Chapter Five: Unexpected Turns

At the break of dawn, Liu Chengzong had already fed the horses and now stood in the courtyard, brushing his teeth, wrapped in a patched leather coat. A messenger stood atop the roof of the courtyard’s cave dwellings, announcing that today’s grand drill was cancelled.

The border troops had their daily minor drills, led by their officers, and every five days a grand drill, where the entire battalion trained under the command of the garrison commander. In times when food was plentiful, the training was rigorous—back when He Renlong managed to procure supplies by other means, as long as the soldiers ate their fill for five days, they could be driven relentlessly: every officer and man, burdened with eighty pounds and three days’ rations, would march out to carry out grueling drills—marching, setting camp, digging trenches.

Now, with supplies cut short, even if the officers wished to maintain such standards, they lacked the strength. The drills had been reduced mostly to parade formations, the aim being simply to keep the men from causing trouble. With no wages and half the usual rations, the most disciplined commander could do no more than restrain his men.

Improvement was out of the question; even maintenance was difficult. If they could just keep the soldiers from running off to pillage the countryside, they would have done right by His Majesty. If it weren’t for these circumstances, hunting outside the fort wouldn’t have fallen to someone like Liu Chengzong—a household retainer and chosen vanguard.

Since when did the most elite soldiers have to go out hunting to feed themselves?

After drinking a bowl of porridge in the soldiers’ mess, Liu Chengzong took Red Banner and Little Whirlwind for a walk outside the city, but found no game. Later that morning, he was planning to return to the fort to see if the stewed wild goose was ready, but as he approached the city gate, he saw Little Sixteen waiting for him. From a distance, the boy shouted, “Brother Lion, come quick!”

He hurried over with him to Liu Chengzu’s quarters.

“What’s going on?” Liu Chengzong asked.

“The company commander was called to the council hall at noon. When he came back, he sent me to get you—quick, go to the barracks.”

On their way, Liu Chengzong saw people in other courtyards, faces full of worry, strapping their belongings onto mules and horses. His heart pounded with anxiety. Were they about to march out? Without even a full meal first? But the city’s bell and drum towers had not sounded.

Arriving at Liu Chengzu’s barracks, he saw many familiar border troops from other squads in the cave-dwelling courtyard—some armored, others in padded coats with weapons, each with a pack on their back.

At the barracks’ entrance, Liu Chengzu stood in a red-cloth-plated iron armor, holding a two-piece northern army helmet. He tore the little flag from the helmet’s spear. Seeing his brother on the roof, he waved and called, “Come down, something’s happened. Sixteen, come in too and help me pack.”

With that, he turned and went inside.

Greeting the familiar faces in the courtyard as he passed, Liu Chengzong entered to find Company Commander Cao Yao, recognizable by a scar on his forehead, sitting on the kang bed. He asked, “Brother, what’s happened?”

Liu Chengzu pulled a map from the wall and handed it to Sixteen to tie up, then pointed to the bedside for Liu Chengzong to sit. “The general called us for a meeting this morning… The situation is bad.”

His brother’s expression was unusually complex, as if he didn’t know where to begin. He looked up at Liu Chengzong and said, “The Chief Military Governor of the Three Borders of Shaanxi has committed suicide.”

Wu Zhiwang, the Chief Military Governor of the Three Borders of Shaanxi, was a famed physician. He had served as military inspector in Haizhou and Gaizhou, then as vice-inspector of Shandong, overseeing the defense of Yongping. Later, he succeeded Yuan Keli as regional governor of Deng-Lai and had constant disputes with Mao Wenlong, often trading insults in official correspondence. Last year, he was transferred to the Three Borders. It hadn’t even been a year.

“He… How could he commit suicide?”

Liu Chengzu removed his helmet and scratched his head, frowning. “There was a mutiny in Guyuan Garrison. The border troops rioted for pay, on the Emperor’s birthday last winter. The governors kept it from the court. This year, the mutineers have already attacked Jingyang, Fuping, and Sanyuan, and even captured a brigadier general named Li Ying.”

“The general brought back dispatches from Yulin: Luochuan, Chunhua, Sanshui, Lueyang, Qingshui, Cheng County, Hancheng, Yijun, Zhongbu, Shiquan, Yichuan, Suide, Jiazhou, Yao, Jingning, Tongguan, Yangping Pass, Jinshuo Pass—all these places have roaming bandits.”

“The dead are dead. Of the living, few will escape blame.”

Liu Chengzong opened his mouth, but the rush of emotions choked him; he could not speak a word. In his memory, the great uprising in Shaanxi before the fall of the Ming eventually swept into Beijing and destroyed the dynasty, but he had never thought he would find himself living through it.

“The court is preoccupied with the war against the Tartars in the East. All the silver and grain go to Liaodong; they simply can’t spare money or rations for us. The general went to Yulin, but not only did he fail to get army pay, General Wu extorted a dozen horses from him. There was no way forward, so Advisor Hong suggested he pad the muster rolls.”

General Wu, Wu Zimian, was a shrewd dealer—anything in the army that could be embezzled, he embezzled, reselling whatever he could. None of the border troops liked him. Every morning, the men in the barracks would amuse themselves by cursing him anonymously—some venting grudges, some seeking revenge—but everyone pretended the curses were aimed at someone else. In this way, the general’s presence actually fostered unity among the troops.

The border soldiers of Yansui Garrison all hoped he’d be transferred or dismissed soon.

“Pad the muster rolls?”

“Yes. Household retainers are supposed to get double rations and pay, but since the court is giving nothing to the border troops, and even the locally supplied emergency grain was halved in this year of famine, at least one man could still eat his fill.”

Liu Chengzu sighed, rubbing his stubbly chin. “The general reported four hundred and sixty more retainers than we actually have.”

“If the court approves rations for two hundred more men, the garrison won’t be so hungry that everyone thinks only of desertion. If they approve four hundred, three days of full meals and we could sortie out to fight in the field. But…”

His brother’s tone shifted. “But the court’s approval will take time. The garrison’s remaining grain won’t last a month, not even millet porridge. Before autumn, the situation will force us to take action. If the rations for the retainers aren’t approved, and the soldiers are told they’ll have to fight on empty stomachs, more will run.”

“So the general plans to take a risk: disperse the troops, let some go in small squads to forage for themselves—begging along the roads or living off the land, or if they’re bold, even joining the rebels or bandits. It’s all the same.”

Liu Chengzu shook his head helplessly. “I heard Advisor Hong has secretly agreed to this. Officially, it’s to send spies into the various rebel armies, but in truth, it’s just to let the men find something to eat.”

Hong Chengtou, the grain advisor for Shaanxi, was the man in question.

Liu Chengzong now understood, and said, “If they go, most of them won’t come back.”

“Most won’t. But with supplies so short, if we don’t allow it, more and more will desert, and that’s a crime. If the general releases his own men, then if he later wins a victory or the court restores the rations, those men might have a chance to return. That’s why all the company commanders and officers drew lots in the council hall just now. Those who drew long lots stay, the short lots go.”

Having unburdened himself, Liu Chengzu looked much more at ease. He let out a long sigh—whether from the weight of responsibility or relief was hard to say—and finally extended his hand.

A half-broken wooden lot lay in his palm.

Cao Yao, sitting on the kang, seemed less grave than the brothers. He grinned and tossed a short lot onto the table.

“The two of us have been chosen. Lion, will you come with your brothers?”