Chapter 128: The Marquis of Zhenbei

Zheng Fan could not understand exactly what the Emperor meant.

But the less he understood, the more frightening it felt.

The Yan Emperor’s airy tone and utterly indifferent attitude resembled an abyss.

One glance into it was enough to make the heart panic.

Little Sixth had often described how cold-blooded his father was.

Before this, Zheng Fan had never taken it too seriously.

An Emperor was an Emperor.

If he was not ruthless, how could he sit alone above everyone else and call himself sovereign?

But only after facing the man himself did Zheng Fan finally feel whoever had this man for a father probably never enjoyed much of a childhood.

“Garrison Commander Zheng.

“It is time to withdraw.”

Wei Zhonghe quietly reminded him.

Zheng Fan came back to himself and immediately said, “This subject takes his leave.”

Wei Zhonghe accompanied Zheng Fan out of the imperial study.

Then he said, “Garrison Commander Zheng.

“What His Majesty says is what it is.

“If you have leisure in the future, you may certainly visit Third Highness at Lakeheart Pavilion.

“Lakeheart Pavilion is cold and lonely.

“Third Highness will surely find it dull there by himself.”

“Many thanks for Eunuch Wei’s guidance.”

Eunuchs all seemed fond of money.

But Zheng Fan had prepared nothing.

And even if he had prepared something, he still would not have dared stroll up to Wei Zhonghe and try stuffing silver into his hands.

Right now, what Zheng Fan wanted most was to leave the capital and return to Willow Fort.

Perhaps that desire sounded a little unambitious.

But it was his first instinct.

His second instinct was That smells incredible.

Wei Zhonghe did not escort Zheng Fan farther.

He turned around and returned to the imperial study.

Zheng Fan walked into the Imperial Garden.

The fragrance grew stronger and stronger.

He deviated slightly from the path and walked a short distance westward.

Beside a pond a middle-aged man sat roasting a leg of lamb.

When the man saw Zheng Fan, he beckoned.

“Give me a hand.”

Truthfully the moment Zheng Fan saw him, he had already guessed his identity.

Throughout Great Yan, there were probably only three bearded men who could sit inside the Imperial Garden roasting lamb legs.

But the Marquis of Jingnan was still at the Tian estate wrapping up the extermination of his own clan.

And Zheng Fan had just met His Majesty inside the imperial study.

Which meant only one man remained.

The man who, after entering the capital, was said to have stayed the entire time inside the Western Garden built by Qian craftsmen at the late Emperor’s command.

But if he wanted to stroll into the Imperial Garden and roast himself a lamb leg that was perfectly normal.

Garrison Commander Zheng was a little tired.

These past twenty-four hours had truly been an absurdly eventful day.

First, he had accompanied the Marquis of Jingnan to eat roast duck and chatted with Little Sixth along the way.

Then he had gone to the Princes’ Residence, witnessed brothers scheme against one another, and personally crippled the Third Prince.

After that, without even catching his breath, he followed the Marquis of Jingnan home.

At the Tian estate, dinner had barely been placed on the table before the Marquis issued an extermination order against his own clan.

Once the clan was exterminated, Zheng Fan was immediately dispatched as a messenger.

He entered the palace.

And had just met the Yan Emperor.

Fuck.

The cold sweat on his back from leaving the imperial study had not even dried and now he had run into the Marquis of Zhenbei sitting there roasting a leg of lamb.

Seriously.

The plot was far too packed.

In his previous life, even when Zheng Fan drew comics, he would never have dared cram everything together without giving the reader a chance to breathe.

The reason was simple.

If you did not pad things out and control the pacing, how was the comic supposed to run for a long time?

And if it did not run long how were you supposed to keep charging money?

But there was nothing Zheng Fan could do.

The Marquis of Zhenbei was sitting right there.

And he had waved Zheng Fan over.

No matter how exhausted or miserable you were no matter how much you wanted to curse society you still had to go.

Zheng Fan jogged over.

He did not salute.

Instead, he simply crouched beside the fire.

“Turn it.”

“All right.”

Eating barbecue with a superior was absolutely one of the fastest ways to shorten the distance between people.

At a moment like this, if you became too obsessed with etiquette and immediately started bowing and saluting, it would actually feel distant.

Worse you might ruin the superior’s enjoyment of the barbecue.

One minute on stage ten years of effort beneath it.

Perhaps being flattered by the Blind Man and the others every day for more than half a year after awakening had all been preparation for this one day so that when Zheng Fan finally stood before these great figures, he could move naturally between familiarity and respect.

Zheng Fan had once wondered why the Blind Man and the others went out of their way to flatter him from every conceivable angle.

Now he understood.

Their intentions had been profound indeed.

Zheng Fan slowly rotated the leg of lamb.

Fat dripped constantly onto the charcoal.

That smell…

He really was hungry.

At Little Sixth’s roast-duck restaurant, Zheng Fan had spent almost the entire time talking.

He had eaten only one duck leg.

Later, at the Tian estate, he had barely begun eating dinner before being dragged into a clan extermination.

Back and forth back and forth and he had barely eaten anything solid all day.

Dawn was already approaching.

Strangely, he did not feel especially sleepy.

Everything he had done and witnessed today was the kind of thing that kept the heart surging.

He simply felt hungry.

Truthfully roast lamb leg was delicious.

But could it really be so delicious it reached the heavens?

Probably not.

Just like Little Sixth’s roast duck.

No matter how beautifully you prepared it, it was still roast duck.

Anyone who had lived through the material abundance of later generations often experienced the same problem.

You traveled somewhere.

Tasted a supposedly famous local specialty.

And most likely thought—

Oh.

So that’s it.

Then happily took a picture and posted it to Moments.

Food was not an immortal elixir.

Unless someone mixed drugs into it, there was no such thing as dishes constantly exploding with divine radiance like in *Cooking Master Boy*.

Eating depended largely upon mood.

And a huge part of that mood came from who you were eating with.

Back at Willow Fort and earlier in Tiger Head City, Zheng Fan liked sitting with the Blind Man in the mornings.

They would drink porridge together.

Eat it with several small plates of pickled vegetables and one salted duck egg.

It tasted wonderful.

Afterward, each would toss the other a cigarette.

And a pleasant day would begin that way.

Now this roast lamb leg was personally being cooked by the Marquis of Zhenbei.

Naturally it carried a layer of celebrity effect.

Add Zheng Fan’s hunger and his desire for the lamb grew even stronger.

The Marquis of Zhenbei was also a man who cared about details.

He pulled several small bottles and jars from his pocket.

Salt.

Chili powder.

Cumin.

Various seasonings.

The cuisines of this era had not yet developed completely.

Yet seeing the Marquis lay out those ingredients all at once gave Zheng Fan a sudden sense of meeting a kindred spirit.

Normally, unless Siniang and the others were around to cook properly, Zheng Fan ate purely to avoid starving.

Even the Marquis of Jingnan’s pickled-fish stew the pickled vegetables had been so black that Zheng Fan had not recognized them on his first bite!

“Hey.

“This part isn’t cooked through yet.”

The Marquis of Zhenbei took the lamb leg from Zheng Fan and began turning it himself again.

Someone accustomed to eating roast lamb naturally carried his own standards for heat and doneness.

Zheng Fan did not panic or worry about being blamed.

Once the Marquis took over turning the lamb, Zheng Fan simply picked up the bottles and jars from the ground.

Then he began adding the seasonings in order.

At first, the Marquis said nothing.

But after watching Zheng Fan apply one seasoning after another in a methodical sequence adjusting by time and by part of the meat a trace of surprise appeared in his eyes.

Then he asked, “You know what you’re doing?”

“I just like good food.”

With Siniang and the others around, Zheng Fan naturally possessed every condition needed to eat and drink well.

And he had never believed pursuing enjoyment of food was somehow sinful when circumstances allowed it.

Take Shatuo Queshi.

If Zheng Fan had been drinking plain water and chewing cold flatbread like everyone else while escorting the birthday gifts that day—

Shatuo Queshi might never have noticed him.

So those who loved to eat were rarely too unlucky.

“Tsk, tsk.

“What’s your name?”

“Zheng Fan!

“Former Lieutenant Commander of Merchant Protection at Tiger Head City under the Zhenbei Army of Beifeng Commandery!”

“Oh.

“So you’re Zheng Fan?”

“You actually know me?”

“I do.

“I do.

“Was Qian fun?”

“It would have been more fun with more men.”

“Heh.

“How many would you need?”

“Right now— with five thousand cavalry, I could ride a full circuit through Qian’s three northern commanderies.

“With thirty thousand—

Qian’s frontier army would respectfully escort us out of their territory.”

“‘Respectfully escort.’

“Interesting phrasing.”

“I think so too.”

“I remember Tian Wujing submitted a memorial containing your strategy for attacking Qian.

“You advocated using cavalry corps to annihilate Qian’s elite frontier field forces in open battle?”

“Yes.

“Qian’s frontier army is badly corrupted.

“Their troop registers are hollow.

“Pay and provisions are inadequate.

“When I attacked Mianzhou City, there were actually two or three thousand Mianzhou garrison troops standing near the gate.

“But those men were more practiced at holding hoes than swords.

“The only forces capable of genuinely threatening us were the household troops maintained by Qian’s frontier generals— and the field cavalry of the three military commands.”

“But that is different from what you said earlier.

“In the memorial, you opposed cutting flesh slowly with a soft knife.”

“You ask the question.

“I answer it.”

“Mm.

“First destroy the frontier army’s elite field forces.

“Then strike directly at the heart.

“Isn’t that somewhat too risky?”

“Then let me ask the Marquis something.

“Among Great Yan’s three great armies— how should their strength be ranked?”

“The Zhenbei Army naturally ranks first.”

“Deservedly so.”

Whether in troop quality, equipment, or true battlefield experience, the Zhenbei Army was unquestionably the strongest cavalry force in the eastern lands of this era.

“The Jingnan Army ranks second.”

“Why does the Jingnan Army rank second?” Zheng Fan asked.

The Jingnan Army possessed only fifty thousand men.

Even counting the fifty thousand reservists of the Rear Camp, it remained roughly half the size of the two-hundred-thousand-strong Imperial Guards.

“A century ago, when warfare was fierce, it was normal for the Imperial Guards of the capital to campaign outside.

“Whether north against the barbarians or south against Jin and Qian, they were constantly on the move.

“Setting out once and not returning for ten years was hardly unusual.

“But the frontiers have been peaceful for many years.

“There have been no major wars.

“The Imperial Guards have barely moved from the capital for decades.

“No matter how numerous they are— no matter how bright their armor no matter how imposing they look on ceremonial duty they are ultimately still a decorated shell.

“They cannot compare with the savage spirit of frontier troops.”

“Exactly.

“If Great Yan can destroy the elite forces of all three Qian military commands inside Qian’s three northern commanderies— then send one hundred thousand iron cavalry straight toward their heart how many of the supposedly eight hundred thousand troops in Qian’s Capital Army can actually be pulled out to fight?

“Even if the Qian Emperor orders every army in the realm to rush to the capital— even if a vast flood of relief forces comes pouring in from every region their command, troop quality, and coordination will unquestionably be poor.

“At that time, Great Yan’s hundred thousand iron cavalry can defeat both Qian’s Capital Army and those relief forces beneath Shangjing itself.

“After that— the courage in Qian men’s blood will collapse.

“As for Shangjing— in my view, there will be no need to storm it.

“It will break by itself.”

“You are that certain?”

“Yes.”

“Young men possess sharp ambition.

“That is good.

“Heh.

“According to your plan, if Great Yan truly marches against Qian, in less than half a year all of Qian’s northern territory will fall into our hands.”

“Yes.

“Qian might only be able to cross the Qian River and cling to the south.”

“Eating too much in one bite can burst your stomach.”

“Take it first.

“We can worry afterward.

“Great Yan only needs to garrison the major cities of the newly conquered territories.

“As for everything else— leave it alone for the moment.”

“Heh.

“‘Leave it alone.’

“Good.”

The Marquis of Zhenbei did not continue evaluating Zheng Fan’s strategy.

In truth, Zheng Fan knew perfectly well that his plan matched exactly what Yan currently needed.

Tian Wujing had exterminated his own clan.

The Jingnan Army had moved north to seal the regions around the capital.

Although the blockade kept news from spreading freely the Yan Emperor’s purge of Great Yan’s aristocratic clans had already begun.

Perhaps the moment dawn arrived and morning court convened the slaughtering knives would truly come out.

But even scraping poison from the bone created tremendous weakness.

The state’s internal losses would be enormous.

A victorious foreign war was the best method for redirecting internal conflict.

Combine Yan’s territory, national strength, and population.

Then consider how long internal tensions could realistically remain redirected.

And on top of that consider the ages of the Yan Emperor, the Marquis of Zhenbei, and the others.

Great Yan did not have much time.

They could not afford delay.

Qian, conversely also lacked time.

If Yan failed to beat it to death with one blow if Qian received time to breathe, reform, and transform that would become a catastrophe for Yan.

So attacking Qian in something resembling a blitzkrieg was the inevitable choice.

It also prevented Jin and Chu from reacting in time and sending troops out of fear that Qian’s fall would leave them exposed.

“Roasting a lamb leg— you cannot think only about which cut of meat to choose.

“Or which part of the sheep.

“You also need to consider what fodder the sheep ate before slaughter.

“What region supplied the charcoal.

“Even the seasonings.

“Miss a single one and the flavor loses too much.

“Ordinary people roast lamb by putting meat over charcoal and calling it done.

“Their view is inevitably a little too narrow.”

“The Marquis is correct.”

“Good.

“This section is cooked.

“Eat it first.”

The Marquis of Zhenbei pulled out a small knife and sliced off a large piece of lamb.

He handed it to Zheng Fan.

At that exact moment a wolfhound burst from the distant flowerbeds and raced toward them.

“Heh.

“The instant the meat is done, you arrive.

“You truly have a dog’s nose.”

Zheng Fan understood that this enlarged black-shepherd-looking beast was probably the Marquis of Zhenbei’s own dog.

The Marquis had not only brought it from his estate into the capital he had even brought it inside the imperial palace.

That alone showed how much he loved the animal.

When the dog approached—

Zheng Fan held out the lamb in his hand.

Unexpectedly the Marquis immediately scolded him.

“What kind of rule is that?

“The man hasn’t eaten yet and you feed the beast first!”

Fuck.

He had tried flattering a dog and kicked the dog’s leg instead.

“The Marquis is right.

“The Marquis is right.”

Zheng Fan could only begin eating it himself.

The Marquis then sliced off another piece.

He took several large bites first.

Only afterward did he toss the bone—still carrying some meat—to the wolfhound.

The wolfhound sprawled on the ground, hugged the bone, and began gnawing.

“It has suffered following me.

“Normally, if I am not going hunting or inspecting the frontier— it cannot even drink one mouthful of meat broth.”

The Marquis was not being modest.

Nor was he trying to act pitiful.

Zheng Fan knew the food rules of the Marquis of Zhenbei’s estate.

The male members of the household ate according to military-camp standards.

Back then, even Little Sixth’s tutor and Eunuch Zhang had been unable to tolerate the estate’s food.

They had specifically asked Zheng Fan to go outside to the market and buy them meat.

Unlike the Marquis of Jingnan when the Marquis of Zhenbei entered the capital and went to Quande Restaurant to devour several roast ducks in one sitting, perhaps he truly had not been supporting Little Sixth’s business.

Maybe he had simply been starved of meat at home!

When generals went to war, putting on a show and eating one meal with their soldiers could already greatly encourage morale.

Yet the Marquis of Zhenbei had lived so austerely inside his own estate for years beyond counting.

Zheng Fan believed that only someone whose craving for food had been suppressed to a certain degree would wake up early in the morning and start roasting a leg of lamb.

One man denied himself appetite.

Another had severed the bonds of human kinship.

They did not abandon those things because they wished to live as ascetics and experience some spiritual “ascension” born from bodily hunger.

They abandoned them because they wanted to obtain more elsewhere.

At that moment, Wei Zhonghe came walking over at tremendous speed.

Zheng Fan genuinely felt Eunuch Wei would have been excellent at street dancing in later generations.

His moonwalk was outrageously smooth.

If he were twenty years younger, his aura would even have matched certain modern beauty standards.

He would definitely have gathered a huge fandom.

Wei Zhonghe first glanced at Zheng Fan.

Then turned toward the Marquis of Zhenbei.

His old face immediately blossomed like a chrysanthemum.

“Marquis.

“His Majesty sent this servant to fetch some meat from you.”

The Marquis pointed at Zheng Fan.

“There is only one leg of lamb.

“Originally I planned to give him one piece, leave a bone for the dog, then use the rest for breakfast.

“That would have been exactly enough.

“But now one more person is eating.

“Tell our Emperor there isn’t enough.

“He gets none.”

Zheng Fan froze with the lamb in his hand.

Eat it?

Not eat it?

Was he currently eating the Yan Emperor’s breakfast ration?

Wei Zhonghe immediately grew anxious.

“Aiyoyo, my Marquis!

“When His Majesty heard you were roasting lamb here, he specifically ordered the Imperial Kitchen to cancel today’s breakfast.

“His Majesty is waiting for your roast lamb this morning to fill his stomach before attending court!”

“He’ll go to court smelling like mutton.

“Isn’t he afraid of fumigating everyone?”

“How could that happen?

“His Majesty sits on the dragon throne.

“If anyone gets fumigated, it would only be this servant.”

“If I give him some— this Marquis won’t get full.”

“This servant will immediately order the Imperial Kitchen to send the Marquis another leg of lamb.”

“Sigh.

“Forget it.

“Forget it.”

The Marquis cut off a large chunk of lamb and tossed it to Wei Zhonghe.

Wei Zhonghe hurriedly caught it.

As though afraid it might cool, he immediately unleashed his moonwalk again and flew back toward the imperial study.

“You continue eating.”

The Marquis pointed at Zheng Fan.

“Yes, Marquis.”

Before, Zheng Fan had been calling him “you” respectfully and referring to himself casually.

But since Wei Zhonghe had openly called the man Marquis—

Zheng Fan naturally adjusted his own form of address.

The Marquis of Zhenbei stabbed the small knife into the remaining lamb.

Then asked, “Do you know why this Marquis stopped fighting our Emperor over this meat?”

“This subordinate would not dare say.”

“You’re an interesting one.

“This Marquis asks you about a lamb leg.

“What is there not to dare say?

“How about this:

If your answer is good enough good enough to satisfy this Marquis heh.

“One of my garrisons happens to be missing an Assistant General.”

Zheng Fan drew in a deep breath.

Blinking he lifted the lamb in his hand.

Then deliberately spoke in an aged, world-weary tone.

“Our family foundation is thin.

“There is only one leg of lamb.

“It was never enough to fill everyone.

“So what is the point in fighting over it?”

(End of Chapter)