After half a month with the town patrol, Qiu Yang had learned the camp's rules.
She patrolled the border every morning, practiced with her blade for two hours on the drill ground afterward, and rode a few circuits with Zhou Laosi in the afternoon.
She spoke little, never shirked work, and didn't crowd in among the others.
The patrol gradually grew used to her presence. Nobody made a special effort to talk to her, but nobody treated her as an outsider either.
Once, Liao Dazhu returned from patrol and, instead of going straight into the barracks, stood at the edge of the drill ground watching her practice.
Qiu Yang finished a sequence and turned as she lowered her blade. He was standing there; she didn't know for how long.
“Who taught you those moves?” he asked.
“Uncle Zhao.”
“Zhao Jian'an?”
“Mm.”
Liao Dazhu asked nothing more and turned away. Qiu Yang didn't know why he'd asked. She gave it no further thought and resumed practicing.
A few days later, Zhou Laosi came to find her. There were new hoofprints near the low woodland to the north, he said. Quite a few—more than before.
She went with him to look. Sure enough, the mud along the edge of the trees was churned with confused tracks.
Crouching, Zhou Laosi measured one with his fingers. “Northern Di horses.”
“How many?”
“More than twenty.”
Qiu Yang crouched beside him and studied the tracks. The mud had been trampled in every direction, horses coming and going, as though scouting or probing the perimeter.
She said nothing, stood, and brushed the soil from her hands.
That evening, she went to Liao Dazhu. He was sharpening his blade outside the barracks, rings of water staining the whetstone. Without looking up, he said, “Speak.”
“There are more hoofprints to the north than before. If they're coming, it won't just be for grain.”
His blade paused on the stone, then resumed sliding. “What did you see?”
“The tracks don't head toward town. They run back and forth across it. Clearly measuring distances.”
Liao Dazhu turned the blade, wiped away the water, and set down the stone. “How long?”
“They started circling outside First Ravine half a month ago. With no soldiers stationed there, they can come within five li of town before stopping.”
He slid the blade into its sheath. “Take a few men beyond First Ravine tomorrow. Get a clear look at every entrance and exit to that woodland.”
“Look for what?”
“Which direction they come from, where they rest, when they change horses. Come back and tell me.”
The next day, Qiu Yang rode north with two patrolmen.
They didn't go directly to First Ravine. A li from the woodland, they dismounted, tethered their horses behind an earthen bank, and approached on foot.
Qiu Yang crouched behind a clump of dead grass and watched the edge of the trees.
The woodland wasn't large, but she chose a position overlooking entrances from two directions. In the morning, she memorized the northern view. In the afternoon, she moved east and spent another hour on higher ground. By the time she finished, dusk was falling.
She returned to the tethered horses, mounted, and rode toward Pingyuan Town.
Back at camp, Liao Dazhu was still sitting outside the barracks. Qiu Yang jumped down, tossed the reins to someone nearby, and crouched in front of him. “There's an inconspicuous path on the east side of the trees. It loops around from the north. That's where the hoofprints are thickest. They enter there, not by the main road.”
“And once they're inside?”
“There's a clearing. The ground's packed hard. They may have rested there—not for long, but more than once.”
After hearing her, Liao Dazhu didn't speak at once.
He lowered his head in thought, then said, “No border patrol for you tomorrow. Stay in camp and rest for a day.”
Qiu Yang wanted to say she didn't need a rest. But he looked at her, and she held her tongue, stood, and left.
The next day, she stayed in camp.
With nothing to do, she sat beside the drill ground for an hour, then went back to the smithy and helped Old Liao forge iron all afternoon.
Toward evening, Zhou Laosi returned from outside. Passing the smithy, he called to her. “Chief Liao's taking you to Qingshi Ford again tomorrow morning.”
She put down her hammer. “Again?”
“He wants you to learn the roads there. If fighting really breaks out, that's a way through.”
Qiu Yang acknowledged him.
That night, she sharpened her old blade again, wiped it clean, sheathed it, and put it beside her bed.
After lying down, she heard the wind outside, stronger than in recent days. Now and then, a roof tile rattled.
Early the next morning, Qiu Yang and Zhou Laosi rode toward Qingshi Ford again.
This time, they went farther than before, all the way to the outskirts of the ruins.
Zhou Laosi pointed to a narrow path through them. “That road loops east to the official highway. If we can't hold the town, it's the quickest way out.”
Qiu Yang followed his finger. The path was narrow, flanked by broken walls and burned roof frames. But weeds hadn't covered its surface, meaning someone had used it recently.
“Does anyone else know this road?”
“The Northern Di do,” Zhou Laosi said. “But they can't ride in. It's too narrow. Cavalry would have to dismount. Once they're on foot in that alley, it's like walking into a sack. Block both ends, and they can't get out.”
Qiu Yang made no reply.
From the rise, she glanced west. She could just make out Pingyuan Town's low earthen walls, hazy gray in the morning light, already hard to distinguish.
The wind was strong on the way back, making her squint. She rode with her head lowered for a while, then suddenly asked Zhou Laosi, “Has the town seen fighting before?”
“Yes. The year before last, just after Qiu Chengye died, the Northern Di launched a major attack. We nearly lost it.”
“How did you hold?”
“Liao Dazhu took the patrol to the northern earth wall that day and held them off all day. At night, the Northern Di withdrew on their own.”
After that, Zhou Laosi said no more, as though he had exhausted everything there was to say about the battle.
Qiu Yang asked no further questions.
But in the saddle, she turned his words over twice.
She knew the Northern Di hadn't withdrawn that night because Pingyuan Town had won. There must have been another reason.
Still, she didn't press. She stored it away to consider later when she had time.
It was afternoon by the time they returned.
Qiu Yang had a drink of water at camp. Liao Dazhu came out of the barracks with a folded piece of paper and handed it to her. “Keep this safe.”
She unfolded it. Several lines and markings depicted the terrain around Pingyuan Town: the northern woodland, First Ravine, the narrow path at Qingshi Ford, and a few places she hadn't visited.
It wasn't finely drawn, but everything necessary was there.
“I drew it,” Liao Dazhu said. “Use it to learn the roads. No need to show anyone.”
Qiu Yang folded it and tucked it inside her clothes. “Thanks.”
He said nothing more, turning back into the barracks.
She stood on the drill ground beneath low gray clouds. It looked about to rain, yet no rain fell, however long she waited.
She looked up for a while, then lowered her head and turned toward the smithy.
The wind blew from behind, pressing the back of her collar against her neck with a chill. She hunched her neck and didn't look back.