A river meandered faintly through the mountain ridges and valleys, making a sharp bend at the foot of a slope. There, the broken remnants of rammed-earth walls stood starkly, barely discernible as the rectangular outline of a fortress with its barbican.
Li Yuangui, accompanied by Yang Xinzhi and two servant boys, had ridden out from Qinzhou. After galloping most of the day, they gradually approached the ruins of Chengji’s old city. It became clear why the escort officer had chosen to station the prisoners here—by July in Longxi, the autumn winds were already biting. While tolerable during the day, without sturdy walls to block the wind at night, mere curtains would offer little warmth, making survival difficult for the elderly, women, and children.
Qinzhou’s city was cramped and served as a logistical hub for the war effort. Most of its inns and post stations were occupied by military couriers and grain transport officials. The convoy from Tuyuhun’s royal city had brought over a hundred prisoners, who refused to be dispersed. After much debate, the escort officer had led them out of the city to this place, “to avoid disturbances from passing soldiers.”
This escort officer turned out to be an unfortunate acquaintance for Li Yuangui. The moment he learned the man’s name and position in Qinzhou, his scalp prickled with dread.
The former Right Garrison Guard Grand General, commander of the Northern Bureau Seven Camps guarding the palace, and Duke of Guo, Zhang Shigui, had been demoted and sent to the frontlines to atone for his negligence during the frequent palace disturbances earlier that year. Now, he held only the title of “Deputy Commander of the West Sea Route Army,” tasked with escorting Tuyuhun’s royal captives back to the capital. Zhang’s demotion and exile were largely due to Li Yuangui’s rebellious actions—fate had a cruel sense of humor, and their reunion promised to be fraught with tension.
Zhang Shigui had set up camp right outside the earthen walls of Chengji’s ruins. A circle of banners and makeshift screens marked an open-air command area, crude and temporary. As Li Yuangui and his party approached, guards stepped forward to demand their identities and purpose. Yang Xinzhi had just produced the fish-shaped tally and wooden contract to announce them when Li Yuangui suddenly raised a hand, signaling them to wait.
From behind the portable screens, someone was pleading in a desperate tone—likely a Qinzhou granary official responsible for food distribution. The man repeatedly begged for the “Commander’s mercy,” explaining that the granaries were utterly depleted. This year’s excessive conscription of laborers had disrupted farming since spring, leaving fertile fields abandoned. Even now, during harvest season, the severe shortage of workers meant crops couldn’t be gathered. The prefecture was barely avoiding starvation by relying on reserves from the public granaries to feed both its people and passing troops. Now, with Deputy Commander Zhang demanding provisions for this large group of prisoners, the official claimed he couldn’t scrape together even a handful of grain…
“I don’t care!” Zhang Shigui snapped. “I follow Grand Commander Li’s orders to rest here with the prisoners until the tribute horses arrive, then escort them all together! I dare not disobey his command. If Qinzhou refuses to supply the army and these prisoners starve, you can explain it to Grand Commander Li and the Son of Heaven yourself!”
So Zhang Shigui’s group was waiting in Chengji’s ruins for the horses Kang Su-mi had his eye on, planning to merge the convoys for the journey back to the capital. This would save considerable manpower—no doubt Li Jing’s intention as well. Truly, able-bodied laborers were in short supply everywhere these days…"General, please set your mind at ease. I have inquired, and the tribute horses will arrive shortly, not delaying for too long. You will soon be able to dispatch the prisoners as well. However, with the arrival of the military horses, a large amount of fodder will also need to be supplied by our prefecture... Ah, it’s truly worrying for this humble official... I just wonder how much longer this battle will last? When will the conscripted men from our prefecture return to tend the fields? If there’s no one to do the farming by next spring, we’ll face another great famine..."
Li Yuangui listened as the two inside the tent kept circling back to these same arguments. Deciding not to waste any more time, he signaled the guard to announce his presence. Upon hearing that a prince had arrived on an imperial mission, the two immediately fell silent, and Zhang Shigui straightened his robes to come out and greet him.
After months apart, the Grand Commander had been weathered by the frontier winds into a darker, thinner figure. Li Yuangui offered his apologies with a guilty conscience, but though Zhang Shigui responded with humble words, his expression remained cold, clearly still harboring resentment. The granary clerk took the opportunity to excuse himself, leaving Zhang and Li to speak privately inside.
The interior of the tent was simply arranged, with a few folding stools surrounding a wooden table piled with documents. Li Yuangui was invited to take the seat of honor, and after some polite exchanges, he stated his purpose: he wished to select one or two cooperative nobles from among the Tuyuhun prisoners, instruct them on certain matters, and secretly send them ahead to Chang’an.
This was still part of his plan regarding the fake prince. In his view, the biggest challenge Zhou Shi-er—the impostor—would face upon being sent to the former Tuyuhun lands was the disbelief and rejection of the tribal chiefs and herders, who would refuse to accept him as Murong Shun’s legitimate son. While the Tang army’s presence might keep things under control, once Li Jing and his troops withdrew, leaving Murong Shun and his son to rule on their own, the situation seemed precarious. It would be better to take advantage of the current batch of noble prisoners, select one or two compliant ones, first send them to Chang’an to help train Zhou Shi-er—ensuring the fake prince could pass convincingly—and then have them accompany Zhou Shi-er beyond the frontier to Fuqi City, where they could rally their own tribes to support the father and son in securing the khan’s throne.
The trouble was, he didn’t want to explain the "fake prince" scheme to Zhang Shigui, only vaguely referring to it as "a secret task commissioned by the Son of Heaven." But Zhang, having already suffered at his hands, eyed him with deep suspicion and refused outright, leaving no room for negotiation:
"Prince Wu, do not take offense. I have received direct orders from Grand Commander Li—military commands are as unyielding as mountains. Every single prisoner must be escorted to the capital without exception, with none lost or dead along the way, or I will face court-martial. If Your Highness has arrangements to make, you may deal with them as you please once these prisoners are delivered to the capital. But at this moment, I dare not allow Your Highness to enter, nor permit any private conversations with the prisoners."
The retribution for harming innocent bystanders had arrived... Li Yuangui sighed inwardly but pressed on with his persuasion. Zhang Shigui maintained proper courtesy on the surface but remained unyielding, his teeth clenched in refusal. He even added a complaint: "We’re already short on guards. A few days ago, an imperial edict arrived from the capital, demanding several prisoners be rushed to the capital for the Son of Heaven’s personal interrogation. I had to dispatch ten men to escort them immediately. Now, counting myself, we have fewer than sixty men guarding over a hundred prisoners—what kind of situation is this? And now Your Highness wants to send two more separately? Where would I find the men to spare?""I'd like to escort two prisoners back to Chang'an myself, but I'm afraid I'd be beheaded for 'defying imperial orders and fleeing' the moment I entered the city gates..." Li Yuangui swallowed his pride and argued with Zhang Shigui for a long time before finally proposing, "Then can I at least go up the city wall to see those prisoners? On my way to Gaochang, I might encounter scattered Tuyuhun tribes. I need to be able to recognize their appearance."
Zhang Shigui pondered for a moment before nodding, "Very well. My back is stiff from sitting all day. I'll accompany Prince Wu for a walk on the walls."
The city gate of this ancient fortress, built in some forgotten era, had long since collapsed. The right earthen mound still faintly showed traces of an arched gateway and the foundation of a watchtower—the highest point of the entire ruined city. Clambering up the dirt slope using both hands and feet along a narrow path, Li Yuangui and Zhang Shigui reached the summit. Peering over the broken wall, they saw a colorful array of tents spread out before them.
These Tuyuhun captives were all nobles and their personal servants, most carrying thick brocade garments and other valuables. They had pitched dozens of tents against the ruined walls for shelter. Inside the city, many people were bustling about—carrying belongings, fetching water, or delivering food. Zhang Shigui pointed to the largest canopy by the wall and said to Li Yuangui:
"That's where Murong Fu-yun's principal wife, a Tibetan woman, resides with her three children. When our troops pursued Murong Fu-yun, he fled in such disarray that he abandoned his wife and children, escaping into the Great Sand Desert with only twenty-some personal guards. Duke Yaoshi ordered Qibi He-li and the Xue brothers to lead troops in pursuit—who knows if they've caught up yet."
"How is the Tuyuhun army's combat strength?" Li Yuangui asked. Zhang Shigui shook his head with a laugh:
"Far inferior to ours. These barbarians rely solely on geographical advantage! Our troops suffer from unfamiliar terrain and harsh climate—falling ill as soon as we reach higher altitudes. The misery before battle is unbearable, but once engaged, those savages are no match at all! They fight without tactics, just reckless cavalry charges. No formations, no coordination. After a few volleys cut down their front ranks, the rest panic and flee. How could they possibly win? So on the Qinghai route, our soldiers fear not the battles themselves, but the endless circling with their main forces in that damned place. Ah..."
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