Volume Two: My Arrival Shakes Heaven and Earth — Two Hundred Thousand Households II

The following days were exceedingly busy.

Construction of the grand parade ground began, camps continued to be raised outside the city; the cities of Dingzhou, Ningyuan, and others had varying stores of provisions—some abundant, some scarce. Orders were issued to standardize the supplies: each city could store at most a month's worth of grain; any surplus was to be transported back to Twin Cities, where warehouses were built and the supplies assigned to the logistics division. Captured military equipment, armor, and warhorses—except for those needed to replenish losses—were likewise sent to Twin Cities. For soldiers who had distinguished themselves in battle, the commanders compiled rosters to be submitted to Deng She for rewards and recognition. The wounded were tended, and the fallen mourned.

With the lesson learned from the previous incident of women being hidden within the ranks, Deng She, Hong Jixun, and others formally drafted a set of military regulations. They were not complicated—seven or eight articles, with two main points: obedience to orders and prohibition against disturbing civilians. The regulations were dispatched swiftly to each city, with strict instructions to enforce them without leniency.

Additionally, it was mandated that each hundred-man unit hold a monthly “Remembrance and Reflection” meeting. In times of war, all units would assemble for a unified gathering.

Discipline and ideology were not enough; material needs must also be met. Efforts were made to improve rations, with the decree that any officer who withheld food from his soldiers would be executed. With the weather warming, cloth was collected from each city to hasten the production of summer uniforms. Soldiers were encouraged to organize recreational activities during downtime—infantry could compete in long-distance walks or wrestling; cavalry could play polo or practice archery on horseback. Winners would be rewarded. This not only provided entertainment but also enhanced combat readiness—a perfect balance.

Furthermore, each unit was permitted to establish its own brothel, with a strict limit: the ratio of camp followers to soldiers could not exceed one to a hundred. Thus, a thousand-man unit could have up to ten camp followers.

Among Deng She’s attendants who defended Twin Cities with him, over thirty had died in battle, leaving just over sixty, including a few Koreans—three or four in number. They were incorporated as his personal guard. Deng She treated them equally and generously, like brothers. By day, they attended him; by night, they guarded his door. They were granted their own separate unit, and since they were all older than Deng She, they were affectionately called the “Brother Squad” in the army.

The captain of the Brother Squad was an old soldier from Liaodong, surnamed Bi. When he was born, his family was so poor they named him “Thousand Oxen.” He had a brother called “Ten Thousand Oxen,” who had died of starvation a few years prior.

When the Korean outcast died in battle, Deng She made sure to learn his name and personally attended his burial. Honoring his promise, he struck the outcasts from the army rolls, issued new household registrations for Twin Cities, and elevated them to civilian status. When the registrations were distributed, the Korean soldiers cheered joyously.

Though most Korean troops had been recruited in Liaodong, many still spoke little or no Chinese, hindering communication. While ordinary soldiers were not required to learn, all sergeants and above were mandated to study Chinese to prevent breakdowns in communication and ensure orders could be carried out.

With myriad affairs sorted, five days had passed. The city walls were repaired, the parade ground was nearly complete, and most of the camps outside the city finished.

For over half a month, the Koreans had made no move. Scouts reported that the cities west of Ningyuan and south of the Mud River were hunkered down, avoiding confrontation. Even the supply convoys from Dingzhou and Ningyuan went unmolested; when spotted on patrol, the Koreans fled at a distance. Clearly, Deng She’s annihilation of five thousand and rout of twenty thousand had terrified them. For the foreseeable months, Twin Cities would be safe.

After relentless battle, they had finally secured their footing. Joy follows triumph; Deng She’s mood was much improved, and laughter was more frequent. With Lady Wang's attentive care, the wound on his neck was slowly healing.

Busy as he was, Deng She had not forgotten to visit Qing Qianxing. Every few days, he would drop by—not to discuss state affairs, but to talk of life and leisure. Sometimes he shared past battle experiences or stories from history, inviting Qing Qianxing’s opinion. If Qing Qianxing grew angry and cursed, Deng She let it pass without offense.

If Qing Qianxing ignored him, Deng She talked to himself; if Qing Qianxing responded, Deng She would debate with full earnestness, sometimes winning, sometimes conceding. When he lost, he praised Qing Qianxing sincerely, calling him a general of rare talent.

Eventually, Qing Qianxing could not help but ask about the Korean army’s situation. Deng She replied vaguely, avoiding a direct answer. Yet his refusal did not prevent Zuo Che’er, the guard assigned to Qing Qianxing, from answering; in fact, Zuo Che’er exaggerated the truth. For instance, the fierce battle at Ningyuan became “the army arrived, the city fell” in his telling. What Qing Qianxing thought of this could be guessed from subtle changes in his demeanor.

To pay attention to everything is wisdom; to master human nature is art. Deng She could not claim mastery of human nature, but he could certainly pay attention to details. One afternoon, he visited Qing Qianxing’s quarters for a chat. He brought a small box and placed it on the table, saying, “My men have sent me some century-old ginseng from Jia Mountain. Jia Mountain ginseng is excellent. My wounds are nearly healed; I have no need for so much. You have not properly recuperated after battle, General—I give it to you.” He instructed Zuo Che’er, “Have someone prepare it each day. When it runs out, send a messenger to Jia Mountain for more from General Zhao.”

Qing Qianxing scoffed. Two days ago, Deng She had sent singers from Dingzhou; now it was Jia Mountain ginseng. Such petty tricks to win favor! He said, “No need to trouble yourself. Spare me your false gestures. If you have courage, let me go. Let us settle our scores on the battlefield!” Yet he no longer sought death.

“To release you would do no harm. But these past days, I have gained much from our conversations. I admire your talent and do not wish to see it wasted.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Marshal Li Yan returned to court and placed all blame for defeat on your shoulders.” Deng She glanced at Qing Qianxing and continued, “I do not know the laws of your country, but I imagine you will not escape death if you return.”

Qing Qianxing laughed, “You, a mere bandit, presume to know the affairs of my court? Trying to fool me, as if I were a child!”

Deng She’s expression did not change. “Believe it or not, General, I do not seek your trust. But heaven favors talent, and men should cherish it. You are a general both learned and martial; keeping you is not for myself, but for the sake of the times.”

Everyone loves to hear words of praise, and Deng She spoke sincerely. Qing Qianxing snorted, ignoring him. Deng She took his leave, for his schedule was tight; he was due to inspect the parade ground.

As he exited the residence, cavalry scouts galloped back from outside the city. They leapt anxiously from their horses—there were two of them. Deng She recognized one as a captain from Zhao Guo’s unit. His heart leapt—was there urgent news from Jia Mountain? He did not ask directly.

Panting, they reported, “Guan Pingzhang of Liaoyang Province has dispatched a force; last night they passed Jia Mountain, and now are only thirty li from Twin Cities.”

Deng She was taken aback—this was unexpected. After capturing Twin Cities, he had sent messengers to Liaoyang to report the victory. It was odd that the messengers had not returned ahead with word. After inquiry, he learned that as the messengers and the troop neared Jia Mountain, they encountered remnants of the Korean army; after a brief skirmish, the Koreans fled west, but the messenger was unlucky and took an arrow in the leg, now recuperating at Jia Mountain.

The flag borne by the Korean soldiers read “Commander Kim,” likely Kim Depei. Presumably, after his defeat at Twin Cities, he fled north to Jia Mountain; when Jia Mountain fell, he broke through, encountered Guan Duo’s troops, and turned west, probably hoping to circle back to Pyongyang.

Kim Depei’s whereabouts were irrelevant. But why had Guan Duo suddenly dispatched troops? Deng She urgently sent for Hong Jixun and notified the generals of Wenhua State to assemble in full armor at the city gate.

He asked, “Who is the envoy? How many troops?”

The captain from Zhao Guo’s unit answered, “The envoy is Yao Haogu. He brought a thousand cavalrymen, saying he is here to deliver your official appointment. General Zhao invited him to rest in the city last night, but he refused. He did not even stop. General Zhao sent a few men to guide them and dispatched us, riding day and night, to bring word. It’s a hundred li journey; both sides have cavalry, so arriving thirty li ahead is respectable.”

Deng She nodded approvingly, telling them to rest. The report was timely, allowing him to prepare rather than be caught off guard.

He knew Yao Haogu—an advisor to Guan Duo. It was said that in the campaigns for Shangdu and Liaoyang, this man had played a key role. Yet, for delivering an appointment, why send a personal advisor and not an official from the provincial government? And why bring a thousand men? Even if the roads were unsafe, escorting an envoy should not require such numbers.

Deng She frowned, pondering Guan Duo’s intentions. He was dressed in plain clothes; to meet the envoy, he needed to change. He turned back to his residence, issuing orders as he went:

“Select a thousand elite soldiers to form a welcoming parade outside the city.”

“Tell Wu Heniang to prepare a banquet and ample gifts; any wealthy households with vacant homes, clean and ready them immediately. The logistics division must prepare food and fodder for a thousand men—all to the highest standard. Arrange accommodations for the troops.”

Just then, Hong Jixun arrived. His residence was near Deng She’s, separated by half a street. Deng She briefly explained the situation. Hong Jixun did not hesitate, sneering, “No doubt they’ve come to seize territory.” He had been slighted in Liaoyang and bore a proud temperament, thus held a poor impression of the Red Turbans there.

Deng She smiled, saying nothing. He hurriedly changed clothes and said, “Teacher, come with me to greet the envoy. I know little of protocol; is it proper to greet them ten li out?”

Hong Jixun’s dislike was evident, but he understood that Guan Duo could not be offended. He replied, “He’s not an imperial envoy; four or five li is enough.”

Deng She hesitated—too far seemed obsequious and might invite disdain; too near risked appearing arrogant. “For a mere hundred-household commander, Guan Pingzhang sends an envoy. Too near is unseemly; let’s do ten li.”

Hong Jixun was not stubborn over small matters and accompanied Deng She to the city gate, where Wenhua State’s generals had been waiting. Selecting a thousand elite soldiers took some time. Deng She, impatient, ordered Luo Guoqi to stay behind and organize the troops along the roads inside and outside the city.

He then led two or three hundred personal guards, with Wenhua State’s generals, out on horseback.

News of Guan Duo’s envoy spread; the generals reacted variously. Wenhua Guo seemed unconcerned. He Guangxiu and Li Heshang speculated about what official rank Deng She might receive; Chen Paizi smiled and contributed to the discussion. Yang Wanhui was indifferent, uninterested in such matters. The brothers of the Lu clan were busy—one teaching apprentices to forge firearms, the other leading cavalry training outside the city. Deng She had not summoned them. Huang Luge was distracted at first but soon joined the speculation.

Heading north out of the city, scouts continually reported their progress—twenty li, fifteen li, and at ten li, they saw a formidable troop approaching, banners flying, raising dust. The banners were two—one high and one low. The high one read: “Song Dynasty Liaoyang Province Pingzhang Guan”; the low: “Shangdu Wing Marshal Office, Commander Qian.”

The high banner represented the envoy; the low was the troop’s military standard.

Deng She and his party dismounted, with hundreds of guards forming ranks and raising flags in welcome. Deng She sent someone ahead to announce, “Deng She, commander of Twin Cities, welcomes the envoy.” Hong Jixun whispered, “Say nothing, do nothing. Listen to him, observe him.” He was not like Deng She—Deng She was a former subordinate of Guan Duo; Hong Jixun had first served Liaoyang, which had rejected him. Now, having secured six cities, he sought to accomplish great things and would not easily relinquish them.

Territorial disputes were not malicious speculation. In the rebel armies, such rivalry was common—even among allies, annexations and turf wars occurred frequently.

Deng She remained silent, smiling. He adjusted his armor and stood at the front. As the cavalry approached, the lead captain ordered a halt, the vanguard turning aside, banners like a forest. Two men, one behind the other, rode forward slowly.

The first was about thirty, with thick brows, small eyes, and sparse whiskers. His eyes were bright and quick, scanning the group in a blink. He laughed heartily, dismounting from a distance, and called out, “Thank you for the welcome—no need for such ceremony, General Deng! We are all Song men, no need for formality! Ha ha.”

Deng She hurried forward, lifting his armored skirt to kneel. The man stopped him, saying, “Please rise, please rise. Guan Pingzhang specifically instructed that, in recognition of your loyalty and courage, all ceremonies are waived.” Grasping Deng She’s hand, he looked him up and down, lavish in praise. “A true hero in youth! What a splendid young general! In a month, you’ve conquered such vast territory. Compared to you, I am ashamed—my beard is wasted, my years lived in vain!”

The generals behind Deng She laughed aloud. The man glanced sideways, catching sight of Wenhua Guo. “Oh, what a mighty and vigorous presence! A true tiger general. May I ask your name?—No, let me guess first!”

He tugged at his beard, clapped his hands, and exclaimed, “I’ve got it! Deng She’s report said: ‘In the camp’s defense, one general stood alone at the gate, turning the tide; nine assaults repelled, standing firm as a rock. Even faced with thousands, his expression did not falter—a tiger’s courage.’ The courage of a tiger—only a tiger general could possess that! It must be this man.” He looked around proudly. “Did I guess correctly?”

Deng She finally found his chance to speak. “The envoy’s insight is keen—your guess is exactly right.”

From outward appearance, the envoy did not seem a man of deep cunning—his words flowed easily. Yet Deng She dared not underestimate him. Whether his personality was genuine or feigned, Deng She maintained proper decorum. Despite Guan Duo waiving all formalities, Deng She bowed respectfully, “I respectfully welcome the envoy.”

The man pulled him up, complaining, “I told you, we’re family, General—you’re too polite! If you keep this up, I’ll turn and leave! Ha ha—do you still want your appointment? I might hide it! Ha ha.” He was truly a natural at banter.

Deng She was both amused and helpless. The envoy slapped his forehead, suddenly remembering, and turned to introduce the marshal accompanying him. “Look at my memory—so focused on talking, I forgot to introduce… This is Guan Pingzhang’s trusted general, renowned and feared by the Tartars—Commander Qian.”

Deng She recognized him; so did Huang Luge. They had all served in the cavalry together. Whenever Deng San held large military councils, Deng She attended, often seeing this man. His name was Qian Shide.

They exchanged greetings, with Huang Luge joining in. The envoy’s credentials were verified without error. Deng She led the party into the city; Qian Shide’s troops camped outside, awaiting preparations for their accommodation.

Seeing the soldiers arrayed inside and outside the city gates, the envoy Yao Haogu praised, “Tigers! Tigers! Clearly seasoned warriors, fierce and sharp. What a wolfish army—so much fighting spirit! Look at them, look at them—remarkable! Brave men, strong armor, fine weapons—excellent equipment. Commander Qian, I’d say these troops rival your elite cavalry.”

The thousand soldiers had been specially selected, far superior to the ordinary. Qian Shide concurred, “You are correct. General Deng commands fine soldiers—I am impressed.”

Deng She modestly deferred; Yao Haogu grew solemn, “I speak not in flattery, but from the heart.” Passing through the gates, he looked back as the afternoon sun glinted off spears and swords, dazzling. He sincerely exclaimed, “Such a forest of swords and halberds—like entering the Willow Camp.”

The Willow Camp referred to General Zhou Yafu’s camp during the Han; the emperor was unable to enter without permission. At first, Yao Haogu seemed to praise Deng She’s strict discipline; but with deeper reflection, the comparison hinted at something more.

Why did he choose this metaphor now? What did he mean?

—
1. Long-distance walk.

A long-distance running event. Under Mongol rule, the government organized an annual “long-distance walk.” “The imperial court values the guiyuchi (swift runners), testing their speed annually, called ‘long-distance walk.’... In three periods, they cover one hundred eighty li, finally reaching the imperial presence and performing a bow for longevity.”

Guiyuchi wore distinctive attire—“bell garments and red hats,” “red scarves” around their heads. Bell garments had bells attached, ringing as they walked, alerting others to clear the way.

2. Wrestling.

Also called sumo or grappling, wrestling has a long tradition in China.

Under Mongol rule, wrestling was of two types: Mongolian and Han. Mongols favored the sport; when Emperor Wu succeeded, “he frequently rewarded Ma Mousha, the wrestling champion, bestowing high office.” Han wrestling had an ancient tradition; the Mongols conscripted sumo wrestlers from the south. Sumo wrestlers were likely professionals. Folk wrestling matches often occurred at temple fairs as a highlight. “Learning sumo” was popular and required tuition. The Censorate considered it “a fierce art,” believing it fostered “violent customs”; the government repeatedly tried to prohibit it, with limited success.

3. Archery on horseback and polo.

Both were competitive sports and “martial displays of valor.” In the play “The Register of Polo and Willow Shooting,” two generals competed in archery and polo to determine martial skill.

Archery on horseback: shooting willow branches from horseback, inherited from Liao and Jin traditions.

Polo: the horseback ball game.

Originating in Tang, polo remained popular through Song, Liao, Jin, and Yuan.