Chapter 827: Our Turn

Morning.

Tian Tian and the Crown Prince had finished their morning lessons together, which meant reading passages aloud and memorizing them.

Afterward, one child carried out a square wooden stool while the other brought over two little stools.

Their godfather had returned to the Residence yesterday in a terrible mood. Both children had noticed, and neither Tian Tian nor the Crown Prince could possibly be kept in the dark about something like this.

Tian Tian was older now, so people already let him hear about outside affairs. At the princely investiture ceremony, his godfather had held him in his arms while receiving the title precisely so that the Heir of Prince Jingnan could formally appear before the world.

As for the Crown Prince, hiding matters from him was even less possible. It had nothing to do with his age, nor could anyone allow the gloomy air that had once formed around him because of his precocious intelligence to dictate matters. He was the Crown Prince. Some responsibilities simply could not be shifted onto someone else.

By the routine of Prince Pingxi Residence, every evening after dinner, at least one of the Blind Man, Chen Daole, or He Chunlai would bring over the day’s reports received by the Residence, meaning the “affairs of state,” and explain them to the two children.

So when the two little brats lay in bed at night, they genuinely discussed national affairs.

When Tian Tian accompanied his Crown Prince little brother outside to pee in the middle of the night, the Crown Prince might still mutter about a flood somewhere and how the people there were supposed to live.

And when Tian Tian drank the cup of goat milk he received at least once every day, he might worry whether extreme weather on the snowfields would reduce the livestock population, and whether the children in Fengxin City whose families could afford milk would still be able to drink it afterward.

As for what had happened yesterday... in Tian Tian’s understanding, an uncle who had been very close to his father had died in battle.

In the Crown Prince’s understanding, the state had lost a great general, and the Jin lands might become unstable.

It was not that Tian Tian could not think as far as the Crown Prince did. His attention simply centered on his father’s emotions. As for broader affairs of state, Tian Tian was not especially interested.

To a certain degree, Tian Wujing’s old hope that his child would grow up to resemble Zheng Fan had indeed borne fruit.

The great righteousness of state and people was too heavy.

To become a person who remained himself, caring only about the people around him and valuing only those he truly cared about... that was, in fact, an enormous kind of happiness.

But just as the two children were preparing to sit down and wait for breakfast to be brought over, they unexpectedly saw their godfather walking toward them.

Tian Tian stood and gave his chair to his father.

Zheng Fan sat down.

He had just shaved and bathed. His hair was still slightly damp. There was none of the haggardness one might expect after sitting alone through the entire night, nor did his mood show any obvious resentment or despondency.

Neither child dared ask.

Tian Tian went to ladle porridge.

The Crown Prince, now graduated from Tian Tian’s instruction, helped peel a salted duck egg for the Prince.

The atmosphere over breakfast was somewhat oppressive.

Zheng Fan ate one bowl of porridge with salted duck egg. After setting down his bowl and chopsticks, he reached over to pat the Crown Prince’s head, then pinched Tian Tian’s cheek.

Both children immediately displayed obedient little smiles.

Prince Pingxi smiled as well.

Then he rose and left.

Only after his figure disappeared beyond the courtyard gate did Tian Tian and the Crown Prince release long breaths almost at the same time.

...

After breakfast, Zheng Fan sat in a wicker chair in his own courtyard with his eyes closed.

The chair rocked faintly back and forth.

So did the Prince seated in it.

Perhaps he had been too tired last night and wanted to make up some sleep during the day.

Liu Ruqing came over supporting the Princess.

When the two women saw their husband “napping,” they exchanged a glance and did not go forward to wake him.

They knew perfectly well that with their husband’s cultivation, together with all the countless nights he had spent on battlefields, there was no possibility he had failed to notice them coming and walking this close.

If he had not “woken,” then he did not want to wake.

The two women left the courtyard again.

Liu Ruqing patted her chest and whispered:

“That was a little frightening just now.”

The Princess looked at her. She made no special effort to display the airs of a Princess Consort, merely nodding.

“Yes.”

Perhaps it was because the Prince was simply too easygoing at home.

He possessed authority, but he was also strangely “simple,” especially in the inner residence with his women. He might have endless tricks in bed, but underneath all of that was a thoughtfulness and delicacy most men of this era did not show toward their female dependents.

It was not as though the Prince had never become angry. Both the Princess and Liu Ruqing had heard more than enough about what their man did outside.

But at home, he rarely turned “cold.”

And once he did... it felt as though the entire Residence became covered beneath a heavy layer of gloom, leaving everyone below struggling to breathe.

This was true authority without anger, the sort of presence most often seen in a Son of Heaven, and specifically in the kind of Son of Heaven who could truly change the color of the world with a movement of his hand.

Given Prince Pingxi’s current position, it was entirely normal for him to possess such a side.

Atmosphere spread from person to person.

Today, the servants and guards throughout the Residence were unusually quiet. The occasional jokes and little bursts of noise heard on ordinary days now seemed almost sinful. Nobody stood over them with a whip enforcing silence, yet everyone instinctively obeyed the taboo, much as people naturally knew how to behave when visiting a grave.

...

News of the defeat in western Jin had reached only the Prince Residence for now.

That was the nature of an eight-hundred-li emergency dispatch. It moved far, far faster than any rumor.

So the soldiers and civilians of Fengxin City had not yet felt any ripple from the defeat. Their lives continued at their ordinary rhythm.

Yet the storm raised in western Jin would inevitably reach this place.

And when it did, it would inevitably affect them.

Eunuch Huang was already galloping on the road carrying the Emperor’s decree.

He knew the route well by now and had long grown accustomed to the hardship of traveling it.

Fortunately for him, Prince Pingxi was far easier to deal with than Prince Jingnan.

Before carrying an edict to Prince Jingnan, Eunuch Huang had always needed to settle matters with his adopted sons and grandsons as though arranging his own funeral.

Prince Pingxi was plainly much kinder.

Besides, the contents of this particular decree were no great secret.

Eunuch Huang had already begun wondering whether Prince Pingxi might appoint him army supervisor one more time.

A single stint as army supervisor had already elevated his standing inside the palace, making him the third great eunuch in line after Eunuch Wei and Eunuch Zhang.

If he could do it again... oh... then even once he grew old, he would qualify for an honorable retirement.

Eunuchs advanced by serving their master and winning their master’s trust.

But in truth, men without roots understood better than anyone that what truly allowed them to stand upright were their own ability and seniority.

Strangely enough, even Eunuch Huang himself did not notice it.

Something this serious had happened.

Great Yan had suffered defeat.

A Count renowned for military merit had died in battle.

An elite army hardened through a hundred battles had been destroyed.

Yet Eunuch Huang felt surprisingly little panic.

And he understood perfectly well what this defeat meant for western Jin, for the whole Jin region, and even for Great Yan itself.

Perhaps... because Great Yan still had something underneath it.

Just as after the First Battle of Wangjiang, Yan immediately sharpened its blades and prepared for another round of war.

Because everyone knew there was still a Prince Jingnan who could come down from the mountain.

Today...

Prince Jingnan had gone far into the west and sent back not a single word.

But Great Yan still had a new God of War.

And that God of War remained in Jin.

Great Yan’s foundation for confidence... the confidence of Yan people themselves... was still there.

Eunuch Huang licked his cracked lips.

Then lashed the Pixiu beneath him hard across the rump and shouted:

“Hyah!”

...

An eight-hundred-li emergency dispatch was meant for Yanjing and Fengxin.

But people in closer regions who held enough rank to learn the news quickly were already tightening inward as well.

No imperial decree had arrived yet.

Nor could one descend instantly.

But everyone had begun moving according to instinct.

Great Yan had campaigned north and south for years. Nearly every official of this generation had touched military affairs in some way. Even those who had never fought at the front had often participated in logistics.

In an age of great contention, if you wanted to stand out and rise, you had to fight for it with your own ability.

And Great Yan’s entire administrative system had long since become practiced at answering war.

Take Xu Wenzu, Prefect of Yingdu.

The moment he learned of the fighting in western Jin, he immediately ordered grain and provisions allocated and transported in preparation for the next campaign that was certain to come.

Similar preparations appeared one after another in other Jin cities.

The Yan heartland began doing the same.

Under the late Emperor, the empire’s war machine had once been driven to its absolute limit.

Now... what remained was almost a kind of muscle memory.

Garrisons everywhere, especially the many armies in Jin, began closing their camps.

First, verify the registered troop strength.

Second, inspect weapons and military supplies.

Third... intensify training.

The soldiers were not especially afraid.

Qian and Chu had won one battle.

Li Fusheng’s entire command had nearly been destroyed.

But the old impression of Qian and Chu had only cracked slightly.

It was nowhere near enough to shatter Yan confidence.

If anything, morale had begun rising in many military camps.

As soldiers, they possessed the sort of anticipation soldiers ought to possess.

Preparations for war had already begun.

Just as South Gate Pass had immediately sent out two eight-hundred-li emergency military reports upon learning of the defeat, the garrisons and Prefects everywhere were making their own preparations while waiting for two pieces of news.

One was the imperial decree from His Majesty in Yanjing.

The other... was word from that man in eastern Jin.

Yan people were fortunate.

In the previous age, they had Prince Zhenbei and Prince Jingnan.

They could confidently believe themselves capable of defeating any enemy and crushing anything that dared stand before the Black Dragon Banner.

Today... they still had someone to hope for.

Unlike Qian, which had stumbled around in confusion for years after killing its own Tattoo-Faced Chancellor.

Unlike Chu, where one great figure stepped down and another stepped forward. Pillars of State, Grand Generals, Princes of the Xiong Clan. At a glance it looked lively enough, yet not one person had ever possessed both the ability and the standing to stand above all the other famous commanders and control the entire board.

Litian City, the nearest major city to South Gate Pass, had recently filled its tea houses with discussion of the war in Liang.

Count Huwei dead.

His army nearly annihilated.

That was the first terrifying piece of news.

Naturally, there was no shortage of busybodies willing to analyze what this defeat would mean for Great Yan, for the situation in Jin, and even for the present political order of all Xia.

But most listeners disliked stories about their own side losing.

They disliked even more those apparently reasonable warnings of catastrophe.

They wanted to argue.

Unfortunately, some of the men doing the talking genuinely possessed eloquent tongues.

And so these arguments usually ended with one stubborn sentence:

“Just wait. Prince Pingxi is coming!”

As long as the Prince came down from the mountain... as long as he arrived... as long as his royal banner could be planted above South Gate Pass... everything would become all right.

And Great Yan... would still be Great Yan.

...

“Grain. Grain. We only fought the Battle of Fan City last winter. Yes, we supported the campaign ourselves and the logistics held, but that means we already spent part of what we had accumulated. If we start another war now, and not against Chu but in western Jin, do you know how far it is from eastern Jin to western Jin? How much will transporting provisions cost? How much more will weapons wear down, and how much will rewards and every other expense consume? The Battle of Fan City was not like our earlier wars. We spent the money and did not immediately receive some enormous material return. The gains were almost entirely political. For example, Master became a Prince. But how many cartloads of grain is a crown worth?”

Inside the administrative office conference room, the Blind Man was practically roaring at the other Demon Kings, while He Chunlai and Chen Daole sat to one side as recording clerks.

“If we raise troops again, our own household will go right back to the first year, when everyone had to tighten belts and pinch every coin. And it will damage development in the second half of this year and next year as well.”

Siniang reclined sideways in her chair in a posture comfortable both for herself and the child in her belly.

She did not join the argument.

She even took out a handful of raisins and slowly ate them one by one.

Liang Cheng said:

“Have the court bear the logistical expenses...”

“The court has fuck-all logistics left,” the Blind Man snapped immediately. “What, do we fight another fast war like Li Fusheng? Qian and Chu have been beaten for so many years that even they know how to grow. Facts have already proven they are not the same as before. They’ve matured. Once we mobilize armies from every direction, expecting the court alone to support the logistics without anything going wrong is a damned fantasy. Do you know when a man is weakest? Not when he is gritting his teeth and exhausting every last ounce of strength to hold on. It is shortly after he finally survives the strain and has just sat down to rest. That is when he is most exhausted. A state is the same. The people of Yan and Jin are not livestock. Ji Chengjue is not the late Emperor either. If he forcibly launches another national war right now, the people below will genuinely start kicking up chaos! And there’s more. Whether we send troops or not, forget the snowfield defenses for the moment. Put those aside. What about Zhennan Pass? Are we leaving it to Jin Shuke’s force alone? Without follow-up reinforcements and more elite troops behind it, Zhennan Pass can very easily become an isolated island. What if the Chu withdraw inside Liang and then launch another northern campaign? Once Zhennan Pass falls, all of eastern Jin, our home, goes from a safe nest straight into the frontline of the war. Develop my ass!”

The more the Blind Man spoke, the more agitated he became.

Siniang glanced at her fingernails and blew across them.

Liang Cheng looked at the Blind Man.

He seemed to want to say something.

Then apparently decided there was little point.

Because what the Blind Man said truly made sense.

Qian, Chu, and Liang would not oblige them with one clean, satisfying decisive battle.

Unless something unexpected happened, this war would drag on for a very long time.

Xue San teased:

“Blind Man, we’re in eastern Jin. Trouble breaks out in western Jin. Let the situation rot a little more and, good grief, we’ll practically become an exclave. At that point, even without declaring independence, we’ll already be independent in practice. Is that the opportunity you’ve been waiting for?”

“Yes. So what?” the Blind Man asked back.

Xue San shrugged.

“Fine. At least you’re honest. Nothing else to say.”

Fan Li scratched his head.

“I think that sounds pretty good.”

A’Ming took a drink and said:

“The real question is, what meaning is there in all of us sitting here arguing?”

“I’ll speak to Master,” the Blind Man said.

“Fine. You go,” Xue San immediately agreed.

“Fine. Barbecue,” Fan Li said, scratching his head again.

Siniang smiled and still said nothing.

At that moment, Xiao Yibo entered.

“Gentlemen, the Prince is awake. He has just ordered a meal.”

The Blind Man nodded.

He rose.

Then made a show of “looking around” the room.

“Which of you is coming with me?”

Xue San shrank his neck.

Fan Li lifted his head and stared at the ceiling beam.

Liang Cheng shook his head.

A’Ming took a drink.

Siniang continued smiling without saying anything.

“Fine. I’ll go alone. Somebody has to take the hit.”

Third Master immediately said:

“Blind Man, a true man.”

Fan Li nodded.

“Same here.”

Then Fan Li frowned and corrected himself:

“I mean, I feel exactly the same way.”

He Chunlai and Chen Daole bent over their meeting notes even more seriously, terrified the Blind Man might call their names on the way out.

The Blind Man sighed.

Then walked out of the administrative office alone, with all the air of a man marching into the cold wind by the Yi River.

...

Inside the room...

Prince Pingxi, having slept for a while, sat beside the table eating.

One plate of salted duck.

One plate of cold wild greens.

One plate of mapo tofu.

And one bowl of fish-paste soup.

The Prince held a rice bowl in one hand and ate at an even pace.

When the Blind Man entered, Zheng Fan looked up.

“Eaten?”

“Not yet.”

“Join me.”

“Thank you, Master.”

The Blind Man sat down.

He served himself rice, picked up his chopsticks, and began eating as well.

The Prince finished one bowl of rice.

He did not refill it.

Instead, he took the ladle and served himself soup.

Then, in a very calm voice, he said:

“To speak plainly, I, Zheng Fan, do not have much obsession with Great Yan, or with being a Yan man. I simply think Great Yan is fairly straightforward, and black looks pretty good. There are a few people in Great Yan who are genuine men. Some are comfortable to deal with because they do not circle around anything. Some... you simply have to respect. Every New Year and festival, I always liked sending them gifts. Saying I wanted nothing from it would be fake. But if you ask what I wanted, perhaps only the thought of keeping the connection alive. Sentimental nonsense. I had real affection for Li Fusheng. I could willingly call him Big Brother. But his death is nowhere near enough to make me want to live or die with him. Someone like Old Tian... there was only ever one Old Tian. But do you know something? I barely spoke all day today. And the wives, the children, the servants, everyone inside this Residence suddenly stopped daring to speak too. My position keeps rising. And that means it will become almost impossible for me to meet another person I truly acknowledge, someone I can play around with, someone I can willingly call Big Brother without feeling as though I’ve taken a loss. That madman. I told him before, there’s no need to be the first man charging every time battle starts. He refused to listen. Thought he was something special. Well? His army is gone now. And he got himself killed too.”

A smile appeared on Zheng Fan’s face.

He continued:

“You were right. He was a lunatic. But that lunatic never once treated me badly.”

The Blind Man nodded.

He quickly finished the rice in his own bowl as well, then served himself soup.

Zheng Fan drank two mouthfuls.

He set down his bowl and chopsticks.

Then tucked both hands into his sleeves like an old farmer and rocked faintly forward and back as he looked at the Blind Man.

“What did the others say?”

The Blind Man took a sip of soup.

He put down the bowl.

“They all oppose sending troops. They think we worked too hard to build this household and this comfortable environment, and none of them especially wants to start over again.”

“And you?”

“I gave them all a vicious scolding.”

“Oh?”

“Truly. I told them: saving money is for emergencies. When the moment comes to spend it, you spend it. You cannot become so addicted to the joy of saving that you forget what the money exists for.”

“That’s right.”

Zheng Fan nodded.

The Blind Man pulled a memorial from his sleeve and placed it before Zheng Fan.

“Master, this is the budget and plan this subordinate stayed up all night preparing. I calculated the maximum amount of grain and military supplies our own household can provide, and the greatest number of troops we can send. The household must be protected. But this breath of anger must be released as well.”

Then the Blind Man took out a second memorial and placed it before Zheng Fan.

“This is the recommendation this subordinate suggests sending to court under Master’s name, listing the court troops that need to be mobilized and the level of logistical support the court can still bear. This subordinate is no expert in warfare, but after Master reads these figures, you should be able to estimate for yourself how large a campaign we can fight and how long we can sustain it.”

Then the Blind Man produced a third memorial.

“If Master wishes, this one can be sent to court as well. It condemns the Ministry of War for making a mess of appointments. Ran Min’s appointment may implicate Xu Wenzu, and even the Emperor behind him. But in the matter of that imperial commissioner, we genuinely can attack without holding back. Also, early this morning this subordinate ordered the two stone lions outside our Residence gate scrubbed carefully and waxed. Master can first use this memorial to express your dissatisfaction and speak on behalf of the military commanders before the campaign, drawing their hearts toward you. Then we can wait for the first eunuch bringing an imperial decree to give one of our stone lions a festive splash of color. After that, Master can imitate Prince Jingnan’s old precedent and come down from the mountain. That way... we will have both face and substance.”

Zheng Fan did not open the memorials.

He lowered his head and looked at them.

Then lifted his gaze toward the Blind Man.

The Blind Man clenched one fist.

“Master may rest assured. No matter what you want to do, this subordinate will always be the first to stand firmly on your side. Because from the very beginning... this subordinate has always approved of your aesthetic sense.”

Zheng Fan nodded to show he had heard.

Then he picked up his chopsticks again, took a piece of duck, ate it, and spat out the bone.

“This salted duck actually isn’t very authentic.”

“Yes. This subordinate thinks so too. A little greasy.”

“Exactly.”

The Blind Man smiled.

He was blind.

So nobody could catch where his eyes were looking.

“While I slept during the day, I had a dream. In the dream, Li Fusheng stood on a battlefield covered head to toe in blood. He saw me. And he shouted: Brother Zheng! Your big brother really got his fill of killing this time!”

Prince Pingxi stood.

He stretched.

Then yawned.

In a weary tone, like a man who had not slept enough and now felt drowsy again after eating his fill, he said:

“He got his fill of killing. Fine. Then next... it’s our turn.”

[End of Chapter 827]