Volume Two: I Pull the Trigger that Moves Heaven and Earth Chapter 37: Liaodong I

The first troops to assemble were neither the Han soldiers nor the Li soldiers, but the Jurchens.

Currently, there were four or five Jurchen tribes at Shuangcheng. Since not all clan members had arrived, their numbers were modest—some numbering seven or eight hundred, others only three or four hundred. For various reasons, Deng She had not yet organized them into formal military units.

At the initial division of territory, both sides had agreed that in times of war, the Jurchens would contribute one man out of every two, bringing their own horses and weapons, while Shuangcheng would provide the provisions. Spoils from captured cities were theirs to keep. If they distinguished themselves or fell in battle, they would receive rewards or burial money equivalent to that given to the Han soldiers.

Deng She designated a specific area within the city for them. Once the summons went out, over 1,800 gathered immediately. This included not only the Jurchens of Shuangcheng but also some from Jiashan who had rushed over upon hearing the call. Adding in Tong Doulan’s forces, the total exceeded 2,500. Tong Doulan, who had been busy relocating his people, temporarily set aside those duties due to the outbreak of war.

Since Yongping, Deng She had won several consecutive battles without a single defeat. His military achievements, actively promoted by Zhao Guo, were known far and wide among the Jurchen tribes of Jiashan. Given his remarkable record and generosity, everyone eagerly joined, hoping to seize the opportunity to prosper.

The Jurchens were all cavalry, many impoverished, wearing simple leather armor, bows and arrows tucked at their waists. Most had two horses—one for battle, the other for leisure, only mounting the warhorse during combat. In this respect, they were far better off than the Han soldiers; apart from a few officers, none of Deng She’s cavalry owned two horses.

With over 2,500 men and horses assembled, Deng She was responsible for their provisions from that moment on. The daily cost was considerable, so they could not be left idle. Deng She dispatched a detachment from Lu Qian’s twelfth unit to escort the Jurchens, along with supplies, arrows, carts, and large siege engines, ahead to Dechuan.

To prevent the Koreans from learning the plan prematurely, Deng She had ordered martial law in frontline cities such as Dingzhou, Dechuan, and Jiashan even before summoning the Jurchens. No one was permitted to travel within ten li of the city walls. While this might fool the Koreans, it was unlikely to escape the notice of Yao Haogu. Yet after he visited Deng She a few days prior and drew his boundaries, knowing he could not control the situation, he simply turned a deaf ear to outside affairs.

Chen Hu and Zhao Guo returned to the city successively, spending two days in continuous discussion to refine Deng She’s battle plan. To be safer, Chen Hu suggested drawing troops from various cities to reinforce the expeditionary force. After careful consideration, Deng She rejected this, reasoning that Dechuan and other recently captured territories required sufficient forces to maintain a strong deterrent.

Hong Jixun proposed approaching Tong Doulan again to recruit more Jurchens. Out of respect for Hong, Tong added another 500 men.

The commanders who would accompany Deng She on the campaign were also finalized. The entire left camp of Wenhua State would march, along with Zhao Guo, Zhang Dair, and Deng She’s central army. Chen Hu and Hong Jixun were assigned to garrison duties: Chen Hu at the frontline in Dingzhou, and Hong Jixun holding the rear in Shuangcheng.

While the troops gathered, Deng She sent four or five groups of scouts deep into the south and west for one last reconnaissance before battle.

The Koreans made no move. King Wang Jing focused most of his attention on the south, where the Wokou pirates seemed to have launched a new wave of large-scale raids. The Korean king had to remain vigilant; after all, it was not Deng She but the Wokou who had twice caused him to impose martial law.

Pyongyang had just replaced its regional commander. The new governor of the Western Capital was Li Chunfu. According to Hong Jixun, Li was talentless, repeatedly appointed to high posts but only skilled at flattery and ingratiation—an average man at best.

In other words, he was not worth worrying about. However, another piece of news caught Deng She’s attention. The military commissioner of the northwest Korean front had also been replaced by a newcomer—Choi Ying, whom Wenhua State and Hong Jixun had previously discussed. He was a formidable adversary, not one to be underestimated.

Deng She’s knowledge of him was mostly hearsay. To obtain precise intelligence, that afternoon he visited the courtyard where Qing Qianxing was under house arrest.

The courtyard was carefully chosen—not large but elegant, with artificial mountains and flowing water, lush greenery, and surrounded by trees. Following a winding pebble path through the woods, Deng She came upon pink walls and red doors, carved windows, and faintly heard a woman singing inside.

The soldier leading him stopped, and Deng She signaled him to wait. Standing outside the window, he listened for a moment. Amid the music, the woman sang:

“Striving for fame is like riding a cart downhill; who can discern the dangers? Yesterday a noble minister in the Jade Hall, today struck by disaster—better to avoid the storms and walk in a cozy nest.”

This was a tune called “Qingjiang Yin,” composed by the previous generation poet Guan Yunshi. Though a foreigner and a youthful swordsman, Guan Yunshi had humbled himself to study under the famed scholar Yao Sui, excelling in poetry, prose, lyrics, and calligraphy, especially known for his sanqu poetry—a master of his age.

His songs were widely known, and Deng She had often heard of them, hence his recognition. After the woman finished, Qing Qianxing’s voice rang out, laughing heartily: “Good tune!” Through the window, Deng She saw him gulp down a bowl of wine, clap his hands, and call out, “Sing it again.” The music paused briefly before the woman began anew.

Deng She smiled slightly. In just two months, Qing Qianxing had transformed from contemplating death to comparing himself to a peaceful nest—a credit to Hong Jixun’s efforts. The song’s meaning was “better a cozy nest than chasing fame,” yet if Qing Qianxing had truly seen through it, why would he listen repeatedly, going back and forth?

Deng She did not rush in but patiently waited for the song to end again. Applauding, he praised, “Better to avoid the storms and dwell in a cozy nest—the lyrics are superb, and the tune delightful.” Then he stepped inside.

The room was sparsely furnished: a small table, a chair, and a folding screen. Three or four musicians stood by a pillar, a singing girl knelt to one side. Qing Qianxing leaned against a marble screen, holding a wine cup freshly filled.

Seeing Deng She enter, he did not rise, instead raising his cup and drinking it down. Deng She laughed: “Fine wine, beautiful women, and lovely tunes—General, you lead a life of ease.”

The musicians and the singer bowed and prepared to withdraw, but Qing Qianxing stopped them. “What for? Haven’t heard enough of the song. Who told you to leave?”

Deng She thought otherwise. Qing Qianxing had not been at ease one bit these past two months. At first, his desire for death was real—partly out of resentment; partly because the will to die is but a breath, and once it passes, it fades. Who could yearn for death unceasingly, day and night? Like seeing through fame, if he truly wished to die, he could have done so anytime—he was not helpless. Why wait two whole months?

As his will to die waned day by day, and with Hong Jixun’s silver tongue and Deng She’s string of victories, expanding the territory by ten cities, commanding tens of thousands, allying with the Jurchens, and pacifying the region, he had come to resemble the King of Northern Guanzhou, subtly gaining strength to rival Korea. His desire not to be remembered as a mediocre man grew stronger daily. He wished to talk with Deng She, but Deng She was constantly busy with war, leaving no time. As for approaching Deng She first, his earlier stubbornness made that impossible.

Longing for this meeting like waiting for stars and moon, when Deng She finally came, Qing Qianxing’s face was cold but his heart joyful, relieved. He said dryly, “General, you are a busy man. What brings you here today?”

There was no seat for Deng She in the room. A quick-footed musician went out to fetch a chair, placing it respectfully in the center but too far from Qing Qianxing. Deng She moved it beside the folding screen, which bore a painting of a woman washing her feet by the water.

Deng She looked at it, sat down, and smiled. “No particular business. I haven’t seen the general in a while and missed him. Since I have time today, I came to pay a visit.”

“Ha ha. That’s laughable! Who are you, general? I’m a prisoner; I don’t deserve the word ‘visit.’” Qing Qianxing snorted twice, knocked on the table, and called to the singer, “Zhu’er, why are you kneeling there like a fool? The general has come—show some spirit and sing a good song to welcome our esteemed guest.”

This was exactly what Deng She wanted—to test Qing Qianxing’s intentions before discussing serious matters, to reveal the last veil over his wavering loyalty. He smiled and nodded.

With his approval, the musicians gained confidence. The huqin began to play, the wooden clappers rang melodiously, the painted drumbeat quickened, and Zhu’er danced gracefully, singing “Qingjiang Yin” continuously three times.

Each time, Qing Qianxing sipped his wine. A heavy drinker who showed no sign of intoxication, he tapped his fingers rhythmically on the table but his mind was elsewhere. Before half the verse, Deng She heard him already falter thrice.

Clearing his throat, Deng She said, “The tune is off—like Zhou Lang’s care. General, you are a great commander from the East Sea region. I did not expect you to be so versed in musical rhythm—truly a man of both culture and martial prowess like Guan Yunshi.” Pausing, Qing Qianxing remained silent. Deng She continued, “When I was young, I heard another tune by Guan Yunshi, with the same mode as this one, but with a more profound meaning. It is called ‘Palace Front Joy.’ Have you heard it, general?”

“Which ‘Palace Front Joy’?”

“The one about King Huai of Chu.” Deng She clapped lightly; the musicians immediately switched tunes. Zhu’er responded by singing:

“King Huai of Chu, loyal minister who leapt into the Miluo River. After reading ‘Li Sao,’ empty sorrow. Sun and moon shine together. Heartache turns to laughter—laugh at you, Lord Sanlü. Why not release your body and soul? The Canglang River stains you, and you stain the Canglang.”

King Huai was foolish; Qu Yuan’s tragic suicide left a legacy that made people laugh through tears. Was it the river that defiled him, or he who defiled the river? This song paired with the screen’s painting of a woman washing her feet by the water formed a poignant metaphor. Deng She’s implication was clear. Qing Qianxing’s expression shifted; the song ended, and he remained silent for a long time.

Sensing the moment had come, Deng She gave a slight wave and the singer and musicians withdrew.

He stood, took out a prepared stepping-down gift for Qing Qianxing, and said generously, “The tune ‘Palace Front Joy’—can sovereign and subject truly share joy? General Qing, how could I not know your heart? You wish to be a loyal and upright subject, but if the Korean king could truly harmonize with you, I—Deng She—am neither unworthy nor base, and would not ruin your reputation for personal gain.

“But is that truly the case? Since I entered Korea with a mere few thousand troops, why have I conquered cities as if unopposed? Even a brave and wise general like you cannot reverse this decline. Why? Because though the general is courageous, he is not trusted; while Li Yan, though weak, holds the king’s favor. The king favors villains and distances himself from virtuous ministers—how can Korea fail to be defeated?

“As for me, Deng She, do I act only for selfish interests? You know the plight of the Korean people better than I. Wherever my distant army arrives, the local Koreans offer food and drink and rejoice as if receiving a royal army. Why? Because the nobility live in splendor while half the people starve; the rich feast while the poor freeze and die on the roads. How can the people not welcome me?

“Moreover, China and Korea were once one family! General, I have said enough. Will you be the loyal fool who dies with a foolish king and brings laughter to future generations, or the true hero who saves the people and earns eternal fame? The choice is yours.”

Silence filled the room.

After a long pause, Qing Qianxing sighed and said, “General, your intentions are sincere. A defeated general is not worthy to speak of bravery; the title of true hero, I dare not accept. But to be remembered in history—that is my wish too.”

Deng She rejoiced. Finally, he had loosened his tongue! He laughed heartily, “Now with you, general, I’m like a tiger with wings!” This metaphor he had used many times, growing smoother with practice. As the veil lifted, social ranks became clear. Qing Qianxing rose and kowtowed deeply, “Your humble servant greets General.”

Deng She hurried forward, helped him up, and laughed together. “No need for such formality! Come, come, come. It’s not easy to win your loyalty; I’m truly glad. Just so, the commanders are all in the city—I will throw a grand feast to welcome you into the fold!” His bandit origins were well known, and Qing Qianxing understood the jest in “joining the fold.”

Qing Qianxing refused to leave. As he said, a defeated general without achievements had no face to meet the victors of past battles. He said, “Yesterday Hong came and heard that you are preparing to strike Pyongyang?” This was an excellent opportunity. No one knew the realities of Pyongyang better than him. His surrender now would be most valuable.

“Pyongyang? Not urgent. Let us first meet the generals and enjoy some merriment,” Deng She replied.

Qing Qianxing insisted, “General’s kindness is understood. For two months I have enjoyed your meticulous hospitality. Now I feel deeply ashamed. No reward without merit. After we take Pyongyang, I will follow you.”

Deng She assented, reading the mood: “Good.”

They sat together in thoughtful silence. Deng She said, “Speaking of Pyongyang, honestly, I am somewhat hesitant... You know the city inside and out. Do you think it is feasible? If so, how confident is our army?”

His hesitation was a pretense to probe Qing Qianxing’s opinion.

Qing Qianxing replied, “The Battle of Shuangcheng... ha, the Battle of Shuangcheng.” He gave a bitter laugh. “General, your natural talent is unmatched; I was defeated utterly.”

Deng She smiled, “With you on our side, I would gladly lose too.”

Feeling valued, Qing Qianxing smiled and continued, “At Shuangcheng, my troops lost four or five thousand, the main force of Pyongyang. The veteran garrison in Pyongyang numbered about ten thousand, with fewer than four thousand remaining inside the city. Our dynasty...” He paused, then corrected himself, “The Korean dynasty has fewer people in the north and more in the south, possibly supplemented by southern commoners. These commoners are not our kin. You have seen their fighting ability in Dechuan—new recruits or veterans, they are no match.”

“How are the fortifications?”

“Among the northwest Korean cities, Pyongyang is the largest and highest fortified. The northern side faces Long Mountain; the south is bordered by the Daedong River—strategically advantageous. If commanded by a capable general, it would not be easy to capture.”

Qing Qianxing asked, “Do you know who the current Western Capital governor and the northwest military commissioner are?”

“Western Capital governor is Li Chunfu; northwest military commissioner is Choi Ying.”

Qing Qianxing frowned, “Li Chunfu is mediocre, no need to worry. Choi Ying is imposing and courageous, highly respected at court—not easily dealt with.”

He added, “But you needn’t worry. The court is divided into two factions: one pro-Mongol Yuan, the other pro-Korean king. Choi Ying leads the pro-Yuan faction, while Li Chunfu is with the king’s faction. Li Chunfu is lowly and despised by Choi Ying. Their discord means they cannot unite against us.”

Such information was known only to insiders in the Korean court. Deng She listened intently as Qing Qianxing detailed the rivalry.

It turned out the Korean king had reigned for eight years. China was mired in endless war; the Mongol Yuan was preoccupied and its control over Korea weakened. No one wished to remain a puppet forever, and the king harbored ambitions of independence.

However, many ministers were married to high officials of the Yuan dynasty, including connections to the Yuan emperor and crown prince. The crown prince’s mother was a Korean woman named Qi, and one of the consorts named Quan was also Korean.

With these bonds, the ministers naturally did not want to lose the Yuan’s support. Thus, together with another group of officials who had studied or served in Yuan China, they formed factions supporting either the king or Yuan, subtly opposing each other.

Such factionalism did not equate to disloyalty to Korea. Regardless, it was better than unity and harmony. For Deng She, this presented an opportunity. He nodded and asked, “What of Pyongyang’s reserves of grain and weapons?”

“Pyongyang is a large city, well stocked with provisions and armaments, though few firearms. Notably, it lies near the sea and is encircled by the Daedong River, so it has a navy. Years ago, the Yuan emperor dispatched troops to assist in attacking Gaoyou, including 300 sailors from the Western Capital navy.”

“How many men in the Western Capital navy?”

“About twenty or thirty vessels, with over a thousand troops.” Not a large force, but not insignificant. Without ships, Deng She would need to be cautious on the water. He made a mental note and asked the question most on his mind: “What do you think King Wang Jing’s reaction would be if I launched a campaign?”

“Wokou pirates frequently disturb the south; the Korean treasury is depleted; Li Yan has recently suffered defeat, compounding woes. Even if Wang Jing reacts, it will not be swift. You need not worry. The garrisons north of Pyongyang are few. Deploying a force along the Qingchuan River would suffice to deter them.”

The Qingchuan River lay north of Dechuan and other places.

Qing Qianxing analyzed thoroughly and concluded, “Pyongyang has strong walls but weak troops, internal discord, and no external aid. Provisions are ample, weapons ready, awaiting your command. Fifteen thousand men sailing downstream would be enough to capture the city. Pyongyang is not only attackable but our forces have a sure chance of victory.”

He did not mention the most advantageous factor—Deng She did not ask either. Most cities northwest belonged to his old command. With Deng She’s reputation and influence, Pyongyang might be difficult, but it was not impossible that the surrounding cities would surrender without a fight.

[End of text.]