Chapter 169: Negotiation

On the fourth day, Wanyan Honglie suddenly proposed to inspect the defenses of Lin'an.

This request itself was extremely rude—an envoy inspecting the defenses of the opposing capital was tantamount to saying, "Let me see if your walls are sturdy enough." But what angered the Southern Song Chaoting even more was that Wanyan Honglie did not make the request; instead, he directly sent someone to notify the Ministry of Rites: "Tomorrow at the Chen hour, His Highness the Prince of Zhao will depart from the Duting Post, inspect the Lin'an defenses along the Yongjin Gate, Qiantang Gate, and Wu Lin Gate line. Please arrange accordingly."

Upon hearing this news, Han Tuozhou slammed the teacup in his hand heavily onto the table: "Does he think Lin'an is his Zhongdu?"

But in the end, he still approved it. However, he made some adjustments—along the route Wanyan Honglie would pass, all military camps were emptied, soldiers were transferred to garrison outside the city, only a few old and weak guards were left on the city walls, and all valuable military equipment in the arsenal was moved away. Han Tuozhou's plan was: show weakness to the enemy, let Wanyan Honglie become overconfident and advance rashly, then return to urge the Jin ruler to initiate a southern invasion, so the Jin Kingdom would waste its military strength on the southern front, creating better opportunities for the Northern Expedition.

At the Chen hour the next day, Wanyan Honglie appeared on time beneath the Yongjin Gate.

He rode that tall Hequ horse, with twenty guards following behind him, looking around as he went. When he reached the Wu Lin Gate, he stopped beneath the city tower.

He looked up at the guards on the tower—a few old soldiers with graying hair, leaning on long spears, their stances slack, their armor ill-fitting. Wanyan Honglie looked for a long time, then suddenly laughed. The laughter echoed in the empty city gate archway, sounding particularly grating.

"Grand Preceptor Han," he murmured to himself, his voice neither loud nor soft, just enough for the accompanying Southern Song officials to hear, "I said I brought three things, and it seems he chose the blade."

He turned his horse around, not looking at the city wall again, and directly spurred his horse back to the Duting Post.

That night, Wanyan Honglie sent someone to deliver a letter to Han Tuozhou. The letter contained only one line: "The defenses of Lin'an have been seen by the Prince of Zhao. Tomorrow at the Wu hour, please, Grand Preceptor, come to the Duting Post for a talk. Just you and me. No talk of state affairs, only family matters."

Han Tuozhou held the letter and looked at it for a long time. His hand was steady, but he flipped the paper over and over, reading it three times, before finally folding it expressionlessly and putting it into his sleeve.

"Give my reply," he said to the messenger, "Tomorrow at the Wu hour, Han will arrive at the appointment on time."

After the envoy withdrew, Han Tuozhou sat alone in the study for a long time. Winter rain began to fall outside the window, the raindrops hitting the banana leaves, the sound fragmented and dense. Lin'an rarely snowed in winter, but that damp cold could seep into the cracks of one's bones.

The last sentence in Wanyan Honglie's letter was "No talk of state affairs, only family matters." But he knew that a Jin Kingdom prince who had been confronting the New Ming Faction on the northern grasslands for several years would not travel all the way to Lin'an just to chat about family matters.

The letter in his sleeve gradually warmed under his body heat amidst the sound of rain. The ink on the paper was dampened by the sweat vapor, the two characters "family matters" slowly blurring, like some ominous omen.

Duting Post, main hall.

Wanyan Honglie had sent all the servants away. Only he and Han Tuozhou remained in the entire courtyard. On the table were two pots of wine, several plates of cold dishes, and a single lonely oil lamp. The lamp flame swayed unsteadily, blown by the winter wind pouring in from outside the window. The shadows of the two men on the wall grew long and short, like two swords probing each other.

Han Tuozhou had not brought any guards. It was not that he was not afraid, but that he could not show fear. Wanyan Honglie dared to come alone to the meeting and stay in Lin'an; if Han Tuozhou did not dare to walk alone into the Duting Post, the entire court of civil and military officials would point at his back tomorrow.

"Grand Preceptor Han, please." Wanyan Honglie raised his hand to gesture and sat down first.

Han Tuozhou took his seat opposite him, glancing at the wine pot on the table: "Did not His Highness the Prince of Zhao say no talk of state affairs?"

"Drink first, talk later." Wanyan Honglie poured two cups of wine and pushed one toward Han Tuozhou. "This is wine I brought from the northern border. It is nothing special, horse-milk wine brewed by the herdsmen on the grasslands. It is very sour, but strong. The brothers of the northern border army rely on this to warm their bodies in winter."

Han Tuozhou lifted the cup and sniffed; indeed, there was a sour, fishy smell. He took a shallow sip, and his brows immediately furrowed. Wanyan Honglie saw this, laughed, and then threw back his own cup in one gulp.

"Grand Preceptor Han is not used to it." He set the cup down and leaned back in his chair, his posture relaxed as if hosting a distant relative he did not know well in his own home. "It doesn't matter. I have been in the northern border these past few years, and it took me a long time to get used to it. The first time I drank it, I vomited all over the floor, and the old soldiers under my command laughed at me for half a month."

Han Tuozhou put down his cup and watched him silently. Wanyan Honglie's demeanor tonight was completely different from when he entered the city—when entering the city, he was like a blade drawn from its sheath; now, he was like a middle-aged man chatting with an old friend by the fireplace. This change made Han Tuozhou even more alert.

"How long has His Highness the Prince of Zhao stayed in the northern border?" he asked, following the thread of conversation.

"Counting it, almost five years." Wanyan Honglie extended one hand, spreading his five fingers. "From the fifth year of Mingchang until now, I returned to Zhongdu twice, totaling less than three months. The rest of the time was spent on the border wall. In summer, the sun peeled off three layers of skin; in winter, ten toes froze and cracked; in spring, the strong winds could blow a person off the wall. That place in the northern border, those who have been there know it is not a place for humans to stay."

"Yet His Highness the Prince of Zhao still stayed for five years."

"Because if I had not gone, the northern border would have been lost long ago." When Wanyan Honglie said this, his tone was flat, as if speaking of something trivial, but the light in his eyes suddenly changed—not killing intent, but something deeper, like the look in a person's eyes who has walked through a blizzard for a long time and finally sees a fire.

He picked up the wine pot and poured himself another cup, not drinking it, just holding it in his palm to warm it.

"Grand Preceptor Han, there is no one else here tonight, so let us not speak those empty, formal words." He looked up at Han Tuozhou, his gaze calm and direct. "You are preparing for the Northern Expedition; I know. I can roughly guess the date you will launch the troops—not this winter, but next spring. I am also clear on your strategic goals: recover Kaifeng, take Luoyang, water horses at the Yellow River, and ideally recover both capitals in one stroke, washing away your Great Song's Jingkang humiliation from eighty years ago."

Han Tuozhou neither denied nor admitted it; he simply held his wine cup and listened expressionlessly.

"But Grand Preceptor Han," Wanyan Honglie placed his cup on the table, making a light sound, "before you act, I suggest you first clarify one thing."

"What thing?"

"Who exactly you intend to fight."

Han Tuozhou frowned slightly: "What does His Highness the Prince of Zhao mean by this? My Great Song's Northern Expedition naturally targets the Jin Kingdom."

"No." Wanyan Honglie shook his head, his voice suddenly becoming very light and slow, as if afraid to disturb something that should not be disturbed. "You intend to fight the one who, after you act, will surely take advantage of the mutual destruction of Jin and Song to move south and harvest everything. You have not seen them. But I have."