Chapter 103: Crossing the River

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Feng Rang returned from reconnaissance, his face heavy with shame and a sense of failure. He had uncovered many rumors whispered among the common folk but had failed to find any trace of the royal estates with his own eyes. All the royal estates were located east of the Lüliang Mountains, while the western Loess Plateau held none. This western region was truly impoverished.

Royal lands were typically the most fertile plots in any area. In Ming-era Shanxi, by examining the number of royal estates across the prefectures and counties, one could accurately gauge the quantity of prime farmland in a given place. For example, the county of Yonghe in Xizhou, where Liu Chengzong now resided, was undoubtedly barren. So barren, in fact, that the entire Xizhou had not a single royal estate.

Originally, Liu Chengzong had thought that the tale Cao Yao recounted—of the first-generation Prince Qingcheng having a hundred children—was mere gossip. But the information Feng Rang’s men gathered, disguised as peddlers, was alarming. The prince had not sired a hundred children, only three sons. Yet his grandson had twenty-four wives and concubines, producing forty-four children; his great-grandson had even surpassed him, fathering seventy offspring.

Yonghe County was isolated and the soil poor. The locals they encountered might have been unaware of the current era’s reign title yet were quite clear on the rough numbers of the three princely clans of Shaanxi. The figures varied in detail and were certainly inaccurate, but all mentioned the number three, recited almost like a chant: three princes, thirty dukes, three thousand generals, three thousand lieutenants, and three thousand county princesses. There were also three hundred commoners receiving a monthly ration of one shi of grain. The numbers were staggering.

However, the Lüliang Mountains blocked their passage. Not only was it impossible for their large forces to cross, even Feng Rang’s small reconnaissance team could not sneak through quietly. If they avoided official routes to scale the mountains, they would have to abandon the artillery and vehicles they had painstakingly acquired; if they took the official roads through the mountains, they would have to fight through two patrol detachments.

As everyone on Yatou Mountain fretted over the patrol detachments, Wei Qian’er arrived galloping up from the valley below with a mule and horses, shouting, “General, the ferry crossing on the opposite bank has been occupied!” At once, several leaders were taken aback.

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Liu Chengzong slammed down his ledger, a fiery anger rising in his chest. “Has the government army come again to deliver weapons to us?” Yonghe was so poor it had nothing; the fertile lands eastward were blocked by the Lüliang Mountains, and now the route back to Shaanxi was blocked by government troops.

Feng Rang shook his head. “They’re not government soldiers. They don’t look like it and carry no banners. Over a hundred of them are gathering boats along the riverbank, probably to cross. Scouts sent to Yonghe Pass report that the government army is mobilizing over there.”

The group quickly donned their armor and mounted their horses, heading westward. Upon reaching a hill on the east bank, they looked across the nearly two-hundred-step-wide river to the west bank at Yanshui Pass. Over a hundred people scurried through a village of retired soldiers’ families, collecting belongings and loading small boats onto the shore.

On the south side, banners fluttered at Yonghe Pass, with soldiers watching the west bank. Liu Chengzong wondered aloud, “What are they trying to do—cross by force? Wouldn’t it be easier to use the floating bridge at night?” From Yanshui Pass, one could directly cross the floating bridge to the east bank. Although narrow and slow, the government army wouldn’t patrol the riverbank at night. Liu Chengzong and his men had come that way themselves.

“Probably not,” Cao Yao said, pointing at the ridges across the river. “Damn it, it’s full of people!” Not just at Yanshui Pass, but several mountain ridges to the west billowed thick black smoke. Along the winding riverbank, numerous small boats and wooden rafts were gathered, and scattered groups marched down mountain trails toward the shore.

Especially at a desolate village north of Yanshui Pass, once home to several hundred scattered inhabitants who farmed military lands along the river, the scene was grim. Armed men wearing white headbands drove people from their homes, tore down houses, and forced them to build rafts.

Donkeys and mules were herded along the river roads, and soon large banners rose on various ridges, each guarded by men who looked like officers, all watching toward Yonghe Pass.

Gao Xian asked, “Hungry refugees? Bandits?” No one could answer. Since the uprising began, they had encountered hungry refugees, bandits, and government troops, but never a group like this. These people were organized, not a chaotic mob of starving refugees or bandits, yet they lacked the discipline of government soldiers. It looked as if bandit leaders and hungry refugees had united their forces.

“Wei Qian’er, bring the troops here,” Liu Chengzong said intently, watching the large peasant army preparing to cross. Without looking back, he added, “Also bring the Qian family, father and son. Send men to scout Yonghe Pass. If the government troops move out, raise the flags.”

“Yes, sir!”

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Wei Qian’er obeyed and rode off. Cao Yao asked, “Why? Do you think we can ally with them?”

“We don’t know if they’re friend or foe yet. Let’s gather our forces first, then decide.”

Seeing the peasant army occupy the ridges and prepare for a major crossing, Liu Chengzong was far from pleased. “These people have blocked our route back to Shaanxi.”

Cao Yao agreed fully. “Yes, and they’re so blatant. Maybe government troops are right behind them. Though our men are elite, we can’t afford a pitched battle, especially since our supplies will run out in a few days.”

“They have supplies,” Liu Chengzong said, pointing to the northern riverbank. “Look—they’ve brought out carts and are pulling boats there, with quite a few cavalry.”

Coincidentally, the peasant army’s main crossing point was at the northern bend of the river, ferrying men directly to the shore where Liu Chengzong’s group stood.

Cao Yao laughed. “Are you planning to steal their supplies?”

“No, no. They number several thousand, with seven or eight hundred horsemen. We might not defeat them easily. Even if we did, the government troops at Yonghe Pass would trap us on both sides. Few of our brothers would want to become lost souls.”

Liu Chengzong shook his head. “We can try. Find out who their leader is. Together, we can crush the defenders at Yonghe Pass. There should be food in the fortress. Besides, Cao, with these people, perhaps we can break through the official road in the Lüliang Mountains and seize a royal estate in Fenyang.”

Just then, Gao Xian shouted, “They’re crossing!”

The blaring of ox horns echoed along both banks of the Yellow River.

Liu Chengzong looked up. On the west bank, troops crossed simultaneously: a dozen small boats carried dozens of infantry first; two groups ran across the floating bridge; boats on the south bank also ferried infantry. On the east bank hilltop, scouts from the Mule Camp signaled that Yonghe Pass’s government troops were moving out.

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Note:

At the beginning of the Longqing era, Shanxi had 3 princes, 46 dukes, 2,606 generals, 3,760 lieutenants, and 3,117 county lords.

— An Jiesheng, “Population Growth and Statistical Records of Shanxi’s Princely Estates during the Ming Dynasty”