Chapter Forty-Three: A Voice Too Faint to Be Heard

After opening for business, things were busy for several days. Yang Lian, however, acted as a hands-off proprietor, leaving Wang Hu, Zhao Peng, and Xiao Erhei to handle affairs, as he held leverage over each of them. As for Li Xiongxin and his son Li Shu, Yang Lian was cautious; they merely assisted and had no access to deeper matters.

Once the inn and restaurant were settled, Yang Lian resumed his post with the Divine Martial Army. Not long after, news arrived: Wang Chongwen, the Military Commissioner of Yong'an, was appointed Commander-in-Chief for the Southeast; Wei Cen, the Pacification Commissioner of Zhangquan, became the Military Supervisor for the East; and Feng Yanlu was named Military Supervisor for the South. The three had already marched to Fuzhou, supporting Chen Jue. Yet Yang Lian remained skeptical.

Even before receiving the news, Yang Lian had met with Prince Qi, asking him to relay a message to Feng Yanyi: with three commanders and the Privy Commissioner Chen Jue in Fuzhou, the campaign would likely go awry. Whether in war or commerce, the greatest taboo was having too many decision-makers. Now, with four commanders in Fuzhou, whose orders would prevail? Inevitably, each would vie for credit. If their competition led only to valor in battle, it would be tolerable. But Yang Lian feared they would all hold their troops back, waiting to reap the rewards without effort.

Should someone arrive late and fail to earn merit, they might slaughter civilians to claim false credit. If so, unless the people of Min were exterminated, this rebellion could never be quelled. Li Jing, Prince Qi, heeded Yang Lian's words and sought out Feng Yanyi, conveying Yang Lian’s concerns personally.

Feng Yanyi scoffed at this, dismissing Yang Lian—a mere junior officer—for daring to discuss affairs of state. If not for his connection to Prince Qi, Feng Yanyi would have thrown him in prison.

Upon hearing this, Yang Lian could only shake his head. The Emperor’s appointees were mostly scholars, all eager for glory, and uninterested in truly pacifying Min. The matter was closed. Having said all he could, Yang Lian no longer involved himself, instead dutifully drilling his troops and overseeing the inn and restaurant, finding fulfillment in these tasks.

It was only the Princess of Huairou who came to visit from time to time, giving Yang Lian a headache as he had to deal with her distractions. Whenever he had leisure, Yang Lian pondered Zeng Yiling’s identity—who was she, really? He recalled the jade hairpin she had gifted him, rummaged through his belongings until he found it, and examined it closely in his palm. It was an ordinary jade hairpin, showing no distinctive features. After half an incense stick’s time of scrutiny, he found nothing and gave up.

In early October, news arrived again: Southern Tang forces had converged on Min and joined with the Privy Commissioner Chen Jue. Chen Jue was overjoyed and launched an assault on Fuzhou. Li Renda, having already submitted to Wuyue, prepared for battle and sent envoys by sea to request aid from Wuyue.

Ma Jie, Fuzhou’s Formation Commissioner, secretly guided Southern Tang troops in, launching a surprise attack on the Shanhua Gate Bridge, routing a hundred defenders and capturing the outer city. The morale of Southern Tang soared, and they pressed their assault upon the inner city. Li Renda led his troops in desperate defense, the city walls changing hands several times, but ultimately Li Renda held the inner city.

Yang Lian kept close track of these developments, even seeking out Yao Feng, who had participated in the previous campaign against Min, for insights. Yao Feng, familiar with Min, though proud, divulged what he knew out of respect for Yang Lian.

Southern Tang, though enjoying years of peace, indeed had weak military prowess; yet compared to the small, impoverished Min, they held a significant advantage. Still, Min’s mountainous terrain enabled them to block the Southern Tang armies. Had it not been for internal discord, Southern Tang could never have captured Wang Yanzheng.

Later, when Chen Jue failed to convince the rebel Li Renda to surrender, he felt humiliated and thus summoned troops from Ting, Jian, Fu, and Xin prefectures to besiege Li Renda.

Unfortunately, Chen Jue was not adept at leading troops; despite his numerical advantage, he achieved little. The Emperor, seeing the situation, though resentful of Chen Jue, recognized Southern Tang’s strength. If even a small state like Min could not be subdued, his prestige would suffer. He ultimately decided to attack Fuzhou.

After a lengthy discussion with Yao Feng, Yang Lian clarified his thinking, becoming ever more convinced that, even if the campaign succeeded temporarily, it would ultimately end in failure.

The Wuyue Kingdom was certain to send troops to assist Li Renda, who had already pledged allegiance. Wuyue’s navy was formidable; they could support Fuzhou directly by sea, bypassing the land routes. It would become a war of attrition, where the side with greater national strength would have the advantage, but considering the commanders, the odds were even. With the help of Min native Li Renda, Southern Tang’s prospects diminished further.

Yang Lian could only smile, quietly urging Prince Qi, Li Jing, to closely monitor Wuyue’s movements. If possible, he suggested deploying the navy to harass Wuyue’s coastline—even if the two nations did not openly fight, the conflict in Min was tantamount to war between them. With Jin’s poor relations with the Khitans and the Tang unable to advance north, unifying the south was a viable strategy. Using the lands south of the Yangtze to oppose the Central Plains was promising, especially since Southern Tang controlled the Huai region and could seize Shandong at any time.

Yet Yang Lian knew his ideas were difficult to realize; firstly, he lacked the authority, and secondly, Li Jing was ultimately shortsighted.

Days passed in quiet routine, though the court was elated. Chen Jue’s capture of Fuzhou’s outer city was news to celebrate. The hawkish faction in court strutted with unbridled arrogance, looking down their noses at others. The peace faction kept a low profile, fearful of being trampled.

Amidst the jubilation, even Li Jing was affected, paying less heed to Yang Lian’s warnings. With Chen Jue’s great victory, the outer ramparts of Fuzhou had been seized, the inner city was on the brink, and Li Renda was terrified, his troops demoralized. The fall of Fuzhou seemed imminent.

As the days grew colder, leaves fell in droves. Though Jinling lay in the south, its winters were still chilly. Many wrapped themselves in winter clothes, turning themselves into bundles. Yang Lian too bought winter garments, dressing more warmly. As a martial man, his physique was much sturdier than most.

After three months of training, Yang Lian grew ever stronger, his chest muscles bulging. Thanks to his regimen, his twenty subordinates were all in high spirits. Some even emulated Yang Lian’s habit of bathing in cold water. Though it was difficult at first, they soon felt the benefits.

On this day, the minor snow solar term arrived, and the heavens cooperated by sending light snow, painting the world white. Due to poor weather, the Divine Martial Army reduced their training sessions, holding drills only on the first and fifth days, postponing further in case of rain.

Yang Lian sat on a soft couch, a pot of warm yellow wine before him, sipping leisurely. Outside, the Qinhuai River, once lively with boats, was now empty. Occasionally, a cargo vessel drifted by. In this season, the cold seeped to the bone.

Lin Renzhao, with nothing to do, came to Yang Lian’s residence to eat and drink; being alone and unlike Chen Tie, who frequented brothels, Lin often visited Yang Lian for free meals. The two shared several dishes, drinking yellow wine and chatting. Though young, Lin Renzhao was well-versed in military strategy and had seen battle. Conversing with him enriched Yang Lian greatly, who nodded and asked questions, and Lin patiently explained, knowing Yang Lian had never fought in war. Their discussion lasted all afternoon.

After a while, Yang Lian steered the conversation to the Fuzhou campaign. Over half a month earlier, Jinling had received word that Chen Jue had breached the outer city of Fuzhou, but so much time had passed—what was the outcome now? Lin Renzhao opined that, absent external aid, Chen Jue would eventually conquer the isolated city. But if Wuyue intervened, things would not be so easy.

As they spoke, Chen Tie rushed in, saying, “Officer Yang, your predictions were spot on. A few days ago, Wuyue dispatched Commanders Zhang Jun and Zhao Chengtai with thirty thousand troops, both naval and land forces, departing from Wenzhou to reinforce Fuzhou.”

Lin Renzhao was taken aback. “So Wuyue finally couldn’t resist intervening.”

Yang Lian considered, then said, “Wuyue’s intervention is significant. I imagine Prince Qi already knows.”

“Prince Qi does know, but it’s likely futile,” Lin Renzhao shook his head.

“This time, though Wuyue sent thirty thousand, it’s still inferior in numbers to the Tang forces at Fuzhou. If Chen Jue, Feng Yanlu, and the others avoid rash action and camp outside the city, they can cut off contact between Wuyue and Li Renda. Then, by seeking opportunity to defeat the enemy, Fuzhou can be secured,” Yang Lian analyzed.

Lin Renzhao nodded, “Exactly. But if Chen Jue and the others fail to take Fuzhou, and Wuyue keeps sending reinforcements, the battle will become much harder.”

Yang Lian rose. “Wait here, I’m going to Prince Qi’s mansion.”

Lin Renzhao asked, “Why are you looking for Prince Qi?”

“Wuyue is a small kingdom with limited troops. I want to persuade Prince Qi to order the Ning Commandery in Xuanzhou and the Zhenhai Army in Runzhou to advance by land and sea, threatening Suzhou. At the very least, this would pressure Qian Wenfeng. For its own protection, Wuyue would limit the troops sent south to Fuzhou,” Yang Lian said urgently.

Even if Yang Lian could persuade Prince Qi, Li Jing might not convince the Emperor. But if he didn’t try, how could he know if success was possible? Yang Lian donned thick clothes, mounted his newly purchased warhorse, and, carrying the prince’s token, departed from the Yang Family Inn.

Lin Renzhao and Chen Tie watched Yang Lian’s departing figure, shaking their heads in unison. Both were puzzled by Yang Lian’s motivation—why did he work so tirelessly?

“Let’s go back and drink,” Chen Tie said as Yang Lian disappeared.

Lin Renzhao nodded. They returned, warmed another pot of wine, and drank until nightfall, when Yang Lian finally returned, snowflakes still clinging to his hair.

Before Yang Lian could shake off the snow, Lin Renzhao impatiently asked, “Brother Yang, how did it go?”

Yang Lian smiled wryly, “Prince Qi agreed, but in my opinion, the Emperor will not consent. The victory at Fuzhou has made him forget his own name; at this moment, few would welcome a cold dose of reality.”

“Alas!” Lin Renzhao sighed deeply. He too felt, at that moment, that his words carried little weight and his strength could not be used.

Yang Lian waved his hand and laughed, “Let’s not speak of these disheartening matters. Let’s drink!”