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

When Commandant Zhu returned from Mount Li, it was still dark. He imitated the hooting of an owl three times outside the city gate—a signal Shen Du had given him. The guards on the city wall lowered a basket and pulled him up. His armor was covered in frost, his lips were purple with cold, but his eyes were bright. The news he brought back was better than Shen Du had anticipated—rumors were already circulating in the Qiang rear that Murong Chui was about to launch an attack, and several Qiang tribal leaders had sent scouts northward overnight. Although Yao Chang had not yet made a public statement, the lights in his tent stayed on all night.

"The rumors spread faster than I could." Commander Zhu squatted behind the battlements, holding the hot porridge that Old Wei handed him. He took a sip before recovering. "I only stayed in the Qiang rear camp for half the night, spreading the news to a few grain transport laborers. When I headed back before dawn, the Qiang scouts were already being reinforced to the north. Yao Chang acted faster than I expected—he probably wasn't entirely at ease with Murong Chui to begin with."

Shen Du nodded after listening, mentally reviewing the intelligence Zhu Xiaowei had brought back. Yao Chang's suspicious nature was within his expectations. But rumors could only delay for a few days; they couldn't force Yao Chang to retreat. To truly dismantle the Qiang's offensive, a more ruthless blow was needed. He suddenly remembered the bamboo slips—the Jin spy had recorded the conflicts between various tribes in them, including one concerning the old grudge between Yao Chang and Murong Chui. The bamboo slips stated that Murong Chui had secretly sent envoys to make peace with the Eastern Jin before the Battle of Fei River, a fact Yao Chang knew, but Fu Jian did not. If this news spread throughout Chang'an and reached Fu Jian's ears—and then he deliberately had the Qiang spies lurking in the city relay the news back to Yao Chang's camp—what would Yao Chang think? He would believe that Fu Jian held leverage over him, ready to expose it at any moment.

"Captain Zhu," Shen Du crouched down, lowering his voice to a level where only the two of them could hear, "when you were spreading the word in the Qiang rear camp, did anyone recognize you?"

"No," Captain Zhu shook his head. "I was wearing Qiang leather armor and speaking the Qiang language. No one noticed me when I was mixed in with the grain transport team."

"Alright. Go again—this time not to the Qiang rear camp, but to the shantytowns where several defeated soldiers have gathered in the city. Spread the word there that His Majesty has a bamboo slip containing evidence of the interactions between tribal leaders and the Eastern Jin. Don't specify who they are, just say 'tribal leaders.' Let this news spread naturally in the shantytowns—there are spies left by Yao Chang there, and they will relay this news back to Weibei."

Captain Zhu was silent for a moment, then nodded. He didn't ask Shen Du why he did it; he had already passed the stage of asking why.

Shen Du stood atop the city wall, mentally laying out his next move. He could control the information on his side, but he couldn't control Yao Chang's next move. If Yao Chang saw through the divisive tactic, he would intensify his attack. If Murong Chui truly remained inactive, the rumors would dissipate on their own. But war is never a flawless strategy—war is about gambling on the opponent's reaction in the fog of war; whoever blinks first loses. What he needed to do now was make Yao Chang blink first.

At noon the next day, a bugle call to retreat suddenly sounded from the Qiang phalanx outside the city. The Qiang siege force had already formed ranks, battering rams pushed to the front, and ladders carried out, but at the sound of the bugle, everyone stopped simultaneously. The battering rams were slowly pushed back to the rear, the ladders were lowered, and the archers returned to camp. The defenders on the city walls looked at each other in bewilderment—had Yao Chang retreated? Not a retreat, but a pause in the attack. The Qiang phalanx remained stationed outside the city, tents unfurled, flags unlowered, but the entire siege force had withdrawn to their camp, leaving only an empty battlefield beneath the city walls.

Shen Du stood behind the battlements watching this scene, his nerves tightening even more than before. He knew this wasn't a retreat, but rather Yao Chang's hesitation—the rumors spread by Commandant Zhu had taken effect, and Murong Chui's name had aroused Yao Chang's suspicion. But hesitation didn't equate to giving up; Yao Chang was simply waiting for more intelligence to confirm Murong Chui's movements. This pause might last a day, or it might only last an hour. Once Yao Chang was certain that Murong Chui hadn't launched an attack, the offensive would intensify.

"Old Wei, have everyone take this opportunity to reinforce the crenellations and replenish the arrows." Shen Du turned and walked towards the inner side of the city wall. "Also, call Zhou Jing here. I need to know how many more days the city's grain reserves can last."

"Master Shen, Yao Chang has retired?" Old Wei followed behind, his voice filled with barely concealed anticipation.

"He hasn't refunded," Shen Du said. "He's settling accounts. He'll come back when he's done."

That night, a commotion suddenly broke out in Chang'an. It wasn't Qiang spies—it was routed soldiers. A message spread simultaneously from several shantytowns: His Majesty possessed a bamboo scroll containing evidence of clandestine dealings between tribal leaders and the Eastern Jin Dynasty. The news spread rapidly, from the shantytowns to the drill grounds, from the drill grounds to the city walls, and from the city walls back to the shantytowns. Each messenger whispered, adding, "I saw it with my own eyes"—even though no one actually witnessed it. By late into the night, the news had spread throughout the entire city of Chang'an.

Shen Du stood atop the city wall, watching the flames within the city. When he instructed Commandant Zhu to spread the message, he only mentioned "tribal leaders," omitting Murong Chui and Yao Chang by name. This way, Yao Chang would immediately draw parallels—knowing he wasn't innocent and knew his own past actions, he would believe Fu Jian held leverage over him for his past failure to report wrongdoing. This was the reverse of a divisive tactic—Yao Chang wanted to undermine the defenders' trust in Shen Du, and Shen Du used the same method to make him suspect Fu Jian held leverage over him.

On the north bank of the Wei River, in the Qiang people's camp, Yao Chang sat in his central command tent, a secret report from Chang'an spread out before him. The report contained only a few words, but each one pierced his eyes like a needle. He read it several times, then placed it on the corner of the table, stood up, walked to the tent entrance, and gazed south towards Chang'an. In the night, the city walls of Chang'an were brightly lit; though dilapidated, the city still stood tall.

"Tribal leaders," Yao Chang repeated softly, his smile hardening. He included himself in that description. He knew that if Fu Jian possessed such bamboo slips, he would eventually reveal them. Then he wouldn't just be a rebel—he would be a traitor and a rebel. A traitor is more despicable than a rebel, because a rebel is at least an enemy, while a traitor is an enemy on both sides. Why did Fu Jian publicly reject the surrender offer in court, his tone so forceful, unlike that of a cornered beast about to be defeated? If it were merely a desperate struggle, such force wouldn't be possible. The only explanation was that he still held cards. Those cards were the bamboo slips. As long as the bamboo slips remained in Fu Jian's hands, he couldn't act rashly—at least not without reckless attack.

"Pass down the order," Yao Chang said, turning to his deputy, "Continue the siege, but do not attack. Send men to investigate where this bamboo slip in Chang'an came from—if you can find the source, find a way to destroy it."

Meanwhile, in a side hall of the Chang'an Imperial Palace, Fu Jian sat behind his desk, a military report on the city's defenses presented by Shen Du spread out before him. The report listed three things: the morale of the city's defense troops was rising; the treatment rate for wounded soldiers had increased by 30%; and there might still be Yao Chang's men among the guards around His Majesty. Fu Jian read the report several times, then looked up at Shen Du standing in the hall.

"You're saying I still have Yao Chang's men around me?"

"Your subject dares not make a hasty judgment." Shen Du took out the copper-cased tinderbox from his sleeve and presented it to the eunuch to hand over. "This tinderbox was found on the body of a Qiang spy captured outside the granary. Among the same items, there were two copper plaques engraved with the same mark—one from the captured spy, and the other tied to the waist of a palace guard. This person is not a defeated soldier, nor was he incorporated into the city's defense forces; the investigation is still ongoing."

Fu Jian took the tinderbox and turned it over to look at the character "Yao" engraved on the bottom. The candlelight flickered on his gaunt face. He placed the tinderbox on the corner of the table, remained silent for a long time, and then said something that surprised Shen Du. It wasn't about the guards, nor about Yao Chang, but about himself.

"Since I ascended the throne, I have never killed surrendered generals, nor oppressed tribes. I believed that benevolence could subdue the world, and tolerance could resolve conflicts. Now, thinking back, before the Battle of Fei River, some people told me that the newly surrendered tribes might not be able to fight, but I did not listen. Some people told me that Zhu Xu was a Jin man and should not be given important responsibilities, but I did not listen either. It's not that I didn't know they were right—I just didn't want to believe them. I gambled on the hearts of the people. I lost."

His voice was calm, as if he were talking about something unrelated to himself. But Shen Du could hear the weariness and regret that had been suppressed for a long time beneath that calm. Shen Du didn't reply. He knew Fu Jian didn't need comfort—an emperor in dire straits needed clarity, not solace. He simply pushed the city's defense report forward a step, saying that the city's food reserves could last for a few more days, and Yao Chang's pause in the attack might not last long. Once he confirmed that Murong Chui hadn't sent troops, he would double his attack. The Chang'an city defenses could withstand the next wave, but it was uncertain whether they could withstand the wave after that. Therefore, preparations needed to be made early—His Majesty's safety was paramount. It would be best to replace all the guards around the palace with defeated soldiers who had followed him all the way back to Guanzhong from Feishui. These people had no tribal background and were well-known.

Fu Jian stared at Shen Du for a long time. Then he nodded.

After leaving the palace, Shen Du went to the granary. Amu was squatting at the granary entrance, counting the stored grain, clutching a tattered ledger, meticulously recording every entry and exit. Seeing Shen Du approach, he stood up, wiped his hands on his clothes, and said that Old Wei had just collected the day's rations for the city guards, distributed per person, without taking a single grain more than necessary. Shen Du nodded and asked him to bring the ledger, which he then reviewed. The numbers were less than he had expected, but more than he had worried—at least enough to last for a while. He told Amu that from now on, the rations of the city guards would remain unchanged, but everyone else's rations would be halved. If anyone came asking for grain, regardless of who they were, they should be told to obtain a permit from the military governor's office; the granary only recognized permits stamped by the military governor's office, and without one, no grain would be issued. Amu nodded vigorously.

It was already dark when Shen Du left the granary. The streets and alleys of Chang'an were deserted, with only a few laborers occasionally pushing carts piled high with broken bricks and planks salvaged from the city walls. In the distance, the lights on the city walls formed a broken band of light in the darkness, and the soldiers behind the crenellations sat around braziers to keep warm, some whispering among themselves, occasionally letting out a low laugh—they could still laugh.

As he passed the drill ground, he saw Zhou Jing squatting by the side, sorting medicinal herbs by the light of an oil lamp. The lamp cast a long shadow of Zhou Jing as the old man carefully arranged each herb by category, binding them into small bundles with tattered cloth strips. Dozens of bundles already sorted lay piled up beside him. Shen Du went over and helped Zhou Jing up, saying not to squat for too long, as it would get chilly at night. Zhou Jing patted the dirt off his knees and said that thirty percent of the wounded soldiers in the camp had been able to walk on their own with crutches yesterday. Although they couldn't go up the city walls yet, they could help prepare medicine, cook porridge, and twist hemp ropes in the rear. Upon hearing this, Shen Du stood still and gazed towards the wounded soldiers' camp for a moment. Old Wei, the first defeated soldier he had recruited in this instance—now his most trusted deputy in defending the city; and Amu, the most severely wounded—now guarding the granary, not missing a single grain of rice. There was also Zhou Jing, and Commandant Zhu, and those who had followed him all the way from Liang County back to Chang'an. These people were all rescued one by one from the torrent of defeat, and now they have been picked up again from the ruins of Chang'an and become the pillars of the city's defense.