear a mask in battle, and both ultimately fell under imperial suspicion. History often repeats such frustrating coincidences.

As Hou Fangjie’s mind wandered with these silent grievances, he scrambled for consoling phrases. But Di Yong raised a hand, signaling him to be silent. Just as Hou was puzzled, voices drifted from the adjacent private room.

The Qingfeng Pavilion’s soundproofing was mediocre, though no one would discuss secrets there. The two next door spoke softly, yet to Di and Hou—trained in martial arts and keen of hearing—their words were crystal clear.

At first, Di Yong paid little attention, until the pair began discussing the "strong Tang and weak Song" argument.

This view was widespread among the public. Thanks to the Song’s freedom of speech, many fixated on it. Ever since Emperor Taizu relieved his generals of command over a cup of wine, military officials’ status had plummeted—a key reason Di Yong’s father, Di Qing, faced relentless suppression and died embittered.

Many believed the Song paled in comparison to the Tang’s military might. Today, with the antique shop owner returning the backless coin crafted by his father, Di Yong felt an indescribable gloom and wanted to hear others’ opinions.

Suddenly, one voice slammed the table indignantly: "The Great Song has been weak for ages! We can’t win wars, and even victories lead to reparations—a humiliating chapter in our history! Lu Zi, why did you set the compass to this era again? It’s infuriating to watch!"

Di Yong’s knuckles turned white as he gripped his teacup. Though not directed at him, the words felt like a slap across the face.

Then another voice, calm and steady, replied coolly: "War? It depends on the purpose. Those outsiders fight desperately just for our porcelain, silk, and tea. Opening border markets could resolve this. If no one dies and we trade goods, who would bother with war? It’s like shopkeepers facing local thugs demanding protection money—do you pay upfront, or wait for them to wreck your store before paying? Since you can’t eliminate all the thugs, anyone not seeking mutual destruction knows the logical choice."

Di Yong was taken aback. He had never considered this perspective, but on a broader scale, it made sense.

Even during Emperor Wu of Han’s reign, despite the prosperity inherited from the Wen-Jing era, the campaigns against the Xiongnu drained the treasury. Years of war and heavy taxes exhausted the people, and Emperor Wu himself expressed deep regret in his later years.Moreover, nomadic tribes were indeed difficult to completely eradicate, just as this person said—merchants simply lacked the absolute power to make petty ruffians disappear. What was even more frightening was that even if one group of these troublemakers was dealt with, another would inevitably emerge.

The steady voice continued, "In reality, the most critical issue for every dynasty was the economy. Generally speaking, as long as the common people had enough to eat and drink, unrest would not repeatedly arise. For instance, when Qin Shi Huang built the Great Wall, I suspect he did so after calculating that the cost of construction would be more economical than maintaining a large army's military expenses. Moreover, it eliminated the risk of his subordinates amassing too much power with their own troops—why wouldn't he take that option? However, the officials of the Song Dynasty discovered an even cheaper method: instead of building a wall, they could simply pay protection fees."

"During the Zhenzong period, the Chanyuan Treaty stipulated that the Song Dynasty would pay the Khitans an annual tribute of 300,000 strings of coins. While this may sound like a substantial amount, do you know what the Song Dynasty's treasury revenue was at that time? The Song's annual income easily exceeded 100 million strings. The 300,000 strings of tribute represented merely 0.3% of the annual fiscal revenue—truly just spare change slipping through the fingers to pacify beggars. Who wouldn't spend a little to buy peace? It's not like we're short on money!"

"Moreover, the Song Dynasty only offered silver and silk as indemnities, never using copper coins for reparations, and even restricted the outflow of copper currency. This was because the Song faced a copper shortage, where the face value of copper coins couldn't match the value of the raw material, eventually leading to the excessive issuance of silver certificates and triggering inflation. In reality, the Song Dynasty was later brought down by an economic crisis. So, you see, economics is truly important..."

Di Yong listened intently. Even though he attended daily court sessions at the Chuigong Hall, these arguments felt novel to him, especially with unfamiliar terms he couldn't grasp. But... brought down? The Song Dynasty currently enjoys vast, prosperous territories—what nonsense is this person spouting?

Di Yong furrowed his handsome brows and stood up tall. Although the speaker's points seemed reasonable, he felt an underlying sense of impracticality he couldn't quite pinpoint. He simply thought it would be worthwhile to befriend this gentleman. They could discuss matters further—like how the man knew confidential details such as specific fiscal revenue data, or what terms like "inflation" and "economic crisis" meant, and how the Song Dynasty could be "brought down"...

Hou Fangjie, who had also been listening to the man's intriguing discourse, was equally fascinated. Seeing Di Yong stride away with a dark expression, he hurried after him. His friend looked ready for a confrontation, and he worried they might end up in a physical altercation if words turned sour.

However, Hou Fangjie's concern proved unnecessary. After Di Yong had the attendant knock on the door, they heard the servant's lament.

Inside the private room, several breakfast dishes lay nearly finished on the square table, with a half-bowl of soybean milk still steaming. But not a soul remained in sight.

Di Yong frowned. This was the adjacent room, and he hadn't heard anyone leaving. How could this be? The windows were securely shut—if they had jumped from the third floor, there would have been commotion in the street below.

Just then, the attendant's pitiful plea reached their ears: "Young Master Hou, do you know these two? They haven't paid their bill!"

The cost of the breakfast wasn't much, and Hou Fangjie was somewhat acquainted with the attendant. Resigned, he reached into his robe for his coin purse, muttering under his breath, "I certainly don't have friends who dine and dash. Ah well, considering what we just heard, this small sum is nothing. I'll treat it as tossing coins to a beggar! It's not like I'm short on cash!"In the capital, sons of official families who were not indolent scions typically chose between two paths: civil or military service. Those opting for civil roles would either leverage connections to purchase official positions if lacking scholarly merit, or enter the Imperial Academy, take imperial examinations, and join the Hanlin Academy if genuinely talented. For the military path, one would start as an imperial guard, gain experience in the army, and receive appointments—a conventional trajectory. Di Yong, benefiting from his late father Duke Wuxiang’s legacy, was already noted by the emperor. After years of guard duty at the imperial court, he could have transferred to the imperial guards for further seasoning, smoothly gilding his credentials to marry a commandery princess.

Yet Di Yong requested assignment to the northwestern frontier.

Since he dared to volunteer, the emperor had no reason to refuse. Moreover, though Duke Wuxiang Di Qing had died in disgrace, he remained a figure the emperor had admired in his youth. An edict had already been issued to relocate Duke Wuxiang’s tomb to accompany the emperor’s eternal resting place at Yonghou Mausoleum posthumously. Such favor naturally extended to special regard for his son, Di Yong.

Thus, amid bewildered gazes throughout Bianjing, Di Yong smoothly arrived at Huanzhou City.

The Huanging Circuit administered Qingzhou, Huanzhou, Binzhou, Ningzhou, and Qianzhou, with Qingzhou as its core. Huanzhou lay northwest of Qingzhou, positioning it as the direct frontline against Western Xia. Previously, under the meticulous arrangements of figures like Zhong Shiheng and Fan Zhongyan, the circuit boasted over a dozen mutually supportive forts and mountain strongholds, appearing impregnable. But as Di Yong carefully surveyed the area, his apprehension grew with each discovery.

The Chanyuan Treaty had maintained peace between Song and Liao for over a century. While this pacified the rogue Liao, the rising Western Xia refused to be outdone. Before Fan Zhongyan served as Deputy Military Commissioner of Shaanxi, Song forces had suffered disastrous defeats at battles like Sanchuankou and Haoshui River, with heavy casualties. Though the situation had improved since, after Fan Zhongyan’s departure, no one could salvage the Song army’s lax discipline.

Indeed, who still wanted to fight? At worst, they could just pay some reparations!

Standing on the ramparts of Qingping Pass, Di Yong watched the swirling yellow dust on the horizon, nearly blotting out the sky, yet failing to obscure the banners of Western Xia’s formidable troops camped beyond the walls.

At that moment, he recalled the conversation he had overheard at Qingfeng Tower the previous year, struck by its bitter irony.

Yes, true—scattering loose coins from one’s fingers might placate beggars. But over time, those beggars grow sleek and bold. What happens when they demand more?

Di Yong closed his eyes briefly, his grip on the battlement firm and resolute.

Even now, he did not regret his choice.

He was now stationed at Qingping Pass, a fortress of Huanzhou located twenty-five li east to Guitong Rock, forty li west to Anbian City, thirty li south to Xingping City, and twenty-seven li north to Xiandao Pass. But at this moment, Western Xia general Renduo Han had led thirty thousand troops to assault the pass, defended by a mere three thousand soldiers.

A quarter-hour earlier, Di Yong and his men had repelled the enemy’s first wave. Yet he knew it was merely a probe. Next time, the enemy would bare its sharp fangs and would not retreat so easily.Hou Fangjie hurried up the wall, hand on his sword, grabbed Di Yong's arm and pulled him back, his voice filled with extreme anxiety. "Sitao, this wall isn't high at all. If you stand here and an arrow comes, it'll take you out right here." Calling this a wall was an exaggeration—to Hou Fangjie, it was just a small mound, even lower than Qingfeng Tower.

The thought made Hou Fangjie seethe with frustration. Only by coming to the frontier did one realize how backward things were here. He had regretted his impulsive decision to follow Di Yong, but as an insignificant illegitimate son in his family, the battlefield was the fastest path to distinguish himself and achieve glory.

Everything carried risks; greater rewards demanded the readiness to lose it all.

So Hou Fangjie took it in stride. Before death, killing a few more Western Xia soldiers would make his life worthwhile. He glanced at the expressionless Di Yong beside him and sighed inwardly with regret. This famously handsome young man of the Great Song Dynasty stood as straight as a spear, his entire being shrouded in a murderous aura from the recent slaughter. Half of his armor was stained with enemy blood, and even his handsome face was spattered with a few drops. One drop had landed at the corner of his eye, adding an indescribable, eerie ferocity.

If the young maidens who once threw hairpins and flowers at him knew Di Yong might fall here, surely Bianjing would be drowned in tears.

Hou Fangjie had a broad mind; even in dire situations, his thoughts wandered. Just then, he heard Di Yong call him "Jiesheng." Hou Fangjie immediately straightened up. Di Yong rarely used his courtesy name, as he was usually the one doing all the talking while Di Yong remained silent.

Di Yong pulled out a memorial he had prepared earlier from his chest armor and said gravely, "Jiesheng, take this memorial to Qingzhou City and seek reinforcements."

"You go! I'll hold the fort!" Hou Fangjie replied without hesitation.

"You hold the fort? Could you last until I return with reinforcements? Besides, what commander leaves the battlefield?" A rare smile flickered in Di Yong's handsome eyes. "Qingzhou in the Huan-Qing Route borders Huanzhou. If Huanzhou falls, Qingzhou is in danger. With Qingping Pass besieged, Anbian City, Luogou Fort, Ayuan Fort, and Zhutai Fort have likely already fallen. You must head straight to Qingzhou City, understand?"

It was rare to hear the young man speak so much at once. Frowning, Hou Fangjie didn't take the memorial but argued instead, "What if I seek aid from Tonggui Fort or Huiding Fort? They're much closer than Qingzhou City."

"How many soldiers could they spare? Would they abandon their own forts to rescue us?" Di Yong's gaze turned toward the distant Western Xia army. It was a temporary truce, and soldiers on both sides were tacitly refraining from attacks, retrieving their fallen comrades from the battlefield.

Di Yong had inherited his father's tradition of training troops, and his carefully drilled soldiers were far superior to ordinary forces. However, he hadn't been in Huanzhou long, and these troops couldn't possibly fight one against ten. With unwavering determination and a stern tone, Di Yong said, "Vice General Hou, don't waste time. Select twenty men and ride swiftly to Qingzhou City."Hearing his friend address him differently, Hou Fangjie pressed his lips together, knowing he had no choice but to accept this mission. Military orders were as unyielding as mountains; as Di Yong’s deputy, he could not defy them.

Seeing Hou Fangjie take the memorial, Di Yong untied a clay tiger trinket made of Qinzhou Nixing pottery from his waist and said calmly, "Hold this for me first. I’m afraid it might break during the city defense battle."

Hou Fangjie took it casually. He had long noticed this cheerful-looking clay tiger appearing at his friend’s waist when they left the capital, often teasing that it must be a gift from some young lady. Now, seeing Di Yong still caring for it at such a critical moment, Hou Fangjie became even more convinced it was from someone special. But he wasn’t in the mood for jokes now. Tucking it carelessly behind his breastplate, he asked uneasily, "What about the coin without a back? Are you wearing it properly?"

There was precedent – the Scarred General Di Qing had given all his coins without backs to his subordinates. Hou Fangjie feared Di Yong might similarly give away that precious item. Whether it held real power or not, it at least provided peace of mind.

Di Yong pulled a red thread from his neck, at the end of which hung a copper coin. Seeing it was the Nine-fold Seal Script of the Imperial Song, Hou Fangjie felt relieved. With battle opportunities fleeting, he wasted no more words. Stepping forward, he gave Di Yong a fierce hug, their armor clanking loudly, then gritted his teeth and turned away to select soldiers for the breakout and make all necessary preparations.

Though they had argued over who would stay to defend the city, the breakout mission was equally perilous. A squad of twenty was but a handful of ants on the battlefield – its survival depended on whether the enemy would turn a blind eye.

After a brief daze on the city wall, Di Yong calmly summoned his subordinates to arrange defenses against the Western Xia’s next assault, with the primary goal of covering Hou Fangjie’s breakout. Speed being crucial in warfare, plans were quickly settled. As everyone waited inside the city gate, Hou Fangjie put on his helmet atop his horse and casually handed Di Yong a bronze demon mask.

"Heh, I found this in your luggage. This is Marshal Di Qing’s mask, right? Put it on. The marshal’s fearsome reputation spreads wide even among the Western Xia – it might offer some protection."

Hou Fangjie grinned, showing no tension facing life and death, as casual as discussing where to eat breakfast with Di Yong in Bianjing. He believed life and death were predetermined, and excessive worry was pointless. Giving one’s all without regrets was what mattered.

Even Di Yong had to admire his friend’s composure. Silently, he took the mask and put it on, hiding his expression behind it.

Deafening war drums thundered outside the city walls.

"Charge!" With a fierce shout, the city gate half-opened, and Di Yong led the charge out on his horse.

Yellow sand mixed with black smoke from burning, the air thick with the taste of blood, ears filled with battle cries and death screams – it was like a nightmare from which one could never wake.

"Hah..." Di Yong felt his lungs about to burst. How long had it been since he last drank water? Three hours? Or five?The sun, obscured by dark clouds, broke through once more. Di Yong was momentarily blinded by the glare reflecting off a blade, instinctively narrowing his eyes. A chilling gust of wind whistled past his ears as he sidestepped and swung his sword hard with his right hand. The sensation of steel piercing flesh was followed by a muffled groan from his opponent. Di Yong kicked out violently, sending the man tumbling from the city wall.

"Hah..." He truly wished he could keep his eyes shut and sink into darkness. How long had it been since he last slept? One day? Two?

An arrow whistled up from below the wall. Di Yong tilted his head slightly, evading it with practiced ease, then forced his eyes open with difficulty. The arrow embedded itself in a straw stack behind him, only to be immediately retrieved by a soldier who notched it onto his bowstring and fired it back with fierce determination.

Their weapons were nearly depleted, leaving them no choice but to fight on like this—using the swords and arrows of the Western Xia. As long as they could still stand, they refused to yield.

The walls of Qingping Pass were in ruins. Every soldier who could still rise to their feet was locked in bloody combat with the climbing Western Xia troops. Di Yong had lost count of how many assaults they had repelled. The Western Xia army seemed like an endless swarm of locusts—no matter how many they cut down, another wave surged forward to take their place.

The mask he had worn was long gone, likely hacked away by an enemy at some point, leaving a gash across his cheek.

It seemed he had truly tarnished his father's reputation—failing even to protect a mere mask.

But why wear a mask at all?

On the battlefield, there was no time to notice what anyone looked like.

He never knew whom he killed, or who might eventually kill him.

"Hah..." Di Yong cut down another Western Xia soldier, nearly stumbling off the wall himself in the process. His arms felt numb and alien, his body riddled with wounds, sustained only by sheer will. His sword was now chipped and dull. Bending down, he picked up a curved blade from a fallen foe and scanned his surroundings.

Of the three thousand soldiers under his command, barely a hundred remained standing on the walls.

Di Yong exhaled deeply. He had long anticipated the battle would come to this, so he felt little surprise. At least Hou Fangjie had managed to break through the siege—that was a relief. If his friend had been any sharper, he might not have succeeded in deceiving him so smoothly.

Qingzhou was over two hundred li from Huanzhou. When Hou Fangjie left, each man had taken two horses for rotation. With luck, they could reach Qingzhou City in half a day. The real challenge was whether Qingzhou would dispatch reinforcements.

With numerous forts and strongholds in Huanzhou already fallen, sending a small relief force would be suicide. Yet, deploying a large army risked falling into an enemy trap—a feint to lure them away. Unlike the borderlands of Huanzhou, Qingzhou City was a crucial strategic stronghold. If it fell, the Western Xia army could advance along the Huanqing Route straight to Bianjing, threatening the entire Song Dynasty.

Thus, from the moment Di Yong spotted the Western Xia forces, he knew he was facing a battle to the death.He ordered Hou Fangjie to break through from the very beginning, not merely out of personal desire to save his friend's life. More importantly, it was to instill a hopeful belief in his subordinate soldiers. They had sent for reinforcements—perhaps at any moment, rescue would arrive. So long as they held on a little longer, just a little longer...

While everyone clung to this beautiful hope, Di Yong felt no guilt for deceiving his subordinates.

Death was inevitable either way. Would they choose to fight to the last breath? Or bow their heads, kneel, and beg for mercy before dying?

Why not die a worthy death?

Why did no one realize how perilous the Great Song's situation was?

Why did no one notice the wolves and tigers surrounding them, watching with greedy eyes?

Why did no one know they were sitting on a dangerous, leaky painted boat, slowly sinking into the sea, while those aboard continued to drink and revel without a care?

His chest filled with rage, Di Yong swung his blade and cut down another Western Xia soldier scaling the wall. Gone was the elegance of the Great Song's former top heartthrob; covered in blood and grime, he now resembled a vengeful ghost clawing its way from the underworld.

His body moved on instinct, slashing again and again, while his mind drifted back to that long-pondered argument.

Buying peace with money...

He didn't entirely disagree with that person's perspective—everyone views issues differently. Perhaps that individual had dwelled in peaceful times too long, forgetting the turbulent undercurrents beneath calm waters. Not just that person, but many in Bianjing believed the world was all song and dance, the nation prosperous and the people at peace.

The birds in the sky sing melodiously and play freely among the trees—how could they know the wolves below fight generation after generation for territory in those very woods?

If the forest changes hands, fine birds can still choose another tree to perch on. But a lone wolf that loses its homeland, if it has any spirit left, would never drag out an ignoble existence!

He must defend the Great Song's territory! Otherwise, over time, its domain would shrink until eventually, it faced destruction...

...

Ah... Buddha... I offer you my life... If you hear my prayer... I hope that day will not come too soon...

...

The red thread snapped suddenly. The Imperial Song Nine-fold Seal coin around Di Yong's neck traced a graceful arc through the air before falling from the city wall onto the muddy ground. It bounced twice, then lay still in a pool of blood.

The midday sun shone upon the copper coin, revealing no seal characters.

It had landed on the reverse side.

The wind rose, carrying yellow sand that swept across the sky, gradually burying the coin grain by grain until it was completely submerged...

In the third year of the Zhiping era, ninth month, Renwu day, Western Xia general Renduo Han led thirty thousand elite troops to attack Huanzhou City. After a prolonged siege failed to capture it, Di Yong, son of Duke Wuxiang, fought bloodily for three days. His three thousand soldiers killed over ten thousand enemies before ultimately falling due to the collapse of the city walls. Not a single one of the three thousand retreated or surrendered—all died for their country. This unprecedented bloody battle in over a century shocked the entire nation.

When Di Yong's final memorial reached Bianjing, it bore nine characters written in blood. Though quoting a famous phrase from Emperor Wu of Han's time, its words still resonated with powerful conviction:

"Those who dare offend the Great Song, no matter how distant, shall be executed!"

Epilogue

Decades later, the aged Hou Fangjie rested on a recliner in his courtyard. His five-year-old grandson came running over giggling, proudly holding up an object as if presenting a treasure."Grandpa! Grandpa! Look! There's a copper coin inside this clay tiger!" The child suddenly remembered this clay tiger was his grandfather's most treasured possession and quickly explained, "It was all little brother's fault - he dropped it when taking it out of the box and it broke..."

The child didn't continue, for his grandfather had already snatched the clay tiger from his hands, staring blankly at the copper coin inside that had split into two halves.

After crying and fussing for a while, the child realized his doting grandfather wouldn't pay him any attention this time no matter what, so he could only patter away on his little legs to find his parents.

The autumn sunlight wasn't particularly intense, yet Hou Fangjie found himself drenched in cold sweat.

Only now did he understand why, during that desperate breakout years ago, he had clearly felt himself struck by a sharp blade, yet emerged completely unscathed.

So that's how it was... So he had already resolved to die for his country through remonstration...

"Si Tao..."

When the child returned with his parents for support, hoping to claim the clay tiger, he discovered his grandfather had closed his eyes forever.

That shattered copper coin was clenched tightly in his palm.

No one could take it out.

(End of Chapter)