Chapter Forty-Six: The True Purpose of Li Jing

Within the residence of the Prince of Qi, Li Jingsui was wrapped in thick garments, appearing cold, though spring had already arrived, the ice and snow had melted, and the air had grown warm. For instance, Yang Lian and Lin Renzhao wore only light clothing; it was still a little chilly, but as martial men, they could endure it without complaint.

Upon seeing Li Jingsui thus, Yang Lian knew immediately that his health was poor and he had to dress warmly to ward off the chill.

“This time, it was I who advised my royal brother,” Li Jingsui said with a smile, explaining to Yang Lian. “Troops are raised for a thousand days, but used in a single moment. The Imperial Guards bear the weighty duty of defending Jinling, and must go out to fight to become a formidable force.”

Only then did Yang Lian understand why His Majesty would order the Shenwu Army, the elite of the Imperial Guards, to march forth, and furthermore, appoint the Deputy Commissioner of the Privy Council to lead them. Though Yang Lian worried that Li Zhenggu might lack the necessary ability, he did not voice his concern. Before events transpired, all was mere speculation, and Yang Lian had already gained some understanding of Li Jingsui.

Li Jingsui’s intention was clear: he hoped Yang Lian would seize this opportunity to achieve merit in battle. Yang Lian recognized the Prince’s kindness and hurriedly nodded his thanks. Since the Prince of Qi had instructed Li Zhenggu to secretly look after Yang Lian, if he did not grasp this chance, it would only become more difficult in the future.

The two conversed for some time, but as dusk approached, Yang Lian rose to take his leave. On the way, he encountered Princess Huairou, her cheeks flushed, breathless. Upon seeing Yang Lian, she stopped, feigning composure. “What are you doing here again?”

Yang Lian laughed. “In a few days, I will march with the army against Suzhou. I came to bid farewell to the Prince of Qi.”

“Suzhou?” Princess Huairou blinked, pouting, “Go then, don’t come back.” With that, she stamped her foot and walked away. Her maid, Lushang, waved at Yang Lian, saying, “The Princess is unhappy.”

“Lushang, you’re speaking too much. Tomorrow you’re not allowed to eat.” Though Princess Huairou had walked away, her hearing was excellent.

Lushang’s face paled in fright, and she hastened after her mistress. “Princess!”

She was, after all, just a young girl, Yang Lian mused as he strode out of the Prince’s mansion.

On the third day, Yang Lian was fully prepared; his weapons and armor had been inspected and polished until they gleamed, reflecting even his shadow. With Wang Hu’s help, he donned his fine-scaled armor, slung bow and quiver across his back, and girded himself with a long blade. Standing eight feet tall, clad in armor, he cut a striking figure. Yet the armor weighed over seventy pounds; without years of training and the muscle he had developed, it would have been impossible to wear.

Yang Lian led the way, each step causing his armor to clang, its cold gleam intimidating to behold. With the long blade at his waist, he looked truly fierce, and Wang Hu beside him felt a surge of fear.

“Let’s go. If we’re late, we’ll face military discipline.” Yang Lian said, hand resting on his sword, striding forward.

Wang Hu followed, carrying a spear.

Beyond the gate, Zhao Peng waited with the warhorse. Upon seeing Yang Lian, he stiffened, feeling both respect and awe. For the first time in half a year, he saw Yang Lian in full armor; the raised, sword-like brows lent him a natural authority—was this still the amiable master he had known?

Yang Lian patted the warhorse, purchased at great expense and cared for over three months. Though it was early spring, the horse’s coat shone with health, testament to Yang Lian’s dedication.

After half a year’s training, Yang Lian was now adept at riding. As he prepared to mount, Lushang hurried over, breathless. “Young Master Yang, wait!”

“Lushang, what brings you here?” Yang Lian turned and asked.

“Well…” Lushang hesitated, approached Yang Lian, then suddenly stood on tiptoe, grabbed his hand, slipped something into it, and dashed away.

“What’s this?” Before Yang Lian could react, Lushang had vanished.

He opened his palm to find a small, red charm for peace—delicate and lovely.

“Master, I suspect the Princess sent this,” Xiao Erhei remarked nearby.

Yang Lian shook his head slightly, thought for a moment, then hung the charm around his neck. Seeing the time was late, he mounted his horse. Along the way, many soldiers marched in armor, either walking or riding, all heading toward the drill ground.

Merchants and passersby moved aside in fear as the soldiers passed. Two days prior, His Majesty had issued an edict stating that the Wu-Yue people were insolent; this campaign against Suzhou was imperative for the Tang, and the Wu-Yue must be forced to beg for mercy.

On the road, Yang Lian met Lin Renzhao and Chen Tie, and they proceeded together, arriving at the drill ground to find it packed with people. As more troops from Jinling arrived, the place grew lively and noisy.

Since the reign of Emperor Xuanzong, the military system had shifted from conscripted militia to mercenary forces. By the late Tang and the Five Dynasties era, the commanders were unruly, prone to rebellion at the slightest grievance—Zhu Wen, Xu Wen, Li Bian, and later Zhao Kuangyin followed this pattern, though some were milder.

Most of the soldiers here were professional fighters, unlike the old conscripted militia who farmed in peacetime, fought in war, and purchased their own equipment and horses. Mercenaries, on the other hand, were outfitted by the government, and some wore poor gear.

Especially among the squad leaders, some eyed Yang Lian—merely a junior officer—riding a fine warhorse with envy. But in such a crowd, it was impossible to seize it; instead, they merely committed his appearance to memory.

Besides the Shenwu Army, the Tianxiong Army was also assembled here, about ten thousand strong, causing chaos until the commanders arrived. Each unit was ordered to count its numbers, and under the supervision of officers, the ranks finally settled into silence.

Yang Lian, mounted, stood out—few junior officers could afford to keep a horse, as it required considerable expense. The Shenwu Army had cavalry, but not under Zhou Hongzuo’s command. Gao Shensi turned a blind eye, but Zhou Hongzuo was somewhat displeased, thinking Yang Lian’s horse was better than his own—how vexing.

Once the numbers were tallied and reported, any who shirked the campaign would be dismissed for life. The Tianxiong Army’s commander, Zhu Kuangye, had served as a military officer before the founding emperor ascended the throne. After Li Bian became emperor, Zhu was appointed Prefect of Shezhou, then Commander of the Divine Guards, and when Li Jing took the throne, in the third year of Baoda, he became Commander of the Tianxiong Army—like Gao Shensi, both were veteran ministers and founding officials.

Gao Shensi and Zhu Kuangye reported their numbers, and Deputy Commissioner Li Zhenggu began his address. His voice was soft, so only a few could hear clearly, but Yang Lian caught most of it: encouragement to fight well and bring glory to the nation.

After a brief speech, drums thundered, fireworks were set off, pigs and sheep slaughtered for sacrifice to Heaven—a scene of great festivity. When the third round of drums ended and the ceremony concluded, the army marched out, proceeding south along Imperial Avenue, leaving Jinling through the southern gate and crossing Changgan Bridge.

Imperial Avenue was Jinling’s main thoroughfare. On either side, crowds pressed in—mostly family members of soldiers: parents, wives, children. They carried baskets filled with eggs, cakes, and steamed buns, offering food and drink in support of the army, afraid their loved ones would never again taste home-cooked meals. Many women, unwilling to part with husbands, fathers, or sons, wept bitterly.

Yang Lian, on horseback, gazed about at the crying crowds and felt a strange envy, thinking perhaps in this world, no one truly cared for him. He touched the peace charm at his neck, reflecting that the Princess was, in her way, rather endearing. He searched the crowd, but did not see Princess Huairou, and so paid her no further mind.

Far off, Princess Huairou, dressed in a ruqun, stood with Lushang atop a tavern, overlooking the scene. Amid the marching officers, Yang Lian stood out, easily recognized.

“Princess, that’s General Yang!” Lushang, still a little girl, clapped and cheered.

“What general? He’s just a junior officer. In Jinling, toss a stone and you’ll hit a third-rank official. What’s so special about a junior officer?” Princess Huairou replied disdainfully.

“But why did you give him a peace charm?” Lushang asked, puzzled.

“You talk too much. Two days without food!” Princess Huairou retorted, raising her eyebrows and showing her sparkling tiger teeth.

“Princess, Lushang was wrong,” Lushang said, head bowed in apology.

“Too late!” the Princess declared.

In the next room, someone else watched Yang Lian. This campaign by Southern Tang had mobilized the Imperial Guards, clearly showing the emperor’s seriousness. Yang Lian’s presence aroused her interest—how would he perform?

“Send my orders. Closely observe this battle. Report any news immediately,” the woman commanded, her voice gentle.

“Yes,” came the reply.

“Furthermore, if his life is ever in danger during the march south, ensure his safety at any cost,” she added.

“Understood. I will pass on your instructions,” came the answer.

The two said no more, watching until Yang Lian passed through the southern gate and vanished from sight, then slowly descended the tavern stairs.

Yang Lian was unaware of these interesting events as he left the city; his heart was already flying to Suzhou.

He wondered how Li Zhenggu would conduct this campaign. The combined Shenwu and Tianxiong armies numbered ten thousand. After entering Changzhou, the local garrison would add five thousand, making a force of fifteen thousand to take Suzhou—a daunting task, Yang Lian thought. Qian Wenfeng and his father Qian Yuanqiu had defended Suzhou for thirty years, winning the people’s trust. Suzhou was a border city, its walls strong, and the Central Wu Army boasted over eight thousand men. If the ruler of Wu-Yue, Qian Zuo, learned of the attack and sent reinforcements, Southern Tang’s forces would be at a disadvantage.

These thoughts stirred Yang Lian’s heart; he sensed something was afoot, though he could not be certain.

He resolved to wait until they reached Suzhou and see what Li Zhenggu intended, before making his next move.