Chapter 19: The Siege and the Siren's Song
Before the iron gates were locked for the final siege, Wei'an spent two hours in a steaming bath. He emerged smelling of jasmine and cedar, a stark contrast to the scent of "war-crime rot" he'd carried for days.
The Steward, Shen Qiu, watched him adjust his silk robes with a look of pure disdain. "Master Li, the enemy is at the gates with three thousand men, and you look like you're preparing for a poetry recital. Should I set out some tea and biscuits for the assassins?"
"Style is 50% of the battle, Steward," Wei'an replied, checking his reflection. "If I'm going to be a martyr, I'm going to be a well-moisturized one."
The Night Before the Storm
Wei'an retreated to the bridal chamber, finding Yao'er sharpening a dagger by candlelight. He didn't say a word about logistics. He simply walked up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her back against his chest.
"Wei'an! Stop it!" she hissed, though she didn't move. "We are in the middle of a national crisis!"
"Shhh. Market's closed for the night," he murmured into her ear. He turned her around and pulled her into the bed, holding her in a firm, protective embrace.
Internal Thought (Shen Yao): NO. No, no, no. This is the 'Merchant's Trap.' He is using his scent and his soft eyes to diversify his portfolio. Resist! He is a pervert! He is—oh, his chest is actually quite solid. And he smells like cedar. Maybe... just for five minutes... for the sake of the family alliance...
She tried to scold him as his hands wandered—a gentle squeeze of her waist, a rhythmic pat on her back—but her voice lost its edge. She collapsed into his warmth. She was a noble lady trained for war, but she was still a girl who hadn't been held since her brother died. By the time the moon peaked, she was fast asleep, clutching his robe like it was the only stable thing in a crumbling world.
The Smoke and the Fire
At dawn, the romantic peace shattered. The Count, losing patience with the "disgusting" guerrilla tactics, ordered a massive frontal assault. But the Shen Fortress had been transformed into a merchant's house of horrors.
Wei'an stood on the ramparts next to Shen Mu, the scholarly cousin. Mu looked terrified but held a ledger to record the "expenditures" of the battle.
"Cousin," Wei'an said, pointing at the Count's dense infantry formation. "What is the primary rule of a crowded marketplace?"
"Too much inventory in one space causes a bottleneck?" Mu guessed.
"Exactly. Light the smoke!"
Large clay pots filled with damp straw, sulfur, and dried peppers were ignited. A thick, choking green fog rolled down the hill, blinding the Count's vanguard. Men began to retch and stumble.
"Now!" Wei'an roared. "The 100 archers! Fire at the 'High-Value Targets'!"
The sky turned orange as 100 fire arrows arched into the fog. They weren't just aimed at people; they were aimed at the Count's supply wagons, which Wei'an had previously "marked" by sending scouts to splash them with oil during the night.
BOOM.
The supply line erupted. The Count's army, already demoralized by the "Stench Attacks," began to panic.
The Cost of Doing Business
The Count wasn't defeated yet. His elite cavalry managed to bypass the smoke and scale the eastern wall using heavy ladders.
"They're in!" Steward Qiu shouted, drawing his sword.
The battle became a bloody mess. Wei'an watched as his 25 Elites held the breach, but they were outnumbered ten-to-one. He saw five of his mercenaries fall in a single charge. His heart twisted—those were men he'd personally trained.
"Losses are inevitable in a hostile takeover," Wei'an muttered, his face pale, "but I'm going to make the Count pay a premium for every drop of Shen blood."
He grabbed a pitch-bomb himself and hurled it into the climbing cavalry. "Commander Sang! Execute the 'Shameless' Plan B!"
Sang and his 70 veterans dropped the "False Fire" banners, revealing hidden pits filled with jagged iron spikes—the very spikes Wei'an had bought with the emergency loan. The knights plummeted into the traps, the sound of breaking bone echoing up the walls.
The Breaking Point
As the sun began to set, the Count pulled back his forces, leaving a field of fire and rotting debris. He had lost 400 men; Wei'an had lost 40. A tactical victory, but the Count's main army was still massive.
"He's regrouping," Sang said, wiping blood from his spear. "He'll be back at midnight."
Wei'an looked at the smoke rising from the battlefield. He looked at the weary Shen guards. He realized that while they were winning the skirmishes, the Main Branch of the Shen family—the powerful relatives in the capital—had remained silent.
"They're watching us," Wei'an whispered to Shen Mu. "The Main Branch is waiting for us to die so they can reclaim the title without the debt."
"So what do we do?" Mu asked.
Wei'an's eyes turned cold. "We stop playing defense. If the Count wants the mine, and the Main Branch wants our title... I'm going to make sure that by tomorrow morning, both of them realize that owning the Shen House is the most expensive mistake they'll ever make."