BEGW C50

Chapter 50

Dusk was drawing in, and the wind and snow were growing fiercer.

The party did not brave the snow to hasten back to the temporary imperial lodge; instead, they chose to spend the night here.

In the largest command tent of the Fulin Army’s encampment, hot tea had already been prepared in advance.

While waiting for the evening meal, the civil and military officials who had just witnessed the might of the “Caltrop Fireball” could not help continuing to exclaim over it.

“Did you see it? Just now, that horse’s leg was hacked clean through by the caltrops!”

“Of course I saw it. Besides that, I also saw caltrops piercing into stone, and no matter how people tried, they couldn’t pull them out… If that landed on a person—tsk tsk.”

At this, a chill crept up everyone’s backs.

The existence of weapons is a form of deterrence.

But the proliferation of weapons is bound to bring calamity.

If a swift battle is desired, avoiding the seven bitter years of war in the past, firearms must be produced in quantity.

…And if peace and order for the realm are to be maintained thereafter, the methods of making firearms must be kept strictly secret.

As they spoke, Ying Changchuan picked up from the desk a Caltrop Fireball that had not yet been filled with powder and carefully examined it in his hands.

Now that the firearms trial had succeeded, the plan to establish an “armory” also needed to be put on the agenda.

At this thought, Fei Jinyuan, who was in charge of weapons manufacture, could not help bowing and saying, “Your Majesty, in this minister’s opinion, the hollow between the hills we saw today is spacious and lies within the Fulin Army’s camp; it is the optimal site for setting up a weapons workshop.”

“As for personnel…” Fei Jinyuan paused, then said, “They can be served by soldiers.”

Hearing this, Xue Kejin, standing to the side, also bowed and said, “Please be at ease, Your Majesty. This minister will certainly find the most suitable candidates within the Fulin Army!”

The Fulin Army were Ying Changchuan’s personal troops and had always been loyal to Great Zhou.

Selecting people here to manufacture firearms could not be more secure.

Hearing this, Jiang Yuxun could not help pressing his lips together.

People of antiquity did not yet possess a clear “assembly-line” consciousness.

Most implements were made from start to finish by the same artisan.

Although the Fulin Army was reliable, even Xue Kejin, as deputy general, could not guarantee that no one would make mistakes.

In his view, if one wished to keep the formula for firearms strictly secret, each and every step in the process had to be separated and carried out independently.

“Your Majesty…” With this thought, Jiang Yuxun could not help calling out to Ying Changchuan.

Ying Changchuan’s fingers paused, and he slowly let his gaze land on Jiang Yuxun. “What is it?”

Jiang Yuxun gave him a formal salute, then stood and said with utmost earnestness:

“In this minister’s view, every step of the firearms’ manufacture can be entrusted to different bodies and individuals. For example, one place will be responsible for mixing tung oil and bitumen; another will be responsible for preparing oiled paper and yellow wax. The Fulin camp will be responsible only for the final assembly.”

Because he was “the son of the Grand General of the South-Pacification,” none of those present thought Jiang Yuxun was deliberately finding fault with the Fulin Army.

Instead, they nodded lightly and followed along his line of thought.

Xue Kejin could not help clapping in approval: “If each place knows only a portion of the formula for the ingredients, then even if someone wants to privately forge firearms, they will have a hard time producing anything with real killing power!”

Jiang Yuxun hastily said, “Yes, that is precisely this minister’s meaning.”

Having said this, he could not help letting his gaze fall upon Ying Changchuan.

As emperor, Ying Changchuan very seldom made his attitude known plainly in front of his ministers.

But today he actually set down the fire-caltrop in his hand, and while wiping his hands with a silk kerchief, said with unusual straightforwardness, “Beloved minister speaks sensibly.”

After a few breaths’ pause, he turned to Fei Jinyuan at his side: “For the time being, let Lord Fei take charge of arranging the armory.”

“Yes, Your Majesty!” Fei Jinyuan hurried forward to receive the decree.

As soon as the words fell, soldiers came in bearing the day’s food.

Noise swelled instantly at Jiang Yuxun’s ears.

Yet he could not help observing Fei Jinyuan’s expression.

—Dressed in a dark official robe, he was drinking freely and chatting with his colleagues, looking to be in fine spirits.

The proposal had been put forward by himself, and the work of firearms manufacture was also to be primarily his responsibility.

But Ying Changchuan had assigned the auxiliary work to Fei Jinyuan, his own direct superior.

However one looked at it, this was somewhat overstepping.

Yet in the command tent, aside from him, no one seemed to harbor the slightest doubt.

As if it were taken for granted that he should direct Fei Jinyuan.

Strange—had they forgotten his official rank?

By mid-feast, the mood gradually rose to a pitch.

Many in the tent had once crossed blades with Zherou; having personally witnessed the power of the “Caltrop Fireball,” they could not help talking about those days.

As they chatted, they brought back to Jiang Yuxun’s mind what Ying Changchuan had just said…

Carving off flesh with a silver blade to take off armor?

Ying Changchuan was really treating him like a child to coax!

Bear it for a moment and the more one thinks, the angrier one gets; take a step back and the more one thinks, the greater the loss.

Jiang Yuxun decided to return tit for tat.

As the feast was about to end, he finally sidled up next to Zhuang Yue and, with a covert whisper, asked him, “Elder, did you also take part in that great war with Zherou in those years?”

Zhuang Yue took a sip of tea and turned to look at Jiang Yuxun. “Yes. What of it?”

“…I see,” Jiang Yuxun nodded lightly, then, cradling the tea cup in both hands, asked in earnest, “Is Zherou still cold in spring?”

Jiang Yuxun deliberately lowered his voice.

By rights, this exchange should have been heard only by him and Zhuang Yue.

But out of the corner of his eye, Jiang Yuxun saw… the Ying Changchuan seated on the highest seat also slowly lower his gaze.

Zhuang Yue, a man of the ranks, always had a loud voice: “Once spring begins, it’s no longer cold. In my view, the climate there is no different from Zhaodu.”

On hearing this, several generals who had likewise taken part in a few campaigns turned and explained to Jiang Yuxun:

“In Zherou, once spring opens, temperatures rise sharply… Oh, the winds are rather strong, but that doesn’t matter!”

“It doesn’t rain much there in spring.”

Jiang Yuxun hurriedly nodded. “Oh… I see.”

He deliberately drew out his tone as he nodded, speaking as he straightened up and looked toward the highest seat.

Snow was once more drifting down in midair, and the bonfire in the tent lit up the Son of Heaven’s cheeks.

Ying Changchuan, holding a cup of hot tea, was still wearing that usual unruffled expression.

In the instant their gazes met, he even remembered to smile faintly and nod toward Jiang Yuxun… Not the least bit embarrassed?

Misjudged—Ying Changchuan’s face seemed to be even thicker than imagined!

After the Beginning of Spring, the days warmed bit by bit, and the great snows melted away.

The list of envoys to Zherou was, in a rare move, held back by Ying Changchuan until the last moment before he approved it.

In the Liuyun Hall, Eunuch Sang had just taken the memorial and was about to depart when the Son of Heaven suddenly called out, “Wait.”

“Yes—” Eunuch Sang hurriedly bowed and placed the memorial back on the desk.

Ying Changchuan’s gaze slowly fell upon the three characters “Jiang Yuxun,” and after a moment’s pause he said again, “No matter. Send it on.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

…

In the Xianyou Palace, the peach trees had already budded with small tips.

Dawn had not yet broken, and frost still lay upon the flowered boughs. The carts loaded with silk and medicinal herbs had long since been waiting at the palace gate.

“So sleepy…” Tang Yimeng, who was traveling to Zherou with Jiang Yuxun, let out a massive yawn. “The royal court stands at the southernmost end of Zherou. If riding fast horses, one could arrive in under three days. But carrying so many things, we will of course be much slower.”

Turning and seeing Jiang Yuxun still full of vigor, he could not help asking with curiosity, “Lord Jiang, what hour did you sleep last night? How are you not the least bit tired?”

“The Hai hour,” Jiang Yuxun said with an embarrassed smile. “Thinking that I’m about to leave the palace, I can’t help feeling a bit excited.”

Besides visiting Princess Lianyi, they also bore the task of inspecting the progress of the borderlands’ military-cultivation fields, so they set out ten-odd days earlier than originally planned.

At the thought that he was about to be far from the Son of Heaven, Jiang Yuxun could not contain his excitement.

Tang Yimeng couldn’t help yawning again, then muttered, “…Strange.”

What is there to be excited about in going to a place as bitterly cold as Zherou?

It was only the Yin hour; the stars still hung in the sky.

Standing beside the palace lamp, the commander of the Xuan Yin Directorate stole a careful glance at the person beside him.

The Son of Heaven, dressed in a gardenia-white brocade robe, stood beneath the peach tree, the hem of his garment stained with a touch of dew.

Wasn’t His Majesty going to practice swordsmanship? How did he end up circling all the way here?

Could it be he had something else to instruct the envoys?

Just as the Xuan Yin commander puzzled fruitlessly, the gates of the Xianyou Palace opened with a soft “creak.”

Not far away, Jiang Yuxun stretched lazily and eagerly invited Tang Yimeng onto the carriage: “Come, Lord Tang, catch up on sleep in the carriage!”

“Ah, all right!” Tang Yimeng unwillingly got on with him, and after a few breaths, the carriage finally moved forward, the first to roll out of the Xianyou Palace.

Ying Changchuan’s brows drew together slightly.

As Son of Heaven, he never played favorites, yet at this moment… he wished the palace gates would open just a little later.

Ying Changchuan hid this unfamiliar emotion deep in his heart.

“Let’s go.”

The Son of Heaven smiled faintly and turned to walk back into the depths of the Xianyou Palace.

“Yes, Your Majesty!”

The Xuan Yin commander hurried to keep up, yet could not help feeling puzzled.

His Majesty had taken a long detour to get here—could it be merely to send the envoys off from afar?

When had His Majesty ever been so considerate toward his officials…

※

A heavy clang born of shackles striking broke the silence within the Liuyun Hall.

Beyond the taotie-backed screen, a disheveled, barefoot man was brought before the Son of Heaven under the escort of the Xuan Yin Directorate.

His hair was matted, his face sallow, and even his eyes were filled with dark red bloodshot veins; he looked utterly terrifying.

The instant he saw the emperor, the man fell to his knees with a thud.

Then, trembling, he spoke in the Great Zhou official tongue tinged with a thick Zherou accent: “Spare me—beg His Majesty for mercy… I—I was only following orders. Ask what you will—so long as I know it, I—I will tell you everything!”

Ying Changchuan did not lift his eyes but continued perusing the memorials in his hand.

Seeing this, the man began knocking his head on the floor again and again.

In no time at all, a foul pool of blood had gathered on the ground.

—This man was one of the Zherou soldiers captured a few months prior; at the time, Jiang Yuxun had guessed he could speak the Great Zhou tongue.

Seeing that Ying Changchuan still did not speak, the kneeling soldier grew even more terrified.

His head already had no intact patch of skin, yet like a madman he kept kowtowing without cease.

At this sight, even the North-Pacifying General standing in attendance before the throne could not help frowning.

…This was the very man he himself had, a few hours earlier, brought here together with the Xuan Yin Directorate.

Thinking back to that time, the North-Pacifying General felt a chill at his back.

Ying Changchuan had not ordered torture for this soldier but had imprisoned him alone in the Xuan Yin Directorate’s “round cell.”

The walls of the round cell were all curved; prisoners were half-suspended within.

They had no way to sit or lie down, only to stand with difficulty against the curved walls.

Only when exhausted to the utmost could they doze for a moment.

Yet once they fell into deep sleep, if they unconsciously tried to sit, the pain in their hands would jolt them awake.

This soldier had been kept in the round cell for months, and a few days ago his mind finally broke completely.

He began to weep and beg for mercy, saying he was willing to tell the emperor everything he knew.

“Thud, thud, thud—”

For a time, in the Liuyun Hall there remained only the resounding crash of a forehead striking the floor.

The stench of blood on the ground grew stronger and stronger; just as the soldier was about to faint, Ying Changchuan finally frowned and slowly set down the brush in his hand.

At this, Eunuch Sang hurried forward and instructed those around him: “Why haven’t you cleaned this filth from the hall!”

“Yes!” The many palace attendants in the Liuyun Hall hurried forward to wipe the floor with silk cloths.

The North-Pacifying General exhaled in relief, hauled the man up with one hand, and said, “Speak—what did you intend with the incursion into Great Zhou a few months ago!”

“Reporting to His Majesty… to the Ge-General…” The Zherou soldier, covered in blood, hurriedly steadied his breath and said, “I am a subordinate of the Zherou Qiuqi King. He… he was dissatisfied with the other two kings’ strategy and wished all along to hasten south and seize Great Zhou.”

The Zherou soldier spoke haltingly with a thick accent.

But after a while, those in the hall understood his meaning—

Having been beaten into fear by Ying Changchuan, Zherou did not dare act rashly before they had ascertained Great Zhou’s military situation.

But among Zherou’s three kings, the “Qiuqi King” could never curb his heart for invasion.

Coveting Great Zhou’s lands, yet unwilling to damage the alliance among the three kings, he had, a few months earlier, finally let his men loose to pillage villages, hoping to force Great Zhou to strike first at Zherou and thus drag the other two kings into the war.

“As for us few… cough, cough, our original task was to lure the enemy,” the soldier continued, “and also to eavesdrop on your conversations and grasp the movements of Great Zhou’s armies.”

The North-Pacifying General frowned at him. “Lure the enemy?”

The soldier swallowed a mouthful of blood and said, “The Qiuqi King had us feign submission and pass on to you that Zherou was easily defeated, luring you to… to act in autumn.”

Autumn is when Zherou’s horses are fat and bows are strong, their fighting power at its peak; if war began then, their odds were greater than Great Zhou’s.

They had not expected that Ying Changchuan would not buy their ploy in the least.

Hearing this, the North-Pacifying General snorted. “What nonsense is this? After all these years, the Qiuqi King is still so foolish, to come up with such a stupid stratagem!”

After these words, the Liuyun Hall fell silent once more.

The soldier cautiously lifted his head, peered through the gap of the taotie screen at Ying Changchuan, seemingly trying to gauge the other’s expression to see whether he had preserved his life.

Yet in Ying Changchuan’s smoke-gray eyes, there was still no trace of warmth.

He picked up a memorial again and leafed through it, then, offhandedly, said, “Oh? And how is Lone One to know that what you say today is not false?”

At once, the soldier’s heart sank.

He moved forward on his knees a few steps. “Your Majesty, this time, this time your servant will certainly not speak falsehoods again!”

Caring for nothing else, the soldier immediately poured out everything he knew:

“The Zherou children can ride sheep, draw a bow to shoot birds and mice. When a bit older, they shoot foxes and rabbits; from the time they can walk, they can ride and shoot. In this respect, your Great Zhou soldiers can by no means keep pace.”

Ying Changchuan slowly narrowed his eyes.

The Zherou soldier’s voice reverberated again and again in the Liuyun Hall: “We are not like your Great Zhou soldiers, who serve only two years of military service in a lifetime. Rather, from childhood we take hunting and herding as military training!”

The Zherou people “combine soldiery with herding”; once they meet war, all become armored cavalry.

This was not unfamiliar to Ying Changchuan.

In his nervousness, the soldier became somewhat incoherent.

But what he said next managed at last to pique Ying Changchuan’s interest a little.

“…I have been in the Zherou army; the discipline there is not as strict as yours. And most are only in it for plunder. If defeated and there is no profit to be had, the army at once becomes a heap of loose sand, not even obeying orders,” at this, he couldn’t help lifting his eyes to look at Ying Changchuan, “After losing to you that year, Zherou fell into disorder for a long time.”

Then, growing a bit calmer, the soldier went on to speak in detail of the internal strife of those years, even the core tactics of “luring the enemy deep,” and their methods of training troops.

—What he said was finally no longer common knowledge.

For the sake of his life, the soldier continually demonstrated his sincerity.

By the time he was dragged away, his voice had gone completely hoarse.

The palace attendants finished cleaning the Liuyun Hall and withdrew.

In the blink of an eye, only Ying Changchuan and the North-Pacifying General remained.

The Son of Heaven rose and looked toward the map hanging at the side.

At last, he lightly stroked the blank space upon the map.

The North-Pacifying General clenched his teeth and said, “If the Zherou cannot win, they run—shameless to the extreme! To catch the Zherou main force on the steppe, cavalry must be trained well. And to train cavalry, both men and horses are indispensable.”

Ying Changchuan lowered his gaze.

Great Zhou’s soldiers lagged behind Zherou in physical conditioning and in mounted archery.

Beyond that, the quality of their war horses also needed improvement.

No sooner had Ying Changchuan thought this than the North-Pacifying General could not help lowering his voice: “…Lord Jiang once told this minister that the Central Plains are not suited to raising horses. If possible, it would be best to establish army studs in the northern lands.”

“Oh?” Ying Changchuan finally spoke at this moment. “When did he say this?”

“Reporting to Your Majesty, just before going north!”

Having said this, the general lifted his head to glance at Ying Changchuan.

Seeing the Son of Heaven nod lightly, a conjecture suddenly rose in the North-Pacifying General’s heart.

He drew a careful breath, then could not help softly asking Ying Changchuan, “…Might Your Majesty personally review the garrison in the northern lands?”

The Son of Heaven had always liked to take things into his own hands; military affairs, all the more, he kept a tight hold over.

Would he really not go see with his own eyes the training of the northern garrison?

Ying Changchuan’s fingers paused and slowly dropped from the map.

…It seemed time to go and take a look at the northern lands.

Jiang Yuxun and his party took four days to reach the border region between Great Zhou and Zherou.

The generals’ words that day were not wrong.

After spring began, the northern lands were, apart from stronger winds and more desolation, not much different from Zhaodu.

On the day they reached their destination, Jiang Yuxun’s curiosity and anticipation vanished without a trace.

The day had not yet come to proceed to the Zherou royal court, so Jiang Yuxun and several other officials split up to inspect in detail the state of the garrison-farming here.

The work was not difficult, only exceedingly dull and tedious.

The spring winds of the northern lands brushed past, mingled with coarse grit.

Jiang Yuxun couldn’t help narrowing his eyes.

“…Here in Zefang, the army provisions are basically wheat, so what is cultivated in the fields is wheat alone,” the soldier responsible for developing the field before them explained to him.

Neighboring Zherou, the Zefang Commandery had also seen a whole winter of snow.

In the past few days, the great snows had just melted, and the fields developed in haste last year had revealed their true appearance.

The swift winds of the north swept through the wheat fields, a sea of green swaying with the gusts.

This was the only color of early spring in Zefang Commandery.

“And it will be like this henceforth?”

“Yes,” the accompanying soldier nodded, “Wheat may not taste great, but its yield is thirty percent higher than millet. Planting it brings the most return.”

Jiang Yuxun gently nodded.

In this era, millet was the staple but had low yield: per mu in a year it yielded just over a hundred catties, whereas if one planted wheat instead, it could yield nearly two hundred catties.

Therefore, even if wheat tasted bad, the borderlands indeed had to cultivate it on a large scale.

Thinking of this, he became all the more eager to find new wheat strains through Zherou.

The lands of Zefang Commandery were vast; these past few days, when Jiang Yuxun rode back to the encampment, it was often already past mealtime.

“Lord Jiang, do come and rest! The remaining fields can be inspected this afternoon.”

No sooner had Jiang Yuxun dismounted than he was invited into the command tent.

Dressed in a sky-blue official robe, he hurriedly waved his hand. “A moment—let me wash my face first.”

Saying so, he headed to another tent.

The northern lands in spring were no longer cold, but water boiled an hour ago still carried a bit of biting chill now.

The instant his fingers touched the water in the basin, Jiang Yuxun’s hands stung.

“Hiss—”

He lowered his head to look at the blisters in his palms from riding, then carefully took up a silk kerchief and washed his face.

Though it was spring, great swathes of uncultivated land still lay bare.

Ying Changchuan had exaggerated by a hundred millionth, but the environment in the north truly was somewhat harsher than he had imagined.

…

An oil lamp cast its light within the windowless command tent.

Food had already been set out on the table, steam rising from it.

When they saw him arrive, those who had already begun eating immediately rose to salute and chorused, “We pay our respects to Lord Jiang!”

The thunderous shout startled Jiang Yuxun. “No need to stand on ceremony—everyone, please sit.”

At the same time, he unconsciously straightened his back and took the main seat they had intentionally left open for him.

“Yes, my lord!”

Those seated in the tent were all soldiers in charge of the garrison-farming, at least at the rank of chiliarch.

Under the respectful gazes of so many, Jiang Yuxun’s movements grew somewhat stiff.

He adjusted his posture and, imitating those beside him, feigned solemnity as he picked up the bowl and chopsticks on the table.

At the same time, he couldn’t help darting glances downward from the corner of his eye.

Once seated at the main seat, Jiang Yuxun suddenly felt the illusion of standing at the lectern back in his student days.

Everything that happened below fell crisply and clearly into his line of sight.

…Could you people not make your sneaking looks quite so obvious!

Was Ying Changchuan usually watched like this?

Was he truly not embarrassed in the least.

Unable to eat under so many stares, Jiang Yuxun could not help grabbing a topic at random. “…When will the border-settlement by migrant households begin this time?”

The previous dynasty had implemented a “closure and prohibition of the vacant borders” policy; Great Zhou did not intend to continue that approach but planned to relocate commoners from near Zhaodu to settle and farm the borderlands.

This policy had been set during the Yuanri period, and implementation should be imminent.

The chiliarch’s reply was concise: “In reply to Lord Jiang, after the Qingming Festival.” Having answered, he fell silent at once.

“I see…” Jiang Yuxun nodded with all seriousness, though in his heart he was already screaming.

Why was the atmosphere so solemn?

No wonder Ying Changchuan usually liked to have him speak.

Seeing that they truly would not continue talking, Jiang Yuxun could only steel himself and pick up his rice bowl, eating the wheat rice grain by grain.

Wheat that could not be milled into flour truly tasted poor.

Conditions in the northern lands were harsh; even officers could only eat pickled vegetables whose names Jiang Yuxun didn’t even know.

Having been out all day, he had been ravenously hungry, but after just a couple of bites, Jiang Yuxun’s appetite was gone.

By comparison, the food of the Xianyou Palace was bland, but at least it could be swallowed.

At this thought, Jiang Yuxun could not help giving a faint sigh.

Who knew what Ying Changchuan was doing at this time.

…Nine times out of ten, feasting on rich delicacies.

No—why was he thinking about him again?

Jiang Yuxun’s sigh was not loud, yet several chiliarchs around him instantly tensed up and raised their heads in unison to ask, “Lord Jiang, what troubles you?”

The firelight in the tent flickered; seeing their grave expressions, Jiang Yuxun hurriedly explained, “It’s nothing—just that I suddenly thought of Zhaodu and… affairs at court.”

“Affairs at court? Might we aid my lord in sharing the burden?”

The emperor was far away here; seeing their determination to get to the bottom of things, Jiang Yuxun simply stopped pretending.

He set down his bowl and chopsticks and asked, “Has the army’s fare always been like this?”

“In reply to Lord Jiang, in Zefang Commandery grain transport is inconvenient, so army provisions have always been like this.”

“When His Majesty was fighting here in those years, did he also eat these things?”

At this, Jiang Yuxun’s tone suddenly shifted.

If the chiliarchs around him were also transmigrators, they would certainly have recognized his current state as “gossip mode.”

Ying Changchuan was of noble birth, reared in silks and brocades.

After becoming emperor, he was even more particular.

During the southern tour, Jiang Yuxun had very much wanted to know—would a man like him remain particular when personally leading troops in war?

“Uh…” The chiliarch on Jiang Yuxun’s right scratched his head and said, “The same—His Majesty has always eaten and lodged with the soldiers.”

Who would have thought!

The Chronicles of Zhou did not record things in such detail; hearing this, a faint thrill of uncovering a historical mystery rose in Jiang Yuxun’s heart.

If he could travel back to the modern day, would he not possess firsthand historical material unknown even to historians?

Thinking of Ying Changchuan’s martial skills, Jiang Yuxun asked again, “And training—was it together as well?”

“Yes!” The soldiers around him answered with exceptional crispness. “His Majesty’s martial skills are outstanding, and each day he rises to practice before the Mao hour, even earlier than the soldiers—”

Ying Changchuan had always treated soldiers with generosity.

The garrison in the northern lands regarded him as a deity.

Seeing Jiang Yuxun’s interest in Ying Changchuan’s days of leading troops, the atmosphere in the tent changed abruptly.

At this point, the crowd finally relaxed and, far from being as taut as before, vied with one another to share trifles about Ying Changchuan.

Today the craving for gossip could be sated to the fullest!

Seeing the crowd so cooperative, Jiang Yuxun asked more and more eagerly.

“…Truly? Then when His Majesty was on campaign, did he also carry his own dry rations?”

“No way—he could even stomach bran cakes?”

“What else? Tell me more.”

…

Zefang Commandery was vast and sparsely populated.

For a hundred li around, there were only fields and command tents.

Jiang Yuxun’s voice drifted out of the tent and, in an instant, rang across half the barren plain.

In the distance, the hooves of a dark warhorse suddenly halted.

The man astride lifted a hand lightly, signaling the column to stop.

He slowly closed his eyes.

The fierce winds of the north blew a familiar voice to his ears.

“…Do you truly think His Majesty is easy to get along with in daily life?”

The speaker’s voice was clear and gentle, full of doubt and astonishment.

Hearing this, the man on horseback arched a brow and, all of a sudden, became curious to hear what came next.

Author’s Note:

• Records of the Grand Historian

Footnotes:

1. Caltrop Fireball: A historical fire weapon employing spiked, caltrop-like fragments and an explosive or incendiary charge; here it denotes a spherical munition packed with spines that can maim mounts and embed in hard surfaces.

2. Assembly-line consciousness: A modern term used anachronistically to contrast with premodern artisanal production in which a single craftsman handled the full process.

3. Round cell: A specialized carceral cell with curved walls where prisoners were suspended such that they could neither sit nor lie, inducing sleep deprivation and pain-triggered wakefulness.

4. “Combine soldiery with herding” and armored cavalry: A classical formulation indicating nomadic lifeways doubling as continuous military training, producing horse-archer forces that could rapidly mobilize in war.

5. Zhaodu, Xianyou Palace, Liuyun Hall, Fulin Army, Zherou, Qiuqi King: In-universe proper nouns referring to the capital, palatial and administrative sites, an elite guard unit, a steppe polity, and one of its rulers, respectively.

6. Chronology markers (e.g., Mao hour, Hai hour): Traditional Chinese timekeeping divides the day into twelve double-hours; Hai ≈ 9–11 p.m., Mao ≈ 5–7 a.m.