Ning Chen rode hard the whole way to Old General Chen's residence.

It was late by then, and the gates of the general's residence were shut.

Ning Chen tied his horse up and knocked.

The gate opened.

The man who opened it was somewhere in his forties, thick through the shoulders.

"My lord prince?"

He got a clear look at Ning Chen and could hardly believe it.

Everyone in the general's residence knew Ning Chen.

Ning Chen gave him a nod. "Has Old General Chen turned in?"

The man gave a bitter shake of the head. "The old general's been in bed sick for a while now. There's no turning in or not turning in about it."

Ning Chen knew the place well enough to find his own way to the bedroom. Old General Chen was lying in bed.

Old General Chen was not asleep — or more exactly, he had just woken. He had been sick in bed lately, and he spent more of the day unconscious than awake.

"Ning Chen?" Old General Chen was startled at the sight of him. "Brat, when did you get back?"

Ning Chen kept his voice down. "This afternoon."

"Have you seen His Majesty?"

Ning Chen nodded, his eyes going red.

The old man who had spent his whole life in the saddle had shrunk a long way down from what he was. His face was hollow. He was in a bad way.

Old General Chen looked at him. "Brat, are you about to cry? Don't. I can't stand blubbering.

We're soldiers. We bleed, we don't cry... I'm well into my eighties, and of all the generals of our Great Xuan I've lasted the longest... You, though — you'll outlast me for certain. If you don't make it to a hundred, don't come down and face me."

Ning Chen nodded without a word. "All right. I'll try to make a hundred."

"Not try. You will make a hundred... I fought all my life, and the one thing I never could put down was the worry that there'd be nobody to come after me.…