Perhaps after Cui Tai left, he would find himself unable to stop wondering—why had he come in the first place, and what purpose had it served? Where is a man born, and where does he die? Who am I, and who are you?
Stepping out through the gates of the Yongning Tongyuan Carriage House, Cui Tai glanced back instinctively. The figure of that brash young man had already vanished from sight, yet Cui Tai knew the image would linger in his mind for a long time to come—an enduring irritation.
Unlike Cui Tai’s seething embarrassment, Wei Xianzhen, who had followed him out, looked utterly dazed. He trudged along in a stupor, and when Cui Tai stopped walking, he nearly walked straight into him.
“Wei Xianzhen.”
“Here…”
“Remember these people. More than that—remember their ages.”
Cui Tai said nothing more. He stepped up into the carriage and settled himself inside, then muttered to himself: “In times of chaos, one ought never to provoke the young.”
This wretched season—no sooner had he boarded than the rain started again. In times of peace and plenty, commoners would not have found rain so vexing; this was the planting season, and rain falling on freshly sown seeds or seedlings felt like another step toward a good harvest.
The rain drummed against the carriage roof. Cui Tai sat cross-legged within, eyes closed throughout. At first the rain seemed like an irritant, but as time wore on he found, almost without realizing it, that the sound gradually settled his mind.
He listened only to the rain, and forgot everything else.
Up on the city walls, soldiers who had been driven out by the downpour huddled wherever shelter could be found. Those with nowhere to go pressed together beneath the battlements, sitting in the rain without speaking—unwilling to speak, with nothing to say.
Tang Pidi quietly went and fetched a straw raincoat, draped it over his shoulders, put on his bamboo hat, and took up a long wooden-shafted spear. He walked to the edge of the battlements and stood there, gazing out at the torrential rain beyond the walls.
The soldiers looked over at him. They watched for a long moment. Then, one by one, they rose silently, donned their raincoats, took up their weapons, and came to stand beside him.
Gradually, every soldier had risen. A company of men in raincoats and carrying spears stood along the wall, as if the battlement had grown a storey taller—and that storey was the strongest of all.
Xiahou Zuo had been patrolling the walls with his personal guard. Coming back around, he arrived just in time to witness the scene. He smiled. The admiration he felt for Tang Pidi also made him keenly aware of just how far he still had to go before becoming a truly perfect commanding general.
For all his arrogance—having always believed he was born to lead men—in this moment Xiahou Zuo felt that it was Tang Pidi who was the real thing.
If the Dachu court still knew how to make use of men, someone like Tang Pidi would be the next Xu Qulu. Perhaps even greater than Xu Qulu.
Xu Qulu had once dragged a dying Dachu back from the brink, giving the dynasty enough life to endure these many more years.
Tang Pidi was so young—his talent, his martial prowess, everything about him ought to be no less than Xu Qulu’s. Yet Xiahou Zuo also knew that the court as it now stood could never again allow a young man like Tang Pidi to rise.
He walked slowly over and stood beside Tang Pidi. They stood at a height, looking out over the open ground beyond the walls, gazing into the curtain of rain—and felt the noise inside themselves gradually grow quiet.
When the rain has been hammering at you so long that it no longer feels like an indignity, you discover that there is something in the rain that shuts out everything else. Each person stands in the same rain, yet each is alone with himself.
“I have heard many accounts of Xu Qulu over the years—that he showed the qualities of a great strategist from boyhood. Yet no matter how many times I heard the stories, I could never quite picture what that young Xu Qulu must have looked like.”
Xiahou Zuo glanced at Tang Pidi: “Now I know. Probably something like you. Only someone like you would do.”
Tang Pidi shook his head. “He was Xu Qulu when he was young. Once he led armies, he was only ever a subject of Chu… I am Tang Pidi now, and I will not become a subject of Chu.”
Xiahou Zuo paused, then nodded. “Perhaps it is not only you. Before long, there may be no such thing as a subject of Chu, nor a man of Chu, anywhere in the world.”
Neither of them said anything more. The rain grew heavier, the curtain of it denser. In Jiangnan, light rain becomes mist; but in the northern reaches, it is the heavy rain that raises vapor from the earth.
Not far from Jizhou City now, the Qingzhou army had been forced to halt. The rain was simply too fierce—even the horses refused to go on.
Inside his carriage, Qingzhou Military Commissioner Cui Yanlai’s expression was dark. This sudden downpour had halted the column yet again. They were almost at Jizhou, and yet things seemed to grow less smooth with every step. At the root of it all was the shadow left on him by the engagement at the Hutuo River—which made even the rain feel doubly hateful.
“Sir.”
A voice called from outside the carriage. By the sound of it, the vanguard general Lin Yitai.
“Come inside.”
“Yes, sir.”
Lin Yitai climbed into the carriage and bowed. Cui Yanlai pointed to the seat across from him, indicating he should sit.
“Sir,” Lin Yitai began, “I have a thought… The heavy rain has hampered our advance, it is true—but for that very reason, the garrison on the walls of Jizhou will never expect us to attack in this downpour. If I take my own troops, travel light, and bring ladders, we may be able to take the city by surprise.”
Cui Yanlai’s eyes lit up at the words. He sat in thought for a moment, then nodded. “Worth trying.”
When Lin Yitai had led the vanguard across the river, he had walked into an ambush laid by the Jizhou forces and lost several thousand men. The grudge had been eating at him ever since. He was burning to find a chance to repay that debt—and he knew that the defeat had damaged morale throughout the army. A timely victory was exactly what was needed to restore it.
“Then I will go and make preparations at once.”
“Go ahead. Don’t be reckless, and don’t underestimate the enemy.”
“Yes, sir.”
Lin Yitai acknowledged the order and climbed back down from the carriage. He strode forward, the rain striking his iron armor with a sharp, insistent clatter.
“By word of mouth only—no bugles. Front army: carry only ladders, bows, and your weapons. Leave all other supplies and baggage where they stand. We move at speed for Jizhou!”
No horns were sounded. The front army, tens of thousands of men, quickly shed their loads and moved out light. The official road, built when Dachu was still at the height of its power, was solidly packed and well-made; even in this downpour it remained passable.
Meanwhile, in Youzhou.
Youzhou General Luo Geng had received the envoy sent from Jizhou, and when the meeting was over, his face was anything but pleasant. He returned to his study and sat for some time, growing more agitated the longer he thought about it.
Jizhou’s Xiahou Zuo had sent word to say that the Yanzhou army might be coming to attack—that they would bypass every fortification and drive straight for Jizhou—and asking him to harass them along the way. The message also noted that the Yanzhou forces were powerful and battle-hardened, and should not be engaged head-on.
“Xiahou Zuo, you ignorant whelp—do you think I am incompetent?!”
Luo Geng sprang to his feet. “Beat the drums! Call a command assembly!”
A short time later the drums sounded, and the generals of each unit came hurrying in at the summons.
Luo Geng looked around at his men: “Where is the Yanzhou army now?”
“Great General, sir.”
One of his men answered with a clasped-fist salute. “Some time ago, the Yanzhou army sent men ahead with gifts—at that point they had already reached Ji County. By reckoning now, they should be due south of our Youzhou position.”
Just the day before, the Yanzhou Military Commissioner had sent men bearing lavish gifts and a personal letter. The substance of the message was: he had no wish to be enemies with Luo Geng. His target was Jizhou alone. If Luo Geng would allow him passage, he would not only leave the gifts as a token—he would hand over half of Jizhou’s territory to Luo Geng. With that, Luo Geng’s Youzhou forces would control half the northern borderlands and be self-sufficient, no longer dependent on Jizhou’s goodwill.
In truth, the offer had tempted Luo Geng.
He had long chafed under Jizhou’s authority—his military funds and grain supplies all came through Jizhou, and if Jizhou ever cut that supply line, his soldiers, however formidable, would have no choice but to submit. If he truly gained half of Jizhou’s territory, he could sustain his own army from those lands and never again have to bow to anyone.
The Yanzhou Commissioner Zhou Shiren had evidently calculated that Luo Geng would hesitate. So after dispatching the gifts and the letter, he immediately ordered his entire army to advance at speed—afraid that Luo Geng might abruptly change his mind and refuse.
Inside the great tent, Luo Geng listened to the report, pondered for a moment, then walked to the map and studied it in silence for a while longer.
All the assembled generals waited. The tent was utterly silent.
“Attack!”
Luo Geng spun around. “Dispatch the light cavalry to strike the Yanzhou army’s rear column from the flank, and force the vanguard to turn back and rescue it.”
“Dispatch the heavy armor to Yongqing to set an ambush and wait. When the vanguard turns back, their formation will be thrown into disorder—that is when the heavy armor drives straight into their center.”
He reached out his hand. “Bring me my weapon. I intend to fight a battle today and show that little Xiahou Zuo something. The Yanzhou army is nothing but clay chickens and pottery dogs in my eyes. Generals, follow me—we’ll take the head of the Yanzhou Commissioner and seize his supplies!”
“Yes, sir!”
The Youzhou generals in the tent answered as one, clasping their fists in unison.
Three hundred or so li from Jizhou, in Yongqing County—this was where the young Diudiu and his master had once buried the bodies of the slain, and it was on the road leaving this place that they had encountered Luo Jing.
At this moment, three hundred li away in Jizhou the rain was coming down in torrents. Here in Yongqing County it was only overcast—the rain had not yet begun.
Atop a low rise, Yanzhou Commissioner Zhou Shiren sat mounted, watching his great army pass below. He smiled faintly, turning to the men around him: “Luo Geng is nothing more than a blunt instrument. A trivial stratagem, a few petty gains dangled before him, and he waves us through without a second thought. With Youzhou’s gates open to us, Jizhou is ours for the taking.”
One of his men laughed. “We have long heard that Luo Geng is brave but brainless—a third-rate sort. People always said Luo Geng can be deceived but not insulted. Today proves it.”
“Ha ha ha ha.”
Zhou Shiren laughed heartily. “Order the army to quicken the pace. Once we are past Fangcheng County ahead, we will send troops to hold the Dading River. By then, even if the Youzhou forces want to give chase, they won’t be able to catch us.”
Just then, a horse came galloping from the rear of the column. The rider looked stricken with panic.
“Report!”
The rider reached them and dismounted, clasping his fists. “Sir, the Youzhou army has suddenly attacked our rear column from the north—seizing our supply wagons and baggage. The rear guard has broken and is falling back. The enemy’s assault is fierce; we cannot hold.”
“What!”
Zhou Shiren’s face went pale. He issued an immediate order: “Sound the horns. Order the entire army to reverse and march with me to meet Luo Geng. This shameless wretch—he dares ambush our rear column!”
As the horns rang out one after another, the vanguard and center began turning and running to the rear. The soldiers had no idea what was happening, but the urgent, repeated blaring of the horns set every heart pounding involuntarily.
As the army reversed and the formation fell into disorder, they heard what seemed like distant thunder—except this thunder rolled along the ground toward them.
From his rise, Zhou Shiren looked instinctively to the north, and saw a black torrent bearing down on them: the invincible heavy armored cavalry of Youzhou.
“Sound the horns—sound the horns, prepare to engage!”
Zhou Shiren’s eyes went wide.
That day, Luo Geng of Youzhou attacked with forty thousand men against Zhou Shiren’s two hundred and forty thousand, leading the heavy armor himself in a direct charge that broke through the center. Zhou Shiren fled in disarray. The Yanzhou army was routed—the Youzhou forces slew tens of thousands of men and seized an enormous quantity of supplies and baggage.
The Yanzhou army’s strength was shattered in a single engagement. They dared not advance westward toward Jizhou again. They had come in with great momentum and retreated in disgrace, turning back directly to Yanzhou.
—