Morning came without fuss.
The camp stirred reluctantly, slower than it had the day before, as though the earth itself objected to being asked for more. Smoke hung low over the tents, pressed down by the cool air and slow-burning fires that had never fully gone out. Men rose carefully, voices kept subdued, movements deliberate, as if speaking too loudly might wake something that should be left alone.
The victory was already behind them.
Liang Wei stood in line with the others as orders were read.
Losses were confirmed. Supplies counted. Positions reassigned. The tone was practical, stripped of emotion. Names were spoken once and written down. No speeches followed. No one lingered on the slope where the dead had fallen.
She listened and said nothing. Her shoulder had stiffened overnight. The ache was deeper now, threaded through muscle and bone, but it did not slow her. When instructed to assist with perimeter watch until further notice, she acknowledged and moved where directed.
Temporary command still clung to her. Not formally, not announced, but felt. Men looked to her first when instructions were unclear. They waited for her nod before acting. She gave it when necessary and withheld it when it was not.
By midmorning, messengers arrived. Not runners from nearby units. These wore cleaner armor and carried sealed orders. They spoke with officers only, voices low, posture rigid. Whatever they brought did not belong to the field.
Liang Wei noticed the shift immediately. The camp tightened. Not with fear, but with attention. Fires were moved farther apart. Watch rotations adjusted again.
Someone important had taken notice.
She was repairing a frayed strap when a shadow fell across her hands.
"Liang Wei."
She looked up.
An officer she did not recognize stood there, his insignia marking him as senior to most she had dealt with so far. His gaze dipped briefly to the spear at her side, then returned to her face.
"You are to report to the central tent," he said. "Now."
No reason was given.
She rose without comment and followed.
The tent stood apart from the rest, larger and better kept, its entrance guarded by two men who did not speak when she approached. Inside, the air was cooler, scented faintly with ink and wax.
Commander Zhou stood near the table.
He was not alone.
Two other officers were present, unfamiliar faces, and one man dressed more simply than the rest. No armor. No insignia. Just quiet attention and eyes that missed very little.
Liang Wei stopped at the proper distance and waited. Commander Zhou turned to face her fully. "You were on the left flank," he said.
"Yes."
"You carried a spear."
"Yes."
"You engaged Marshal Li Jianjun."
She did not answer immediately. "Yes," she said then.
The simpler dressed man made a mark on the parchment in front of him. Commander Zhou studied her for a moment longer. His expression was neutral, unreadable. Not suspicious. Not impressed. Measuring. "Describe it," he said.
She did. Briefly. Cleanly. No embellishment. She did not describe the moment after. She did not describe the feeling.
No one interrupted her. When she finished, the silence stretched. Finally, Commander Zhou nodded once. "You will return to duty," he said. "Remain available. You may be called again."
The tent flap fell closed behind Liang Wei.
For a moment, nothing moved. The maps on the table lay weighted at their corners. A lamp burned low, its flame steady despite the movement of air. Commander Zhou remained where he was, eyes still on the entrance, as if the space she had passed through had not yet emptied.
Only when the sounds of her footsteps faded did he speak.
"Did you see it," he asked.
The man standing a pace behind him did not need clarification. He was dressed plainly, armor beneath cloth, posture relaxed in a way that fooled most people. "Yes," he said. "Left flank. Spear."
"And afterward."
"No pause," the man replied. "he turned away"
Zhou's fingers traced a slow line along the edge of the table. "A soldier does not pause after killing a marshal," he said.
Silence answered him.
"Follow Liang Wei," Zhou continued. "From a distance. I want to know where he goes. Who he avoids. Who seeks him out."
"And if he notices," the man asked.
Zhou's mouth curved, not quite a smile. "Then he is more than he appears."
The man inclined his head once and turned toward the exit.
"One more thing," Zhou added.
The man paused.
"Do not interfere. Not yet."
"Yes, Commander."
The tent flap lifted and fell again. Zhou finally looked down at the map. A single spear mark had been added where the lines had broken. He stared at it longer than necessary.
Left flank, he thought. Too precise.
Outside, the camp continued to shift and breathe, unaware that a line had already been drawn. Liang Wei walked on, feeling nothing at all change.
Tents were packed. Routes discussed. The talk had shifted from what had happened to what would follow. Where they would move next. Who would answer for the marshal's death.
Liang Wei heard her name once. She did not look toward the sound. She felt the sword stir faintly at her side.
She rested her hand on the spear, grounding herself in its weight. She could not still be here when those riders returned.
Whatever came next had already begun.