activa-t Chapter 52 Beacon Fire in Nanyang
Chapter 52 Beacon Fire in Nanyang
On the third day of the sixth month of the sixteenth year of Chongzhen's reign, in Nanyang City.
The city wall was newly reinforced last year, with neatly laid blue bricks and tight crenellations. But now, the wall is covered with traces of smoke and fire, and several crenellations have collapsed, temporarily plugged with door panels and corpses. Blood seeps from the cracks in the bricks, turning dark brown under the scorching June sun, attracting swarms of greenbottle flies whose buzzing drowns out the distant roar of the river.
Prefect Liu Zhenshi stood atop the North Gate tower. He was forty-six years old, tall and thin, with a torn section of his official robe tightly wrapped around his left arm—where he had been struck by an arrow the day before, the arrowhead still embedded in the flesh. The army doctor wanted to remove it, but he shook his head: "Let's wait until we drive off the bandits." The gauze was soaked with dark red blood, but he didn't cry out in pain, his eyes fixed on the black forest that had suddenly sprung up three miles outside the city.
Those were Liu Zongmin's 30,000 elite cavalry.
People stood shoulder to shoulder, horses stood side by side, and tents stretched densely from the banks of the Baihe River all the way to the foot of Dushan Mountain. Further away, dozens of siege ladders were being hastily constructed, and the sound of carpenters hammering could be faintly heard three miles away, like the urgent drumbeats of a night watchman.
"My lord," said Wang Yunzhong, the garrison commander, as he walked up the city wall. He had a new scar on his face, running from his left eyebrow to the corner of his mouth, with the skin turned outwards. "We only have eight thousand arrows left, less than three hundred catties of gunpowder, and we used up the logs and rocks at three stockpiles last night."
Liu Zhenshi didn't turn around, his voice hoarse: "Where's the grain?"
"If we eat sparingly, we can last for another five days."
Five days.
Liu Zhenshi counted the days in his mind. Today was the third day of the sixth lunar month. Liu Zongmin had besieged the city on the twenty-eighth day of the fifth lunar month and had held it for six days. There were only five thousand soldiers in Nanyang City who could fight, plus the militia temporarily recruited, totaling less than eight thousand men. Facing thirty thousand elite cavalry, it was already a miracle that they could hold out for six days.
Where are the reinforcements?
On May 30th, Sun Chuanting sent a suicide squad to break through the siege and deliver a message from Tongguan, which should have arrived by now. The governor of Huguang said that troops had been mobilized, but no one has been seen yet. A letter did arrive from Xiangyang saying that they were "assembling," but Liu Zhenshi knew that was just a perfunctory excuse—Xiangyang's own troops were not enough to defend the city, so why would they come to Nanyang's aid?
"My lord," Wang Yunzhong lowered his voice and leaned closer, "last night... eleven of the guards at the south gate escaped."
Liu Zhenshi finally turned his head, his eyes bloodshot: "Did you catch them?"
"Six were captured and executed on the spot; their heads were displayed in the barbican. There are still five... we haven't caught them; they've probably defected to the rebels."
"What about your family?"
"According to the law, the families of deserters have been turned into government slaves and have already been imprisoned."
Liu Zhenshi remained silent. He looked down at the dark enemy camps below the city, then glanced back at the city itself—the streets and alleys were deserted, the people were hiding in their homes, and only a few stray dogs were foraging for food among the ruins.
After a long silence, he slowly said, "Let him go."
"grown ups?"
"Release their wives, children, and elderly parents." Liu Zhenshi's voice was soft, but every word was clear. "Tell all the people in the city: those who wish to leave can now leave through the south gate; I will not stop them. On the day the city falls, I, Liu, will not implicate the innocent."
Wang Yunzhong's eyes reddened: "My lord! This..."
"Do as instructed." Liu Zhenshi waved his hand, turning towards the outside of the city. "Send another team of assassins to break through the siege and head to Tongguan. Tell Commander Sun: If Nanyang falls, there will be no more defenses north of Xiangyang. I... can only hold out until June 15th."
"June 15th?"
"If reinforcements do not arrive by June 15th," Liu Zhenshi gazed at the dark forest, the sunlight blinding him, "I, Liu, will perish with the city."
At noon on the same day, Tongguan.
Sun Chuanting stood on the gate wall, clutching the third letter from Nanyang pleading for help. The letter was soaked with sweat and the handwriting was blurred, but the last sentence, "If reinforcements do not arrive by June 15th, I, Liu, will perish with the city," burned like a red-hot iron into his palm.
"Commander," said Lieutenant Gao Jie, standing behind him, his armor gleaming coldly in the sunlight, "Do you really want to save them?"
"We must save them." Sun Chuanting carefully folded the letter and stuffed it into his breast pocket. "Nanyang is the gateway to Xiangyang. If Nanyang falls, Li Zicheng can drive south and cut off the Yangtze River. At that time, no matter how well we defend Tongguan, it will be an isolated city. Once the supply lines are cut off, the area inside the pass will be in chaos within three months."
"But we only have 15,000 soldiers inside the pass," Gao Jie frowned, pointing to Li Zicheng's camp twenty miles outside the pass. "Li Zicheng's 100,000-strong army is right across the way, provoking us every day. If we divide our forces, what will happen to Tongguan?"
Sun Chuanting didn't answer immediately. He walked to the edge of the crenellations and touched the bricks. The bricks were scorching hot, and the rolling loess plateaus beyond the pass distorted in the heat. Li Zicheng's camp had sparse banners—a deliberate show of weakness. That old scoundrel couldn't wait for him to leave the pass and fight in the open, to drown him with his cavalry on the plains.
"I won't bring much." Sun Chuanting turned around, his gaze sweeping over the new army that was training inside the pass. "I'll only bring eight thousand cavalry, two horses per person. Lightly armed and simple, without any provisions, we'll eat from the enemy along the way."
"Eight thousand?" Gao Jie exclaimed in surprise. "Liu Zongmin has thirty thousand elite cavalry!"
"We're not going to fight head-on." Sun Chuanting walked to the sand table inside the gate tower, where a wooden topographical map was covered with small flags. He pointed to Lushan, sixty li northwest of Nanyang: "Most of Liu Zongmin's grain and supplies are stored here. Li Zicheng brought all the old supplies from Shaanxi, but he couldn't bear to give them all to him, so Liu Zongmin's grain was forcibly requisitioned from various parts of Henan and concentrated in Lushan for transport."
He raised his eyes: "I'll lead the cavalry around and burn their grain supplies. Once their supplies are cut off, they'll naturally have to come back to their aid—30,000 cavalry, how much grain and fodder will that consume every day? They can't afford it."
Gao Jie stared at the sand table, then suddenly realized: "To relieve the siege of Wei by attacking Zhao?"
"Yes." Sun Chuanting straightened up. "Gao Jie, Tongguan is in your hands. While I'm away, you are the commander. Remember these eight words: No matter how much they provoke us, we will never leave the pass. Hold it until June 20th, and I will return."
Gao Jie took a deep breath, knelt on one knee, and declared resolutely, "This humble general... swears to defend Tongguan to the death!"
Sun Chuanting helped him up, placing his hand on his shoulder armor: "It's not about holding out to the death, it's about holding out to the life. As long as the city stands, we live, that's true. But I want you all to live, until the day the imperial court launches its counterattack."
He paused, then said in a low voice, "After I left, we continued to raise flags, beat drums, and patrol the pass every day as usual, creating the illusion that the army was still there. Li Zicheng is suspicious; as long as the flags at the pass remained in order and the cooking smoke continued, he wouldn't dare to make any moves."
"This subordinate understands."
At Shenshi (3-5 PM) that day, the east gate of Tongguan quietly opened a crack.
Eight thousand cavalrymen filed out, each with two horses, carrying only three days' worth of dry rations and a bag of roasted rice. Their hooves were wrapped in thick cloth, all bells removed, and even their bits were bound with hemp rope. The eight thousand-strong column was so quiet that only the sound of the wind and the occasional snort of a horse could be heard.
Sun Chuanting rode in front, glancing back at Tongguan. The pass walls gleamed with an iron-gray light in the setting sun, and the large banner bearing the character "Ming" fluttered in the west wind like a hand that refused to bow its head.
"Let's go," he said in a low voice, flicking his whip.
Eight thousand cavalrymen, like a silent torrent, swept into the gullies of the Loess Plateau and disappeared into the dust and smoke of the north.
On June 12th, at 1-3 PM on the Jiujiang River.
Zheng Sen stood on the deck of the flagship Fujian ship. The river wind was strong, making his dark blue cloak flutter loudly. He was nineteen years old, but the wind and waves at sea had long since worn away the childishness on his face. At this moment, his eyes were sharp as knives, staring at the gradually clearing black dot where the water met the sky in the west.
"General," his deputy Lin Cha said, his face grave, as he came up the gangway, "Zuo Menggeng's vanguard fleet is less than thirty miles from here."
"How many ships?"
"There are eighty warships, twenty of which are converted from large cargo ships, each capable of carrying two hundred soldiers; the rest are warships and patrol boats. The total number of soldiers is about five thousand."
Zheng Sen nodded. Five days ago, he received an urgent secret order from Nanjing: "Arrive in Jiujiang within five days, control the river, and do not make any mistakes." He led his navy day and night, with the Fujian ships sailing at full speed and the oarsmen taking turns without rest. They arrived in Jiujiang in four and a half days. Now, thirty Fujian ships and fifty Cangshan ships are lined up in a crescent formation on the river, with all the cannons pointing west.
"Order all ships," Zheng Sen said calmly, "to raise the 'By Imperial Order to Patrol the River' flag. Without my command flag, not a single cannon shot shall be fired, not a single arrow shall be released."
"What if they force their way in?"
"Stop him," Zheng Sen said, uttering only one word.
Lin Cha accepted the order and left. Soon, bright yellow flags were raised on the mainmasts of each ship, and the four large characters "By Imperial Order, Patrol the River" were unfurled in the river breeze.
Zheng Sen continued to gaze at the river. His father, Zheng Zhilong, had said: "To contend at sea, one relies on strong ships and powerful cannons; to contend on the Yangtze River, one relies on having a legitimate cause." He was now flying the "By Imperial Decree" flag, personally bestowed by the Emperor. If Zuo Menggeng dared to charge into battle, it would be an open act of defiance—a crime that would be enough to cause chaos within Zuo's army.
Footsteps came again from the gangway. This time it was the clerk, who was holding a newly arrived copy of the Nanjing Gazette.
"General, it was just delivered this morning, the sixth issue."
Zheng Sen took it and unfolded it. The front page was an excerpt of His Majesty's speech at the Meridian Gate on the first day of the sixth month, the ink still fresh:
"I, the Emperor of the Great Ming, have never considered giving up an inch of our northern lands. All my subjects should know that the court's efforts today to strengthen the army and reform corrupt practices are not for temporary peace, but for the foundation of future generations..."
Below are summaries of the new regulations, a list of actual monthly wages paid to canal workers, and the Independent Commission Against Corruption's May case handling announcements. The paper is rough, but the characters are clear, and the lower right corner is stamped with a red seal that reads "Printed by the Hanlin Academy."
"How many were printed?" Zheng Sen asked.
"Eight thousand copies were printed this time, and all the postmasters in the provinces, prefectures, and counties are required to post them. I heard that they will also be sent to the nine border regions."
Zheng Sen pondered for a moment, then tapped his finger on the official gazette: "Select three hundred copies and shoot them with arrows onto the left-wing ships—choose the best archers and shoot them onto their decks, making sure they don't fall into the water."
The clerk was taken aback: "General, this is...?"
"Let them see," Zheng Sen said, looking at the approaching ship in the west, "what the court is doing, what kind of lives the people are living. War... is not for the ambition of one or two people."
He paused, then added, "Find a few more loud voices, and when their boat gets close, shout: 'Those who abandon darkness and embrace light will have their past transgressions forgiven, and will be granted land and exempted from taxes according to the new policies.'"
June 14, Nanjing, side hall of Wenhua Hall.
Xu Wenjue sat in a rosewood chair, a pot of freshly brewed Lu'an Melon Seed tea in front of him, the tea liquor clear and green, its aroma wafting gently. He had been there for five days, staying at the best inn on the banks of the Qinhuai River, the "Yuelai Inn," eating the most expensive banquet at the "Zuixianlou," and meeting the twelve most prominent merchants in Nanjing. Everything was so meticulously arranged that it was almost unsettling, even to the point of making him uneasy.
Yesterday, accompanied by a senior official from the Ministry of Rites, he visited the newly built "Royal Chamber of Commerce." The three-courtyard complex had a stone tablet at the entrance inscribed with the Chamber's charter. Inside the main hall, prominent figures from Anhui, Zhejiang, and Fujian merchants were gathered, not discussing how to evade taxes, but rather how to subscribe to the second tranche of "Northern Expedition Construction Bonds."
He remembered clearly the words of a silk merchant from Huzhou: "This time the imperial court is serious. The confiscation of the Wang family's property is a warning to others. If we follow suit, we'll get our share; if we oppose them, we'll be the next Wang Youcai."
The day before yesterday, he went to the Qinhuai River to "observe the people's sentiments" and saw that the yamen runners of the Anti-Corruption Bureau had posted a notice in front of the screen wall of the prefectural school: the magistrate of Jiangning County had accepted a bribe of thirty taels of silver and forcibly occupied five mu of farmland, and was sentenced to be dismissed from his post and exiled to Qiongzhou. The people surrounded him in layers, and an old scholar was reading it with his head swaying. When he read "in accordance with the Great Ming Code and the new regulations," some people in the crowd actually clapped and cheered.
Today, he presented his nameplate requesting an audience with His Majesty to express his gratitude, but a message came from the palace: His Majesty is busy with state affairs, and Grand Secretary Ni Yuanlu will receive him on his behalf. So he was led to this side hall, and after three rounds of tea, Ni Yuanlu finally entered slowly, speaking politely, yet every word was laced with barbs:
"Mr. Xu, go back and tell Commander Zuo that the court is never stingy with rewards for meritorious officials—Sun Chuanting, Zhou Yuji, Qin Liangyu, which one of them didn't receive high-ranking official positions and generous salaries? But it is absolutely ruthless towards traitors. Jiangnan is now well-fed and well-trained, and the people are loyal to the country. Some people have certain ideas... They should be cut off when necessary. Dragging it out is not good for anyone."
Xu Wenjue picked up the teacup, his hand trembling almost imperceptibly.
Before his arrival, the general consensus in the Wuchang government was that Jiangnan was still the same Jiangnan as before—gentry colluded, officials were corrupt, the people suffered, and the new policies of the court were nothing more than a show to frighten the timid.
But in these five days, he witnessed a Jiangnan region undergoing a complete transformation: the commercial tax reform was underway, the canal transport was running smoothly, the Anti-Corruption Bureau was actually arresting people, and the shouts of the new army during drills rang out precisely at dawn every day... His Majesty had money, grain, and soldiers, but even more so, the most terrifying thing—the hearts of the people.
Could the Left Marshal possibly defeat such a court?
"Mr. Xu."
Xu Wenjue stiffened and looked up to see Li Ruolian standing by the door, dressed in casual clothes with a smile on her face, but her eyes were like those of a hawk.
He hurriedly stood up: "Lord Li."
"Sit down." Li Ruolian sat down first, poured herself a cup of tea, but didn't drink it. "Mr. Xu, how have you been in Nanjing these past few days?"
"Jiangnan... has a brand-new look. His Majesty is wise, and the new policies have yielded great results." Xu Wenjue carefully considered his words.
"No need for pleasantries," Li Ruolian waved her hand, her smile fading slightly. "Mr. Xu is a smart man; he's seen everything he needed to. I only have one question: If Commander Zuo truly intends to raise an army, what are his chances of victory?"
Xu Wenjue's back was covered in cold sweat.
"I am too dull to make any assumptions."
"No, you dared to test it, and you did." Li Ruolian leaned forward, her voice low but clear, "The wealth of Jiangnan this year is eight million taels, enough to support an army of three hundred thousand; the Yangtze River navy, with over a hundred Fujian ships, already controls the middle reaches; Jiangxi, Huguang, and Anqing, Huang Degong, Shen Youlong, and Zhang Jiayu all have elite troops stationed there. The Left Commander's one hundred thousand troops are isolated in Wuchang, without supplies or reinforcements—how can he possibly win?"
Xu Wenjue's Adam's apple bobbed, but he couldn't speak.
"Mr. Xu, go back and tell Commander Zuo," Li Ruolian leaned back in her chair, her tone returning to its usual calm, "His Majesty, considering him a veteran general and a loyal subject of three reigns, has given him face. He has relinquished his military power and is to come to Nanjing to retire in comfort, with his rank and wealth preserved. If he remains obstinate..."
He didn't finish speaking, but Xu Wenjue understood. The unspoken words were even more terrifying than what was said.
"The student... will definitely pass on the message." Xu Wenjue's voice was dry.
Li Ruolian stood up, walked to the window, and looked at the sky outside the palace walls: "There is one more thing. Qin Liangyu's nephew, Qin Yiming, has led 5,000 White-Spear Soldiers eastward out of the Three Gorges and arrived in Zigui on the tenth day of the sixth month. After General Qin incorporated Sun Kewang's troops, the defense of northern Sichuan was temporarily stabilized, so he sent troops to help the court pacify the Yangtze River."
He turned around and looked at Xu Wenjue's face, which had turned pale instantly: "You can also tell Zuo Shuai this as well."
Qin Liangyu! The female general who held off Zhang Xianzhong's 100,000-strong army at Jianmen Pass and persuaded Sun Kewang to surrender on the battlefield! If she were to march east, the western gateway to Wuchang would be wide open...
Xu Wenjue's hand trembled, and the teacup almost slipped from his grasp.
"Student...understands," he said in a trembling voice.
Li Ruolian's face returned to that polite smile: "Good that you understand. Mr. Xu is a smart man, a smart man... knows how to choose."
June 15th, Nanyang City, Chenshi (7-9 AM).
The last day.
The city wall was damaged even more severely. A breach three zhang wide was smashed open at the west gate by the battering ram. The defenders tried to fill the breach with corpses, but it was breached again after four attempts. Blood soaked the base of the city wall, turning it a dark purple color, attracting swarms of flies that swarmed onto the pile of corpses and wouldn't leave no matter how hard they tried to shoo them away.
Liu Zhenshi stood at the breach, a dulled blade in his hand. His official hat was nowhere to be found, his hair was disheveled, and the arrow wound on his left arm was festering, the stench of decay emanating from it even through the gauze. Yet he stood ramrod straight, like an iron stake driven into the breach.
"My lord! My lord!" Wang Yunzhong, his face covered in blood, rushed up the ramparts, his voice hoarse but filled with wild joy, "Reinforcements...reinforcements have arrived!"
Liu Zhenshi was startled: "Where? The Tongguan soldiers?"
"It's not the Tongguan troops! It's Commander Sun's cavalry!" Wang Yunzhong pointed northwest, his fingers trembling with excitement. "They burned Liu Zongmin's granary in Lushan! Flames...flames soaring into the sky! The rebel camp is in chaos!"
Liu Zhenshi staggered up the dilapidated city wall and looked around.
About sixty miles to the northwest, thick smoke billowed straight into the sky, tearing a dark wound in the azure backdrop. That was the direction of Lushan, where Liu Zongmin had stored grain.
The bandit camp outside the city was indeed thrown into chaos. Flags waved wildly, dust billowed from the movement of troops, and bugles sounded incoherently—the signal to retreat.
"Heaven has not forsaken my Nanyang..." Liu Zhenshi murmured, tears mixed with blood flowing down his face, leaving two white streaks.
But he immediately wiped his face and roared with all his might, "Open the city gates! All troops, attack! Cooperate with Commander Sun and launch a pincer attack on the bandits!"
"My lord, we only have less than three thousand men left who can fight..." Wang Yunzhong choked up.
"Three thousand men are enough!" Liu Zhenshi raised his sword, the tip pointing at the chaotic black forest. "Tell the brothers: Commander Sun has come to rescue us! Today we fight to the death, not for the court, but for your fathers, mothers, wives, and children in the city! Kill—"
"kill!"
The remaining defenders mustered their last strength and surged out from the breaches, the city gates, and every possible escape route, like a torrent bursting its banks, crashing violently into the enemy camp that was turning away.
Liu Zongmin was urgently ordering the vanguard to return to rescue Lushan, never expecting that these "lambs to the slaughter" in the city would dare to rush out on their own initiative. The vanguard was thrown into chaos, the central army's flags waved, and the rear guard, not yet understanding the situation, trampled each other.
Just then, a cloud of dust rose from the east.
Sun Chuanting's eight thousand cavalrymen have arrived.
Each rider rode two horses, covering four hundred li day and night. Exhausted and their armor covered in dust, they were now all raised their lances. The tips of the lances gleamed coldly in the morning sun, like a moving forest of steel.
"Great Ming—" Sun Chuanting took the lead, his voice breaking through the battlefield's clamor.
"Victory!" Eight thousand cavalrymen roared in unison, the sound shaking the ground.
The iron cavalry advanced like a wall, ramming into the flanks of the bandits in a wedge formation. Hooves shattered wooden shields, spears tore bodies apart, and archers unleashed a hail of arrows as they charged, raining them down on the chaotic enemy ranks. Wherever they passed, a trail of blood and severed limbs followed.
Surrounded by his personal guards, Liu Zongmin saw the large banner bearing the character "Sun" and his expression changed drastically. The supplies had been burned, morale was low, and now they were being attacked from two sides…
"Withdraw!" He turned his horse and rode away without lingering for battle.
With their commander fleeing, the entire army collapsed. The 30,000 elite cavalrymen, who came like a landslide, left like a receding tide, leaving behind only corpses, banners, and abandoned supplies.
Beneath the walls of Nanyang City, corpses lay strewn across the fields, blood seeping into the yellow earth; in a few days, unusually lush wild grass would grow there.
Sun Chuanting did not pursue. He reined in his horse, gazing at the devastated city walls, at the wounded soldiers supporting each other at the city gate, and at Liu Zhenshi, who stood upright amidst the pile of corpses, covered in blood.
He dismounted, walked up to Liu Zhenshi, and bowed deeply, ignoring the bloodstains: "Prefect Liu, I, Sun... am late."
Liu Zhenshi tried to return the greeting, but his body swayed and he fell straight forward.
Sun Chuanting rushed forward to support him, his hands finding Liu Zhenshi burning hot—Liu Zhenshi already had a fever, his left arm wound was ulcerated to the point of exposing the bone, yet he wore a smile on his face.
"Medical officer!" Sun Chuanting roared, "Quickly!"
Liu Zhenshi grabbed his wrist guard with astonishing strength, his voice weak yet clear: "Commander Sun... has Nanyang... held?"
"We held on." Sun Chuanting nodded emphatically, his throat tightening. "We held on, Prefect Liu, Nanyang has been defended."
Liu Zhenshi smiled, a smile that stretched his chapped lips, from which blood seeped: "That's good... the people of the city... didn't die in vain..."
After saying this, he fainted.
Sun Chuanting picked up the frighteningly light body and headed towards the city gate. The setting sun was sinking in the west, its blood-red light spreading across the battlefield, the broken city walls, and the faces of every surviving soldier, their faces covered in blood.
Nanyang held out for twelve days in this battle. The defending army suffered over 4,700 casualties, 3,000 civilians were killed or wounded, and over 10,000 civilians perished. Eleven sections of the city wall were breached, and three of the city gates were destroyed.
But the city was defended.
June 15th night, Wuchang, General's study.
Zuo Liangyu was still awake. On the mahogany table in front of him were three documents that had been delivered that evening:
The first document was a secret letter from Xu Wenjue in Nanjing, eight pages long, detailing his observations in Jiangnan, and filled with despair.
The second report was an urgent message from Jin Shenghuan in Nanchang: "After three days of siege, we have failed to capture the city, and morale is low. Huang Degong's cavalry has reached Huangmei and is attacking our supply lines, making land-based resupply difficult."
The third document was one that his own night scouts had risked their lives to deliver: "Qin Yiming led 5,000 White Spear soldiers eastward and arrived in Zigui on the tenth day of the sixth month. They were preparing their ships, seemingly intending to sail down the river."
The three messages, like three cold, massive stones, weighed heavily on his heart, making it hard for him to breathe.
He walked to the window and opened it. The Yangtze River flowed eastward, its waters wailing in the night. On the river, Zuo Menggeng's fleet was still anchored in Jiujiang, confronting Zheng Sen. Eight whole days had passed without any progress—a letter arrived yesterday saying that the grain ships had been intercepted by Zheng Sen's navy at Hukou, and the land supply lines had been harassed by Huang Degong's cavalry. The army had already begun to reduce its food supplies.
"General." Lu Ding entered quietly, carrying a bowl of ginseng soup.
"Put it down." Zuo Liangyu didn't turn around.
Lu Ding placed the soup bowl on the table and said in a low voice, "Nanjing's attitude... is very clear. Either hand over Quan Rongyang, or we'll go to war. Qin Liangyu is heading east, Huang Degong is advancing west, Zheng Sen is controlling the river... We're surrounded."
Zuo Liangyu remained silent. After a long while, he asked, "Where is Meng Geng?"
"Still in Jiujiang. Zheng Sen wouldn't let him pass, so he... didn't dare to force his way through."
"Dare not?" Zuo Liangyu suddenly laughed, the laughter particularly chilling in the quiet night. "My son, Zuo Liangyu, commands 30,000 soldiers and 200 warships, yet he doesn't even dare to cross a river... Hahaha..."
The laughter eventually turned into violent coughing.
Lu Ding lowered his head and remained silent.
After a long while, Zuo Liangyu stopped coughing, his voice tired and hoarse: "Tell Menggeng to retreat. Go back to Wuchang."
"What about the imperial court...?"
"The imperial court?" Zuo Liangyu gazed at the dark river outside the window, the river breeze carrying the fishy smell of water. "Let me think about it some more... think about it some more..."
Lu Ding silently withdrew and gently closed the door.
Zuo Liangyu was alone in the study. He blew out the lamp and stood motionless in the darkness, like a weathering stone statue. Only the occasional flicker of the river fire illuminated half of his aged face.
Meanwhile, a thousand miles away outside the city of Nanyang, Sun Chuanting was personally burying the fallen soldiers. He did not erect any tombstones, but simply placed a sharpened wooden stake in each grave, with no words on the stakes.
"Commander," the lieutenant said, bringing over a bowl of water, "aren't you going to write your name on it?"
"The names are in my heart." Sun Chuanting gazed at the endless graves under the moonlight, his voice low and deep. "When the world is at peace, those who survived will come back to erect monuments for them."
He took the bowl of water, drank it all in one gulp, and mounted his horse.
"Return to Tongguan."
Eight thousand cavalrymen set off again, their hoofbeats drowned out by the heavy night. In the north, Li Zicheng's camp remained brightly lit, like the watchful eyes of a pack of wolves. In the south, the standoff on the Yangtze River continued, with undercurrents surging beneath the surface.
Many people are destined to be sleepless this night.