Snow lay piled on the Helan Mountains, more than three feet deep; the Yellow River had frozen solid, its ice stretching ten miles across.
In December, Ningxia silenced heaven and earth.
The north wind swept the ground, breaking every blade of grass, and pressed against the city walls like a blunt knife scraping flesh and bone...
Stroke followed scraping stroke, crushing the spirit.
Within Garrison City, smoke hung low, dogs huddled indoors, and the lanes lay desolate, with only frost and the wind answering each other.
Li He's "Song of the Governor of Yanmen" contained these lines: "Half-furled red banners approach the Yi River; heavy frost chills the drums until no sound will rise."
In Ningxia now, there were no banners to furl, no drums to hear...
Ningxia's command headquarters stood in the public offices west of the inner street of Victorious Virtue Gate. The seal of the Western Campaign General hung above its entrance; this was where he convened military audiences, received imperial commands, and summoned his officers to council.
Zhou Quan sat behind his desk, a Land Clearance register before him, its pages yellowed and its official script neat and upright.
He had been reading for more than four hours.
Every character in the register was recognizable; the currents beneath it remained obscure and unfathomable.
The acreage was counted, the population registered, the taxes assessed...
Yet the truth and falsehood interwoven within were like ripples on water, impossible to discern unless the surface was still.
Just then, the door curtain lifted, and his deputy strode in, lowering his voice. "General, Liu Family Settlement erupted again last night."
"Liu Family Settlement again?" Zhou Quan raised his head. "When?"
"The third watch," the deputy replied. "More than a hundred veteran soldiers gathered in the settlement and surrounded the Land-Clearing