Chapter 124: Discussing Art

Whenever the vast fields were blanketed in white, literati and poets delighted in setting up a stove to brew wine and admire the snow. Of course, their intent was not to debate heroes over wine, but rather to praise beauties.

With a beauty in one’s arms, a bit of flirtation, and a few crooked verses, a successful poetry gathering would come to an end. If interest lingered, it might even lead to late-night chats side by side.

Spring brims with vitality, summer scorches unbearably, autumn offers crisp and clear air, and winter blankets the north in pure snow. Each season could inspire a surge of poetic fervor.

Yet, beauty is often but a fragile shell, unfit for deep scrutiny. Squatting by the vibrant green grass, one would see the filthy soil and crawling insects beneath. In the same way, beneath the pristine snow lies troublesome mud that brings headaches.

In Lin’an City, the snow melted earlier than outside, and the streets were muddy everywhere. Lu Qiang cursed as he entered the prefectural office, stomping his feet. “We just finished smoothing the roads months ago, and now it’s all ruined again.”

That’s the nature of dirt roads: they look solid and firm, no wagon can leave deep ruts, but a few heavy rains quickly expose their true form.

“Where’s the Prefect?” Lu Qiang took off his shoes, revealing socks soaked halfway through, and placed them by the small stove to dry.

The steam mixed with the smell of foot odor. The clerk took a deep breath. “The Prefect is in his office.”

Later, Lu Qiang stood, patting the clerk’s shoulder. “Deep breath, no exhale. You think my feet smell good? Not bad at flattery.”

The clerk remained expressionless. “The Deputy Governor’s feet don’t smell good. But thinking of him trudging through the mud for Chen Prefecture, this one feels a fragrance.”

Lu Qiang smiled, but it was a faint smile.

For Tang officials, Chen Prefecture was a veritable hell. Those assigned here were either disgraced or had lost in the ruthless political arena.

The clerks here fell into two categories: locals appointed as clerks, whose abilities were uneven—indeed, mostly useless—and exiled clerks, fewer in number but often peculiar.

This clerk’s flattery was smooth and fresh, prompting a rare appreciation from Lu Qiang.

Inside the office, Liu Qing studied a map.

“Prefect seems quite relaxed today,” Lu Qiang remarked upon entering.

Without turning, Liu Qing replied, “Chen Prefecture is in ruins. If I stay silent every day, the soldiers and civilians will lose their morale. So I must roar daily. Only heavy rains or winter give me a brief respite.”

Lu Qiang knelt beside him, watching Liu Qing’s fingers trace the map.

“You still intend to attack Liang Chao?”

Liu Qing nodded. “The three great tribes have been quieter these past years, but their apparent calm is merely a facade. Liang Chao commands over three thousand cavalry; though called bandits, they are merely troops of the Waxie tribe in disguise. That villain is ruthless—two years ago, he ambushed and slaughtered over a hundred of our settlers. I have never forgotten that grudge.”

Lu Qiang said, “Reports from Tao County say internal strife has broken out in Northern Liao. Are you taking advantage of their distraction to strike Liang Chao?”

“Exactly!” Liu Qing looked up, his furrowed brow deepening with bitterness. “I swore to the families of those killed that I would avenge them. Now the opportunity has come. If I miss it, I won’t have the face to step outside this office.”

He looked at Lu Qiang. “I’ve already summoned the county magistrates from five counties to discuss this. We must win this battle.”

Chen Prefecture consisted of six counties, with Lin’an as the prefectural seat, so no summons were needed there.

Lu Qiang rubbed his forehead. “Each of the five counties will send troops, plus Lin’an’s forces, totaling over five thousand. Liang Chao’s three thousand men seem fewer, but honestly, I have no confidence in the quality of the county troops.”

“Among the six counties, which do you favor?” Liu Qing’s eyes gleamed.

Lu Qiang stroked his beard thoughtfully. “Wang Xing of Hengshui County is a crafty old fox—he never acts without benefit and avoids losses. Lu Jiao of Wangu County is mediocre. Lin Ziyu of Huilong County is slippery and timid, unfit for great matters. Du Hui of Zhangyu County is decisive; he once repelled bandits several times…”

Liu Qing interrupted, displeased, “You’re hesitating!”

“Yes.” Lu Qiang smiled wryly. “After much thought, I find Yang Xuan of Taiping County the most outstanding. He arrived recently and led prisoners to defeat bandits, then engaged the Waxie cavalry in direct battle, overwhelmingly victorious despite being outnumbered.”

“You admire him, but what worries you?” Liu Qing crossed his arms. “You fear he’s too young, too inexperienced. If we favor him, others will exclude or even target him.”

Lu Qiang nodded. “Human hearts are inscrutable.”

Liu Qing spoke slowly, “Life is inherently dull. Watching others struggle more than oneself is the greatest amusement. High officials watch their subordinates, clerks watch the people. It’s only natural.”

Lu Qiang sighed. “Yang Xuan now leads the Taiping militia, the only one among the six counties. Others grumble, accusing us of favoritism.”

“Rubbish!” Liu Qing cursed. “They’re a bunch of begrudgers. If they had the skill, they should go fight, make merit. I’d risk my life to cheer them on.”

Lu Qiang looked up. “So, Prefect’s meaning is...?”

“I govern Chen Prefecture by fairness!” Liu Qing’s voice was stern. “Whoever can do the job, I will support and appoint. Whoever sits idly, I’ll kick out!”

Lu Qiang bowed. “Such governance is a blessing for Chen Prefecture.”

“Your flattery needs work. Next time, spare me.” Liu Qing laughed. “Do you know why I back Yang Xuan so strongly?”

Lu Qiang shook his head.

“I heard Yang Xuan had an opportunity to be transferred to a wealthy region, but he refused outright. Do you know why?” Liu Qing answered himself with a faint tone, “Because Chen Prefecture is unstable, and he will not leave.”

Lu Qiang raised his brow. “Is that so?”

Liu Qing nodded. Lu Qiang praised, “Truly a man of passion. Then, how about letting him command a separate army this time?”

Liu Qing replied calmly, “If others question it...”

Lu Qiang’s gaze sharpened. “Tang has many talents, but how many are truly devoted? Since there are such men, I will protect them.”

Liu Qing nodded and cleared his throat. “What do you think of my decision?”

Lu Qiang exclaimed, “A masterstroke of cunning.”

Liu Qing looked at him. “I’m in a foul mood today; I want to hear more flattery.”

Lu Qiang was speechless.

…

When Yang Xuan arrived in Lin’an, the snow had long melted, and last year’s withered grass, here a tuft, there a clump, was wrapped in mud, evoking the image of fading blossoms and withered willows.

“How long has it been? Seems like there are fewer beauties now,” the old rogue murmured, nursing his injury but insisting on accompanying the group, his eyes darting around the city.

Wang Laoer was curious. “What’s so interesting about women?”

“You don’t understand!” the old rogue laughed. “The delights of women are endless.”

Wang Laoer stared at the women but found it dull.

A woman carrying a basket passed by. Noticing two men, one old and one young, staring at her, she felt a thrill of pride.

“Her chest is a bit flat,” the old rogue muttered, shaking his head.

The woman overheard, snorted coldly, and straightened her chest.

Wang Laoer asked, “Old rogue, why do you look at them?”

“To feel at ease,” the old rogue smiled lecherously.

“But you said last time you’re no longer capable!”

“Who said that?”

The woman glanced at the old rogue with disdain so sharp he wished he could disappear.

“Don’t corrupt Laoer,” Yang Xuan scolded. “Old rogue, are you healing your injury or your… kidneys? You’re getting even more lecherous.”

The green light flickered. The old house was burning fast.

At the prefectural office, the five county magistrates had all arrived.

In the hall, someone said, “Yang Mingfu is late, as usual!”

The speaker was Lu Jiao. Yang Xuan didn’t even raise his eyelids. “Bad weather.”

Lu Jiao wanted to retort, but Lu Qiang calmly said, “Let’s begin.”

Liu Qing knelt at the head seat, speaking solemnly, “There’s turmoil in Northern Liao. Helian Feng is furiously suppressing rebels. This is Chen Prefecture’s opportunity.”

What was Old Liu up to?

Yang Xuan sensed some tension.

“Do you remember the massacre of our settlers two years ago?” Liu Qing gripped the knife handle, his tone fierce.

Lin Ziyu angrily replied, “How could we forget!”

“We remember!” the others echoed.

Yang Xuan remained silent.

After Lin Ziyu’s declaration, he quietly explained to Yang Xuan, “Two years ago, over a hundred settlers from our Chen Prefecture were slaughtered by the bandit Liang Chao outside the city.”

Liu Qing’s eyes shifted. “In that case, I intend to raise a large army to exterminate Liang Chao’s forces. What do you think?”

Each county had troops but were stingy about deploying them, fearing excessive losses without state support.

Yang Xuan was the first to agree. “Prefect, with a single command, Taiping can muster troops at any time!”

Liu Qing asked, “How many troops can you each muster?”

Lu Qiang looked at the group with a bitter smile.

“We still need to keep some guards. Huilong County can send two hundred.”

“One hundred fifty.”

A sparse exchange revealed barely over six hundred troops.

But Yang Xuan remained silent.

Lu Jiao glanced sideways at him. “Yang Mingfu is quick to promise. How many troops will you send?”

Du Hui smiled. “At least five hundred.”

Yang Xuan leaned forward, meeting his gaze. “One thousand.”

Du Hui gasped.

“One thousand?”

Lu Jiao suddenly understood. “The military governor gave Taiping three thousand migrants—one thousand civilians and two thousand prisoners. He’s essentially mobilizing the prisoners.”

Adding five hundred more to a suicide squad? Those extra troops might become a burden. After surprise, Du Hui smiled.

Lu Qiang glanced at Liu Qing and nodded. “Prefect, Taiping has many people. How about letting Yang Xuan command a separate army?”

Uh!

A separate army!

The five counties’ troops would merge under Liu Qing’s direct command, but the Taiping militia would form an independent force...

That was a rank above.

So was Yang Xuan above the rest?

Jealousy spread.

Liu Qing slammed the table. “So be it!”

Yang Xuan rode swiftly back to Taiping.

“Four hundred in the suicide squad, plus six hundred new recruits who obey orders. They will form a unit and march out immediately.”

Nan He followed him into the city. “Sir, are you going to war?”

“The biggest bandit, Liang Chao, is about to meet his doom,” Yang Xuan said, long awaiting this chance.

“Perfect time to let these men see blood,” Nan He said with joy.

At the county office, everyone took their posts efficiently.

“Old Cao is not bad,” Yang Xuan thought. Cao Ying’s ideas were ruthless but he managed affairs well.

Jiang Zhen emerged from the office with documents and saluted upon seeing Yang Xuan. “Greetings, Mingfu.”

This traitor was diligent! Yang Xuan patted his shoulder. “Thank you for your hard work.”

Feeling warmly cared for, Jiang Zhen bowed his head to hide his emotion. “It’s no trouble.”

“What? Going to war?” Yiniang, upon hearing the news, hurriedly began packing with Zhang Siniang.

Soon, the family gathered.

Yang Xuan sat at the head; the others below.

“Make way, make way!” Yiniang bustled in and out; Zhang Siniang was helpless.

Yang Xuan returned from Chang’an with many gifts, including Yiniang’s favorite snacks like melon seeds.

With tea and melon seeds arranged, Yiniang sat slightly behind and to the side, nibbling.

Yang Xuan, as host, began, “Liang Chao is a troop of the Waxie tribe disguised as bandits, doing the raiding that Huazhuo cannot. In this campaign, the Prefect has granted Taiping an independent force, allowing us to focus our efforts.”

Cao Ying glanced at the group, exuding confidence as chief strategist.

The old rogue cleared his throat. Cao Ying frowned. “Old rogue, do you have something to say?”

The old rogue nodded. “I have been studying military texts and have gained some insight.”

“Heh,” Cao Ying smiled.

Wang Laoer was eating melon seeds with Yiniang and curiously asked, “Old rogue, weren’t you reading ‘Spring Night’ recently?”

Spring Night!

Yiniang was furious, slapping Wang Laoer and then pounding the table, shouting, “Old rogue, don’t corrupt Laoer!”

Wang Laoer clutched the back of his head, seeds flying from his mouth. The old rogue chuckled nervously. “The young master said one must relax after effort. I only read military books to relieve boredom. Yes, to relieve boredom.”

The Tang Dynasty was flourishing. Yang Xuan had read several volumes in Chang’an, but recent online novels had skewed his tastes; now the classics felt too serious.

The saying “Familiarity with three hundred Tang poems makes one able to chant even without composing” reminded him that a title like ‘Spring Night’ could not bode well.

“Let’s get to the point.”

Yang Xuan put on a stern face, planning to privately discuss that book with the old rogue later—strictly from an artistic perspective.

The old rogue confidently said, “Prefect has entrusted you with command, showing special regard. But I... after years of underground scheming and pride, forgot the need for humility and was once reported during a tomb robbery. If I hadn’t escaped, I’d be dead.”

He solemnly warned, “Sir, I think we must be wary of betrayal in this campaign.”

The room fell silent.

The old rogue grew uneasy. “Am I wrong?”

“Good!”

“Well said!”

The group applauded.

The old rogue beamed. “Sir, might I command an army?”

“No!” Yang Xuan thought the old rogue leading troops now was a death sentence.

“By the way,” Yang Xuan asked curiously, “whose tomb were you planning to rob?”

The old rogue sighed, “The late emperor’s personal attendant.”

This old fellow had been lucky to survive all these years.

Cao Ying said, “Sir, the old rogue is right. We must be cautious.”

The thousand-strong force set out.

By the time they reached Lin’an, the army had already assembled.

Liu Qing stood beneath the great banner, imposing.

“Yang Xuan, you will lead one army as the vanguard.”

“Orders received!”

Under the watch of over five thousand pairs of eyes, Yang Xuan turned, his scalp tingling.

An old soldier sighed, “Among those present, Yang Mingfu is probably the youngest, yet the most promising. The rest have all lived lives worse than dogs. It’s hard not to envy him.”

…

“Big Cat, Second Cat, Third Cat,” thanks to the clan leader for the generous gift.

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