"Yuan Long, assemble the Ning'an Army. We move in four hours!"

"This officer obeys!"

"Lei An, does the Ning'an Army have enough grain and fodder?"

Lei An bowed. "Grain and fodder are sufficient. We can move at any time."

Ning Chen nodded. "Go and see to it."

"Send someone to fetch Sun Gaohan for me."

"Yes!"

Four hours later the Ning'an Army was drawn up outside the walls, ready to move.

Ning Chen rode out of the city.

Sun Gaohan stayed behind with troops to hold Linhai City.

"Pass my order. March!"

Hooves rang and the dust flew up.

The Ning'an Army went straight for Baizhuan Bay.

They force-marched without a halt, and by the afternoon of the second day they had reached Baizhuan Bay.

Then Ning Chen sent scouts ahead to feel out the road, and pushed on toward Duanfeng Ridge along the traces Mu Anbang had left.

Duanfeng Ridge lay across the country north to south like a great dragon, blocking the sea wind.

So Duanfeng Ridge was a kind of divide: deep snow on one side, and on the other nothing but damp, never any snow at all.

Mu Anbang had four thousand-odd men with him, fighting and falling back the whole way.

In the end they were forced into a valley.

Mu Anbang counted the men: a little more than three thousand left.

The enemy did not attack. They had sealed the mouth of the valley.

Mu Anbang understood. The enemy was waiting.

His own men were short of clothing and short of food and could not hold out for two days.

By then the officers and men would be too hungry to lift a weapon, and the enemy could walk in and wipe them out.

There was game enough in the valley, but for several thousand men it was a cup of water on a burning cartload. (TL Note: 杯水車薪 — a cupful thrown at a cart of firewood already alight. The Chinese figure for help so small it may as well not have come.)

Mu Anbang was sick with shame and self-reproach.

He had…