News spread quickly along the southern bank of the Red River, and before long a great many fishermen were rowing their boats upstream, seeking out where the Ning Army was recruiting vessels. Boats from the southern bank and the northern bank alike were all heading upstream together, until the river surface became so crowded with vessels that they were bumping into one another.

The people of the two shores, separated by the river, had had almost no contact with each other. When they met now on the water, they were at first wary, keeping their distance. Life in Youzhou had been good, and the people of Jingzhou on the opposite shore naturally envied it — yet when one feels one is worse off than others, one is generally reluctant to reach out first. It is hard to say quite what sort of thinking this is; it is simply human nature.

Once, the people of both banks had lived much the same. Now that Youzhou was prosperous and well-fed, those on the southern bank spent much of their time worrying about having enough to eat. And so the people of the southern bank envied those of the northern bank, yet also avoided them — not only in thought, but even deliberately averting their eyes.

Perhaps one feels that to look too long at another’s good fortune is to invite contempt. Perhaps one feels that to look too long is to appear to be seeking favor, and one’s pride cannot permit that to show.

But this did not last long. Once the people from the northern bank began to take the initiative, to say hello, to exchange a few words of ordinary conversation, the distance melted away. Among common people there is no deep mortal enmity, and once talk begins, there is no end to it.

They rowed their boats upstream. They did not know why they were being sent upstream, but they knew the Ning Army’s word was good. If they said they would pay, they would pay.

For the people of the northern bank and the southern bank alike, five taels a day for a small boat and ten for a large boat was an extraordinary temptation.

And yet for the Ning Army, was this an amount they could not afford? Even if ten thousand boats gathered in a single day — enough to clog the entire upper stretch of the river — the daily cost would be less than one hundred thousand taels.

You see — that kind of thinking was getting rather grand, wasn’t it? Spending less than a hundred thousand taels a day, and already it felt like nothing remarkable.

But reckon another account, and you would see just how worthwhile that hundred thousand taels was to spend. If the enemy had boats and forced a crossing under fire, the casualties in such a battle would not be small. In Li Chi’s view, the life of every Ning Army soldier was something that could not be measured in money. And so between accepting casualties and spending money, what hesitation could Li Chi possibly have?

It might sound like a matter of obvious common sense. Yet consider the contrast — if it were Li Xionghu’s forces, would they spend money to hire boats? They would not. They would simply seize what they needed by force. Those who refused would be killed, and those who agreed might not survive either.

And if it were Yang Xuanji’s people? He would arrange for some silver-tongued man to stand before the common people, deliver a rousing speech, and call upon them to donate their boats for the cause. Then, when the battle was over, they would depart without a backward glance. Boats destroyed, people dead — what did any of that have to do with him?

Men like Li Xionghu could spend hundreds of thousands of taels building a fine estate and keeping a collection of beautiful women, yet would not spend hundreds of thousands of taels to spare the lives of their own soldiers. Men like Yang Xuanji would spend hundreds of thousands of taels to buy the loyalty of great noble families, or stage some grand gathering to attract the celebrated figures of those families as guests.

As for the people who had arrived at the upper bank — there were already vast numbers of Ning Army soldiers waiting for them. Any boat that arrived needed only to be marked with an identifying sign and registered in order, and the owner would receive a wooden tag bearing a mark matching the one on their boat.

Taking the wooden tag to another station, people would find horses and carts waiting to carry them, free of charge, to Caitian County, several tens of li away.

When the people arrived, they found not only a great many tents prepared for their lodging, but meals as well. The meals were not free, of course, but the prices were very low — far cheaper than eating at a proper restaurant, for the same food.

This was especially true for the people of the southern bank, who had not eaten freely and to their fill for a very long time. Here, a few dozen copper coins was enough for a full stomach. Even if one wanted to eat well, it rarely cost more than a hundred copper coins.

Those fist-sized meat buns — fragrant, with fat oil running out when you broke them open — were enough to make mouths water, and they cost only seven or eight coins apiece.

Never mind the price; how long had the people of the southern bank gone without eating meat? Meat was not considered any kind of luxury under Prince Ning’s governance — after all, raising pigs was the Ning Army’s most prominent secondary enterprise.

Under the vigorous promotion of Yu Jiuling, former head of the intelligence unit, pig farms had been established in every area where intelligence operatives were active. The farm at Qipan Mountain alone produced an annual output of one hundred thousand pigs.

The Ning Army’s side of things had grown, in a word, magnificently wealthy.

In a single day, several thousand boats had gathered upstream. The Ning Army had no immediate use for them, so the boats were all hauled onto the bank and arranged in numbered order. If the southerners came without boats, even breaking up the vessels wouldn’t matter — they could be broken and the owners compensated. They had money. They could afford to be generous.

Four days after Zhuang Wudi made these arrangements, the Tianming Army arrived.

Shi Fenghui, leading his two hundred thousand troops in a sweeping advance, ordered the army to make camp on the southern bank and dispatched men to gather boats.

But the men he sent out came back in wave after wave, all reporting to Shi Fenghui that the southern bank had almost not a single boat to be found.

Every last vessel had been hired away by the Ning Army, reportedly at very high prices. And all the boat-hands and fishermen who knew how to sail were still on the northern bank, they said — the Ning Army was providing them with food and lodging.

And so not only were there no boats, there were no boatmen either. Which meant that the vast majority of able-bodied young men had all gone to the northern bank.

Zhuang Wudi’s move had killed two birds with one stone. When the Tianming Army arrived, they would naturally recruit large numbers of civilians to work for them — but now all the able-bodied men were on the northern bank. The Tianming Army had neither boats nor people.

When Shi Fenghui’s subordinates reported this, he was so vexed he nearly burst out laughing.

“What?!”

Shi Fenghui appeared somewhat angered. “I sent you out to find boats and you found none. I sent you to find people and you found none either. If this delays the northern campaign His Excellency has assigned us, before he punishes me, I’ll take your heads myself!”

He waved his hand. “Go and keep looking. Go further out. Search carefully and thoroughly. Don’t come back so quickly to report there’s nothing — settle down and search properly!”

His subordinates all ran out.

Once the tent was empty and only Shi Fenghui remained, he broke into a grin — a grin so wide he couldn’t straighten his back. No boats — no boats meant they couldn’t cross, and couldn’t cross meant no battle. Truly, nothing in this world could be finer than this. Ah, if only he had come sooner — what a pleasant, pleasant situation.

Shi Fenghui ordered the army to make camp. Since the Ning Army was already on guard, they could not act rashly — careful preparation was needed.

And so the soldiers went off to prepare. Boats couldn’t be found nearby, so they would search farther out. After all, the general was strict, but he hadn’t set a deadline.

Shi Fenghui was genuinely delighted — comfortable, at ease, serene in his contentment.

So they said Zhuang Wudi was a mediocre talent? The Tianming Army hadn’t even arrived yet, and the Ning Army had already finished their defensive preparations on the northern bank — and had taken away all the boats to boot. Anticipating the enemy’s every move before they made it — and that was a mediocre talent?

Shi Fenghui thought to himself: if those good-for-nothing advisors under Yang Xuanji’s command ever dared call Zhuang Wudi mediocre again, they could come and try for themselves.

When Shi Fenghui told his men not to rush, his men knew exactly what he meant. At Daxing there was about to be an assault on the city — the capital of Dachu, the mightiest fortress in all the Central Plains. How many men would die storming Daxing? Their two hundred thousand had arrived at the southern bank of the Red River — better to linger here a while longer. If boats were found quickly in large numbers, then they would have to cross and attack, and attacking meant dying. If the task proved too difficult and they abandoned it and returned to the main camp at Daxing, they would have to take part in the siege, and sieges killed even more men.

No one was a fool. Everyone knew they had only one life.

That night, several thousand li away, in Hangzhou City.

As the seat of Yangzhou’s provincial governance, Hangzhou was a city of great scale — a place over which armies had always contended. At present, Cao Ying had retreated with two hundred thousand Chuang forces and was holding Hangzhou, while the defeated remnants of the Hegemon King Li Xionghu’s forces were reportedly less than a hundred li from the city.

On the city wall, Chuang Army General Zhou Mu pressed a box into the hands of the officer currently on watch. The box was filled with gold and silver treasures.

The officer quickly had his personal soldiers take the box and put it away, then leaned in and lowered his voice. “General Zhou, why are you in such a hurry to leave?”

Zhou Mu lowered his voice in return. “Our chief general is irresolute and weak-willed. I urged him not to open the city gates — not to let the Hegemon King in. The Hegemon King’s forces have come from far away and are exhausted. They suffered a defeat in Jingzhou and their morale is low, with no will to fight a prolonged battle. We only need to hold out for half a month, and when the Hegemon King’s forces run out of grain, they will be forced to retreat. But Cao Ying doesn’t dare.”

He laughed bitterly. “That man has a rebel’s ambitions but not a rebel’s courage. He wants to claim independence but fears being beaten by the Hegemon King. If I stay, the moment he opens the gates and lets the Hegemon King in, I’ll be the first one he sells out.”

The officer on watch let out a long sigh. “If the chief general had really done as you suggested and held on for half a month or a month, the Hegemon King would certainly have retreated. What about this, General Zhou — let me come with you.”

Zhou Mu was taken aback.

The officer’s name was Chen Shifei. He was of farming stock — according to the story, when he was born, his father had still been out in the fields working, fertilizing the crops. When someone ran out to call his father back, saying a big healthy son had been born and what name did he want to give him, his father said, “Call him Shifei, then.” Later, when the story came up, his father was very much in the right about it — fertilize the crops and they grow well, call the child “Fertilizer” and he’ll grow well too. His mother said the fertilizer you spread on crops, what is that made of? It’s manure. And what is manure? It’s feces. So you name your son “Fertilizer,” isn’t that the same as calling him “Eats Feces”? His father said, I go out to the fields to fertilize the crops — am I going out to eat feces? Other people fertilize their crops and they’re feeding feces to their crops. When I go to fertilize mine, I’m competing with the crops to eat feces? His mother thought about it, and it did seem like he had a point, so she agreed.

Chen Shifei said, “They all know I’m close to you. If you leave and I stay, Cao Ying will sell me out too.”

Zhou Mu thought it over and agreed this was reasonable, so he had the soldiers divide up the box of gold and silver, then had them tie ropes and lower everyone down from the city wall. Once they were down, the group discussed the matter and decided they might as well go and join the Ning Army. They knew the Chuang forces well, so once they reached the Ning Army’s side, they would not be without a place.

Zhou Mu’s original plan had been carefully considered. The reason he had been advising Cao Ying was precisely because he knew what the easiest, most secure way to change one’s fortunes for the better was. As long as Cao Ying held Hangzhou steadily, neither fighting nor grabbing, holding out until the realm was unified under whoever it would be unified under — whatever emperor rose to power would still give Cao Ying a respectable official post. And all of them beneath him would at least keep their current standing.

But Cao Ying simply was not a man of firm resolve. He wavered without end, wanting not to open the gates to Li Xionghu yet not daring to refuse, terrified that if he fought and lost, Li Xionghu would have him cut to pieces.

And so Zhou Mu decided: he had to leave. He had to leave immediately. Following a man like this, there could be no good end.

The group agreed on the plan and slipped away northward under cover of darkness.

On the city wall, the garrison soldiers watched the ropes hanging down over the side, then looked at the gold and silver they had each been given. A long silence fell.

After a moment, someone said — the generals have all run off, what are we staying here for?

And so they too went down over the city wall on the ropes.

No one could have anticipated that this would become the great calamity that transformed Hangzhou. In a single night, several thousand soldiers of the garrison deserted — first sliding down the ropes, and then, at some point no one could identify, someone opened the city gates.

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