Volume Two: My Arrival Shakes Heaven and Earth Chapter 8: Dingzhou II

Let’s just have one update today, but a longer one. It seems the website no longer supports image uploads, so I’ve posted them in the Ant Thieves forum. The address can’t be shared, but brothers, just search for “Ant Thieves Forum” on Baidu; inside there’s a post called “Twin Cities’ Location.”

——

The order to collect supplies was carried out smoothly; the personal guards reported back, and the soldiers complied readily. This success was owed to the recent Bitter Memories Assembly. Especially in the Wenhua State division: Wenhua himself took to the stage, recalling the past with honest candor, then painting an alluring vision of the future. The soldiers’ spirits were fully stirred—they were glad not to have starved to death and filled with hope for what lay ahead. Morale soared.

With this major trouble resolved, Deng She felt much relieved. At dawn the next morning, before the sun rose, he got up and hurried to the city gate to see off Chen Hu and He Guangxiu’s troops.

Under the dim morning sky, icy winds whipped the tall banners, making them crackle and flutter. The army stretched beyond sight, marching along the city’s avenue, raising clouds of dust. Officers rode at the flanks, drums kept order, and the ranks marched in proud formation.

This time, the troops brought their own provisions. To guard against a surprise attack from the Koreans, Deng She and Chen Hu had agreed: take the city within five days if possible; if its defenses proved stubborn, give at most ten days; if enemy reinforcements arrived, retreat to the city at once if their numbers were overwhelming and reassess. Deng She repeatedly emphasized: if the city fell, under no circumstances should it be sacked.

After Chen and He’s divisions, Wenhua State’s troops also marched out to build their camp, not finishing until nearly midday. Wu Henian, having waited half the morning, ran about sweating, driving the Korean laborers alongside Luo Li and his men to hasten repairs on the city walls.

Deng She summoned the officer in charge of repairs, sternly ordering that the walls be substantially repaired within three days. With a few thousand troops gone from the city, it felt much emptier, and a vague anxiety began to weigh on his heart, growing stronger by the hour.

Ascending the city tower, he gazed southwest: Chen Hu’s division had advanced far, winding between hills and wheat fields like a serpent, stretching toward the unknown. The sky grew heavy once more.

“Send out more patrols, spread them as far as possible,” Deng She instructed Zhao Guo. If the enemy struck, they’d come from either the southwest or over the mountains via the western pass. “Post men outside the mountains as well, and report three times a day,” he urged.

Zhao Guo took the order and went to carry it out.

Seeing Deng She had a moment to spare, Wu Henian hurried over to ask, “General, the Korean gentry have repeatedly requested an audience. Shall I permit them?” After the city fell, most of the Korean gentry had died violently and been purged, with only two or three compliant families left. Following Deng She’s command, Wu Henian had recruited all of them into the General Administration, assigning them posts.

“Don’t see them,” Deng She replied curtly.

He hadn’t forgotten his meeting with the Han gentry days earlier. Those who refused a toast had to drink the penalty cup; let them stew for a few more days. Turning to descend the tower, he remembered something and ordered his guards, “Take several squads and follow Administrator Wu to identify the gentry’s residences. Post a squad at each house, protect them well, forbid inter-house visits, and strictly prohibit leaving the city.”

The city was vulnerable now and caution was essential.

Deng She had many tasks ahead. He ate hastily, then spent the afternoon inspecting the progress of the camp construction and overseeing small-scale, rotating drills. The main parade ground wasn’t finished, so he selected a flat area outside the city, using veteran soldiers as instructors, organizing them into companies of a hundred, each with their own flags and drums, teaching basic staff and fist routines, simple formations. As for cavalry, aside from the two patrol squads in Dingzhou and the Twin Cities, they too drilled in companies, practicing mounted archery. The exercises continued until deep into the night, after which Deng She finally returned to his quarters to rest.

He wished for drills to run through the night, but knew it wasn’t practical. Meals had to be eaten one bite at a time. The sky was pitch black, clouds piled high, the moon’s dim light barely illuminated the path. Guards lit torches, their flames reflected on Deng She’s energetic face.

He left under the moon, returned under the moon; he hadn’t rested all day, yet his spirit remained vigorous.

He was like a spinning top, driven by an invisible whip, compelled to keep moving ceaselessly. He didn’t feel tired; he relished the toil. He sometimes considered taking a break, but each time he sat for less than half an hour before restlessness set in, as if he had to do something or he couldn’t find peace.

At the gate of his residence, he encountered Lady Wang: in her long skirt and slender jacket, leaning against the door. Seeing him arrive, she came forward to greet him.

Deng She dismounted, handed the reins to a guard, and asked, “It’s so late, why hasn’t my lady retired?”

For several days now, Lady Wang had waited every night for his return, no matter how late. Deng She had tried to persuade her twice, but to no avail.

“General’s wounds haven’t healed, and you come home late every day. I cannot rest easy,” Lady Wang replied gently. Before the guards could assist, she took Deng She’s cloak, folded it carefully in her hands. “It’s cold and windy, please come inside quickly, lest you catch a chill. I’ll notify the kitchen to prepare your meal. Is there anything you’d like to eat tonight?”

She used to refer to herself as your servant only when alone with Deng She; now, she did so naturally even in front of others. Deng She didn’t notice, nor did she herself realize the shift.

Page (1/3)

“Anything will do,” Deng She replied casually.

Having dealt with Lady Wang, Deng She entered the pavilion. Two maids followed, bringing water and making tea.

These two had tended him the day Lady Wang fell ill after his awakening. They were about ten years old, not yet grown, their faces innocent and fresh. The tea bowls were stored high on the shelf, out of their reach; one tiptoed to get one, but let it slip and it shattered on the floor. In the quiet night, the sound echoed far.

Deng She was poring over maps and notes, seeking examples from previous sieges. Hearing the crash, he looked up to see the two girls, pale and frightened, frozen before the broken bowl.

A guard outside called, “General?”

“It’s nothing,” Deng She answered, then kindly told the girls, “It’s all right, just tidy up.” He rose and fetched a new bowl, placing it on the desk.

He’d never spoken directly to the maids before, usually communicating by gesture; this was the first time he addressed them. One girl stole a quick glance at him, confirming he wasn’t angry, then hurriedly crouched to pick up the fragments with her delicate hands.

Deng She recalled Lady Wang mentioning they were daughters of Han gentry from the city. An idea struck him. Closing his notebook, he asked, “Whose daughters are you? What are your names?”

The girl who broke the bowl timidly raised her head and answered, “Father, I am the daughter of the Luo family. My nickname is Guan-nu.” Her childish voice was clear as a running brook. There was only one Luo among the Han gentry in the city—Luo Li. The other girl was her cousin, from her aunt’s family, named Zhu-nu.

Deng She nodded and said no more. When Lady Wang brought his meal, he was still pondering his idea. Venturing alone into enemy territory, he couldn’t ignore local relationships. Assigning land to officers helped lessen their homesickness, but it wasn’t enough—they remained outsiders.

Military force and demanding hostages were too harsh. The best method was marriage alliances.

Korean women were graceful and skilled in service; Mongolian nobles prided themselves on having Korean concubines. Deng She was certain his officers wouldn’t refuse. There would be two advantages: it would strengthen local ties and help shift officers’ mindsets. If not love for the house and its crow, at least they’d hesitate to harm their in-laws. Over time, it was possible these alliances could bind local interests completely to his own.

At that point, governing the region would become much easier.

The more he considered it, the more suitable it seemed. He ate distractedly and turned his thoughts to what precautions were necessary.

Beauty brings trouble; officers deprived of comforts might easily become infatuated. The women given should never be made principal wives, only concubines. They should be managed in a separate camp. Han were a minority in Korea; not only Han girls should be chosen, but also Korean and Bohai girls as appropriate.

Alliance partners should be honored, given official posts and privileges, making them even closer to Deng She, and letting everyone know they were related to the Red Turbans. In short, the purpose was absolute loyalty.

Deng She ate a few bites, set down his bowl, and asked Luo Guan-nu, “How many came with you when you entered the residence?”

Lady Wang answered for her, “Twelve.” She stayed to serve after bringing the meal. She paused and asked, “Would you like to meet the others, General?” Smiling, she added, “These two are a bit young, but you may not know—youth has its own charm.”

Her words were bold; Luo Guan-nu and her cousin, though just awakening to womanhood, understood her meaning. Their mothers had prepared them mentally when they entered the household. Still, being young, they were both fearful and shy, nervously twisting their skirts and lowering their heads.

Deng She shook his head and didn’t bother correcting their misunderstanding. The red candles burned high, the night patrol’s drums echoed within the room, and the wind grew stronger, carrying faint whispers from the distant mountains.

Lady Wang noticed his distraction, quietly directed the girls to clear the dishes, bowed, and took her leave.

Calculating the time, the Chen and He divisions should have sent military reports by now. Deng She was not sleepy, so he paced to the window. It was deep night, the city utterly dark, not a lamp in sight. Dozens of patrol squads held torches, moving through the streets and alleys. From the pavilion, they looked like fiery serpents winding through black rivers.

His vantage point couldn’t see the main gate; a gust of wind made the lantern’s light flicker. He waited a while, but no messenger arrived. Just as he was about to leave, he caught a glimpse of a shadow at the corner of the courtyard wall. He focused, but the street was silent, nothing there.

He rubbed his eyes, thinking, “I must have imagined it.” Night curfew was strict: only soldiers could move about.

Returning to the desk, he continued his planning. Twelve maids were too many—two or three would suffice, to be given to centurions or captains; try it first, then expand if successful. He reviewed the idea carefully, then set it aside for now. When Chen Hu returned, he would proceed.

Page (2/3)

A burst of hurried footsteps broke the pavilion’s quiet, rushing to the door. A guard opened it and announced, “Dingzhou military report.”

Deng She felt relieved—it had finally arrived. He calmly set down his tea bowl and said, “Let him in.”

The messenger, dusty from the road, had likely ridden hard all night; his cheeks were red from the wind. He knelt and reported, “General, Chen has already encamped beneath Dingzhou’s walls, all went smoothly.” He presented the confidential report.

Unfolding it, Deng She read: “After nightfall, three hundred men from Gaoyuan came to probe, but retreated without attacking. I dispatched cavalry to pursue, but they have not returned. Apart from this, all is quiet in Hedong and Shanxi. Rest assured, Dingzhou’s walls are low; the city will fall within three days.”

Gaoyuan lay south of Dingzhou. Only three hundred men were sent, and they retreated without a fight—clearly not there to rescue Dingzhou, but to test Chen Hu’s siege. Their forces were few, seeking only self-preservation, not worth worrying about.

Yet, despite this reasoning, Deng She felt a growing unease. The activity in Hedong and Shanxi was distinctly odd. Even a small town like Gaoyuan sent men, so why were the larger cities east of the Mud River utterly silent?

Deng She pondered the report, lost in thought.

After a long pause, he penned his reply: “Gaoyuan is a minor ailment; the general need not concern himself. Hedong and Shanxi, however, require extra vigilance. Send more scouts; uncover the truth at all costs. If there is no threat, press the siege; if there is, return swiftly.”

He handed the reply to the messenger to deliver overnight. Still uneasy, he spread out his maps for further study.

Another rush of footsteps echoed in the corridor. A guard burst in, elated, “General He’s victory report!”

Deng She looked up, “Read it aloud.” The Twin Cities were near the sea, so He Guangxiu’s news arrived faster than Chen Hu’s.

The messenger, a Han officer, was covered in blood and grime, clearly fresh from the battlefield, coming straight to report his success. He announced loudly, “We went out to sea after nightfall and seized two islands. The Korean horse pastures surrendered at the first rumor, and we captured a hundred fine horses. Of all the coastal islands, only one remains unconquered. When I left, General He ordered me to tell you: he guarantees another victory report tomorrow. I will lead the way; the captured horses will arrive soon.”

“Excellent!” Deng She exclaimed. The island campaign didn’t affect the larger situation, but a hundred good horses were invaluable. If the pastures had more ships, the horses would have been shipped out sooner. He asked, “What were our casualties?”

“We lacked experience in beach landings, so the fighting was tough. General He personally oversaw the battle; we killed forty enemies, lost two hundred of our own.”

He Guangxiu had fought several campaigns with the main army and was clever, learning some tactics. The losses were high, but Deng She was satisfied. He comforted the messenger and sent him off to rest.

Over a thousand men had attacked a small garrison; victory was expected. Deng She’s mind was still on Dingzhou. He studied the map, paced the room, trying to think as the Koreans would, predicting their moves. He walked for a while, then returned to the desk, using the rivers and roads on the map to test his theories.

It wasn’t mere suspicion—Hedong and Shanxi were behaving far too strangely. So many days had passed, yet not a single scout was seen. It was as if he was punching cotton, fighting the air.

What were the Koreans planning?

The candles burned red, their flames swaying gently in the wind. The sword and spear on the wall cast shifting shadows, sometimes bright, sometimes dark. Occasionally, a candle popped, making a faint sound. Other than Deng She’s pacing, there was no sound in the pavilion that night.

He stayed awake the entire night.

——

1. Servant address.

During the Yuan dynasty, servants addressed their masters as “father.” This practice continued into the Ming dynasty.

Page (3/3)