Thus, seeing Xiao Chifeng—the man who had abandoned his remaining troops to flee back alone—Yelü Chi didn’t even get angry. Instead, he felt a cold sort of interest.
He sat in the hall, holding a cup of clear tea, and took a slow sip. “A grown man, crying? For what?”
Xiao Chifeng’s surname indicated his origins—a pampered young master from the imperial nobility. His family had thought Great Chen was a pushover and sent him out to farm some military merit. Who would have thought he would lose so miserably before even fighting a few proper battles outside the city?
The corners of Yelü Chi’s mouth curled into a mocking arc.
If it were his usual temperament, a defeated general like this would have been dragged out to feed the wolves. But now, having learned Gu Huaiyu’s trick of “convincing people through virtue,” he found he had a bit more patience.
“Want revenge?” He set down his teacup, speaking with a coaxing tone. “Then defend Heshuo City until it is a fortress of iron. Make it so Great Chen cannot advance a single step.”
Xiao Chifeng’s fists clenched until his knuckles cracked. “It was all that lowly Han, Pei Jingyi! He used tricks! If he has the guts, let’s fight for real! I’ll show him what the number one Meng’an of the steppes is made of!”
Yelü Chi ignored him, his gaze moving past the man to signal the guards at the door.
A moment later, the guards led in a young man dressed as a scholar. He had the face of a Han man but wore nomadic robes and braided hair. He walked with a composed, unhurried pace.
Xiao Chifeng, who was still cursing and spitting in rage, stopped abruptly when he saw the newcomer. “Du Bale? What are you doing here?”
Yelü Chi answered for him with a light laugh. “He’s going to negotiate for peace.”
“Negotiate?!” Xiao Chifeng jumped up like a wolf whose tail had been stepped on, his face flushing as he roared, “Negotiate with those ‘two-legged sheep’?!”
Note: ‘Two-legged sheep’ was a derogatory term used for people during times of famine or by invaders.
Du Bale bowed calmly and said with a smile, “Young Master, please calm yourself. Negotiation is merely the Prince’s temporary tactic.”
Though Xiao Chifeng was a brute, he wasn’t entirely brainless. He suddenly chuckled. “The Prince’s way of doing things is becoming more and more like those Han people.”
Yelü Chi’s cold gaze swept over him before landing on Du Bale. “You shall go as my special envoy. Tell Great Chen—if they are willing to withdraw, the Annual Tribute shall be reduced by thirty percent, and the silk by fifty percent.”
Du Bale bowed. “This subordinate understands.”
“Bring one more message.” Yelü Chi added, “Tell them I am willing to swear a blood oath not to invade Great Chen’s borders for thirty years.”
Du Bale clearly understood his intention, and his smile deepened. “Understood.”
Yelü Chi finished, but he didn’t dismiss him. Instead, he suddenly sat up straight, as if about to discuss the real business. “Finally…”
“Bring a personal word to Chancellor Gu.”
“Please speak, Your Highness.”
When that shocking sentence spilled from Yelü Chi’s mouth, the two men in the hall were struck as if by lightning, freezing in place.
Gu Huaiyu had guessed that Eastern Liao might send a special envoy, but he hadn’t expected Yelü Chi to reveal his fox tail on the very first day of the war.
Yelü Chi was no fool; he knew there was no turning back once the bow was drawn. Gu Huaiyu had mobilized the masses for this Eastern Expedition; he wouldn’t withdraw easily.
The so-called “peace talks” were clearly designed to find someone to trip him up.
If there were those in the Great Chen court whose will for war was not firm, and they heard the concessions offered by Eastern Liao, wouldn’t they jump at the chance? They would find every possible way to pull Gu Huaiyu back.
Or, if the war hit a difficult snag, those same people would bring up the peace terms, asking, “Why must we insist on fighting this war?”
In short, Yelü Chi was casting a line just to see what he could catch; he lost nothing by trying. His heart was truly malicious.
“Reduce the tribute by thirty percent?”
Gu Huaiyu toyed with a vermilion brush and suddenly laughed softly. “Does the envoy know how much silver this Chancellor has spent on this Eastern Expedition?”
Before Du Bale could respond, Wei Qingya blurted out, “As of yesterday, the grain, armaments, and pay total three million, one hundred and seventy thousand taels.”
Du Bale looked at Gu Huaiyu with a subtle expression, as if scrutinizing his appearance closely.
He saw the Chancellor slowly raise three jade-white fingers.
“If the Prince is willing to pay double that amount in compensation—” That beautiful face revealed a wicked smile, one that was entirely unreasonable. “—this Chancellor might consider a three-day ceasefire.”
Du Bale hadn’t expected the talks to succeed anyway. He cupped his fists. “In that case, I shall return to report to the Prince.”
Having said that, his hands paused slightly. He gave a light cough and lowered his head as if embarrassed. “Before I left, the Prince gave me a specific message to deliver to Chancellor Gu.”
Pei Jingyi, who originally had no interest in the talks and was leaning against a nearby pillar looking bored, suddenly straightened up. “What message?”
Gu Huaiyu tilted his head, waiting quietly for the envoy to answer.
Du Bale’s gaze swept across the room full of Great Chen officials. He lowered his head and spoke quickly. “The Prince asks—”
“—When do you plan to ride him like a fierce horse and let him taste the sensation of being whipped by you?”
Gu Huaiyu’s brow furrowed. What nonsense is this? I don’t understand.
The expressions of the civil and military officials in the hall were a sight to behold.
Pei Jingyi cracked the joints in his neck, a cold, dangerous smile playing on his lips. “Get lost. Go back and tell Yelü Chi—he won’t get that chance in his next life, either.”
