From the new embankment’s dock, a mud road extended eastward. Tang Shiyu said this road could extend to Liyang City thirty-five or thirty-six li away, currently serving as the main artery connecting Liyang City to the great embankment on Chao Lake’s eastern shore. But Wang Jun had no intention of staying in Liyang City.
North of the road was a garrison being consolidated, perhaps the future site of Donghu City.
The garrison was heavily guarded, with a dock port under construction on the west side. She wondered whether they would eventually open a gap in the new embankment and build sluice gates to let water in.
South of the road, an alley extended south to the northern slope of Ruxu Mountain. Several rows of crude dwellings were built on either side—either wooden houses or thatched cottages with rammed earth walls, grass roofs, and mud floors. But along both sides of the alley were various shops including teahouses and eateries, plus inns where travelers could rest. Perhaps the embryonic form of the future Donghu City was right here.
The garrison and the dock port under construction were strictly forbidden to approach casually. Even when Tang Shiyu came to trade representing Yangzhou, he only needed to hand over goods to the clerks from the Campaign Headquarters’ Revenue Section stationed at the dock. Without special circumstances, he couldn’t meet anyone of higher rank.
Wang Jun naturally wouldn’t rush to see Han Qian. Walking into the north-south alley, she felt its crudeness even more. After a rain, the muddy road embankments on both sides were paved with blackish coal cinders. Black water flowed along walls and building foundations. The terrain on both sides was even lower—many crude shops could be seen with standing water, leaving people uncertain where to stand.
Very clearly, over the past few months, besides settling soldiers’ families and concentrating forces on building the new embankment and irrigation channels, Han Qian had no energy to spare for constructing a slightly more orderly-looking alley here.
Most pedestrians in the alley wore ragged clothes, their faces thin with hunger. They hadn’t completely escaped the shadow of famine, but compared to the thousands upon thousands of lifeless famine victims crowded inside Yangzhou City, these people’s eyes shone with spirit, and they walked with vigor.
“Tomorrow, follow Xuzhou’s formula and first fire a batch for trial use to see if it works.”
Walking to an inn frequented by peddlers and laborers, fleet manager Tang Shiyu brought someone inside to make arrangements. Wang Jun and her maid Xiang Yun stood on the road looking around. Suddenly, she heard a familiar voice coming from behind. She turned to look and saw Han Qian wearing a cloth robe, surrounded by over ten people walking this way, talking to Feng Liao as he walked.
Wang Jun originally hadn’t planned to see Han Qian so soon. Though she usually possessed refined sensibilities and composed bearing, at this moment, conscious of wanting to avoid Han Qian, she walked aside to get out of the way. But unexpectedly, where she stepped was a rather deep water puddle. With an “Ah!” of alarm, she lost her balance and fell completely into the standing water blackened from washing coal cinders.
The two guards beside Wang Jun had secretly carried weapons into Donghu. Not knowing what happened to Wang Jun, they instinctively reached for the weapons under their robes, making defensive movements.
Han Donghu walked behind Han Qian and Feng Liao listening to them discuss matters, but he also didn’t relax his vigilance. Seeing long shapes bulging under the robes of two people in the alley, thinking they had encountered assassins, he stepped forward with those beside him to shield Han Qian and Feng Liao. The guards on either side immediately blew warning whistles. The entire alley boiled over like heated water. Two squads of soldiers patrolling at the street corners also pounced over like wolves and tigers…
“Marquis Han, I’m Xiang Yun!” The maid Xiang Yun was about to help Wang Jun stand up when she saw several guards beside Han Qian drawing swords to strike. She cried out in panic.
“Wait!”
Back when Wang Jixiong went to Xuzhou for condolences, Xiang Yun had attended him in his entourage. When Wang Jun was “captured” at Mao Mountain, Xiang Yun and another female attendant stayed close by her side. Both maids possessed decent martial skills.
Han Qian naturally remembered her. He signaled Han Donghu to have the guards stand down, and asked in surprise, “Why are you here? Where is your young miss?”
“I’m right here.” Wang Jun climbed up in shame and embarrassment, straightening her garments. But half her body was soaked by black coal water, her face also splattered with dirty water. Her raven-black beautiful hair hung loose in disarray. With her disheveled head and grimy face, she truly looked rather wretched and miserable.
“You came to Donghu—why didn’t you tell me?”
Han Qian stood there looking at Wang Jun’s dripping, disheveled temples. From the saddle of the warhorse held by a guard behind him, he untied a clean sweat towel, suppressing a smile as he handed it to her. While watching her wipe the dirty water from her face—also wiping away the medicinal dye that yellowed her skin, revealing tender white skin that seemed like it would break at a touch—he said with a smile:
“Xi Ren was just talking about you yesterday. Speak of the devil and he appears—I didn’t expect you’d show up. Looking like this, first come back to the military camp with me to change into dry clothes. Xi Ren will be thrilled to know you’re here. She complains to me all the time that she doesn’t even have anyone to talk to.”
“Looking like this to see her—she’ll definitely mock me.” Seeing no way to wipe herself cleaner, Wang Jun handed the blackened sweat towel back to Han Qian.
Only now did Tang Shiyu hear the commotion outside and run out. Seeing Marquis Qianyang standing right in the alley, with not only over ten guards beside him but also two squads of soldiers surging over from north and south, he was frightened pale—he had no idea Wang Jun had any friendship with Marquis Qianyang. The matter of the marriage agreement between Wang Jun and Han Qian only circulated among Huaidong’s upper ranks—how could middle and lower-ranking military officers possibly know?
Seeing Wang Jun’s identity exposed, worried that Marquis Qianyang would detain them, he hastily pushed through the crowd and came forward to salute Marquis Qianyang: “Tang Shiyu, Forward Roving Commander of Yangzhou’s Military Command Office, pays respects to Marquis Qianyang…”
“Aren’t you the boat captain of Yangzhou’s Tang Family Stockade fleet? How did you suddenly transform into Yangzhou Military Command Office’s Forward Roving Commander?” Han Qian stared at Tang Shiyu with a smile and asked.
Great Chu followed the previous dynasty’s system. Forward Roving Commander was originally the formal rank of forward camp scouts in the army, but within Yangzhou’s Military Command Office under Yin Peng’s governance, Forward Roving Commanders were actually spy leaders Wang Wenqian had cultivated over the years.
Tang Shiyu hadn’t expected he’d long been under Han Qian’s observation. His spine grew cold as he hastily explained, “Civilians couldn’t recruit boatmen willing to travel to Chao Lake where bandits haven’t been pacified. My lord worried that dispatching soldiers to escort boats would cause Your Lordship unnecessary misunderstanding…”
“Enough. Tangyi is also the court’s territory. It’s not as if School Captain Tang came here properly and I would have someone interrogate your ancestors back eighteen generations,” Han Qian signaled Tang Shiyu needn’t continue fabricating, inviting him to return to the garrison together. He said, “Your young miss needs to change these clothes. Since I had the good fortune to encounter you, and we have old friendship, all of you come use a meal at my camp…”
Han Donghu and the others didn’t care how Han Qian treated Wang Jun. Following regulations, they first searched out the weapons hidden in the robes of her escorts, Tang Shiyu, and one of Tang Shiyu’s subordinates.
This made Tang Shiyu even more convinced Han Qian intended to detain Wang Jun now that her identity was exposed. Stamping his feet anxiously without any solution, he couldn’t understand how they’d exposed themselves immediately upon landing.
“…” Wang Jun took a step and immediately felt pain in her ankle that made her suck in her breath.
“What’s wrong—did you sprain your ankle when you fell just now?” Han Qian walked over and asked with concern. He squatted down and lifted her skirt and trouser leg to look at Wang Jun’s snow-white ankle, which had already swollen red in this short time. He extended a finger and lightly pressed the swollen area, asking, “Does it hurt?”
Wang Jun stood there somewhat awkwardly, her tender face feeling hot, nodding slightly.
“Since Your Lordship has distinguished guests, then I’ll first go see Ji Xiyao at the lime kilns to the south?” Feng Liao looked as if admiring fine evening clouds, speaking without glancing at Han Qian or Wang Jun. Cupping his hands, he left first with two escorts.
Han Qian signaled a guard to bring his mount over. He had Wang Jun first brace against his shoulder, then together with Xiang Yun helped her onto the saddle to sit properly, then personally led the horse toward the military camp to the north.
Han Qian held the reins and asked, “Why did you come to Donghu?”
“I was bored living at Jian Garden, so I wanted to go out. I didn’t expect that just arriving at Donghu, before I’d even found an inn to stay at, I’d be caught by you like a thief.”
Wang Jun sat on the saddle, also holding one end of the reins, seemingly able to feel the force of Han Qian’s pulling. Perhaps because Han Qian personally led her horse, she could feel the gazes of residents around them turning toward her. At this moment, she could only pretend not to notice and stare only at Han Qian’s profile, changing the subject:
“I thought you’d already built a city here at Donghu.”
“The warfare only ended in early March. A hundred thousand soldiers’ families needed settling. Three fortified river camps and twenty-seven newly built garrisons had to be constructed along the Chuhe and Fucha Mountain. Here we also built the new embankment, plus we had to construct water diversion channels and the naval dock port. How could we manage to build a city here too? If you could give me double the manpower and provisions, perhaps your tumble today wouldn’t have been so disastrous.” Han Qian said with a smile.
From the alley to Han Qian’s commanding general’s headquarters in the northern camp was only the time it took half an incense stick to burn.
Xi Ren was helping Han Qian review official documents in the great tent with Guo Rong. Seeing Han Qian enter, she asked in surprise, “Didn’t you drag Feng Liao to see the lime kilns at South Mountain? Why did you come back?” After asking, she saw Wang Jun hobbling in supported by her maid Xiang Yun, and asked happily, “Why did you come? Did you voluntarily deliver yourself as a captive again this time?”
“Marquis Han just said Madam Xi would definitely be happy to see me, but hearing Madam Xi say this, she must be afraid I’ll eat too much grain here and wants to drive me away quickly.” Wang Jun said.
“Why would I worry about you eating grain? It’s not my turn to feel the pinch anyway,” Xi Ren said. Noticing Wang Jun’s rolled-up trouser leg below her skirt revealing a swollen ankle, she hastily supported her to sit on the brocade couch, asking whether she’d accidentally sprained it. She ordered guards to summon a military physician to bring medicine and apply it…