Chapter Seventy-One: Return to Wu County

The next morning, after rising and washing up in his room, Cao Hong asked his servants about the condition of the three who had been drunk the previous night. The servant replied, “The Governor has yet to rise, Master Shi has gone to the military camp to prepare his baggage, and as for Mr. Liu, he left for home at the third watch last night.”

Hearing this, Cao Hong mused inwardly, “Liu Ye, after all, is still a scholar who cares for his reputation—he’d never spend the night here with a courtesan under my roof.” He then said aloud, “Go and inform the shopkeepers and staff who have decided to head north to Xiangyi with me, telling them to settle their family affairs over the next few days. When I next return to Lujiang, that will be the day we set out.”

The servant left at his command. By then, Sheng Meizhen, already dressed and made up, came to Cao Hong and asked, “Husband, when do you plan to depart?”

Cao Hong glanced at the sky and replied, “Let’s wait until Brother Zitai wakes up. We cannot depart without observing proper manners.”

Sheng Meizhen nodded and went to prepare her things, while Cao Hong had a bite to eat and then resumed studying spear techniques in the martial hall. After about two hours, Liu Xun awoke, and Cao Hong went to bid him farewell, also ordering that Shi Huan and fifty county soldiers from Xiangyi be brought to the residence to await orders, and sent for Liu Ye.

Once all was arranged, Cao Hong strapped the “Nameless” to his back, took up his horse lance, mounted his fine steed, and, with fifty Xiangyi county cavalry, Shi A, Liu Ye, and Sheng Meizhen’s carriage, set out. Liu Xun personally escorted them beyond Shuxian before turning back. Noticing the unusual quality of the lance in Cao Hong’s hand, Shi A asked him about it.

Cao Hong explained the manufacturing techniques and features of the horse lance once again.

Shi A marveled, “A thick mulberry trunk, split apart, can yield ten shafts for long weapons, but to craft fine strips for lamination into a shaft requires at least three top-quality mulberry trees over ten years old, soaked for a year, with countless oil changes. Fish glue is a costly commodity. By this reckoning, this lance is worth at least a hundred thousand coins. Rarest of all is its scarcity. In times like these, craftsmen must also eat—who would invest so much effort in making such a lance? And since the success rate is so low, one could easily lose everything.”

Cao Hong laughed, “Indeed, to make such a weapon, you must not only pay handsomely to hire a skilled artisan, but also bear the risk of failure. I imagine only a prefecture governor such as Brother Zitai would have the leisure to commission such a weapon.”

Liu Ye, standing by, smiled and said, “General, you may not know this, but with the frequent wars in the north, many craftsmen have fled to Jingzhou and Yangzhou to escape the chaos or forced conscription. Jingzhou is home to many powerful clans, and though fragmented, they keep to themselves and the region is relatively peaceful. Yangzhou, shielded by the Yangtze, enjoys stability under the protection of great families; though there are occasional uprisings by the mountain people, it’s much better than the war-torn central plains. Artisans thus flourish there, not only in metalwork, but also in ceramics, weaving, silk-making, dyeing, and papermaking—surpassing the north in skill. The lance in your hand, also called the Iron-Spined Eight-Foot Spear, has become quite popular in Jingzhou and Yangzhou over the past year or two. Many prefects and scions of noble families spend lavishly to commission them, whether for gifts or for personal use. Without such a spear, one cannot call oneself a true warrior.”

Cao Hong nodded, “Sir, you truly have your ear to the ground.” At the same time, he secretly looked down on Liu Xun: He’d thought it some rare treasure, but it turned out to be a toy for the wealthy and made by a mere craftsman. Liu Xun was so greedy for wealth, he’d never give him a real rarity!

Reflecting on Liu Xun’s earlier words, treating the lance as if it were unique in the world, Cao Hong’s opinion of the Lujiang governor worsened considerably.

Their party left Lujiang commandery, crossed Danyang, and entered Wu commandery. Upon reaching the first county, Yangxian, the county chief, recognizing Cao Hong’s banner, immediately opened the gates to welcome him. Cao Hong’s businesses spanned all of Wu commandery’s thirteen counties, and his banner bore, in addition to the character for Cao, a unique emblem: a tiger with wings on its back. This brand, which meant “adding wings to a tiger,” was recognized at a glance—the great merchant Cao Hong had arrived.

Yangxian was a county belonging to a certain imperial princess as her fief. Its tax revenue, like that of Peiguo, went to the fiefholder. According to Han law, the fiefs of princes were called “kingdoms,” while those of the Empress Dowager, Empress, or princesses were called “yi.” Lands inhabited by ethnic minorities were called “dao.” Regardless of size, these distinctions held.

Since Yangxian had fewer than ten thousand households, it only had a chief, not a magistrate—the same rank as Cao Hong had once held in Qichun. Now that Cao Hong had resigned and followed Cao Cao, he was, in theory, without office, even lower than this chief. Yet the chief, a man in his early thirties, dared not show any neglect and respectfully welcomed Cao Hong into Yangxian.

Back on his own turf, Cao Hong felt inexplicably at ease. This was the western shore of Lake Tai, heavy with morning dew, where flowers and grasses were already responding to the spring breezes—a scene of vibrant renewal. Wildflowers of every hue bloomed by the roadside, fresh green buds graced the trees: the beauty of Jiangnan in spring. Cao Hong knew that Wu commandery would, two thousand years later, be Jiangsu Province, and the cities on the western shore of Lake Tai—he recalled visiting a city called Yixing, but did not know if Yangxian was its predecessor.

Upon entering, he felt a sense of familiarity—he could not tell if it came from Yixing, or from the memories of the “Cao Hong” he had become.

Politely declining the chief’s offer to hold a banquet in his honor, Cao Hong took his people to a remote neighborhood where he owned a villa. Upon arrival, he had the steward inventory all assets in the county, while also sending word to the managers of all thirteen Wu commandery businesses to halt operations and take stock. He announced his intention to head north, telling any who wished to follow to gather at his inn in the county seat of Wu.

Having handled these affairs, Cao Hong sent Shi A, bearing a personal letter, ahead to Wu county to notify his uncle, Cao Ding, of his imminent arrival and purpose, earnestly requesting his aid. He also wrote a letter of introduction to his father-in-law, Sheng Xian, the famed scholar of Wu, and arranged for thirty county soldiers to escort Liu Ye to the Sheng mansion in Wu.

Though both Cao Ding and Sheng Xian lived in Wu commandery, Cao Hong sent separate messengers for a reason: Sheng Xian was a renowned scholar, famous for his writings, and though Shi A was a trusted aide, he was a rough man. Sheng Xian might consider it disrespectful if Cao Hong sent Shi A as his envoy. Having inherited all of his predecessor’s memories, Cao Hong understood how much these scholars cherished their reputation for propriety.

Liu Ye, being a member of the imperial clan, lent great prestige to Cao Hong’s letter; moreover, as a talented scholar himself, he was certain to please Sheng Xian.

Cao Hong sent Shi A alone, while thirty men accompanied Liu Ye. First, because Shi A was skilled in martial arts while Liu Ye was not; second, because Cao Ding, as family, required no elaborate display. But Sheng Xian, as his father-in-law, demanded proper decorum. Wu commandery belonged to Cao Ding and Cao Hong, uncle and nephew, and though some local clans might defy them, none dared provoke them directly—petty thieves, seeing Cao Hong’s banner, would keep their distance. In truth, a single flag-bearer would have sufficed for Liu Ye’s escort, but appearances mattered.

Liu Ye readily accepted Cao Hong’s commission, and Cao Hong felt a genuine affinity for this friendly prince of the Han. His regard was rooted not only in Liu Ye’s intelligence as recorded in the histories, but also in the man’s humility, warmth, and eloquence.

Thus, Cao Hong thanked Liu Ye repeatedly for his help. After Shi A and Liu Ye departed, Cao Hong once again threw himself into the study of spear techniques.