# **Chapter 9: The Price of Time**

  The Oirats didn't attack for three days.

  Wei watched their camp from north wall, waiting for retaliation that never came. Dust rose from their positions—activity, movement, reorganization. But no assault.

  "They're rebuilding," Zhang said. "New command structure. Repairing damage from raid."

  "Good. Three days we're not losing men."

  But it was uneasy peace. Wei could see through his telescope—officers being appointed, supplies redistributed, cavalry units reformed.

  They were preparing for something.

  On morning of day forty-one, the Oirat army began to move.

  Not toward walls.

  Away from them.

  Wei watched sections of camp breaking down. Tents collapsing. Supply wagons loading.

  Commander Feng appeared at his shoulder, breathing hard from climbing stairs. "What are they doing?"

  "Withdrawing. Parts of their force, anyway." Wei tracked movement through telescope. "That's... maybe ten thousand cavalry pulling back north."

  "Why? Relief is still three days out. They could hit us hard before then."

  Wei studied the pattern. Understanding crystallized. "They can't sustain siege anymore. We destroyed too much of their logistics. They're pulling back forces to consolidate supply lines." He lowered telescope. "They're not giving up—they're reorganizing. But it buys us time."

  "How much time?"

  "Enough. They won't be ready to assault again before relief arrives."

  ---

  But Wei's confidence was premature.

  That afternoon, an Oirat delegation approached under flag of truce.

  Wei met them at north gate with Commander Feng and Inspector Liu. The smell of horses and leather preceded them.

  The Oirat commander was older—maybe fifty, grey in his beard, bearing of professional soldier. He spoke Mandarin fluently, accent barely noticeable.

  "I am General Toghan. I command the siege force." His eyes were sharp, evaluating. "You are Commander Wei Zhao?"

  "I am."

  "You led the raids. Both of them."

  "Yes."

  Toghan smiled slightly. "Impressive. Unconventional. Expensive for both sides." He gestured toward the camp. "You cost me two hundred officers and six hundred troops across both raids. You cost yourself four hundred men."

  Wei said nothing. Let the man make his point.

  "I'm authorized to offer terms. Surrender the garrison. Your troops will be allowed to leave with personal weapons and dignity. No reprisals. No pursuit."

  "And the Emperor?"

  "Negotiations continue. His fate is separate from yours."

  Wei looked at Feng. The garrison commander's face was carefully neutral.

  "We decline," Wei said.

  Toghan raised an eyebrow. "You have three thousand troops. I have thirty thousand cavalry. Your raids hurt us, but we're recovering. We can resume siege and eventually starve you out."

  "Maybe. But relief is three days away. You don't have time to starve us."

  "Relief is six days away. We have scouts tracking them." Toghan's smile widened. "Your intelligence is outdated."

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  Wei felt cold settle in his gut. Six days, not three. That changed everything.

  "Even six days," Wei said carefully. "You can't organize effective assault in that time. Not after we decapitated your command structure."

  "True. Which is why I'm offering terms. You've fought well. Proven yourself competent. No reason for more men to die when outcome is inevitable." Toghan's voice was reasonable, almost kind. "Surrender with honor. Walk away. Fight another day."

  Wei looked at his garrison. Three thousand exhausted soldiers. Six more days of siege. Dwindling supplies. Mounting casualties.

  Toghan was right. Outcome was probably inevitable.

  But probably wasn't certainly.

  "We'll hold," Wei said.

  Toghan studied him. "Why? What's worth dying for here?"

  "Three thousand soldiers who trust me not to abandon them. An empire that needs to know garrisons don't surrender just because odds are bad." Wei met his gaze. "And personal pride in not giving you an easy victory."

  Toghan laughed—genuine, appreciative. "Personal pride. At least you're honest." He turned to leave, then paused. "When we resume assault—and we will—I'll make it quick. You've earned that much."

  "Appreciated."

  Toghan rode back to his lines.

  Inspector Liu spoke quietly. "You should have taken his terms."

  "Why? So you could report that I surrendered garrison?"

  "So three thousand men could live."

  "They'll live anyway. We hold six more days, relief arrives, siege ends." Wei turned from wall. "Your reports already condemn me. Might as well earn it."

  ---

  That night, Wei gathered his battalion commanders.

  "Situation update: Relief is six days out, not three. The Oirats will resume assault soon—probably coordinated attack on multiple walls simultaneously. We need to be ready."

  Captain Dong spoke up. "Can we hold six days?"

  "We've held forty-one. What's six more?" Wei spread the tactical map on table. "Here's how we do it: layered defense. First line holds walls using sustained fire. Second line provides support and relieves first line. Third line holds key defensive positions inside garrison—command post, armory, medical ward. If walls are breached, we fall back in organized withdrawal to secondary positions."

  "That's assuming walls are breached," Major Lin said.

  "That's planning for worst case. Hope for best, plan for worst." Wei looked at each commander. "Your battalions are the first line. You hold walls until you can't, then you withdraw in good order to secondary positions. No heroic last stands. No fighting to the last man. Organized withdrawal preserves force for continued resistance."

  Commander Feng cleared his throat. "The Ministry's official doctrine is to hold positions to the death."

  "The Ministry's official doctrine got fifty thousand men killed at Tumu. We're using doctrine that keeps people alive." Wei's voice was flat, final. "Questions?"

  Silence.

  "Good. Prepare your battalions. Drill the withdrawal routes. Make sure everyone knows rally points. We've got six days. Let's make them count."

  The commanders dispersed.

  Inspector Liu lingered. "You're planning retreat before battle even starts. That's defeatist."

  "That's realistic. The Oirats will eventually breach walls through sheer numbers. When they do, I want organized withdrawal, not panicked rout." Wei began rolling up the map. "Your doctrine says hold to the death. Mine says preserve the force for continued resistance. Mine keeps more soldiers alive."

  "Your doctrine also undermines Imperial authority."

  "Imperial authority lost the Emperor at Tumu. I'm more worried about keeping soldiers alive than preserving face."

  Liu made notes. Always making notes. "The Ministry will evaluate your decisions after siege ends."

  "Looking forward to it."

  ---

  The Oirat assault came on day forty-two.

  Not the coordinated attack Wei expected. Just probing assault on east wall—two thousand cavalry, testing defenses.

  Wei's First Battalion held position using sustained fire doctrine. Guns and crossbows firing in rotation, maintaining pressure.

  The Oirats probed for two hours, then withdrew.

  Light casualties. Ten wounded, two dead.

  But it was testing. Feeling out weak points.

  Day forty-three: another probing assault, this time on west wall. Third Battalion held using same doctrine. Similar results.

  Day forty-four: simultaneous probes on north and south walls. Second and Fourth Battalions held. Casualties mounting—twenty wounded, five dead.

  The Oirats were learning the garrison's defensive patterns, identifying weak points, preparing for major assault.

  Wei knew it. His commanders knew it.

  The question was when.

  ---

  Day forty-five brought answer.

  Dawn broke with horns—Oirat battle horns, echoing across the valley.

  Wei climbed north wall and saw it: the entire siege force, thirty thousand cavalry, formed into assault columns.

  They were coming. All of them. Simultaneously on all four walls.

  This was the final push.

  Wei called all battalion commanders to the walls. "This is it. Everything they have. Hold your positions using sustained fire. Maintain rotation. When walls are breached—and they will be—execute organized withdrawal to secondary positions. Clear?"

  "CLEAR!"

  "Dismiss. Get to your walls."

  The commanders ran to their positions.

  Wei stood on north wall, watching thirty thousand cavalry begin their advance.

  Zhang appeared beside him. "We can't hold this."

  "No. But we can make it expensive. And we can hold long enough." Wei checked the sky—clear, cold. "Relief is maybe thirty-six hours out. We just have to survive one day."

  "One day against this?"

  Wei smiled grimly. "We've survived worse odds. At least this time we know they're coming."

  The Oirat cavalry reached two hundred paces.

  "ALL WALLS—PREPARE TO FIRE!"

  Wei raised his hand.

  The cavalry hit one hundred fifty paces.

  Wei dropped his hand.

  "FIRST RANK—FIRE!"

  Four walls erupted simultaneously. Guns and crossbows firing in coordinated volleys.

  The siege's final battle had begun.

  And Wei Zhao—PLA captain, displaced in time, defender of an impossible garrison—stood on the wall and watched thirty thousand horsemen charge toward three thousand exhausted soldiers.

  The math didn't work.

  But math had never been everything.

  ---

  **End of Chapter 9**