“Outside Chang’an, white clouds drift in autumn; desolate winds moan over the Ba River’s flow. Thinking back to the chaos of the Han dynasty’s fall, Zhongxuan from here set out for Jingzhou…”
Before an old wooden stage, the river rolled on. On the stage, an old man with a deep yet slightly hoarse voice sang, his song accompanied by the resounding beat of a drum.
A round table had already been set out before the stage. Before long, several men arrived, some in armor, some in fine robes. Some knew each other and exchanged bows and greetings amid the singing; others simply sat quietly, watching the rest. Nine men arrived in all, more than half of them looking somewhat travel-worn.
The drumming on stage paused a moment, then started up again, and the old singer sang on: “Looking back from Mount Xian toward the Qin pass, how many days till I return south to Jingzhou? Today I climb this height with tears alone — I know not on which mountain the true scenery lies—”
The old man’s singing carried tremendous feeling. One of the seated men sighed. “Today I climb this height with tears alone, and know not on which mountain the true scenery lies…”
Beside him, a man in a scholar’s robe smiled. “Looking back from Mount Xian toward the Qin pass, how many days till I return south to Jingzhou… Sikong Shu wrote of the Xian Mountain pavilion — how many days is it from here, really?” He patted the table with his palm. “He’s singing it wrong.”
Just as they spoke, a man in military dress came up the steps to one side. As this tenth man appeared, the previous nine all rose in succession. “Lord Liu.”
“General Liu.”
“Uncle Ping.”
The tenth man returned their bows with a smile. “Time was short — my apologies for the inconvenience, gentlemen.” His voice carried dignified authority. This was Liu Guangshi, who, in the wake of the Wu Dynasty’s collapse, now held substantial military power and controlled Baling, Jiangling, and other territories.
The young scholar who had earlier pointed out the singer’s mistake said, “Uncle Liu, that fellow on stage is singing something with real meaning to it. You did that on purpose, didn’t you?”
“To be honest with you, this old fellow’s singing style differs from the fashion of the old Wu Dynasty — tragic and stirring, which is exactly to my taste, and that’s why I had him brought into the army specially to sing for me. Today’s gathering — for one thing, we need to keep it secret, and for another, it really was rather rushed, so I called him out to help liven things up a bit. I know young Pingbao’s tastes well — if you’re not leaving today, there happen to be two singing girls of remarkable skill in Jiangling recently, Chen Fu and Yan Jiu’er… after we’ve finished our business, your uncle will arrange it for you.” He smiled, dignified yet warm. “Please, sit.”
Everyone took their seats. Liu Guangshi waved a hand, having the old singer sent off; maidservants then came in to serve tea. After they withdrew, he looked around at everyone and finally spoke with a smile.
“The times change quickly. What we’re here to discuss today is no simple matter. Some of you have come on behalf of your families, others have come in person — everyone’s position here is sensitive, so I won’t go around making introductions one by one. In any case, let’s just keep it in mind for now, shall we?”
This was clearly a secret gathering, and Liu Guangshi had thought things through carefully. But at his words, a man across the table, clad in half-armor, shook his head. “No need for that. With Lord Liu personally vetting and selecting who’s here, and everyone present today being Han, with families and estates of their own, I trust everyone in this room. My name is Xia Zhongxin — I’m not afraid of anyone here knowing it. Whether you gentlemen choose to share yours doesn’t matter to me.”
“I have long admired General Xia’s reputation,” the young scholar said, bowing.
Xia Zhongxin said, “Defeat after defeat, fight after fight — there’s no reputation to speak of, just clinging to life.”
The young scholar rose with a smile. “This one is Xiao Pingbao. My father is Xiao Zheng. My respects to all the elders and uncles present.”
Liu Guangshi watched all this with a smile. Before long, the rest introduced themselves in turn, each rising to speak. The names each man mentioned now represented a distinct power in the Jiangnan region. Xia Zhongxin, for instance, led a Han army unit that had already surrendered to the Jurchens and now served under Wanyan Xiyin’s command; the Xiao family behind Xiao Pingbao was a great clan based near Hanyang.
Though this gathering was held on Liu Guangshi’s own turf, it amounted to a sworn brotherhood of sorts. Had Liu Guangshi alone known everyone’s identity clearly, he would effectively have become the sole dominant leader among them. Everyone present understood this, which was why Xia Zhongxin had simply and bluntly revealed his own position first, with Xiao Pingbao following suit, breaking this asymmetry somewhat.
Liu Guangshi did not mind in the least. Though a military man, he had spent his whole life navigating the bureaucratic world of civil officials, and had seen far too much of this kind of maneuvering to be troubled by it now. He had long since stopped concerning himself with such petty matters.
Once everyone had finished introducing themselves and the pleasantries were done, he finally spoke with a smile. “Gentlemen, your presence here is, in itself, a kind of statement. Now that we all know each other, I won’t beat around the bush any longer. All of you are already aware of the shifting situation in the southwest.”
Everyone’s expressions turned serious, and they nodded. Someone said, “Add to that the situation at the Battle of Tanzhou, and we’re all in the same boat now, like grasshoppers tied to the same string.”
“I never imagined that Wanyan Zonghan, a man of such lifelong renown, would stumble so badly, suffering such a heavy loss.”
“It’s not that simple. The Jurchens’ defeat is, in the end, a good thing.”
“But what about the Black Banner’s victory?”
After several more exchanges, Liu Guangshi raised a hand. “Everyone here makes a fair point. In truth, the Jurchens’ defeat is not necessarily a bad thing — but that the Black Banner has won twice in a row is, in the end, something none of us quite anticipated. I won’t hide it from you all — in these past ten-odd days, I’ve met with no small number of people, and Ning Yi’s moves are truly chilling.”
He paused here to take a sip of tea. No one spoke; everyone in their hearts understood the shock of recent events. The southwest had been fought fiercely for four months, with Wanyan Zonghan still struggling to advance — yet the moment Ning Yi led seven thousand men out to strike, the Jurchens’ hundred-thousand-strong army collapsed outright at the front line, and the entire force was then forcibly driven back through the southwestern mountains, with Ning Yi’s army biting at their heels relentlessly. Now, in those southwestern mountains, it was as though two great serpents were locked in coils, fighting each other bloody — and the one that had originally been weaker was on the verge of biting the numerically superior Jurchen western army to death within the vast mountains around Jianmen Pass.
Watching this unfold, many found it even more shocking than his regicide years earlier. Ten-odd years had passed, and this fiend had now grown powerful enough that he could kill whomever he pleased, wherever he pleased, in full view of all under heaven. Even Wanyan Zonghan, once all but universally acknowledged as the greatest warrior under heaven, was now being beaten mercilessly by him, on the verge, it seemed, of being beaten to death outright.
Though the outcome in the southwestern mountains had not yet been decided, countless people were already privately laying their own plans for what would come after. Things had simply moved too quickly — no one had prepared any contingency for this, and so this whole round of activity felt hurried for everyone involved.
“Let me tell you how things stand over there,” Xia Zhongxin said. “On the tenth of the third month, there was already movement on Old Qin’s side. Wanyan Xiyin over there is formidable too — he’d already deployed his troops early, guarding against that direction. But you all know the result. Old Yu got unlucky — his twenty thousand men were hit by a single strike from Old Qin, and they were killed and wounded, wiped out entirely. After that, Wanyan Xiyin has been redeploying troops almost every three days — it’s like watching a chess game, and who knows who’ll be the unlucky one next time. We’re all saying that next they might target Jiange — squeeze from both ends, and Nianhan really won’t be able to go home.”
“Last year… I heard they fought seventeen battles in a row. Even so, General Qin’s side never suffered any serious damage to its core strength,” someone chimed in. “Is the Chinese Army’s fighting power really that strong?”
“It was seventeen battles in seven days,” Xia Zhongxin said, his face expressionless. “As for exactly how formidable they are, it’s hard to say anymore — whoever runs into them loses. Wanyan Xiyin is formidable too, and doesn’t treat us Han as human beings either — he’s got the strongest of the Jurchens, Tushan Guard, under his command, but even he doesn’t dare charge straight at them. He just plans to wear them down slowly. Truth is, the men under Old Qin are the very same ones from Xiaocang River back in the day — think about it, over three years, they wore down a million Central Plains troops, killed Ci Bushi, made the Jurchens lose face completely, and in the end that was the twenty thousand men left, forged from all that. And then that bunch went and toughed it out for a few more years in some godforsaken place in the west before finally coming out. Damn it, those aren’t men — they’re ghosts come to collect a debt.”
He paused. “I won’t hide it from you all — right now, everyone at the front is afraid. The southwest has won, and Old Qin has come with annihilation in mind — it’s a blood feud that runs deep. Once this game of chess plays out, the last card gets revealed. Whoever gets caught between the Black Banner and Tushan Guard is dead either way.”
Beside him, Xiao Pingbao’s mouth twitched into a smile. “Forgive my bluntness, nephew that I am, but why not just surrender to the Black Banner and be done with it?”
There was a hint of feigned ignorance in his question, but since everyone had gathered here together, there needed to be some process of aligning their positions in speech, so no one took offense. Someone simply replied, expressionless: “Everyone already knows how the southwest handled Li Rulai’s surrender. Surrender to the Jurchens, and you get sent to fight Old Qin. Surrender to Old Qin, and you get sent to fight Tushan Guard. Either way is death.”
He paused again. “In truth, death isn’t really what everyone fears most. But what those old fools back in the capital say isn’t entirely without merit either. Since ancient times, if you’re going to surrender, first you need leverage — you need to be valued, so that once you surrender you still get a seat at the table. Surrendering to the Black Banner right now would just mean clinging to life for a few more years, and who knows what that would even look like. Second… General Liu here has a better idea, which might well be a good path forward. A real man cannot go a single day without power. If there’s still another road to walk, I, Xia, have no desire to join the Black Banner just to end up a cook stoking fires.”
At these words, everyone naturally turned their eyes toward Liu Guangshi, who laughed. “General Xia is being too modest. The state the Wu Dynasty finds itself in today is, in many ways, not the fault of poor fighting. Two hundred-odd years of favoring civil officials over military men, problems piling up until they became unmanageable — today’s dire straits were, in a sense, unavoidable. In truth, General Xia’s bravery on the battlefield, his masterful command of troops — I, Liu, admire it deeply. But to put it plainly, General Xia came up through the ranks as a common cloth-maker’s son, and in all his years commanding troops, when has he ever not been hemmed in on every side, with civil officials meddling and giving orders, taking their cut here and there? To be honest, whatever fighting men I still have under my command, it’s really only thanks to the shade of my ancestors.”
These words struck a chord deep in Xia Zhongxin’s heart; this hard-faced, middle-aged man could only cup his hands in a bow, at a loss for words. Liu Guangshi continued: “The situation now is different, after all. To speak plainly, the clowns squabbling in Lin’an have no chance of accomplishing anything. I’ll say this much plainly: if all goes smoothly, within five years, His Majesty will raise troops from Fuzhou and surely reclaim Lin’an.”
As he mentioned His Majesty, he bowed slightly, and everyone exchanged glances, clearly understanding the implication buried in his words. Liu Guangshi stood up and had someone bring in a large map. “In truth, the reason I invited you all here today is precisely to work through, together, how things might unfold going forward. Gentlemen, please look.”
His finger tapped the map. “The times are changing fast. Today’s situation is entirely different from half a year ago. But if we’re being honest, only two things turned out to be unexpected: Chen Fan seized Tanzhou, and Ning Yi stabilized the southwest. As for the Jurchen army… the best-case scenario for them now is retreating northward along Jingxiang and the like. As for the Chinese Army — well, they’ve suffered no small toll themselves. Of course, within a few years they’ll recover their strength, and once the two of us are directly connected, to be frank, this little bit of territory I currently hold sits right in the pincer between the Chinese Army’s two flanks.”
Liu Guangshi paused here and merely smiled. “Having crushed the Jurchens, the Chinese Army’s reputation will soar, and it’s not impossible that they’ll go on to sweep across all under heaven in time. But — first, as General Xia said, if you want to surrender and become a mere cook stoking fires for them, they might not even take you. Second, the Chinese Army’s governance is indeed extremely strict — that much is true. Once they win a great victory, internally things may well go too far in the other direction, and I, Liu, think it’s inevitable that problems will arise. Of course, on that front, we can simply wait and see for now.”
“In any case, we still have a few years’ time.” Liu Guangshi drew a circle on the map between Tanzhou and the southwest with his hand. “But that’s all the time we have — a few years, no more. Sooner or later, this stretch of territory is bound to come into friction with the Black Banner. Which way we go — we can’t avoid thinking that through.”
“As for how to respond to this situation, I have a few thoughts,” Liu Guangshi said with a smile. “First, strengthening ourselves is never a mistake — whether it comes to fighting or making peace, we need to have real strength of our own. Everyone here today, none of us alone could really go toe to toe with a power like the Black Banner or the Jurchens. But if we join hands, while the Chinese Army’s strength is still recovering, we have some advantage in this local region for the time being. Second, having shed the shackles of civil officials, and having learned our lesson the hard way, there’s no reason we couldn’t find room to grow.”
“But joining hands alone still isn’t enough strength. To put it plainly — even if we simply revived the old order of the Wu Dynasty, among Jin, the Black Banner, and Wu, Wu would still be the weakest of the three. But while we may not have the standing to win outright, we would certainly have the standing to negotiate. Look at the situation as it stands, gentlemen: the Black Banner needs to recover its strength and stabilize its position, and will hold still for now; the Jin army is retreating north; His Majesty is locked in a standoff at Lin’an to the east — look at how much territory, right now, has been left wide open.”
Liu Guangshi’s palm struck the map, a sharp gleam already showing in his eyes. “Gentlemen — the Central Plains! Once the southwestern campaign winds down and the Jurchens withdraw north, if we join forces, we can then break across the Yangtze, seize the Central Plains, retake Bianliang, and restore our Wu Dynasty to its former glory. Gentlemen — this would be an achievement for the ages! For our Wu Dynasty, for our Han people, for our Chinese nation—”
As his voice fell, one man at the table rose and struck his folding fan against his palm. “Indeed. If the Jurchens are defeated and retreat, their hold over the Central Plains will fall to its lowest point, with no more influence left there at all. And as for Lin’an, that bunch of clowns won’t have the means to attend to the Central Plains anytime soon either.”
Another added, “Zonghan has been beaten and humiliated in the southwest. Whether or not he manages to withdraw, whoever ends up defending Bianliang by then will certainly no longer be Jurchen troops. If it’s just a few figureheads holding the fort, we might well be able to reclaim the old capital without breaking a sweat.”
Liu Guangshi smiled. “Furthermore, without a proper claim, words carry no weight. Last year, when our Wu Dynasty collapsed in defeat, Yue Fei, Han Shizhong, and others went east, yet even the late emperor could not be protected — I, Liu, would not presume to blame them for that. Later, as the Jurchens grew powerful, some — traitors! — truly did surrender. But there are also many who still hold loyalty and righteousness in their hearts, men like General Xia here, who, though forced to play along with the Jurchens outwardly, have remained loyal to our Wu Dynasty at heart all along, waiting for the moment to turn back. Gentlemen, I too am waiting for that moment to arrive. We act in accordance with heaven’s will and the emperor’s mandate, to preserve the flame of our Wu Dynasty and restore the old order of the Central Plains — whatever comes, to whomever, we will be able to hold our heads up in the end.”
As he spoke, he took out a piece of charcoal and began circling one area after another on the map, encompassing Bianliang and the surrounding territory in one great circle — clearly one of the largest powers in all the realm. Someone struck a fist into his palm.
Liu Guangshi stopped smiling, his gaze turning serious as he tapped the charcoal down on the map.
“Gentlemen, over the next several years, in this stretch of territory, anything could happen. If we learn from what’s happened and commit ourselves to bold reform, following the southwest’s example — what then? If, a few years from now, circumstances change and the southwest truly runs into trouble — what then? And even if, as some say, our Wu Dynasty’s fortunes are truly destined to decline, gentlemen, if we can still protect the people of one region, that too would be a great and meritorious deed — one that answers to all under heaven, and to our Chinese nation as well.”
The river wind blew strong, and Liu Guangshi’s words landed with weight. Everyone stood there, sober and silent for a moment before this vision, until at last someone spoke.
“The southwest has defeated the Jurchens, but its vital strength has surely been damaged, and it will certainly lack the strength to launch a northern campaign for now. The Central Plains, home to countless people, has suffered for over ten years now — with this opportunity before us, if we sit idle once again, how do we answer to the common people? Gentlemen, General Liu is right. In truth, setting aside all our own calculations and interests, the people of the Central Plains right now need exactly this — for all of us to set aside old grudges and save them from their suffering. There can be no more delay. General Liu has taken the lead in this matter today, and in truth, in all of Han territory under heaven right now, only General Liu commands enough respect and standing to serve as our sworn leader in this cause. From this day forward, the entire Chen family of Jiangdong will follow General Liu’s every command and dispatch!”
Amid the sweeping scenery of the great river flowing east, once again, many men of power made difficult choices for the future of the nation.
Banners of kingship changed hands atop the city walls. How many would remember them?
This was near the end of the third month, when Zonghan had still not made it out of Jiange, and Qin Shaoqian and Wanyan Xiyin were still maneuvering troops in a standoff north of Jiange. On the twenty-seventh of the third month, Qin Shaoqian’s subordinate commander Qi Xinhan led three thousand men, appearing near Fancheng nearly a thousand li away, attempting a surprise assault on the Xiangyang-Fan ferry crossing. But Wanyan Xiyin had long since prepared for this.
The first clash between the elite forces of the Chinese Army’s Seventh Army and the Jurchens’ Tushan Guard thus began.