Volume Three: When Heroes Fall Silent and Heaven and Earth Grow Old 2. Guan Duo II

Mao Jujing led the way ahead as they entered the city, passing through four or five sparsely populated streets before turning into the former Liao Palace in the northeast corner. The palace, long neglected and somewhat dilapidated, still retained its old framework, sprawling over three or four miles and occupying a vast area.

Surrounding the palace was a stone wall several dozen feet high, which could serve as a final line of defense in times of war. At the center stood a newly constructed gate tower, towering into the clouds, adorned with flying eaves and dougong brackets, gilded and silvered decorations on both sides, with bas-reliefs depicting two dragons playing with a pearl.

Mao Jujing produced a pass handwritten by Guan Duo, and the guard at the gate opened the doors to let them through. Deng She’s personal guards were not allowed inside and remained outside the palace. Beyond the palace gates, pavilions and halls clustered like clouds, interspersed with rare grasses and exquisite flowers, pavilions, terraces, and towers. Following the main thoroughfare for some time, they came upon a large lake ahead, spanned by a wooden bridge. The lake was covered with lotus leaves, and when the wind blew, the air was sweet and fresh.

After crossing the bridge and walking another two or three hundred meters, they arrived before a grand hall. Looking up, Deng She saw a plaque hanging above the door inscribed with a few seal script characters he could not recognize. Mao Jujing paused and whispered, “Guan Pingzhang is right here.” He then spoke to the guards outside the hall, “Bring Deng She, the Wanhou of Shuangcheng, in to see Lord Pingzhang.”

When the capital Shangdu was burned, Deng She had seen the palace from a distance but never entered; this was his first personal experience, and he was surprised by the grandeur of Guan Duo’s setup, recalling that Guan Duo was known for his simplicity in the army. As these thoughts passed through his mind, a man dressed as a eunuch came out to deliver a message, “Lord Pingzhang requests your presence.” Deng She thought, “They even have eunuchs now?” He adjusted his armor, removed his saber and handed it to the guards, then followed Mao Jujing into the hall with Fang Buzhen.

What a splendidly magnificent hall it was—truly a masterpiece. It extended more than a hundred meters deep, but the lighting was insufficient, lending a somewhat somber air. Fourteen or fifteen people, men and women alike, either standing or sitting, turned their heads to scrutinize Deng She as he entered.

Deng She spotted an elderly man reclining on a couch in the center. He hurried forward, knelt, and loudly announced, “Your humble servant Deng She pays respects to Lord Pingzhang.”

The old man laughed heartily, “Rise.” Deng She thanked him and stood. Guan Duo, too far away to see clearly, said, “Step forward a bit, let me have a better look.” Puzzled but obliged, Deng She took two steps forward.

Guan Duo straightened up and observed him carefully for a moment. “Valiant and mighty…,” he said, then turned to those around him, “Everyone, come see. Truly worthy of the new prodigy of Liaodong, no wonder Yao Haogu praised him time and again as ‘brave and imposing.’ Indeed, indeed.” He sighed, “The young are formidable, the young are formidable indeed.”

His voice was gentle, his tone low. Though he praised Deng She lavishly upon their first meeting, it felt natural, like a refreshing spring breeze. Deng She humbly replied, “Your praise humbles me, Lord Pingzhang.” He then respectfully presented a sheet of paper from his bosom. “Shuangcheng is a harsh land, poor soil, and sparse people, with little of value to offer. Fortunately, there are some specialties such as ginseng and sable pelts. Hearing that Lord Pingzhang enjoys calligraphy and that Korean paper is quite fine, I specially procured some for you, along with a selection of songs and dances performed by Korean women, hoping you will accept these.”

“You’re too ceremonious,” Guan Duo chuckled, rising from the couch. Two maidservants supported him as he descended the platform, his steps faltering heavily. He looked more like a man in his seventies or eighties rather than in his fifties, as Deng She had last seen him agile and vigorous. Puzzled, Deng She wanted to ask but restrained himself. Guan Duo noticed and explained, “I injured my left leg in the battle at Fengzhou.”

“Is it serious?” Deng She asked with concern.

“Just a superficial wound… I’m old and frail now. If I were younger, I’d have healed long ago.” As Guan Duo approached, a strong aroma hit Deng She’s nose, masking but not hiding a faint stench of pus and decay. Deng She’s heart skipped a beat.

Guan Duo casually took the gift list from him and glanced over it. “Ningyuan ginseng? Good stuff, ha, quality ginseng from deep mountains and dense forests. I won’t refuse; it’s just what I need to replenish myself.” He handed it to the eunuch who had earlier delivered the message, took Deng She’s hand, and motioned the others over for introductions.

There were three Pingzhang officials of the Liaoyang Administrative Province: Guan Duo was the first, Pan Cheng the second, and Sha Liu the third. Pan and Liu were both absent—one busy arranging defenses in Guangning Prefecture, the other personally leading troops on the front line in Daining, Liaoxi. Hearing their titles, half were civil officials, half military commanders; there were also three or four women identified as family members attending the banquet, likely Guan Duo’s trusted confidantes.

Guan Duo explained, “The situation in Liaodong tightens daily. Pan Pingzhang and Liu Pingzhang are occupied with military affairs, one in Guangning setting defenses, the other on the frontline in Daining, Liaoxi. So neither is in the city.”

He then cleared a path for the eunuchs and maids arranging the banquet and continued, “But that’s no matter. Since you’re here, sooner or later you’ll meet them. In fact, they have long heard of you.”

Deng She was but a Wanhou; Guan Duo’s words were a high compliment. Guan Duo’s manner differed from Yao Haogu’s: Yao’s respect carried cunning, while Guan Duo’s benevolence was laced with politeness. Why the politeness? To satisfy Deng She’s youthful pride.

Having little experience dealing with high-ranking figures, Deng She was awkward and stiff but could not remain silent. He said, “Your humble servant’s name is lowly, unworthy of the ears of Lords Pingzhang. Your praise fills me with awe and trepidation.”

Guan Duo shook his head, tapped Deng She on the shoulder, and smiled, “Why be fearful? They often praise you as the rising star of our army. Tell me, why didn’t I discover your talent sooner?”

He knew of Deng San and asked, “Your sworn father, I heard, was lost at Fengzhou?”

“He was,” Deng She said. “When the Tatars besieged Fengzhou, under your command, my sworn father led us out to meet the enemy. Fengzhou, Yunnei, and Dongsheng Prefectures fell in quick succession. With no escape, we turned east but met another Tatar force. My sworn father...” Even after many days, the pain still pierced his heart, and he said mournfully, “Outnumbered, my sworn father was trapped and fell in battle.”

Guan Duo sighed, “I met your sworn father—an expert horse archer, skilled in martial arts, a man of great generosity and rare sincerity; truly a fine hero. Such a pity, such a pity.” Patting Deng She on the shoulder, he added, “But don’t grieve too much. To die wrapped in a horse’s hide is the destiny of men on the battlefield. Better to die on the field than in bed. Besides, though your sworn father is gone, hasn’t he been returned to you?”

“Since ancient times, who has not died? Our generation—take me for example—is half-buried already. We regard life and death lightly. Our only wish lies with you young men. As long as you strive, and achieve greatness, I believe your sworn father’s spirit will be comforted.”

His words flowed gently. To a stranger, it would be hard to guess this was the renowned Guan Pingzhang, whose name struck fear across Liaodong. Whether his kindly appearance was merely a façade, his reasoning was sound. Comforted, Deng She’s grief gradually subsided.

Before Deng She could speak, Guan Duo asked, “Who led the Tatar cavalry?”

Deng She looked at him suspiciously, sensing the question was deliberate, and answered, “Fojia Nu.”

“Oh? Could it be the same Fojia Nu, the Tatar Secretary of State and Pingzhang?” “Exactly.” Guan Duo nodded, “You might not know, but Fojia Nu is also part of the Tatar force besieging Liaoyang this time. All the better. Rest assured, when the time is right, you will have your chance for revenge.” With that, he let the matter drop.

While they spoke, dozens of women fluttered about like butterflies inside and outside the hall, carrying out dish after dish of fine food and jars of exquisite wine. Singers, dancers, and musicians, led by eunuchs, first paid respects to Guan Duo, then withdrew to a corner, plucking strings and tuning instruments. The hall filled with the gentle sounds of silk strings and the sight of delicate legs and jade arms, steeped in spring’s warmth.

With the feast arranged, Guan Duo took Deng She’s hand and invited him to sit beside him. Smiling, he addressed the guests, “Friends, please take your seats.” The dozen or so bowed or saluted, then sat.

The hall was large but the number of guests small, so seats clustered near the front, leaving a vast empty space near the entrance. The singers and dancers moved forward to perform there. Guan Duo said to Deng She, “Your arrival is timely. These are my old comrades-in-arms, gathered for a small reunion. All are family here; no need for formalities.”

He raised a glass and sipped lightly. “I have an injury and cannot drink much. Friends, please drink!” Everyone raised their cups and drank. At Guan Duo’s signal, music swelled, and the singers took turns performing small songs.

A grizzled warrior with a beard stood, holding a cup, about to speak. Guan Duo smiled, “Tonight’s a home feast. No need to toast me. I can’t drink, so no favors for you!” Laughter filled the hall. He pointed to Deng She and said, “Deng Wanhou has traveled far; you must make friends with him.”

Introductions earlier had rolled off a long list of ranks and names, but Deng She remembered only a few, mostly military commanders with titles higher than his. The youngest and lowest in rank, he quickly stood. “The names of your esteemed generals have long thundered in my ears. To meet you today is a triple blessing.” Guan Duo laughed, “Blessings are no match for wine!” Laughter erupted again. “Lord Pingzhang speaks well. Three cups first, then talk.”

The bearded warrior grumbled, “Three cups? These tiny cups barely wet the tongue. To savor the pleasure, bring out big bowls. What say you, Lord Pingzhang?”

Guan Duo chuckled but said nothing. Deng She dared not drink much in such company and kept declining. The warrior grew impatient, shouting, “I thought you a man, but you’re shy as a woman!” Reluctantly, a big bowl was brought. Deng She gasped—not just a big bowl, but a huge one, almost a basin. Three bowls might still be manageable, but he feared not getting to the bottom of the third without spilling or even breaking the table.

Guan Duo smiled and watched without urging him on. Gritting his teeth, Deng She decided to feign compliance, aiming to keep Guan Duo steady and gauge the situation before acting. If things turned sour, it would defeat his purpose. Not just a few bowls of wine after all. He stopped refusing and downed three bowls in quick succession. The warrior cheered, “Good drinker! I like a straightforward, hearty man!” He raised his bowl again to toast.

Guan Duo stopped him, “Deng Wanhou isn’t like you, raised in a wine jar. Eat some food first.” Smiling, he introduced the man, “This fellow brewed private wine before joining the army...” After three rapid bowls and days of travel without a proper meal, Deng She felt lightheaded. While listening to Guan Duo, he pondered his intentions.

First, Guan Duo played the kindly old man, chatting casually, asking private questions, never mentioning military matters. If he avoided asking about Deng She’s troops to show grace, knowing he would find out anyway, why not mention the situation in Bianliang? Each time Deng She tried to ask, Guan Duo deftly shifted the topic. The conversation’s initiative remained firmly with Guan Duo.

Then the feast became a home gathering; the warrior’s demand for bigger bowls felt like a hint from Guan Duo. Deng She smelled the intoxicating wine and guessed: “They plan to get me drunk?” But why? Getting him drunk wouldn’t benefit Guan Duo—what would he gain by probing Korean affairs? With Yao Haogu in Korea, Guan Duo would already know everything.

After much thought, Deng She was still puzzled. Sitting cross-legged, he felt heat by his thigh. Turning, he saw a half-naked woman kneeling there. She wore only a sheer gauze, almost transparent, clinging to her graceful curves. Seeing Deng She’s gaze, she smiled brightly, “I pour wine for the general.” The bowl was huge, the wine pot small and insufficient to fill it, so a wine jar stood at the table’s edge. As she leaned over to scoop wine, her ample bosom was revealed. Unaccustomed to such attentions, Deng She quickly looked away.

Mao Jujing, seated opposite, raised his bowl and laughed, “What’s this? Wanhou, long in Korea, have you grown tired of Korean women? Flowers among weeds no longer catch your eye?”

Deng She hastily stood, “I drank too fast, I’m a bit drunk.” Mao Jujing feigned anger, “Nonsense! Seeing me hold the cup, you pretend to be drunk. Naughty! Naughty!” Deng She smiled wryly. Guan Duo intervened and, after a few words, replaced the big bowls with small cups again, another three cups down.

Mao Jujing left, and one by one, the guests lined up to serve more drinks. Ten or so people brought forty or more cups—no matter how much Deng She could drink, he could not keep up. When only two or three remained, Guan Duo stepped in, smiling, “Deng Wanhou is young; give him a break, give him a break.”

Alcohol’s effect only grows with more consumed. Blood rushed to Deng She’s head; he knew he was drunk, swaying, his eyes scanning the crowd until they landed on a familiar face—Fang Buzhen. He smiled, “Lord Fang, since we came together, why do you still toast me?”

Fang Buzhen replied, “In Korea, I received your care for a long time without chance to thank you. I take today’s opportunity to express my gratitude.” He drained his cup.

Damn, when did I ever take care of you? Despite his drunkenness, Deng She kept some clarity. Reaching for his cup, he accidentally knocked over bowls and plates. A serving maid hastily caught his cup and placed it in his hand.

Deng She gently rested his hand on her shoulder and steadied himself. “Lord Pingzhang says I’m polite, but Lord Fang, you’re the polite one... Cheers!” He gulped half the cup, trembling, spilling half. Sitting beside Guan Duo, who had been watching him closely, Deng She heard him say, “Deng Wanhou has never been to Liaoyang, and I cannot always accompany him, so he needs someone familiar nearby. Since Fang Buzhen was well cared for by you in Korea, let him play host here. How about it?”

This was clearly an arranged surveillance by the Guangming faction. Deng She said, “Your kindness humbles me. I will obey.” He tried to bow to Guan Duo but wobbled, his eyes blurred with drunkenness, and he collapsed onto the maid. Soft and yielding, the fall didn’t hurt. Trying to rise, he kicked the table, smashing the wine jar. Cups and plates crashed to the floor, clattering noisily.

The hall fell silent at the noise. All eyes turned as Deng She struggled like a puddle of mud on the floor but could not get up. Laughter broke out. A woman covered her mouth, giggling, “A great general who can’t handle three cups of wine? First time I’ve seen such a thing.” Contempt was plain on her face.

Deng She forced his eyes open, turning toward the speaker. He was not truly so drunk but understood Guan Duo’s intent—to get him drunk, to embarrass or disgrace him. Better to feign drunkenness than be truly drunk.

He could not make out the woman’s face clearly, only vaguely seeing a figure dressed in yellow or gray, wearing a jade pendant dripping with green.

Struggling to sit up, he reeked of alcohol but smiled, “Young lady, your words are wrong. Quantity is not the measure of a hero. Small capacity doesn’t mean no hero.” He grabbed the maid with one hand, Fang Buzhen with the other, swaying as he stood. Reaching for his waist, he asked Guan Duo, “Lord Pingzhang, the young lady laughs at me. Don’t blame me. Though I drank much, I’m not drunk—at all! I can still show you a couple of sword techniques, one to entertain the generals, and two, to prove whether I am... a hero!”

He had handed his sword to the guards before entering and was now fumbling for it. Groggily, he asked Fang Buzhen, “Where’s my sword? Have you seen it?”

“You didn’t bring it,” Fang Buzhen replied.

“Nonsense! I’m a great general; how could I be unarmed?” Slapping his forehead, he turned to Guan Duo, “Someone must have let a thief in... Someone stole my sword!”

Fang Buzhen laughed helplessly, and the woman who had spoken sneered, “You forgot your sword and now claim it was stolen? Drunk after a few cups—how shameful.”

A sharp sound rang out from the hall entrance. Everyone looked as Guan Duo slammed his cup down, rising angrily. “Silence! Deng Wanhou is a great general of our army. How dare you insult him repeatedly? Get out!”

The woman, related to Guan Duo and usually arrogant because of it, had dared to speak insolently. Seeing Guan Duo’s sudden fury, her face paled. Her husband, a civil official, dropped to his knees begging for forgiveness, dragging her out.

“Those who die fighting at the border earn honor; what right has a noblewoman to judge a hero?” Guan Duo’s anger lingered as he slammed the table. Everyone fell silent. Mao Jujing said, “The woman is ignorant and narrow-minded, unworthy of your anger, my lord. Getting upset would only harm you.”

Guan Duo sighed, “She is family to the Guan household but a poor student under my care.” Turning to Deng She, he said, “Don’t mind her. Deep in the palace, women know nothing of a man’s resolve. You, still not twenty, with a reputation resounding across Liaodong, are truly the finest talent of our army. Come, I toast you three cups.”

Though at first he spilled some from drunkenness, Guan Duo handed the cups directly to Deng She’s hand. Refusing was impossible. After another three cups, Deng She protested incoherently, “L-lord, your praise... I cannot bear it... too much to shoulder.”

Outside, dusk fell. Some began tidying the mess and lighting candles, brightening the hall. They had been drinking for over two hours, yet Guan Duo showed no sign of ending the feast. He personally helped Deng She sit, saw him sway, and instructed the maids to watch over him. Smiling, he said, “Why such modesty? Among countless soldiers, few have your accomplishments.”

He gestured to Fang Buzhen standing nearby. “Take Fang Buzhen. Over thirty, rank no higher than fourth grade, weak as a kitten, but compared to you, he falls far short. The sage said thirty is the age of establishment. Fang Buzhen, what are your plans? Tell me your ambitions.”

Without hesitation, Fang Buzhen replied proudly, “I seek no high office. I only wish to remain upright and honest in this turbulent, worldly chaos.”

Guan Duo said, “Sages have always been poor and humble, much less us who are solitary and upright. You liken yourself to the Blue Lotus.” Well-read, Guan Duo quoted poetry aptly. Mao Jujing smiled, “Lord Fang’s ambition suits his name. I greatly admire him.” Fang Buzhen’s courtesy name was Shoudao—both supplementing truth and guarding the way—true to his vow of integrity.

Guan Duo then asked Mao Jujing, “And your ambition?”

“To command one hundred thousand troops in the prime of life. Wherever my horsewhip points, nothing can stop the galloping steed,” Mao Jujing replied.

Guan Duo nodded, “Commanding tens of thousands in one’s prime—good, good.” He then asked the bearded warrior, who said, “My lord told the story of Jing Ke’s assassination of the First Emperor. I wish to be Jing Ke, to die ten times gladly.”

Guan Duo said, “A gentleman dies for a true friend, drawing his sword in Yanjing. To value loyalty over fame—excellent, excellent.”

Though their temperaments and ambitions differed, both expressed common warrior aspirations. Dreaming of commanding vast armies or striking at tyrants, Deng She’s drunken blood surged with fervor.

Guan Duo continued asking each guest, their answers varied: some sought high office, wealth, fame, or to bring honor to their ancestors. Guan Duo offered a poetic verse for each.

Gradually overwhelmed, Deng She’s intoxication deepened. Through his blurred vision, the flickering red candles cast shifting shadows. Unable to sit upright, he collapsed into a maid’s arms, feeling the world turn upside down as if his limbs had swapped places. Faintly, Guan Duo seemed to finish questioning others and turned to him. Deng She mumbled a few words, unaware of their meaning.

Suddenly the hall grew quiet as if someone cheered or laughed. He opened his eyes sluggishly, smiled drowsily along, then blacked out, losing consciousness.