Chapter Thirty-Eight: Reform of the Military Branches

Qin Cheng rested at the medical hall for several more days, and as his wounds gradually healed and the old physician confirmed he was well, he left the hall and returned to the military camp with the pale-faced servant who had come to fetch him.

When it was time to depart, Xiaolou, clearly reluctant, accompanied Qin Cheng all the way to the entrance of the hall. The autumn wind was bleak and chilly; whether it was the dust in the wind or some other reason, the little fellow’s eyes had reddened. As he watched Qin Cheng prepare to leave, he clung to Qin Cheng’s sleeve, unwilling to let go for a long time. His teary eyes gazed up at Qin Cheng with such pitiful longing that his reluctance was plain to see.

This mournful expression on the small, seemingly underdeveloped child warmed Qin Cheng’s heart. He thought to himself that since coming to this era, most people he had met were sincere and loyal. Even this eleven- or twelve-year-old boy had cared for him all this time and now showed such affection at parting. Qin Cheng was truly moved.

He crouched down before the little fellow, not much taller than a child himself, and wiped away his tears, speaking gently, “Aren’t you a bit too old to be crying? What is it? Is our little rascal going to miss Brother Qin?”

Xiaolou stifled his tears, shook his head, and replied, “That’s not it. I’m going to miss the sweets Brother Qin brings me. Once you’re gone, there’ll be no one to buy candy for me!”

Qin Cheng couldn’t help but laugh. Ruffling Xiaolou’s thick hair with the hand that had wiped his tears, he said, “All you think about is eating. If you eat too many sweets, your teeth will fall out. Aren’t you afraid of waking up one day to find all your teeth gone?”

“Really…? Will my teeth really fall out?” Xiaolou was clearly startled by this and looked at him in disbelief. But seeing Qin Cheng’s mischievous grin, he quickly caught on, pouting, “You’re just teasing me again. You’re the grown-up here, but you don’t act your age—always making fun of kids…”

“Hahaha…” Qin Cheng laughed as he stood up and mounted his horse. Looking back, he said, “Go inside. If ever I get the chance, I’ll come visit you.”

With that, Qin Cheng cracked his whip, and he and the pale-faced servant rode away together.

Xiaolou watched Qin Cheng go, took a few steps after him, and, unable to stop his tears, began to cry again. In the end, he was still just a child; when someone he was close to left, sadness and tears were inevitable.

After a while, Xiaolou hastily wiped away his tears, glared resentfully in the direction Qin Cheng had gone, and muttered, “Hmph, what kind of person is that? After all this time, he never even realized I’m a girl…”

“Xiaolou, Xiaolou!” The old physician’s voice called from the hall behind.

“Coming, Master!” Xiaolou turned and ran back inside, pouting as she ran, “Hmph, you said you’d come see me. If you don’t, just wait and see…”

…

The medical hall and the military camp were not far apart; riding on horseback, it took less than a quarter of an hour to arrive. Qin Cheng rode behind the pale-faced servant at a leisurely pace, perhaps because the servant deliberately slowed down to accommodate Qin Cheng’s convalescence. Considering this, Qin Cheng couldn’t help but smile. Though this servant usually appeared cold, his heart might not be as hard as his face suggested.

“My friend, I haven’t yet asked your name,” Qin Cheng said, catching up and riding alongside him with a smile.

The pale-faced servant glanced at Qin Cheng, still distant, and replied, “Liu Mu.”

“Liu Mu?” Qin Cheng repeated the name to himself, finding it somewhat odd, but doubted the servant would bother to lie. “So it’s Brother Liu. There’s something I’d like to ask you, if you don’t mind?”

Knowing the other’s cold nature, Qin Cheng was as polite as possible. But this didn’t bother him. Before his journey through time, Qin Cheng had once heard a saying he always kept in mind: if you are an ordinary person, you only need to adapt to a few types of people; if you are a leader, you must adapt to everyone.

“What is it?” Liu Mu asked.

“The other day, during the great battle at the North Gate, Governor Gongsun Ao of Dai led reinforcements. May I ask, is he still in the camp?” Qin Cheng’s real concern was whether Li Guang and Gongsun Ao had been at odds because of him—this would reveal how much Li Guang valued him. Of course, he wouldn’t ask directly.

“General Gongsun stayed in Qiansang for a day and then led his army back,” Liu Mu replied, frowning slightly before his expression returned to its usual coldness. “If you’re wondering whether the general stood up for you against Gongsun, you might as well ask directly instead of beating around the bush. Let me tell you plainly: yes, the general did dispute with Gongsun over you, but that’s all. The scene wasn’t as dramatic as you might have hoped.”

Qin Cheng couldn’t help but laugh. He hadn’t expected this fellow to catch on so quickly, but thinking it through, his intentions weren’t too difficult to discern. “Brother Liu, you’ve misunderstood. I would never wish for the general to quarrel with Gongsun on my account.”

He paused, then added, “Though I must admit, I did resent General Gongsun for that arrow. Still, it’s a private grudge at best.”

“Now that’s more like it—an honest answer,” Liu Mu remarked, even allowing a fleeting smile.

Qin Cheng had nothing to add and simply smiled, deepening his understanding of Liu Mu’s character.

As they spoke, the two reached the military camp of Qiansang. From afar, it looked much as it had before the great battle. As Qin Cheng entered, the guards, having learned his identity, looked at him with burning admiration.

Liu Mu led Qin Cheng straight to the central command tent without announcing their arrival.

Inside, Li Guang was not alone—many senior officers were present, including the cavalry captain Ji Zhu. Some of them recognized Qin Cheng; others had never met him before, but now all eyes were on him.

“General, I’ve brought Qin Cheng back as ordered,” Liu Mu reported.

“Your subordinate Qin Cheng greets the general,” Qin Cheng saluted beside Liu Mu.

Li Guang, seeing Qin Cheng, strode from behind his desk, clapped him heartily on the shoulder, and boomed, “Well, are your wounds healed?”

Li Guang had visited Qin Cheng once after he awoke, but that was more than ten days ago. Now, seeing Li Guang as energetic as ever, Qin Cheng surmised the recent victory had been well received in Chang’an.

“It was just a minor arrow wound. There’s no need for the general to worry—I’m fine,” Qin Cheng replied.

“Good! Glad to hear it!” Li Guang laughed, turning to the officers. “This is the Qin I mentioned to you all before. If not for Qin’s actions in the last battle, I might not have survived to see you today!”

“General flatters me. I dare not accept such praise,” Qin Cheng responded modestly.

“So this is Qin?” Deputy General Li Xi approached, studying Qin Cheng with an approving smile. “Truly remarkable! When the general told us of your deeds, we found it hard to believe someone so young could achieve so much. Now I see that heroes are indeed born young. Our Qiansang Army has gained a new tiger general!”

The other officers chimed in with their agreement. Standing to one side, Qin Cheng noticed Li Gan, who still wore a defiant expression.

One after another, the officers praised Qin Cheng, filling him with pride, though outwardly he remained humble and composed. In the end, Li Guang proposed an early celebration banquet in his honor.

“The official commendation from the court hasn’t come yet, but it will be here in a few days. The courier already informed us. When it arrives, we’ll celebrate with the whole army…” Li Guang declared.

After the excitement subsided, Li Guang returned to his desk and turned to official matters. “Some time ago, Qin here mentioned military reforms. I’ve already discussed it with some of you. Now that Qin has returned, let’s discuss it in detail today. If we reach an agreement, we can report it to the court and request the emperor’s approval.”

With that, Li Guang looked to Qin Cheng, inviting him to speak first.

Li Guang’s decision to raise the matter with the officers was no surprise to Qin Cheng. Military reform was a major issue—though Li Guang was both governor and commander here, he couldn’t decide such things alone. The fact that he had Qin Cheng present the proposal as soon as he returned showed just how seriously Li Guang took the idea. It also revealed Li Guang’s decisive character.

“Very well. Since the generals are willing to discuss this, I’ll speak frankly,” Qin Cheng began, straightening his posture as all eyes turned to him. “The Han Empire has stood for sixty or seventy years. In dealing with the Xiongnu problem, the court has always pursued a policy of appeasement, hoping to secure the borders. Yet, as you all know, in these sixty or seventy years, the Xiongnu have never ceased their raids along our frontiers. Every autumn, they ride south to plunder our wealth and kill our people. Skirmishes are yearly; large-scale battles are frequent. At best, they loot the borders, leaving our frontier folk destitute; at worst, they threaten Ganquan Palace, alarming the emperor himself. None of this is due to a lack of courage or tenacity in our soldiers—the root of our difficulties lies in our military’s composition.”

“Appeasement is not our wish, but appeasement cannot bring peace or safeguard our nation’s dignity. Its root is our army’s inability to defeat the Xiongnu, and the root of that inability lies in our military structure.”

“The reason Xiongnu cavalry can sweep through our lands with impunity is their speed. In our Han armies, even if we set aside debates over cavalry strength, our numbers are far below theirs. Every Xiongnu man is a soldier and a cavalryman, and their cavalry are all elite. Compared to them, our defeats are unsurprising.”

“Therefore, to defeat the Xiongnu and end their threat to our frontiers, there is only one way: expand and refine our cavalry. Only by matching cavalry with cavalry, speed with speed, can we hope for decisive victory! In the past, General Li Mu of the Warring States spent ten years forging an elite force of twenty or thirty thousand cavalry, with which he routed the Xiongnu and kept them from the south for decades. That is our model.”

Qin Cheng spoke with eloquence, forgetting himself in the argument and failing to notice the shifting expressions of his audience. Concluding, he said, “Thus, our frontier commands must prioritize the development of cavalry. In three to five years, we may have the strength to uproot the Xiongnu menace.”

When he finished, silence fell over the tent. The generals, including Li Guang and Li Gan, wore thoughtful expressions. Though Qin Cheng had spoken to Li Guang before about the need for cavalry, his current explanation was far more comprehensive and convincing.

After a moment, a heavy infantry captain spoke, not without hostility: “According to you, Qin, all we need to defeat the Xiongnu is cavalry. Does that mean our infantry will disappear from the army? Let’s not forget that in the recent battle, our heavy infantry played a crucial role. Not to mention the main formation at Hulu Valley—at the North Gate, it was the heavy infantry who held control!”

“Oh?” Qin Cheng raised an eyebrow and asked calmly, “Then may I ask, General, where were you during the battles at Hulu Valley and the North Gate?”

Qin Cheng remembered clearly that by the time of the North Gate fight, Li Guang’s heavy infantry were down to just two hundred men, and not one captain remained. He surmised the heavy infantry captain must have died at Hulu Valley. That was why Qin Cheng asked.

“Well… Though I wasn’t present for those battles, I know their details well enough,” the captain replied. He had accompanied Deputy General Li Xi, and so hadn’t been involved in those fights.

“Since you weren’t on the scene, your remarks are understandable,” Qin Cheng said bluntly, for this was no time for diplomacy. “At Hulu Valley, we used the same tactics General Li Mu devised, yet even facing equal numbers, we never truly defeated the Xiongnu, especially when their cavalry attacked our rear. You speak as though you know the whole story, but in fact you do not. Allow me to ask: when our infantry retreated under cavalry cover, how many lives were lost in vain? And how dearly did our cavalry pay to protect our retreat? If not for the proximity of the mountain pass, would our infantry have survived? As for the North Gate, I disagree even more—do you really think the Xiongnu will again fight us head-on before the city? Without the advantage of the city gates, what then?”

At the end, Qin Cheng’s tone was sharp, eyes fixed on the captain, making no attempt to hide his subordinate status.

The heavy infantry captain, pressed on every side, realized he was in the wrong and began to sweat. In truth, he was only defending his own branch; if cavalry became dominant, both his numbers and status would plummet. He had to speak up.

Qin Cheng understood, but for the sake of cavalry reform, he could not yield.

“Then according to you, if we focus on cavalry, what of our chariots and infantry? Are you suggesting we ignore the benefits of coordinated arms?” This time, Li Xi posed the question.

“My call for a cavalry focus does not mean dismissing other branches entirely,” Qin Cheng replied. “Cavalry must play the leading role, but abandoning the others completely would be a mistake.”

He recalled that in the campaigns against the Xiongnu, Wei Qing had not relied on cavalry alone; chariots and infantry had played key roles. Compared to Huo Qubing, who achieved grand victories with pure cavalry but at high cost, Wei Qing coordinated all arms, won decisively, and kept casualties low, though his results were less spectacular.

“The Han border is long and the terrain complex. Relying solely on cavalry is unwise. Coordinated tactics are irreplaceable in certain situations. Even in deep raids into Xiongnu territory, unless our cavalry are overwhelmingly elite and our strategy flawless, combined arms remain essential. However, to defeat the Xiongnu, our cavalry must be at the core, with other branches supporting them,” Qin Cheng said, his mind filled with memories of pre-crossing battles.

“In that case, I see your point. But making cavalry the main force with others supporting it—is unprecedented. If we attempt it and fail, the consequences could be dire. Do you have a plan for this?” Li Xi asked, pushing the responsibility for reform onto Qin Cheng.

Qin Cheng smiled. “Nothing is built without first tearing down the old. Cavalry as the main force is new to us and to the Xiongnu. Who’s to say we cannot win? All innovation begins with exploration. If we fear failure, we will never succeed. My own plans are not important, nor are yours; what matters is whether we have the confidence and resolve to find the way. Without that, talk of destroying the Xiongnu is mere fantasy.”

At these words, every officer present was struck. They knew, in their hearts, Qin Cheng spoke the truth. Each of them had grown up fighting the Xiongnu, witnessing the devastation they wrought on the frontier. Who among them did not wish to turn the tide and wash away past humiliations? Now, Qin Cheng had pointed the way and laid out the strategy—who would not be moved?

For a time, all fell silent, their faces thoughtful.