The third morning without falling stone felt wrong.
Men woke braced for the shudder of impact, for dust in their teeth. When none came, they lay there a little longer, waiting. Yong'an's bells rang the same hours they always had. The river smoked in the cold. Xia's banners still freckled the far bank. Nothing looked different, and everything did.
On the north wall, Wei leaned on a crenel and squinted at the enemy lines. "They're tidying," he said. "I don't like it."
"They're soldiers," Han grunted beside him. "If they're not killing, they're folding things."
"Look farther," Feiyan murmured.
Ren Kanyu's camp was not breaking. But the siege ladders were stacked, lashed neatly. Half the battering rams had been dragged back to a second line. The catapults stood idle, arms lowered like men resting their spears.
Ziyan watched in silence, the treaty copy cold and flat inside her sleeve.
At the midday bell, a small detachment rode out from the Xia lines: ten horsemen, no banners raised, a single narrow cart in their midst. They stopped just out of bowshot and waited.
A murmur ran along the wall. "Parley?" "Terms?" "New stones?"
Han glanced at Ziyan. "Your wolf sends gifts now?"
"He sends messages," she said. "Gifts are rarely free."
They opened the postern gate under a dozen wary eyes. The Xia riders dismounted, leaving their curved blades sheathed. At their head was the scholar-soldier Ziyan had seen on the riverbank, his hair tied in a plain knot, his expression that careful blank used by men who know their words may be counted later.
"I am Li Shi," he said, bowing just enough. "By General Ren's order."
Ziyan inclined her head. "Yong'an hears," she said. Her voice, to her own surprise, did not tremble.
Li Shi gestured to the cart. Its canvas had been rolled back to show sacks of grain, plainly stamped with Xia's seal; bundles of dried herbs; two crates of bandages.
"The general sends these," he said. "First proof that his promises are not only ink."
Wei's brows shot up. "He's feeding us now?" he muttered. "That's going to give the balladeers trouble."
"In return," Li Shi went on evenly, "he asks that your council affix its seal to this."
He produced a scroll in a lacquer tube, unrolled it with care. The characters were large and formal, meant for public reading.
"By the grace of Heaven and the command of the Emperor of Xia," it proclaimed, "the city of Yong'an is recognized as border protectorate under the guardianship of General Ren Kanyu. Its laws and customs shall be tolerated. Its granaries shall be its own, save in times of agreed tribute. Any troops of Qi crossing within a day's march of its walls shall be treated as hostile to both Yong'an and Xia."
Han swore under his breath. "There it is," he rasped. "A shield and a chain in the same line."
Ziyan read every character twice. Ren the scribe hovered at her shoulder, eyes flicking between parchment and his own blank tablet.
"He writes us between their war and Qi's," Ren whispered. "Anyone who comes from our old home with a banner will be counted their enemy too."
Ziyan touched the lower lines. No demand for a garrison inside their walls. No order to seat a Xia magistrate on their council. The ink said what Ren had promised on the riverbank. It also wrapped them in an emperor's claim that did not know their names.
"Tell your general," she said to Li Shi, "that we will read this in the square. In full. With our people watching. If we sign, they will see it. If we refuse, they will see that too."
Li Shi bowed. "He expects nothing less," he said. "He also bids me say: if Qi banners appear on your horizon, you will not face them alone."
Han's scowl deepened. "That sounds like protection and invasion wearing the same cloak."
"Sometimes they share a tailor," Li Shi said, almost apologetically.
Feiyan watched him. "You're not from Xia," she said suddenly. "Not originally."
He met her gaze. "No," he said. "My Lord bought my head and work from a northern court that had stopped paying its scribes. He prefers words that do not lie to him. I prefer generals who remember why they're counting bodies." His eyes flicked to the law tablets visible over her shoulder. "You have built something I would not like to see flattened."
"It isn't done," Ziyan said.
"No good thing is," he answered. "I'll carry your answer back by sunset."