Chapter 85: Hunting

When they arrived at the encampment, the sun was not yet scorching, and dew still clung to the leaves, trickling gently along their veins. Their arrival shattered the tranquility of Zhongshan; startled birds took flight, circling and calling out in the air. Servants and guards busied themselves, pitching tents, gathering firewood, and building campfires.

Yang Lian dismounted and took down his pack, preparing to set up his tent when Princess Huairou approached with her attendants. She pointed at Yang Lian and said, “Set up camp right here. He will stay by my side.”

Lǜ Chang was taken aback. “Princess, he’s a man.”

“So what if he’s a man? It’s safer to be close to him,” Princess Huairou replied matter-of-factly.

Lǜ Chang simply responded, “Oh,” and fell silent, directing several attendants to their tasks. A few guards swiftly pitched Yang Lian’s tent along with the others. Yang Lian glanced over and felt reassured; these guards were quite skilled at setting up camp.

After organizing his belongings, Yang Lian checked his equipment and prepared to set out.

This hunt was entirely self-organized. Among the hundred or so people, seventy or eighty were servants and attendants who mostly stayed behind to manage the camp. Only a small group set out to hunt. Everyone prepared their necessary tools for the hunt.

Yang Lian looked at Li Congjia and felt a headache coming on. In his group, there didn’t seem to be many capable fighters. Princess Zhou Ehuang was obviously just here to enjoy herself; Li Congjia couldn’t even ride a horse steadily, let alone shoot arrows. As for Princess Huairou, she probably couldn't shoot either.

However, with Zhou Ehuang and Princess Huairou both excited, Yang Lian chose not to dampen their spirits. Li Congjia, meanwhile, kept his head down, likely sulking after a scolding from Li Hongji, looking dispirited.

In the distance, Li Hongji, Zhou Hongzuo, Zhu Lingyun, and others set off one after another, galloping with great joy. The thunder of hooves echoed through the mountains, startling many small animals. Yang Lian shook his head slightly; were these really people here to hunt?

After a while, everyone was ready. The guards accompanying Princess Huairou and Li Congjia each sent two men to trail behind at a distance, wary.

Yang Lian rode slowly. Sometimes hunting was more a social activity than an actual hunt. Now he understood that what Zhou Ehuang called hunting was actually a way for aristocrats and their children in the capital to mingle—mostly young men and women—a sort of unconventional matchmaking.

Having grasped this, Yang Lian was in no hurry, riding at a leisurely pace.

Princess Huairou rode just a few steps away from him, sitting tall on her little red horse, wielding a leather whip that she flicked arrogantly through the air, fitting her domineering nature. Behind them, Li Congjia and Zhou Ehuang followed cautiously and slowly.

Princess Huairou glanced at Yang Lian from time to time. Seeing his tall stature clad in leather armor, bow and arrows on his back and a long sword hanging from his waist, she sneered inwardly. He looked like a bumpkin dressed for war—did he actually think they were going to battle?

Yang Lian, meanwhile, was lost in thought when a skinny horse approached slowly ahead. It was Zhou Ye, who was recovering at home. Upon seeing Yang Lian, he hurried over and smiled, “Commander Yang, may I join the hunt?”

Princess Huairou frowned. “Why don’t you follow Zhou Hongzuo?”

“Different paths, different companions,” Zhou Ye replied. “Though Hongzuo and I are brothers, that’s all there is to it. One day, he may walk his sunny road, and I mine, a solitary path.” His eyes were fixed on Yang Lian, as if he spoke not to Princess Huairou but to him.

Yang Lian glanced sideways but said nothing. Princess Huairou snorted coldly. “That’s true—there are indeed differences between you and Zhou Hongzuo. In that case, you’ll come with us.”

Zhou Ye smiled slightly, cupping his hands. “Thank you, Commander Yang.”

Princess Huairou’s eyes widened. “I’m the one who permitted you, why thank Yang Lian?”

Zhou Ye remained silent, smiling at Yang Lian.

Yang Lian nodded. “Let’s go.” This Zhou Ye was interesting. Yang Lian wondered if Zhou Ye still harbored thoughts of the fallen kingdom.

Zhou Ye rode alongside Yang Lian’s other side and suddenly raised a hand, pointing ahead. “Zhongshan, a place where dragon energy converges. When the ancestral dragon came here, he was greatly startled and thus ordered the dragon vein to be destroyed. Yet despite this, Jinling remains a land of heroes and spirits. During the late Han, the Wu dynasty, and the Southern and Northern Dynasties of Song, Qi, Liang, and Chen, all set their capitals here. Unfortunately, although Jinling holds dragon energy, it cannot withstand the Northern dynasties.”

“Since Qin, the heartlands of Guanzhong and Hebei have unified the realm. Liu Bang, Yang Jian, and Li Yuan all rose to power from Guanzhong, while Liu Xiu started from Hebei. Though the Southern Dynasties flourished briefly, they were but a fleeting bloom. Commander Yang, what is your view?”

Zhou Ye seemed to test Yang Lian with this question.

Yang Lian narrowed his eyes and smiled. “Though the Southern Dynasties’ northern campaigns had disadvantages, Emperor Song once held the Middle Plains as fiercely as a tiger, even capturing Guanzhong and Central Plains. Had the rear not been unstable, perhaps the old territories could have been recovered.” He referred to Liu Yu of the Jin dynasty, a man of humble origins who rose to prominence and nearly succeeded in his northern expeditions.

In Yang Lian’s memory, Zhu Yuanzhang at the end of the Yuan dynasty and the Republican era were successful examples of northern expeditions, though special circumstances and wise leadership played key roles. Besides these two, Liu Yu’s campaign was a partial success—he secured Guanzhong and Luoyang. Other than these three instances, Yang Lian could recall none.

“And in your opinion, what should be done?” Zhou Ye pressed again.

“Is this a test, Commander Zhou?” Yang Lian smiled faintly but did not object. He continued, “After Zhu Wen replaced the Tang, northern regimes changed frequently—from Liang to Tang, and now Jin has fallen. Liu Zhiyuan is reclaiming the Central Plains. I believe this time, though the Khitans destroyed Jin, the people of the Central Plains rose in rebellion. Yelü Deguang died on his return home, and Liu Zhiyuan started with just Taiyuan, a modest power but one that quickly gained popular support.”

“Why? It’s simple: the Central Plains lack a strong regime. Otherwise, how could a Shatuo man like him seize control? I once petitioned the emperor to send a detachment north under the Tang banner. Even if the people no longer enjoy the bounty of the Tang, they still remember its strength. Reclaiming Luoyang and Bianliang would be almost effortless. Capturing the Central Plains and Shandong would secure the protection of the Two Huai regions. Guanzhong has suffered years of war and hardship. Though Li Shouzhen and Wang Jingchong hold some power, they are insufficient to carve out independent realms. They will likely lie low for now.”

“Once the Central Plains and Shandong are secured, it won’t be difficult to eventually control Hebei and Guanzhong.” Yang Lian sighed deeply, filled with regret. In recent days, he had intensely studied geography and military affairs, combining what he knew of future events. His words now were clear and reasoned.

Zhou Ye glanced sideways. The Two Huai have always been the southern buffer, with Shandong and the Central Plains as the shield. But the Central Plains is a battlefield of four wars; to hold it requires wings in Jingxiang and Shandong, and Guanzhong as a stronghold is best. Having fought many battles and followed the Emperor of Wu for years, Zhou Ye understood these principles, even if he hadn’t analyzed them himself.

“This Yang Lian has some insight,” Zhou Ye thought, growing more satisfied with him.

Princess Huairou, however, pouted in displeasure. They had come to hunt and have fun, not discuss state affairs.

The group halted on a flat plain. Yang Lian dismounted and tied his horse to a tree, bow and arrows in hand, ready to shoot some rabbits. Princess Huairou followed, carrying a short bow.

“I want to hunt too,” she said.

Yang Lian considered it. This area likely only had rabbits and deer, with little danger, so he nodded. Turning to Zhou Ehuang, who was chatting quietly with Li Congjia, he said, “I’ll go hunt some game for lunch. Stay here and don’t wander off.”

Zhou Ehuang looked up briefly at Yang Lian, then lowered her head, disappointment shining in her eyes, but she said nothing. As Yang Lian’s footsteps faded, she raised her gaze again and saw Princess Huairou trailing after him, bow in hand, looking joyful. Zhou Ehuang envied her deeply. For the first time, she felt that the arts she had studied—music, chess, calligraphy, painting—were of little use.

Princess Huairou called it hunting, but as she walked the grassland, watching rabbits happily nibbling grass, she felt even more delighted. Yet her archery was poor; after a few shots, she gave up.

Yang Lian searched carefully for a target, hoping to take down a deer or sheep—enough for their meal.

Princess Huairou, absorbed in hunting, gradually fell behind. Suddenly, she spotted a rabbit lying in the grass, its body trembling slightly. The snow-white creature was remarkably beautiful. She stepped closer, but the rabbit did not move, staring at her with dark eyes.

A pang of compassion filled Princess Huairou’s heart. Being a woman who loved all things beautiful, although she had loudly declared her intent to hunt, seeing the rabbit’s cuteness made her forget it all.

She cupped the rabbit in her hands. Blood from its leg stained her pure white fingers. “Ah! You’re hurt!” she exclaimed, surprised. She tried to cover the wound gently.

The rabbit winced in pain, kicked with its hind legs, and darted forward.

“Little rabbit, don’t run!” Princess Huairou cried, rising and chasing after it. Though injured, the rabbit ran swiftly. After several steps, she still couldn’t catch up.

“Little rabbit, I’ll take you back to heal,” she coaxed, sweat beading on her smooth forehead. She quickened her pace, closing in. The rabbit, seemingly tired, lay down to rest in the grass. Princess Huairou tiptoed closer.

“Little rabbit, be good, don’t run anymore,” she whispered, slowly crouching down.

At that moment, an arrow whistled through the air, embedding itself just two steps away from her.