Volume One: Is There a Path for Humanity Amidst Chaos? Chapter Ten: A Thousand Miles, Part I

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The cavalry commander, gravely wounded, was a distant uncle of Xu Jizu and captain of the personal guard. When Xu Jizu led the troops out of the city, he deliberately left his kinsman to ensure Lady Wang’s safety. With the familial bond between them, Lady Wang was spared from the constraints of propriety, making it convenient for her to share a carriage and tend to his injuries.

Deng San, Yellow Mule, Deng She, and their companions, all mounted and helmeted, clattered out of the village and approached the carriage. First, because Lady Wang was backed by both Wang and Xu, her status far above theirs, they had to pay their respects and await her instructions. Second, to offer sympathy to the wounded.

The cavalry commander had lost an arm and suffered four or five arrow wounds to his chest and back, lying unconscious. The carriage curtain remained lowered; Lady Wang spoke on his behalf: “Generals, you are too courteous. I thank you for your concern. The night is deep, the road long, and enemy forces are near—it is inconvenient to exchange formalities, so I shall not disembark. May I ask, how many troops do you command? How many are fit to fight?”

Her voice was gentle, her words refined and orderly, calm and unhurried. She neither pressed them to depart nor asked after trivialities; her first question concerned troop numbers and battle-ready men—a perspective uncommon among women. Deng She was slightly surprised, then understood. He had heard Xu Jizu was from a wealthy Xuzhou family; though not scholarly, Lady Wang, as his sister, had reason for such composure and insight.

Before Deng San could respond, Monk Li spoke loudly and boldly, glancing at Deng San and Deng She. He pulled himself up and declared, “Reporting to my lady, I am Li Zijian, formerly a cavalry commander under Marshal Wang. There are six hundred cavalry in the village, all ready to fight. My lady, rest assured—we will risk our lives to ensure your safety.”

Lady Wang responded with a hint of delight, asking somewhat urgently—she had heard of the monk’s reputation: “Is that so? So you are General Li—that is wonderful.” Having asked about the troops and found a familiar face, she continued, “General Li, do you know where my husband is?”

“Uh?” His bravado collapsed into awkwardness. When breaking through the enemy, he had only thought of saving himself, not of Marshal Wang’s fate! He could not admit this, so Monk Li stammered. Lacking quick wit, he was left speechless, and glancing resentfully at Deng San, Yellow Mule, and Wen Huaguo’s mocking faces, he turned imploringly to Guan Shirong and Luo Guoqi.

Guan Shirong kept aloof; if Luo Guoqi had known Wang Shicheng’s whereabouts, he would have spoken up, but since he knew nothing and wished to avoid trouble and a bad impression with Lady Wang, he busied himself with his armor, feigning ignorance.

Deng She, composed, took up the conversation: “So my lady may know—at the moment of breaking out, the enemy was fierce, but I seemed to see Marshal Wang, guarded by his personal soldiers, moving westward. Though the enemy is strong, Marshal Wang is renowned for his bravery and would not have lost unless caught by cunning. With his guards, he should be safe—perhaps heading to Fengzhou or Dongsheng. Wherever he is, we have too few men to search amidst the chaos, so my lady should proceed to Shangdu. I surmise that after breaking out, Guan Pingzhang, Marshal Wang, and Commander Xu will also move toward Shangdu, then to Liaoyang.”

When breaking through, he had been at the vanguard and only glimpsed Wang Shicheng’s standard among his troops. His claim of heading west was pure fabrication.

From the moment he learned Chen Hu had brought Lady Wang, he realized that with the main force composed of Wang and Xu’s men, and Lady Wang, kin to both commanders, now present, it was vital to establish a good relationship with her quickly. Otherwise, their small band of horsemen would be abandoned during their flight, doomed to serve as cannon fodder in battle or as scapegoats in crises—there would be no escape.

So when Monk Li faltered, Deng She seized the opportunity. His latter comments, however, were sincere deductions.

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In truth, had Deng She not spoken, Deng San was about to. He nodded approvingly at Deng She; Lady Wang was silent for a moment, evidently accepting his answer, then asked, “Are you also one of my husband’s men?”

“I am Deng She, commander of a hundred cavalry, along with my foster father Deng San, commander of a thousand, and Commander Yellow Mule—all under Guan Pingzhang.” With a simple phrase, he made clear Deng San’s rank—not to boast, but to note that, normally, those with higher rank are superior in command and achievement.

Including Yellow Mule was a strategic move—having one more ally meant greater influence and a better chance for their own survival.

Lady Wang, seasoned in military affairs, understood the implication. After a pause, she said, “I am but a woman. The situation is urgent—whether to fight or retreat, I ask Commander Deng, Commander Yellow, Commander Li, and Commander Zheng to decide.”

With that, she set the command of the eight hundred cavalry.

Commander Zheng had accompanied Lady Wang, a man in his forties, of medium build and dark complexion. Standing by the carriage, he had been silent, but now clasped his hands and said, “There is no time to lose—let us depart.”

Though united, they were a defeated army hastily assembled; their pursuers, Yuan cavalry, were elite and victorious—a vast difference, impossible to match. Thus, all knew that fighting was out of the question.

Without waiting for Deng, Yellow, or Li to reply, Commander Zheng glanced at the others and asked, “Who are these gentlemen?” Wen Huaguo reluctantly gave his name, and Luo Guoqi, Guan Shirong each introduced themselves.

Commander Zheng nodded and, in a courteous yet firm tone, assigned orders: “Commander Deng, lead a squad ahead to clear the way. Commander Yellow and Commander Li, take your men and patrol the flanks. Commander Wen and Commander Guan, follow Commander Deng to cover the rear. Commander Luo, stay by the carriage with me for central support.”

With a few succinct words, he arranged the formation—unremarkable, but proper. Lady Wang remained silent in the carriage; the generals exchanged glances, thinking, “Commander Zheng’s background must be significant—surely he is Lady Wang’s trusted man.”

Under the eaves, one must bow. Deng She conferred with Deng San and led his men ahead; Deng San grunted, called Wen Huaguo and Guan Shirong, and rode to the rear. Yellow and Li, faces stiff, reluctantly took their orders and departed.

Commander Zheng noticed the two or three dozen men Yellow Mule had gathered, lacking horses and weapons, and frowned, calling Yellow Mule back: “The pursuers are all cavalry. Commander Yellow, your men must be streamlined.”

“These are Marshal Wang’s soldiers,” Yellow Mule replied—not ignorant of Commander Zheng’s reasoning, but dissatisfied with his commanding tone, deliberately posing this problem.

“Ensuring Lady Wang’s safety is paramount—these men must be left behind. Commander Yellow, please understand.” Commander Zheng said, and summoned several personal guards by the carriage: “Give these brothers without horses some silver. Those wishing to return home may do so; those who wish to continue fighting the enemy, tell them—my name is Zheng, and I will wait for them in Shangdu. When the time comes, we shall pledge brotherhood and honor those who are steadfast, true heroes. I will report their sacrifice and valor to Marshal Wang.”

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A deft maneuver—Yellow Mule had to concede. Thus, not only would those without horses willingly leave, but those with horses would not resent Commander Zheng or feel discouraged.

When the horseless soldiers had dispersed, precious time had passed and the night deepened.

The carriage was small, pulled by two tall, handsome horses, swift and strong, never slowing the march.

Deng She rode two or three miles ahead, dispatching three patrols in succession. Each was separated by two or three miles and carried the five-colored flags made in the village over the past two days. The colors—yellow, white, black, blue, red—were used to signal road conditions: yellow for ditches, white for smooth roads, black for streams, blue for woods, red for wildfires.

Tonight, the moon was bright, the roads unfamiliar, urgency pressing, and with a carriage in tow, the flags were just what they needed.

The company skirted the village on country roads; the horses galloped, cold wind biting, armor chilled. The red tassels on helmets and swords, the red cloaks some soldiers wore outside their armor, fluttered in the wind, strikingly visible in the night.

Deng She ordered, “Remove your cloaks.” He pointed to a man, “Go to the rear and report to Commander Zheng. Ask whether he wishes to forbid the entire army from wearing conspicuous colors.”

Like the wind, they sped past the village. Deng She turned to look—without the red scarves, the village lay silent and still, its layered houses distant and indistinct. In the moonlight, the mud and brick walls nestled against endless fields, their lines soft and gently stretching. He turned back, suppressing a sudden tenderness.

In chaotic times, human life is worth less than a chicken. He could only hope that the woman released earlier and the villagers might live a little longer, though the Red Scarves had left them scant food. For the Red Scarves, Deng She included, they too hoped to survive a little longer.

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1. Lady.

Tao Zongyi’s “Notes from the Southern Village”: “Lady... now commonly used to refer to women, so a child calls his mother ‘lady.’ In the capital, from the wives of commoners to the wives of high officials, all are called ‘lady,’ and there are no titles such as ‘madam’ or ‘county lady’ in use.”

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