In this realistic war game, only I understand the course of the battle.

The Qiang people's letter of surrender was delivered into the city at noon the following day. It wasn't tied to an arrow, but was presented by a Qiang envoy on horseback to the south gate, presented with both hands. The envoy was dressed in neat Qiang leather armor, with a bright red helmet plume, unlike the spies who had previously infiltrated the city—he wasn't there to launch a surprise attack, but to deliver a message.

The letter was written in Yao Chang's own hand on bamboo slips seized from the Qin army's documents. The wording was polite to the point of humility: "Your subject Yao Chang bows twice to Your Majesty. The defeat at Fei River was not Your Majesty's fault, but rather due to unfavorable circumstances. Now, Chang'an is an isolated city, its supplies exhausted and reinforcements cut off. I cannot bear to see the elders of Guanzhong perish with us. I beseech Your Majesty to open the city gates and surrender. I guarantee Your Majesty a life of wealth and honor, and that you will not lose your title of marquis. If Your Majesty insists on holding out, and the city falls, even if I wish to protect you, I fear I will not be able to." The bamboo slips were stamped with Yao Chang's seal, a bright red like a drop of blood.

Fu Jian did not become angry after reading it. He placed the bamboo slips on the corner of the table, tapped them lightly a few times with his finger, and then asked the generals in the hall, "Gentlemen, how much of what Yao Chang said is true?" No one answered. Most of those standing in the hall were Fu Jian's trusted former officials, but at this moment, no one dared to speak. Yao Chang had rebelled, the Xianbei had rebelled, and Murong Chui was watching the tigers fight from outside the city. Everyone knew that the city wouldn't last much longer. But no one was willing to be the first to say it.

Fu Jian picked up the bamboo slips again and read them over. His fingers pressed against Yao Chang's seal, his knuckles trembling slightly—not out of fear, but the anger and desolation one feels only after being stabbed in the back by the person one trusts most. "Back then, when Yao Chang was besieged in Longxi, it was the late emperor who sent me to rescue him. He served under me his entire life, and I appointed him General Longxiang, entrusting him with the entire Qiang tribe north of the Wei River. Now he says he wants to ensure my wealth and honor until my old age." Fu Jian slammed the bamboo slips onto the table. "I would rather die than accept the marquisate he bestows upon me."

All the generals in the tent knelt down in unison, but none of them dared to respond to those words.

That night, Fu Jian sat alone in the palace all night. The attendants stood guard outside the palace, not daring to go in, only occasionally hearing the sound of bamboo slips being turned inside. At dawn the next day, Fu Jian suddenly convened a court meeting and announced an order that surprised everyone—he wanted to reinstate the defeated generals who had fled from the Fei River front, forming a new army under the command of a young general who had also returned from the Fei River front, responsible for the defense of Chang'an.

When the news reached the drill ground in the west of the city, Old Wei was leading the routed soldiers in practicing shield formations. After hearing the messenger's words, he put his shield down and turned to look at Shen Du. Shen Du was in a corner of the drill ground discussing medical supplies for the wounded with Zhou Jing. Hearing the news, he didn't stop what he was doing, but simply handed a roll of empty bandages to Zhou Jing, then stood up and dusted off his knees.

"His Majesty wishes to see me?"

"This afternoon, in the side hall of the imperial palace," the messenger replied, bowing.

Shen Du nodded, asking no further questions. He knew why Fu Jian suddenly wanted to reinstate the defeated soldiers—not out of trust, but because there was no one else available. The Xianbei had rebelled, the Qiang had rebelled, and the generals of the various tribes were all unreliable. Only the defeated soldiers returning from the Fei River were bound to Fu Jian's fate. These defeated soldiers had no tribal background, no way out, and could only defend Chang'an to the death, because leaving the city meant certain death. Fu Jian finally understood this in his desperate situation.

In the afternoon, Shen Du changed into clean armor, wiped the short sword at his waist, and followed the messenger towards the palace. He paused at the palace gate, glancing back towards the city. The sky above the north bank of the Wei River was a hazy gray, and Yao Chang's banners still fluttered in the wind. He left his iron spear shaft in the guardhouse at the palace gate and then stepped inside.

A few oil lamps flickered in the side hall, casting a dim light. Fu Jian sat behind his desk, his dragon robe rumpled and the cuffs torn. His face was gaunt, and his eyes were sunken. But Shen Du noticed that Fu Jian's eyes were different today than they had been a few days ago—a few days ago, the light in his eyes had dimmed, and he resembled an oil lamp about to go out. But today, a flame had reignited in his eyes. It wasn't the flame of unwavering determination, but rather the fierce glint of a cornered beast fighting for its life.

Fu Jian asked Shen Du to sit down, then picked up the military report written by Commandant Zhu from the table—a record of the garrison change in Liang Commandery, detailing Shen Du's journey with the routed soldiers from Fei River back to Guanzhong, every detail clearly written. Fu Jian flipped through the report, then looked up and stared into Shen Du's eyes for a long time.

"The defeated soldiers you brought said you didn't run back on the south bank of the Fei River," Fu Jian's voice was hoarse but his words were clear. "You charged forward. You charged towards the enemy amidst the fleeing soldiers, and you even led your men to scatter the Qiang pursuers and the Jin army scouts. Why didn't you run?"

"Your Majesty," Shen Du said, sitting opposite him with his back ramrod straight, "the routed soldiers ran backward, trampling their own men to death. Those who charged forward survived. I simply didn't want to be trampled to death."

Fu Jian was silent for a moment, then suddenly laughed. The smile seemed somewhat out of place on his thin, sunken face, but it was indeed a laugh—a bitter laugh that one would have after hearing a truth in a desperate situation.

"They didn't want to be trampled to death." He repeated these four words, as if savoring their meaning. "Of my million-strong army, those who ultimately survived were the ones who didn't want to be trampled to death." He placed the military report on the corner of the table and looked at Shen Du again. "I want you to take command of Chang'an's defenses. The defeated soldiers you brought—I want them all incorporated into the city's defense army, under your command. I know you returned from Feishui, with no background, no tribe, no powerful backers. Right now, these are precisely what I need most."

Shen Du remained silent for a moment. He knew he couldn't refuse or avoid this matter. But he also knew that Fu Jian's decision to put him in charge of the city's defenses didn't mean Fu Jian completely trusted him—Fu Jian had only grasped at a straw in his desperate situation, and Fu Jian himself wasn't sure if that straw could hold up the city.

"Your Majesty," Shen Du stood up and bowed, "I have something to say. Your Majesty, Chang'an's food supplies are running low, the city walls are breached, and reinforcements are hopeless. However, on my way back from the Fei River, while gathering the fleeing soldiers along the way, I discovered something—although the cavalry of the various tribes fled, they fled in different directions. Murong Chui returned to Hebei, Yao Chang went to Weibei, and the Xianbei and Qiang people each harbor their own ambitions. They are not a united front. Chang'an cannot be defended not because the city walls are weak, but because the city's strength has been entirely wasted on internal strife and distrust. The force of the attack from outside the city cannot match the speed at which the people inside the city are tearing down the walls themselves. If we can stabilize the fleeing soldiers inside the city and stop the defenders from suspecting each other, we will at least still have the strength to fight."

Fu Jian looked at Shen Du, his gaze holding a hint of scrutiny and surprise. "Continue."

"Your Majesty, I only need three things. First, unify the command of the city's garrison, and execute those who disobey orders. Second, reorganize the distribution of provisions, prioritizing the soldiers defending the city, regardless of tribe or seniority. Third, have Zhou Jing centrally allocate the medical supplies for the wounded soldiers' camp, bypassing the Military Advisor's Office—the Military Advisor's approval is too slow; by the time the approval arrives, the wounded soldiers' wounds have already festered."

Fu Jian remained silent for a moment. "Granted."

It was almost dark when Shen Du emerged from the side hall. Standing on the stone steps at the palace gate, he watched as the myriad lights of Chang'an gradually illuminated the city. Although provisions were dwindling, the city walls were crumbling, and a hundred thousand enemy troops surrounded the city, there were still people in this city who needed lamps, food, and survival. Those lights appeared fragile yet tenacious in the winter night. He retrieved the iron spear shaft from the guardhouse and, leaning on it, slowly descended the stone steps. At the street corner, Old Wei was squatting by the wall, waiting for him, clutching two frozen, hard flatbreads. Shen Du took one, took a bite—the flatbread was so hard it hurt his teeth—but he still chewed it down piece by piece and swallowed it.

"His Majesty has agreed to replenish our supplies," Shen Du said as they walked, "on the condition that we hold the city."

Old Wei followed behind, wiping the crumbs from his mouth with his sleeve. "How long can they hold out?"

Shen Du didn't answer the question. Because he didn't know the answer either. But he knew something else—the letter of surrender that Yao Chang had sent today was less of a persuasion and more of a test. A test of how much strength Fu Jian still had, a test of how many capable soldiers remained in Chang'an. Fu Jian rejected Yao Chang's offer of surrender, publicly declaring in court that he would rather die than surrender, a stance so firm that it surprised Shen Du. He thought Fu Jian would waver in this desperate situation, but Fu Jian didn't—this man who had unified the north for many years still possessed a last shred of pride that couldn't be trampled on.

But Shen Du knew this bravado was only temporary. Historically, Fu Jian ultimately died at the hands of Yao Chang—not in battle, but captured and strangled. Xinping Buddhist Temple, a white silk ribbon. But now history had taken a subtle turn. He led his routed troops back to Chang'an from the Fei River, Commandant Zhu held Liang County, and Yao Chang's internal collaborators had been eradicated. Would these changes allow Fu Jian to live a few more days? He didn't know. He only knew one thing—as long as he stood on the walls of Chang'an, the city would not crumble from within.

That night, Shen Du incorporated all the dozens of defeated soldiers he had been training since returning from Liang County into key positions in the city's defense forces. Each centurion's position was assigned to someone who had followed him all the way back to Chang'an from the Fei River. Old Wei was assigned to guard the south gate's heavy gate. He told Old Wei that this gate was Chang'an's last line of defense; as long as the gate stood, he was there; if the gate fell, he was dead. Old Wei didn't say much, simply slamming his spear on the ground and turning to walk towards the south gate.

He assigned Commandant Zhu to guard the North Gate. In his limited interactions with Zhu in Liang County, he had observed that Zhu was an upright and pragmatic man. After reporting to Chang'an, Zhu reorganized the young soldiers responsible for relaying signals on the city wall into a new group and personally taught them how to use torches to signal at night. He told Shen Du that the North Gate faced Yao Chang's main force, and that the flags and torches were the backbone of the defenders; the signals must not be disordered, and the backbone must not be bent.

Zhou Jing was left in the wounded soldiers' camp, also in charge of managing the city's remaining food reserves. Within just a few days, the old physician had trained several young apprentices, assigning them to various sections of the city wall, setting up a makeshift first-aid station behind each crenellation. He told Shen Du that it was often too late to treat wounded soldiers after they were carried off the wall; the bleeding had to be stopped on the spot behind the crenellations.

Amu was left in the granary. This young soldier, who had marched all the way back from the Fei River, had mostly recovered. Every day, he divided the millet in the granary into small bags according to the allotted quantity, and checked the grain every day, not taking a single grain more than his allotted. Shen Du told him that if anyone came to steal the grain, no matter who it was, he should first ring the gong.

Shen Du stood atop the south gate tower, facing the endless campfires of Yao Chang outside the city. He reread the bamboo slips in his arms. Although the records about Yao Chang on the slips were few, one note had lingered in his mind for a long time: "Yao Chang is suspicious, inept at prolonged sieges, and adept at sowing discord." He closed the slips, stood up, and walked to the edge of the battlements, gazing at the Qiang commander's banner fluttering in the night wind outside the city. Sowing discord. He was the target of sowing discord, but he could also use it. He had already eliminated Yao Chang's spies within the city, completely thwarting Yao Chang's psychological warfare. But it wasn't just him guarding against sowing discord—Yao Chang himself was using it against him. Today, the envoy outside the south gate, in front of everyone, shouted to Shen Du: "Centurion Shen, General Yao has ordered that if you open the city gates and surrender, you will receive high office and generous rewards…" Before he could finish, Old Wei pierced his hat with an arrow. But the garrison had all heard it. Fu Jian also heard it.

This was Yao Chang's second move. His first step was to send an inside agent to set fire to the city, which failed. His second step was to publicly sow discord between him and Fu Jian, making Fu Jian suspicious of him. Yao Chang was a defeated soldier returning from the Fei River, with no tribal background; Fu Jian was using him now because he had no other options. If Fu Jian began to doubt him, the garrison's command would be cut off from within. Yao Chang waited outside the city, waiting for Chang'an to crumble from the inside.

Shen Du turned around and walked down the city wall towards the barracks. On the way, he encountered Old Wei carrying a sandbag towards the battlements. Old Wei stopped and asked him how things were going. Shen Du said he was fine, and that no matter who Yao Chang sent to challenge them after dawn, he should ignore them. Old Wei slammed the sandbag on the ground and said he understood. Then he called Shen Du back, took something out of his pocket and handed it to him—a palm-sized breastplate, salvaged from a fallen soldier, with the straps re-sewed from tattered cloth.

"Uncle Shen, I feel like you're not dressed warmly enough." Old Wei shoved the breastplate into Shen Du's hand. "Put this on. I've followed you all the way back from the Fei River with my old life. If anything happens to you, I won't be able to walk anymore."

Shen Du took the breastplate and weighed it in his hand. The breastplate was made of iron, quite heavy, with a few nicks along the edge, but it had been polished so it wouldn't cut his hand. He put the breastplate on his chest, patted Lao Wei on the shoulder, and continued walking forward.

Early the next morning, sure enough, another person arrived outside the city gate—a prisoner dressed in Qin army captain's armor, bound to a horse and pushed by Qiang people to the south gate. The prisoner shouted towards the city wall from horseback, his voice shrill and desperate—his family was in Yao Chang's hands, and Yao Chang had said that if the garrison commander didn't open the city gates, he would kill his entire family. Shen Du listened, but neither shot an arrow at the prisoner nor ordered the city gates to be opened. He simply had Zhu, the captain, summoned from the north gate to identify the prisoner. Zhu examined him for a long time and said that the man was indeed a Qin army captain, and his wife and children were being held hostage by Yao Chang at the Weibei camp. Shen Du nodded and said to Zhu, "Tell him that if I open the city gates, his whole family will die—Yao Chang won't let anyone who knows the location of the Weibei camp return alive. If I don't open the city gates, his family might survive. Remember, from now on, use this logic to respond to any prisoner's shouts. Don't let the brothers panic." Zhu obeyed and went to relay the message.

Standing atop the city wall, Shen Du understood—the divisive tactics were becoming increasingly ruthless. Even more insidious schemes were likely to follow. He whispered something to Old Wei beside him, who nodded. That evening, Shen Du dispatched Commandant Zhu outside the city. Commandant Zhu was a Di person who spoke Qiang language. Shen Du instructed him to exit through the east gate, bypass the path at the foot of Mount Li, and, under the cover of darkness, infiltrate the Qiang's rear camp. His mission was to spread a rumor—that Murong Chui's Xianbei cavalry had already assembled north of Chang'an, preparing to launch a surprise attack from the rear while Yao Chang was besieging the city. This rumor didn't need to be entirely true; it only needed to cause Yao Chang to hesitate even slightly. Shen Du knew Yao Chang was suspicious—a suspicious commander would hesitate, divide his forces, and miss opportunities. And these hesitations and divisions were precisely the buffer the defending army needed most.

Shortly after Commander Zhu set off, a thin column of smoke rose from the direction of Mount Li. Shen Du, standing on the city tower, watched the smoke column move northward, knowing that Commander Zhu was already on his way back. He told Old Wei, "Summon the messenger tomorrow morning; it's time to go to the palace to report the military situation to His Majesty."

Old Wei asked what he needed to report. Shen Du said he needed three things: the morale of the city's garrison was rising, the treatment rate for the wounded soldiers had increased by 30%, and there might still be Yao Chang's men among Fu Jian's guards. Old Wei glared at Shen Du for several breaths before lowering his voice and asking, "How do you know?" Shen Du didn't answer, but simply took out the copper-cased tinderbox from his sleeve and placed it in front of Old Wei. When eliminating the spies, he had found two copper plaques with the same markings among the items he had taken from the Qiang people. One undoubtedly belonged to a Qiang spy, while the other came from a Qin army guard who had no connection to the spies—he had inadvertently noticed someone wearing the exact same copper plaque while reorganizing the routed soldiers at the drill ground. That person wasn't a routed soldier, but a guard from the palace. He said he was already investigating this person and should keep an eye on the area around the palace these next few days, but not to make it public yet.