Chapter Ten: It Was All Worth It

It was already midnight, yet the grand tent of the coalition army was ablaze with light, the guards changed in shifts, and the revelry showed no sign of stopping.

“Come, everyone, let us toast General Guo!” Pang Yuan raised his bronze goblet and called out.

“Yes, yes, let’s all drink to General Guo! If General Guo hadn’t seen the light and changed sides, who knows how much longer this war would have dragged on,” the crowd echoed, raising their cups.

Guo Bao lifted his goblet and drained it in one go, drawing cheers from all present.

“General Guo is truly a man among men. To be but a subordinate in the Ming army is a waste of his talents.”

“Indeed, and this shows that Yang Qingyun is just a jealous, spiteful man.”

The banquet lasted until the first hour of the tiger, dispersing reluctantly at last.

Pang Yuan, however, did not follow the original plan of dissolving the forty thousand surrendered soldiers into his own ranks, but instead stationed them separately, assigning them to guard the western flank.

This, however, was just as Su Qing had instructed Guo Bao before his departure. Guo Bao, though prepared for this, nevertheless kept petitioning Pang Yuan and complaining to him, for he knew that too much silence might arouse suspicion. After several such visits, Pang Yuan refused even to grant him an audience, placing him on his blacklist.

Meanwhile, elsewhere, another effort was unfolding without pause.

Three horses galloped abreast down a secluded country road, raising a cloud of dust.

“Sir, these past two weeks have truly been hard on you. Allow me to treat you to a drink first,” said a bald, burly man on the lead horse, flashing a grin with his yellowed teeth as he turned to the frail scholar riding behind.

“The Marshal entrusted this task to me; I shall do my utmost to fulfill it. No need for wine; we should hurry back and report,” the scholar replied in a thin voice, weakened further by the long days on horseback.

For nearly half a month, the four of them had rested only five or six hours each night, spending the rest of their time on the road. In just two weeks, they had exhausted nearly twenty horses.

Upon reaching the city, they went straight to their ultimate destination—the residence of the Minister of Revenue of Wei.

At last, they could rest for a night.

The next morning,

The man surnamed Huang was roused from his dream by a strong urge from his bladder. Upon opening his eyes, he found the scholar who had slept beside him the night before was already gone, and a letter lay quietly on the table.

He quickly woke his companions and opened the letter:

Brothers, you have guarded me all the way, and it has not been easy. I know my feeble health has been a burden to you all. Thus, I have no intention of returning alive to Ming. But you need not worry about whether the terms will be settled; I already have a plan. Simply report to the Marshal that Zheng He has pledged his life as collateral, and I will keep that promise. For the sake of our great Ming, win this war beautifully.

Ten days later,

Su Qing clutched the thin sheet of paper, his hand trembling.

He recalled a night more than twenty days before.

“You say you can persuade the Minister of Revenue of Wei to release the grain?” Su Qing eyed the unimpressive, slight scholar before him with a hint of disdain. The negotiator was an old fox, having sat in that office for years—how could he be fooled by such a greenhorn? Especially when time was so tight and they could not carry much gold or silver, only empty promises could be offered. How could anyone believe in their sincerity under such circumstances?

“I know you do not trust me, Marshal. Frankly, if I were in your place, I wouldn’t trust myself either,” Zheng He replied without timidity, speaking at length. “I have come for something you carry. With it, I can guarantee the success of this mission.”

“Something I have?” Su Qing frowned, a bad feeling rising.

Zheng He drew a deep breath and said, word by word, “Yes, the jade pendant you always wear. Everyone knows how devoted you are to your wife—like a couple blessed by the gods. The jade she gave you, you never part with wherever you go. If I have it, my words will be believed.”

“No!” Su Qing refused at once. “You may have anything but that. There’s no use saying more. Please leave.”

But Zheng He only chuckled coldly. “I know Prince Su has won great victories for Ming, but now, when the fate of the frontier is at stake, you would let private feelings doom the country? I never imagined the Prince of Zhenxi would turn out to be so feeble.”

Su Qing’s face flushed with fury. “I know you mean to provoke me, but it’s still for Ming’s sake. Leave before I decide to kill you.”

Yet Zheng He did not budge. Su Qing stepped forward, and in a flash, he was before Zheng He, exuding a murderous air. “Don’t think I won’t kill you. You’re just an ant to me.”

“I trust in your character, Prince Su, and I believe you will sacrifice what you cherish most for Ming.”

Zheng He had never imagined that one day he would stand face to face with the War God of Ming, exchanging so many words. He was but a failed scholar, yet this moment was more thrilling than passing the imperial exams.

The two differed in height by more than half a head—like tiger and antelope. And yet it was the antelope who looked the tiger in the eye, as if already beyond caring for life or death.

Suddenly, Su Qing raised his hand. Zheng He, startled, closed his eyes and, though his legs trembled, did not retreat.

With a metallic clang, the earth seemed to tremble beneath them.

After a while, Zheng He felt the pressure lift and opened his eyes. Before him stood a long halberd, from which hung a jade pendant, swaying in the wind and striking the blade with a gentle clink.

Trembling, Zheng He rose on tiptoe and took the pendant, wrapped it in a silk cloth, and, holding it in both hands, bowed deeply toward Su Qing’s seat.

“If I do not bring back this jade, I will pay with my head!” Zheng He declared resolutely, then strode away without looking back.

Half an hour later, Su Qing leaned against the back door, gazing at the moonlit night and sighed, “Beloved, as long as we win, it will all be worth it. Will you... understand?”

Back to the present.

Su Qing stared at the letter for a long time in silence. Only after nearly half a stick of incense had burned did he finally say to the assembled generals, “You may leave now. Be ready for battle at any moment.”

Seeing his expression, the generals could only take their leave quietly.

When only Su Qing and Yang Tingyu remained in the general’s residence, Su Qing spoke softly, “Tingyu, have you read the letter?”

“I have,” Yang Tingyu replied.

Su Qing sighed as he watched the others depart. “He never intended to come back alive. From the moment he set foot in the general’s residence to ask for the jade, he was already a dead man.”

Yang Tingyu lowered his head, at a loss for words.

“Who would have thought that such a frail scholar would have such resolve? I truly admire him. He’s not yet been tainted by the mire of officialdom—his character is just what Ming needs,” Su Qing mused, closing his eyes. “He’s done his part. We cannot let his efforts be in vain. Tingyu!”

“Here!”

“As I recall, the coalition’s last grain distribution was two months ago. In another half month, their supplies will be exhausted. We need only wait another twenty days.”

Yang Tingyu nodded. “Yes, Guo Bao reported as much. Especially with the additional forty thousand surrendered troops, their grain is running out fast. Pang Yuan has already sent more than one memorial to court.”

“Good. These past twenty days, the enemy’s attacks seem to have lessened, but we must not grow complacent. The walls of Chenghao must be made impregnable.”

With that, Su Qing dismissed Yang Tingyu, leaving himself alone in the vast general’s hall. He touched the empty space at his waist with his right hand, unable to keep his tears at bay.

“My beloved, for Ming’s sake, I have to let you go. Please do not blame me. For this land, there is no price I will not pay.”

Half a month later.

“General Pang Yuan, you’ve been withholding our rations for two days. If this continues, I won’t be able to control my men,” Klim glared at Pang Yuan.

Pang Yuan’s brow was furrowed. “Our grain stores are nearly empty, especially after taking in those forty thousand new troops. If we issued full rations, we’d be forced to retreat in five days and lose all the ground we’ve gained.”

Klim knew Pang Yuan had no choice, but that didn’t help. “But if you don’t distribute grain, the men will scatter, or worse, mutiny.”

“What can I do then?”

“You ask me? If you hadn’t agreed with Guo Bao and brought us forty thousand more mouths to feed, would we be in this mess? Useless at fighting but bottomless when it comes to eating!”

Pang Yuan leapt to his feet, pointing angrily. “You say this is my fault? Weren’t you all for Guo Bao’s surrender? Now that autumn’s almost over, you want to blame me? You’ve got a lot to learn.”

“You—!” Klim slammed the table, both men glaring at each other.

The atmosphere was so tense no one else dared breathe.

Just then, Pang Yuan broke into a sly grin, leaving Klim bewildered.

“All of you, leave us. I was just joking with General Klim,” Pang Yuan said, turning to Klim. “Isn’t that so, General?”

Klim’s eyes flickered—he could never tell what this old fox was plotting. If they fought now, it would only end in mutual destruction, which he didn’t want. He nodded, dismissing his attendants.

When only the two of them remained, Klim asked, “Have you thought of a way out of this?”

“It’s not much of a plan, but it’s the only option left,” Pang Yuan replied grimly.

Meanwhile, in the general’s hall, Yang Tingyu was playing chess with Su Qing. Wu Jian and Yuwen Qi stood by.

Placing a black stone, Su Qing looked up. “I suspect even Pang Yuan must realize he’s been caught in our trap. What do you all think?”

Yang Tingyu placed his white stone and replied, “If I’m right, those forty thousand surrendered troops are already grumbling, perhaps on the verge of rebellion. This is our best chance to strike.”

“When will you give the order, Marshal?” Wu Jian and Yuwen Qi both asked.

“No rush,” Su Qing replied, placing another black stone. “If we move all two hundred eighty thousand men from the city at once, Pang Yuan is no fool—he’d know immediately. If he catches on, we might as well take those forty thousand and fight him head-on.”

“But...” Wu Jian hesitated, unable to find the words.

Su Qing patted him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry. A month ago, I sent Tingyu to handle it.”

“What? A month ago?” Wu Jian and Yuwen Qi were both shocked—Yang Tingyu had never breathed a word.

“Don’t blame Tingyu. I told him not to tell you,” Su Qing said with a smile.

Yang Tingyu explained, “Forgive me, brothers. A month ago, the Marshal had me select a thousand sappers to dig from the abandoned temple in the southeast of Chenghao, divided into four groups working day and night, tunneling several miles to the foot of a nearby hill. I estimate the work will be finished tonight.”

“I knew it—the Marshal always has a plan. I was just being impatient,” Wu Jian said sheepishly.

“I was going to tell you tonight anyway. Tomorrow at the first hour of the tiger, all soldiers will light fires to cook. At the second hour of the rabbit, gather at the tunnel entrance and await my order. Remember, everyone must carry a day’s rations.”

“Yes, sir, we’ll see to it right away.” Wu Jian and Yuwen Qi saluted and left.

“Marshal, a secret message just arrived from Guo Bao,” said Yang Tingyu, producing a tiny scroll from his sleeve.

Su Qing took it, slowly unrolling the paper, and a smile gradually spread across his face.

“That old fox has finally lost his nerve. Tomorrow night, I expect, will be our night of reckoning. Ha ha ha!”