Liu Miantang was delighted, in contrast to Cui Xingzhou’s concerns. She hadn’t expected that despite the tense situation at the front, her husband could still leave the camp under the pretext of buying medicines.
She had Mama Li prepare a good meal of meat for her husband before he left. The residence in Wuning Pass was small, and the previous owner had left many items. Miantang hadn’t had time to have it cleaned, so the kitchen was cramped with only one stove, limiting the variety of dishes they could prepare.
Mama Li decided to adapt to local customs and learned to make a Northwestern-style stew. Along with stored vegetables bought from local farmers, there was marinated pheasant meat, potatoes, and green peppers brought back by the secret guards who had gone hunting in the mountains.
The pheasant had been marinated beforehand. When stewed with vegetables, it made a rich, flavorful broth. Mama Li also learned to make local-style buns with date powder, which were sweet and glutinous, catering to the Prince’s Southern palate.
The house had no bed, but a traditional northern kang bed-stove. Once the connected stove was heated, the kang became warm, even more comfortable than floor heating.
Bicao set up a small square table typical of the region on the kang in the mistress’s room. This way, Cui Xingzhou and Miantang could sit on the warm kang to eat.
As they ate, Miantang suddenly thought to ask her husband about his unit. During casual chats among the officers’ wives, they would often discuss their husbands’ units. However, after several conversations, Miantang realized that her husband’s unit was the most mysterious, with no one knowing about it or having heard of Battalion Commander Cui Jiu.
So, taking advantage of her husband’s rare visit home, Miantang specifically inquired about it.
Cui Jiu considered carefully before replying, “Our unit is different from the others. We’re specifically responsible for reconnaissance missions outside the camp. We don’t interact much with other units, so we’re not well-known… You shouldn’t talk too much about this with the other women to avoid leaking information to potential spies.”
Cui Xingzhou now told lies as confidently as Liu Miantang prescribed medicine, with unflinching assurance.
Miantang nodded, convinced. So her husband was different from the other officers in Wuning Pass, belonging to an elite unit. No wonder the other wives’ husbands didn’t know him.
However, because Wuning Pass was close to Jinjia Pass, every outsider who came seeking refuge had to undergo strict household registration verification by the local officials.
Miantang wasn’t worried about barbarian spies among the officers’ wives. But caution is always wise, so since her husband had reminded her, she absolutely couldn’t let slip any information about his identity or rank.
Cui Xingzhou ate quickly, eager to return to Jinjia Pass. Miantang hurriedly packed the padded jacket she had made in recent days, along with some food, into a bundle for him to take. She also included items that neighboring military families had entrusted him to deliver.
There was no choice; the supreme commander insisting on disguising himself as a battalion commander naturally had to carry things for his comrades. Once back at headquarters, he could have his guards distribute the items, keeping the original sender’s identity unknown.
When Cui Xingzhou left the town of Wuning Pass and returned to the main camp at Jinjia Pass, a courier from the relay station delivered a stack of letters to the commander on horseback.
Cui Xingzhou sipped the osmanthus and lotus seed soup he had brought back from Wuning Pass while sorting through the letters with his long fingers. One with delicate handwriting was clearly from his cousin Lian Suilan.
Cui Xingzhou set it aside without even opening it. Since he had set out, his cousin’s letters had been constant, arriving every few days. If she kept this up, she’d wear out all the post-horses along the northwestern route.
There was also a family letter from his mother. Cui Xingzhou picked up the letter opener and read through it.
Besides reminding him to take care of his health and write home more often, nearly half of the letter reproached Cui Xingzhou for unilaterally breaking off the engagement without informing his elderly mother. Now his rash action had devastated his aunt’s family, with cousin Lian crying daily, saying she wouldn’t marry anyone else if she couldn’t clear up the misunderstanding with her cousin…
Cui Xingzhou pondered the tone, feeling his mother’s writing had improved. Half the content of the family letter was probably penned by his aunt on his mother’s behalf.
However, being in the northwest, he rather regretted missing the sight of his aunt and cousin’s tear-stained faces, as well as much of the nagging.
So he set the letter aside, planning to write back to his mother with news of his well-being when he had free time.
As for the other letters, there were encouraging words from his mentor and greetings from old friends.
The letter from Zhao Quan, the Marquis of Zhennan, was quite interesting. He only said Cui was inconsiderate – why hadn’t he informed Zhao when he joined the army, so Zhao could have come along to fight enemies with Commander Cui?
The usually idle Zhao Quan had applied for a position with the Ministry of Revenue and become a grain official responsible for escorting supplies. Since Zhenzhou was a land of fish and rice, many grain officials were selected locally rather than appointed from the capital.
So Zhao Quan could use this official business as an opportunity to meet his good friend in the northwest, without having to fight on the front lines, avoiding the risk of ending the Marquis of Zhennan’s family line.
However, Cui Xingzhou suspected his motives were not pure, otherwise, why did he keep asking about Liu in his letter? Nevertheless, Cui appreciated that his friend Jiayu stood by him in his time of low fortune. This friendship Cui Xingzhou kept close to his heart. But he and Zhao Quan never needed the formalities of officialdom between them, so he penned a reply to Zhao with just three large characters: “Send more grain!”
He hoped Brother Zhao would not fail in his mission and would bring life-saving grain from Zhenzhou.
As for the secret reports sent by his spies in Zhenzhou, they were much more interesting. The pacification of Yangshan proceeded smoothly without the Prince of Huaiyang’s obstruction.
Ziyu had married the daughter of General Shi, becoming the general’s son-in-law. Moreover, because of the use of troops at the border, the capital’s defenses were depleted, so the capital had temporarily transferred military commanders from various regions to guard the city.
Shi Yikuan was one of them, and his newly minted son-in-law naturally stepped up to follow his father-in-law to the capital to have an audience with the emperor.
Cui Xingzhou pondered this, feeling the scene in the capital would surely be lively. Empress Dowager Wu, for all her scheming, could never have imagined that the crown prince’s orphan she had persecuted years ago would now return openly to the capital.
And the faction represented by Prince Sui, backing the Grand Empress Dowager, would certainly not stand idly by. Who knows what earth-shattering damage they might do using Liu Yu, the crown prince’s orphan, as their weapon.
If Cui Xingzhou were in Zhenzhou at this time, he would likely find it difficult to remain uninvolved and would inevitably have to choose sides and declare his stance.
Unfortunately, whether it was Liu Yu from Yangshan, Prince Sui from Huizhou, or that treacherous consort in the capital, all these factions stank to high heaven. He didn’t want to side with any of them.
It was precisely for this reason that, after a night of contemplation by the Grand Canal, he decided to accept the imperial edict and come to this dangerous place at Jinjia Pass in the northwest.
Those skilled in chess understand the principle of placing oneself in a dangerous position to survive. This Jinjia Pass was a chess piece he had carefully placed, but whether he could turn the tide of the game depended on his abilities.
Now, beneath Jinjia Pass, wolves and tigers gathered, cursing day and night. But Cui Xingzhou remained confident, waiting for the storm in the capital to pass before he could see the next move.
It was Cui Xingzhou’s arrival that changed the previous commanders’ mindset of wanting to achieve merits by reclaiming lost territory. Instead, they focused on steadily defending the city, occasionally pouring oil and shooting arrows down at the barbarians. The barbarians’ patience was wearing thin, and the frequency of their daily curse-shouting gradually decreased.
As winter was about to pass, so too was the best time for warfare. The northwestern barbarians were nomads who followed water and grass. Once summer arrived, the entire tribe would have to migrate, leaving them no energy to besiege Jinjia Pass.
Time passed slowly, and it seemed they were about to get through the most difficult period. But at this moment, an imperial edict arrived from the court.
The letter criticized Cui Xingzhou for being cowardly and afraid of battle despite being the commander-in-chief, merely hiding in Jinjia Pass and passively resisting the enemy. His Majesty’s edict was clear, giving him one month to reclaim at least one prefecture to boost the army’s morale.
Every word of this showed a lack of military understanding, yet being written in an imperial edict made it impossible to refute.
After the imperial envoys left, Cui Xingzhou’s deputy commanders looked at each other, waiting for Cui Xingzhou’s response.
Over the past few months, life in Jinjia Pass had not been as easy as the imperial edict suggested. Just gathering provisions had consumed much of their energy.
There was no help for it; the court cried poverty, appointing local princes like Cui Xingzhou with the obvious intention of tapping into the wealth of rich households, expecting the Prince of Huaiyang to find his solutions, scrape together his family resources to fill the court’s huge deficit.
But now Empress Dowager Wu’s faction, unsatisfied with squeezing the Prince of Huaiyang’s resources, complained that the oil wasn’t rich enough. It was truly infuriating.
However, upon receiving the edict, Cui Xingzhou’s expression remained unchanged, giving the censors no handle to grab.
Someone at court had whispered slander in His Majesty’s ear, leading to this arbitrary edict. Although “a general in the field is not bound by the sovereign’s commands,” that only works with an enlightened ruler. Otherwise, defying an imperial edict is a capital offense that would lead to the execution of nine generations of one’s family.
Fortunately, he had delayed for so long that the barbarians outside the city were nearly exhausted, and provisions had been fully prepared.
During these days, he had been constantly drilling the troops in the city, never relaxing or becoming passive in their wait.
Listening to the daily cursing, the hot-blooded young men in the city had long been burning with a desire to fight the barbarians who had invaded their homeland to the bitter end.
Half a month after receiving the imperial edict, a convoy of grain carts from the Great Yan, transporting provisions from the Western Pass was delayed by heavy snow. Taking a shortcut, they accidentally strayed into barbarian territory.
The barbarians, who had been without food for a long time, were overjoyed. Sentries led a team to seize the provisions. After verifying that the rice and flour were not poisoned, the barbarian camp became as lively as New Year’s, with large pots cooking and a festive atmosphere.
The horses could also eat hay, snorting contentedly.
The next day, after the barbarians had eaten and drunk their fill, the long-closed gates of Jinjia Pass suddenly opened. A contingent of imperial troops poured out to confront the barbarians.
The barbarian troops had long awaited this opportunity. The shell of Jinjia Pass was too hard to crack; if the defenders didn’t open it voluntarily, the casualties from a siege would be devastating. They had fought for so long to wear down the morale of Great Yan, hoping the young emperor in the capital would meekly pay tribute. Now that the city gates were open, they aimed to thoroughly defeat the Duke of Huaiyang, who had played the fool for so long and make Great Yan willingly pay annual tribute.
According to survivors, the battle was incredibly fierce. The cavalry fared better, but the infantry suffered greatly. Whenever the barbarian horses raised their tails, a stream of dung sprayed out, splattering the soldiers from head to toe if they weren’t careful.
The barbarians’ horses had transformed last night’s grass into soft “gold” that covered the battlefield. After several rounds of this, the horses’ legs weakened and they collapsed. The barbarian cavalry caught off guard, tumbled from their mounts, only to be swiftly dispatched by the Great Yan soldiers, their blood splattering.
This confrontation was messy but beautiful in its way. Surprisingly, Great Yan’s troops routed the barbarian army besieging Jinjia Pass, forcing the remaining wounded to flee in disarray. Emboldened, the victorious soldiers pursued for ten miles, recapturing nearby villages. However, the commander decided against further pursuit and ordered a retreat.
The severely weakened barbarian forces withdrew to Feiying County, which they had previously captured, to recuperate. This stunning counterattack greatly boosted morale at Jinjia Pass. Cui Xingzhou’s scribes now had a victorious battle report to submit to the emperor.
While the officials’ wives at Wuning Pass rejoiced in their husbands’ victory, they also faced new troubles. The stream flowing through their town originated near Jinjia Pass. For two days following the battle, the water reeked of horse manure, preventing residents from washing clothes or drawing water. Even the mischievous children avoided playing by the water.
Reportedly, this was due to the large number of soldiers bathing and washing clothes upstream after returning from battle, temporarily polluting the stream. Fortunately, Mian Tang’s courtyard had a deep well, making water readily available. Neighbors flocked to her residence to borrow water, turning her small courtyard into a bustling scene.
When Cui Xingzhou arrived on horseback at his Wuning Pass residence, he found the courtyard filled with women fetching water and washing clothes. His wife, Mian Tang, was directing two maids to set up bamboo poles and clotheslines in front of the door, allowing neighbors to hang their laundry.
Since coming to Wuning Pass, Mian Tang had consciously put away the fine clothes she’d brought from Lingquan Town, and no longer wore gold hairpins or jade ornaments. Instead, she adopted the dress of most poor women in Wuning Pass: coarse blue cloth, with a simple flowered kerchief wrapping her dark hair, and a wide blue sash accentuating her slender waist. Even in such plain attire, her extraordinary beauty still drew all eyes to her.
To Cui Xingzhou, she had once seemed like a delicate peony nurtured in a greenhouse. Now, he realized she was more like a wild flower, resilient and vibrant, blooming beautifully wherever she was planted.
As Mian Tang turned, she spotted her husband on horseback, wearing a wide-brimmed hat. Though his face was veiled, his tall figure and composed demeanor on horseback were unmistakable. She lifted her skirts and ran joyfully to him, grabbing the reins and asking, “Husband, when did you return? Why didn’t you call for anyone?”
Cui Xingzhou, observing the many women peering over the low wall, didn’t remove his hat. He said calmly, “It’s too noisy in the courtyard. I’ll take Mo Ru to the nearby hills for a bit of hunting. We’ll bring back some games… What would you like to eat?”
Mian Tang tilted her head thoughtfully, then smiled, “Roasted rabbit would be best…”
Cui Xingzhou smiled and replied, “Alright, I’ll catch several for you.” With that, he turned his horse and galloped away with Mo Ru and a few attendants.
Madam Wen poked her head out of the courtyard gate, catching only a glimpse of Cui Xingzhou’s retreating figure. She turned to Madam Liu, curious, “I’ve never seen your husband before. He carries himself more like a general than a chiliarch… My husband inquired around the barracks but never heard of any Ninth Master from Lingquan Town…”
Remembering her husband’s caution about his secretive missions, Mian Tang skillfully changed the subject when she saw Madam Wen’s growing curiosity about her husband’s identity.
Late that night, after the neighborhood women had dispersed, Cui Xingzhou returned under a starry sky. His hunt had been fruitful, bringing back not only a pair of rabbits but also a wild boar, which his guards carried into the courtyard.
The loyal warrior Fan Hu, still recovering from his injuries, had been staying at their home with Cui Xingzhou’s permission. He was skilled at sweeping and chopping wood. Now, he silently picked up a knife and joined the guards in butchering and skinning the game.
Mian Tang had hoped that once Fan and his brothers recovered, her husband would recommend them for military service. If they declined, she was prepared to offer them generous travel money as thanks. However, Cui Xingzhou sternly told the men in front of Fan, “The Zhen Prefecture army doesn’t accept those lacking in martial skills. Although you have shown patriotic fervor, you cannot protect yourselves. If you have nothing else to do, you can perform manual labor in Madam Liu’s courtyard. I’ll ensure you’re paid fairly.”
Mian Tang had been embarrassed and shocked to hear her husband, a chiliarch, speak so harshly. How could he address her saviors this way? The kind-hearted brothers were indeed shamed by his words, some even fighting back tears with reddened eyes.
That night, Liu Mian Tang quarreled with her husband again, wondering if his position as chiliarch had made him too overbearing. She gave him the cold shoulder all night.
The next morning, Cui Xingzhou apologized to the loyal warriors. The magnanimous men forgave him readily and refused to accept money from Mian Tang without working for it. They agreed to stay and do odd jobs as Cui had suggested.
However, Mian Tang’s house was too small, and with her husband often away, housing several men would invite gossip. Fortunately, after Mian Tang acquired the medicine shop, she needed workers there. This allowed her to properly employ her benefactors as temporary workers, earning money for their journeys and potentially saving up to marry.
While the courtyard bustled with the butchering of the wild boar, Mian Tang welcomed her husband inside. After removing his hat, she asked eagerly, “Did the cartload of Croton seeds play a role in the great victory at Jinjia Pass?”
Cui Xingzhou smiled, embracing her slender waist and kissing her cheek. “Indeed, your excellent croton seeds played a crucial role in this victory!”
He explained that while formulating the battle plan, he had returned to Wuning Pass and observed Mian Tang directing workers grinding medicine in the courtyard. When a clumsy worker accidentally overturned a barrel of soaking croton seeds, wetting a nearby haystack, a neighbor’s goat wandered in, ate some of the wet hay, and suffered from diarrhea the next day.
The neighbor had come demanding compensation for the goat, but this incident inspired Cui Xingzhou’s strategy to weaken the barbarian forces. In a face-off between armies, any seized provisions would be thoroughly inspected. Poisoning the food directly would be easily discovered and the plan would fail. Feeding Croton to people would have too rapid an effect and be quickly noticed. However, water infused with croton seeds used to soak hay would be undetectable by any silver needle test. Even if the barbarians tested the fodder on their horses, the larger animals wouldn’t show immediate effects.
Most importantly, Cui knew the barbarian forces had been short on provisions for some time. Once they acquired fodder, they likely wouldn’t resist using it immediately, even if they intended to inspect it thoroughly.
After considering all aspects, Cui Xingzhou devised this battle plan. The challenge was acquiring a large quantity of croton seeds, which is where Mian Tang, the owner of the Wuning Pass medicine shop, came in.
Upon receiving her husband’s instructions, conveyed on behalf of the prince, Mian Tang sprang into action. Though her medical skills were limited and her prescriptions not always effective, leading to a quiet shop, she excelled at networking and acquiring goods.
Within seven days, through a connection with the village head’s nephew’s second cousin, Mian Tang met a broker and purchased, at a premium, a batch of croton seeds originally destined for the Sixteen Prefectures.
Although Madam Liu spent a considerable sum, she succeeded in helping her husband achieve a significant victory in the eyes of the Prince of Huaiyang. Mian Tang didn’t expect the prince to reward her husband with gold or silver; she was simply glad that with the crisis at Jinjia Pass resolved, her husband would be able to spend more time at home.
As the couple discussed their longing for each other during their separation, a hearty laugh came from the courtyard: “Ninth Master, you know how to enjoy yourself! Feasting on the wild game without inviting me!”
Mian Tang looked out the window to see Doctor Zhao from Lingquan Town. How had he ended up in this remote place?
It turned out that after taking on the role of grain transport official, Zhao Quan had performed his duties diligently. Using his trademark shameless tactics, he had managed to locate ample provisions in the granaries of Hui Prefecture, which the Prince of Sui had been concealing from the imperial court. Zhao had then successfully extorted these supplies from the prince.
Initially, the Prince of Sui had dismissed Zhao, the Marquis of Zhennan, as an uneducated commoner not worth his attention. Although angered by the extortion, the prince found himself cornered and unwilling to create further complications.
Thus, Zhao Quan proved both fortunate and capable. He completed his mission of procuring provisions, giving the soldiers at Jinjia Pass ample time to prepare and delay.
Now, the meritorious Grain Official Zhao had come to claim his reward.