ITVCFITB CHAPTER 65

Chapter 65 — Stirring Trouble

When the report of Li Mingjin’s disappearance reached the city, Luo Shuyu nearly lost his grip. The very nightmare he’d always braced for had arrived.

What now?

He could not lose Li Mingjin.

He forced his breathing to slow. Every instinct screamed at him to take the guards and shadow-men Mingjin had left behind and storm the barracks for answers. Instead, he swallowed the impulse.

He could not be the one to lose the line. He had to trust Li Mingjin.

By Mingjin’s nature, he would never ignore his strategist. He understood perfectly well the principle of not hounding a routed foe, they had discussed it themselves. Something had to have forced his hand.

“What about the men who made it back?” Luo Shuyu asked Shadow Nine, who had brought the news. “How many? Where are they?”

“In the camp, five in all,” Shadow Nine replied.

“What story did they tell?”

Shadow Nine laid out what he’d learned. “They say His Highness ignored the strategist and the other generals, dragged Vice General Wei with him to break into the enemy encampment, and threw our troops into chaos. The five only escaped by sheer luck. They… don’t know if His Highness was captured, or…” cut down under enemy spears.

Why would Mingjin ignore counsel? And why “drag” Vice General Wei into a reckless charge?

Two barbs in that tale. Something was off.

“If everyone was trapped,” Luo Shuyu pressed, “how did these five get out? Did they say?”

“They claim they were rear-line grain-carriers and never reached the front. Luck,” said Shadow Nine.

“They carted grain with only five men? Where are the rest?”

“They say the rest didn’t escape, dead. I rushed back the moment I heard, so I didn’t press for more.” Shadow Nine’s respect sharpened; the Third Prince Consort had already picked out the seams in the story.

“His Highness isn’t reckless,” Luo Shuyu said quietly. “He wouldn’t spend soldiers’ lives for vanity. Not without a reason that left him no choice.”

“I’ll return to camp and wring the truth out of them,” Shadow Nine offered. A shadow-guard had ways no one wished to sample.

“Don’t spook the snake,” Luo Shuyu countered. “Watch the generals’ reactions first. If anyone is shielding them, pull the string from there.”

“Yes.” Shadow Nine bowed.

“One more thing, has anyone already gone to search for His Highness?”

“Yes. As soon as the report arrived, General Wei sent men out. I just don’t know… if they’ll be in time.”

Luo Shuyu unrolled the campaign map in the study. Mingjin’s, flags still pricking the parchment where he’d left them.

He found the mark where Mingjin vanished, then scanned the terrain. If Mingjin had been forced into a pocket… could he cut out another way?

Shadow Nine watched, a flicker of awe in his eyes. The consort read maps.

Luo Shuyu traced several routes with his gaze. If it were Mingjin and Chen Rong, neither would break formation without contingency. What emergency could have snapped the line? And why that mention of Vice General Wei?

These five were wrong.

“Check those five,” he ordered. “Who they’ve served under, and when. And pass on exactly what I say next to General Wei Linyuan, quietly, no eyes on you.”

In the last life, Mingjin had been ruined by forged letters. Shuyu wouldn’t repeat that mistake. No written orders, not now. If any “evidence” surfaced with his seal on it, it would be their noose. In a moment like this, he had to be the spine that didn’t bend.

Over these months they’d carved out real weight in Gu City, not the Great General’s thunder, but enough. The best aid now was simple: don’t run, don’t break.

Who set this snare?

Who had shoved the Great General back to the capital and stripped his command?

Was the hand an enemy’s, rooted deep, or their own people? If it was the latter, then every dead soldier became a creditor. That debt would be collected.

In the book he’d read, the Fourth Prince had never hit this kind of trap. His struggles were with the Wei clan, and early on they ignored his orders, no chance to march into a kill box. Li Mingchun valued his skin; he rarely went forward unless he could keep himself safe. That caution meant he never vanished like this.

Luo Shuyu set his jaw. Mingjin would be fine. He had to be.

Wei Linyuan received Shuyu’s message and immediately placed the five under watch, then questioned them one by one under the guise of comforting them.

It didn’t take long. Ask the same things three ways; their answers were identical down to the word—exactly the same as the first time.

No one who’d just survived chaos could recount without a single slip. The script was too clean.

They’d been coached.

Under pressure, the weakest-willed of the five broke.

Wei Linyuan’s hands shook with fury. If not for the consort’s keen eye, they’d all still be nodding along to a planted lie, the mastermind betting that “thick-headed generals” wouldn’t catch it. Thank heaven the Third Prince Consort was not “ordinary,” and thank heaven the rescue party was already away.

The truth was uglier than expected. Mingjin had been set up by a colleague. Names were still smoke; press too soon and they could wrong the innocent.

First, save the prince. Proof later.

Wei Linyuan’s thoughts skated to his brother. If anyone blundered, it would be Linmu first, gullible and hot-blooded, easy to use as a knife. Bitter as it was, he stayed put. No matter what, the main camp had to hold. That was Mingjin’s original order.

Back at the residence, waiting galled worse than any wound. Many plans Mingjin kept sealed, rightly so. Shuyu never pressed. One stray word could spill an army.

Two days later, still no trace. The relief column sent by Wei Linyuan returned with only dust.

Inside the city, the spark caught. Crowds of soldiers’ families surged to the Third Prince’s gates, demanding justice. If not for the prince’s reckless glory-hunting, they cried, their men would never have been thrown into the wolf’s den!

Shuyu remained inside. Guards and shadows locked down the compound, but bodies kept pressing at the doors.

This was planned.

He’d read enough of Shen Mingyun’s “business wars” to recognize the tactic: use a mob to pin a man in place, let him blurt something in anger, then hang him with it. Shen would swallow a buffing pill from his “system” and howl a speech; Shuyu had no such crutches and he didn’t need to bellow at people being used as tools.

So many had fallen before, why no gate-storming then? Because the target now was Li Mingjin.

“Shall we seize the ringleaders?” Shadow Nine asked. “They’re gathering fast.”

“No.” Shuyu shook his head. “They’re pieces, not players. Someone wants us rattled. Let them sweat. The man who ‘steps up to restore order’ will tell us who’s impatient.”

Shadow Nine blinked then smiled. “Understood.”

Of course Shuyu burned to know where Mingjin was. But burning wouldn’t conjure him back. He had no way to search the front; his job was to keep the rear from cracking.

Soon enough, Prefect Zhu arrived in haste and personally dispersed the crowd at the gate.

Shadow Nine couldn’t help himself. “Master, you truly read ahead.”

“Enough flattery,” Shuyu said. “Invite Prefect Zhu in. At the moment, he’s Gu City’s mouthpiece.”

The prefect had been coiled for half a year; only now did he bare a tooth. To move so brazenly at a time like this, risking the prince’s name and soldiers’ lives, meant his goal was very large indeed.

Prefect Zhu entered the main hall as mild and dark-skinned as ever, the picture of honest ease. But today, beneath the smile, a thread of pride hummed.

Shuyu watched his micro–expressions, another trick he’d lifted from the pages: the face always leaks the mind.

Zhu performed concern and unease. His hands, though, too relaxed.

Too neat, Shuyu thought. Did Zhu truly believe tainting Mingjin’s reputation was a done deal?

Mingjin had warned him: watch Zhu. The prefect had been waiting, not sleeping; he could only spread his wings once Mingjin rode out.

Likely the battlefield snare was part of the same net.

How many hands on this rope?

“Please, don’t let sorrow consume you,” Zhu said with a sage sigh. “His Highness will return safe.”

Shuyu’s complexion had truly paled these days; he’d even had Qingwang dust a little powder on his cheeks. Let Zhu see a man frayed thin, let him report that the prey was weakening.

How to land the big fish?

“Thank you for coming in person,” Shuyu said hoarsely. “If not for you, I’d still be trapped by that rabble. I don’t even know if His Highness can still…” He dabbed at the corner of his eye with a kerchief and let a tremor slip into his voice.

Pity twitched across Zhu’s gaze, pity and… appetite. What a waste of beauty, he almost seemed to think. The Third Prince wasn’t coming back.

“Be at ease,” Zhu said, head bowed. “I’ll not allow anyone to disturb you again. Await His Highness’s good news at home.”

“Then I must trouble Prefect Zhu.”

With that, Shuyu excused himself on account of grief and withdrew; Zhu did not press to linger.

As soon as he left, Shadow Nine slipped in. “Message from General Wei.”

“What does he say?”

“That the agitators at our gate were Zhu’s doing. He asks whether to seize him now.”

“Not yet,” Shuyu said. “Watch him. We’ll wait for His Highness to return and pass judgment.”

He had, at least, stepped past one pit, he hadn’t stumbled out to swear oaths in front of a mob.

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That night, out on the cutting cold of the northern plain, a line of men lay flat to the earth, waiting for the opening chord of the strike.

At their head, a man touched the filthy brim of his cap and thought, My wife is probably bawling his eyes out. How am I going to explain this when I get home? I don’t want to sleep on the little couch.

---

Author’s Note:
Third Prince: “Wife, today you’re the enemy’s commander-in-chief. We duel for a whole night in the command tent. You keep trying to pin me beneath you but no. I’m the top.”
Luo Shuyu: “…”

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