Volume II: I Come, Stirring Heaven and Earth 4. Strict Discipline Ⅰ

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Hong Jixun and Wu Henian entered one after the other. Hong Jixun, as always, wore his old clothes, a folding fan in hand, his bearing elegant and striking. Wu Henian, hunched and shrimp-like, followed behind. Upon seeing Deng She, he quickly broke into a smile. “Congratulations, General, my sincere congratulations.”

“What is there to celebrate?” Deng She, with the help of two young girls, sat up and gestured for them to bring over a couch, serve tea, and brighten the candles. Dawn was just breaking; the room remained dim.

Hong Jixun made a courteous bow and sat down; Wu Henian, habitual as ever, perched at an angle, barely letting himself settle as he said respectfully, “The General has recovered from grave wounds—surely a sign of future fortune, and so I congratulate you. Moreover, in just two days, your banners have brought down two cities—another reason to offer congratulations.”

“You speak well, sir,” Deng She replied with a smile, inviting them to tea. “The cities fell because we caught the enemy off guard; the merit lies with the soldiers. In settling the populace hereafter, I must rely on your wisdom, sir.” Noticing the two young girls lingering in the room, he waved them out.

With a snap, Hong Jixun opened his fan and fanned himself twice. “Victorious, yet not arrogant; calm in the face of fortune. You do not forget the soldiers' merits and think first of pacifying the people. With these two virtues, I can assure you, the twin cities will be at peace.”

Deng She, unable to turn his neck comfortably, simply turned his whole body to face them. Composing his expression and sitting upright, he said, “I have yet to devise a plan for settling the city. I have summoned you both to hear your counsel. Please, do not hesitate to instruct me with your precious advice.”

Hong Jixun stepped forward without deferring to Wu Henian, closing his fan with a snap and tapping it against his palm. “If you wish to pacify the city, it is simple enough.”

“Please, go on.”

“One head will suffice.” With another snap, he opened his fan again. In the opening and closing of his fan, he asked for a head as if it were nothing at all. Wu Henian shifted uneasily and coughed softly.

Deng She remained silent, understanding Hong Jixun’s intent. After three days of slaughter, peace would not come easily. Other than presenting Chen Hu’s head to appease the people, there was no better way. But this method, Deng She would never agree to, not even in thought.

“If you cannot consent to that, I have another plan,” Hong Jixun continued, unsurprised by Deng She’s reaction, speaking at ease. “The massacre was indeed a severe punishment. Before the assault, over a thousand Goryeo civilians were driven into our ranks; if you reward and honor those who submit, you can win half the people’s hearts.”

His suggestion matched Deng She’s own thoughts, and Deng She nodded in agreement without mentioning he’d already considered it. Efficiently, he resolved the aftermath of the massacre and moved on to the next topic. “Has the population of the city been tallied?” he asked.

Hong Jixun pointed to Wu Henian. “The records and documents of the Twin Cities’ household registries were all handed over by General Chen to General Luo and Mr. Wu.”

Wu Henian hurriedly straightened up. “General Luo and I have counted thirteen thousand two hundred and thirteen households, forty-two thousand people, and fourteen thousand able-bodied men; the rest are the elderly, women, and children.” Pausing, he added, “All ethnic groups are represented. Goryeo people are the majority, making up three-quarters, while Han, Jurchen, and Bohai peoples make up the remaining quarter.”

The Bohai people, formerly the Mohe, were once vassals of Goguryeo. After Goguryeo’s fall, they united various remnants to found the Bohai-Mohe state. The Tang court appointed their king as the Prince of Bohai, and thus the nation adopted the name Bohai.

According to the Yuan dynasty’s four-tier classification, the Han category included eight types. Besides the northerners from the former Liao and Jin, the Jurchen, Bohai, and Goryeo were all counted among them. Broadly speaking, they were all considered Han. In Wu Henian’s report, however, “Han” referred specifically to people from China in the narrow sense.

“How many died in the massacre?”

“It has not been calculated. General Chen ordered that only Goryeo people were to be killed. Patrols were posted throughout the streets to prevent indiscriminate slaughter, so I expect not many perished.”

That only Goryeo people were targeted had been made clear to Deng She by Chen Hu the previous night. Chen Hu, meticulous, remembered that when Hong Jixun had offered counsel in the tent, he had suggested that the Jurchen tribes of Helan Prefecture might become allies, so strict distinction was made during the massacre. Among the women brought in, two or three were gifts from the Bohai and Jurchen.

When occupying a city, two matters are paramount: population and stores. Deng She nodded and moved on to supplies. “How about grain and provisions?”

“The Twin Cities are truly fertile. Since Goryeo’s occupation, there hasn’t been a war in two or three years. The granaries are full, especially those of the wealthy households, piled high with grain—enough for the army for two or three months. But the climate here is cold, so the stores are mostly oats and the like.

“The city yields gold, which is to be delivered annually; this year’s tribute has not yet been sent. There are two gold ingots, four hundred taels of silver, and tens of thousands of strings of cash notes. Additionally, Goryeo’s wealthy, seeking to save their lives, have offered up a thousand taels in gold and silver. The Han and other groups have also contributed five hundred taels of silver.”

Without needing to check, Wu Henian recited the numbers clearly and surely. “Besides that, there are three thousand one hundred sets of captured armor and weapons in good condition, and one thousand two hundred more in storage, along with various siege engines and one cannon.” He sighed in regret, “Alas, there are no firearms.” He added, “Once all the spoils were tallied, General Chen had them moved to one place under General Zhao’s care.”

To acquire so much grain, two thousand taels in gold and silver, and several thousand pieces of military equipment was satisfactory enough; such matters needed only to be known, not dwelled upon. Deng She set the issue aside. “It’s thanks to your abilities, sir. You’ve worked hard these days; when I recover, I’ll host a feast in your honor.”

Wu Henian repeatedly demurred. Seeing that Deng She had no further questions, he slouched and sat back down.

Hong Jixun picked up the thread. “With three months’ rations in hand, what does the General intend as the next step?”

“We cannot live on stores alone. I was just about to seek your advice.” Deng She, though his legs were numb from sitting upright so long, remained motionless out of respect. He had a general plan for the future but was eager to hear Hong Jixun’s thoughts to fill in the gaps.

Hong Jixun had been waiting for this. With a flick of his fan, his eyes gleamed. “In my humble opinion, there are three main principles: pacify the people, recruit talent, and seek alliances. Each has two parts.”

“I would like to hear the details.”

“To pacify the people, select a capable local to serve as their father and mother. First, stabilize the city’s order. The city is small and cannot house all our troops; only the elite should garrison the city, the rest should be stationed outside. Second, with spring tilling and autumn harvest approaching, we must quickly comfort the people and restore farming.”

Having finally gained a territory, Deng She was naturally unwilling to continue as a roaming bandit. To settle down required a stable source of food and pay; without farming, there would be no harvest, and thus no supplies. He nodded in agreement and made a formal bow. “In that case, I must trouble Mr. Wu to serve as acting governor of the Twin Cities. What do you say?”

Wu Henian rose in alarm, bowing repeatedly. Since his surrender, he’d had no real office and often feared for his neck, suspecting Deng She might discard him when no longer useful. The post of governor was exactly what he wanted; he accepted the appointment without a word of protest, a great weight finally lifting from his chest.

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“Please elaborate on recruiting talent.”

“There are two parts. First, recruit talent from the Goryeo people; second, recruit talent from the Han, Bohai, and Jurchen peoples.”

He made his point in a single sentence, and Deng She immediately understood. Hong Jixun explained in detail: “By recruiting Goryeo talent, we understand our enemy; by recruiting the others, we gain their strength.”

He analyzed the relationship between the Jurchen, Bohai, and Goryeo peoples in Helan Prefecture and nearby areas: “Goryeo borders the Jurchen and has repeatedly driven them out to expand its territory. Helan Prefecture and other lands were once Jurchen. For the past century or two, Goryeo has clashed with the Jurchen, sometimes winning, sometimes losing. Tens of thousands of Jurchen have died in such conflicts. Three years ago, the King of Goryeo took advantage of chaos to seize the Twin Cities and surrounding states, driving out the native Jurchen. The hatred between these two peoples runs deep.”

Bolstered by his new post, Wu Henian, unwilling to let Hong Jixun monopolize the discussion, interjected, “But we Han have not always been friendly with the Jurchen either. The Jin-Song wars ended just a century ago.” He turned to Deng She. “I’ve heard that in the early Yuan, many Jurchen settlers in Hebei and Henan were slaughtered by Han people.”

Hong Jixun shot him a sideways glance. “There are three groups of Jurchen. One near Mongolia does not speak Chinese and is counted by the Mongols as Mongols; one in Henan and other places, descendants of Jin migrants, speaks Chinese; one is native to Liaodong, split into hundreds of tribes. The Jin-Song wars had little effect on them, and in any case occurred long ago. Compared with their current hatred for Goryeo, who took their ancestral lands, I believe they know which enmity is greater. If the General promises to return these lands to the Jurchen after taking Goryeo, why would they not come to our side?”

There was some logic to that, and Deng She asked him to continue.

“As for the Bohai, when their state fell, Goryeo had not yet been founded. Led by their royal family, tens of thousands migrated to Silla, and their descendants number forty or fifty thousand today—an important ethnic group in Goryeo. There are several hundred Bohai households right here in the Twin Cities; more are scattered across Liaodong and other places. They keep in contact, and their assimilation into Han culture is deep—they are almost indistinguishable from Han. In Goryeo’s rigid hierarchy, with few exceptions, immigrants rarely become officials, and many Bohai have fallen to the status of commoners.

“Thus, if the General can treat these two groups differently, elevating them above the Goryeo, they could become your greatest aides in governing Goryeo.”

Though this counsel on recruiting talent was already delving into ethnic issues—classifying people by ethnicity is not a solution in the long run—Deng She, isolated and far from home, had little choice but to divide and rule for now.

He nodded in agreement.

For a strategist, nothing is more satisfying than offering a plan and seeing the leader accept it. Hong Jixun, though thirsty, drank his cold tea in one gulp before continuing. “For seeking alliances, one part is local, the other with the Jurchen.”

“How locally?”

“I know the local ways. Among the thirteen thousand households, three thousand are Han. The General could invite the most respected elders and prominent gentry for consultation and comfort, making use of their influence and appointing the best as officials. Thus, like drifting seeds finding earth, you will have roots here.”

“And with the Jurchen?”

“As I mentioned, the Jurchen here harbor a deep hatred for the Goryeo. I know several Jurchen chieftains and am willing to go to them on your behalf.” He raised a finger. “If even one comes, I dare say, with your generosity and magnanimity, the rest will soon follow.”

His words were not mere flattery—this was truly the impression Deng She had made.

At their first meeting, Hong had tested Deng She’s tolerance by feigning arrogance and disrespect. Deng She’s response had met his expectations. A wise ruler chooses his ministers, and wise ministers choose their lords. Hong Jixun had joined Deng She, partly because he could not avenge his great resentment in Liaoyang, and Deng She’s reputation suggested ambition and ability. Contact had only confirmed this impression.

Moreover, as an illegitimate branch of his clan, Hong Jixun had endured slights all his life. He prided himself on his talent and, living in turbulent times, aspired to use his abilities to gain wealth and honor. Deng She, at the start of his rise, lacked capable advisers—an ideal opportunity for someone like Hong Jixun to shine.

Thus, he decided that even in the face of exclusion from generals like Chen Hu, he would devote himself fully. He was confident that, in time, his standing in Deng She’s eyes would surpass that of Chen Hu and the others.

He volunteered for the mission, and Deng She had no reason to refuse. Pleased, Deng She tried to get out of bed, but his numb legs gave way, and Hong Jixun quickly stepped forward to support him. Realizing that Deng She had remained motionless out of respect for him, even with his legs numb, Hong was moved. The two exchanged a silent, knowing smile.

Leaning on Hong Jixun, Deng She stretched his legs. “Of your three principles and six subpoints, I will follow every one. I will meet with the Han elders today.” His face clouded with worry. “But the city is newly taken, and the roads are unsafe. I worry for your safety if you travel far.”

Hong Jixun smiled. “No need to be concerned, General. I am familiar with the roads and speak both Goryeo and Jurchen. In disguise, I shall pass through danger as if on flat ground.”

“In that case, whatever you need for this journey, just say the word.” Gifts were essential in recruiting the Jurchen.

Hong Jixun did not hesitate, making a bold request. “I’ll need a thousand taels of silver.” With one sentence, he claimed half the spoils.

Deng She did not hesitate either, ordering Wu Henian, “Bring paper and brush. I’ll write a note for you to take to General Zhao for the funds.” When the supplies arrived, Deng She, instead of writing one thousand, added two hundred more. “Let this cover your expenses. The journey will be harsh—take care of yourself.”

Hong Jixun accepted with a smile, producing from his sleeve a scroll. “I have drafted a letter for the Jurchen on your behalf. Please review it.”

As in their last meeting, Hong Jixun had come prepared. Deng She took the scroll and unrolled it. It read:

“Heaven gives birth to all people—how can there be a distinction between Han and barbarian? In the fields, we farm; in the wilds, we hunt. Farming and hunting, all are nurtured by Heaven. The Mongol Yuan are cruel as wolves among sheep. They gather our five great surnames to fill the river with corpses. They cut off your bows and arrows, destroying your way of life. In mountain and swamp, they forbid even the mining of gold and silver; who among the powerful ever cared for the sufferings of the people?

Who among us does not have parents? Who has no brothers and sisters, dear as hands and feet? Who has no spouse, with whom to share joy? What grace is there in life, what guilt in death? Our Great Song, following Heaven’s command, punishes evil and rewards virtue. We act as Heaven’s hand, destroying the wicked. Heroes and talents—why not come forth? The Twin Cities and all their lands shall be restored to their rightful owners.”

The phrase “gather our five surnames” referred to the Yuan Chancellor Bayan’s suggestion to the Emperor that the Han were too many and should be purged by exterminating the great Zhang, Wang, Liu, Li surnames, along with the former Song’s royal Zhao family. “Filling the river with corpses” was based on Kublai Khan’s fear that the Mongols were too few to rule China, and his idea of using Han corpses to fill the rivers.

Deng She, having read it, voiced his praise. He picked up a brush, crossed out the final line, and changed it to, “Eliminate evil, restore order, and bring peace.” After a moment’s thought, he amended “bring peace” to “share in wealth and honor.” Putting down his brush, he asked, “Is this revision acceptable?”

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His meaning was clear—recruiting the Jurchen was a matter of expediency, and what might happen in the future was impossible to predict. Promises to return the Twin Cities and so forth were best discussed in person, not written. The letter would be circulated widely, and written promises were hard to retract.

Hong Jixun said nothing, but Wu Henian applauded, “The General’s thinking is meticulous—this revision is flawless.” Hong Jixun frowned slightly but said nothing more, and the matter was settled. He stowed away the letter and Deng She’s note. “This matter should not be delayed. I’ll prepare my things and depart this afternoon.”

Surrounded by powerful enemies, Deng She was eager to see results soon. “If only I were well enough to see you off, sir.” He summoned his personal guards and chose ten reliable men to escort Hong Jixun.

Hong Jixun laughed heartily. “I will suffer nothing more than a little hardship on the road; you, General, are gravely injured and burdened with all military and civil affairs—take care of your health.” He snapped his fan shut. “In at most half a month, I’ll send back good news.” With a bow, he turned and left without a word to Wu Henian, drifting away.

Wu Henian glanced at Deng She and, seeing he showed no displeasure at Hong Jixun’s lack of ceremony, suppressed his own resentment, and sincerely praised Hong Jixun, “A true scholar—a man of great distinction. With such a person at your side, General, your enterprise is sure to succeed. My congratulations, General, my sincere congratulations.”

Deng She sat back down and motioned for Wu Henian to join him. The broad plans were settled, but many details remained. From comforting the populace to posting recruitment notices for talent, from searching out craftsmen in the city to incorporating them into the army’s workshops, to extinguishing lingering fires in the city—he discussed and delegated every matter.

He said, “You’ll need to look after the registration of land and farm workers, as well as all oxen, plows, and other equipment.” Having grown up with the likes of Deng San, skilled in war but ignorant of agriculture, he entrusted these tasks to Wu Henian.

He did not worry about deceit—what he didn’t know, the Wenhuaguo men, mostly farmers, would. Wu Henian, experienced in promoting agriculture and sericulture, accepted the responsibility without pressure.

Deng She continued, “Now that you’re governor, you are as a father to the people. Please help invite the Han elders and notables—I will meet them this afternoon.”

Outside, the city was growing noisy as day fully broke. Deng She summoned his guards to snuff out the candles and incense. Wu Henian, seeing he was no longer needed, took his leave.

No sooner had he left than Lady Wang arrived. She had risen early but had been kept waiting outside by the guards while Deng She and Hong Jixun conferred. Today, she was carefully made up, her weariness from the night before artfully concealed, her long skirt trailing behind as she entered with two new young girls, even younger than the previous pair, perhaps twelve or thirteen at most.

One held a basin aloft, the other gingerly carried a meal. Perhaps because of their youth, they were less timid and dared to sneak upward glances at Deng She.

The aroma of food reached him, and only then did Deng She realize how hungry he was. Since waking, he’d had only a bowl of ginseng soup. Lady Wang’s narrow-sleeved jacket left her wrists exposed, making it easier for her to serve.

She closed the door, directed the maids to kneel by his bed, and personally washed his hands and face. Then, raising her skirt, she knelt at his bedside, picked up a soup spoon, cooled it, and offered it to his lips. The dignity and condescension she’d once displayed had vanished overnight, replaced with the obedient devotion of a house-trained dog.

After so long in discussion, Deng She was indeed tired. Seeing her so eager to please, he gave up trying to refuse and let her have her way, closing his eyes to rest as he ate and drank.

In Lady Wang’s eyes, this confirmed her suspicions from the night before. That Deng She would accept her service reassured her somewhat. She dared not relax, mustering all the skills she had used with Wang Shicheng to please him.

If serving men was her innate talent, lacking any real feeling, what surprised her now was that, in serving Deng She, she began to feel a faint pleasure. She did not know if it was simply the release after days of tension, but as she savored the feeling, it grew stronger and stronger.

Her cheeks flushed, her heart raced, her limbs weakened, and her breathing quickened. Waves of sensation left her hands trembling; at the height of it, she could not kneel upright and collapsed, the spoon falling and shattering.

Startled, Deng She opened his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

The maid helped Lady Wang up. She felt a large, wet patch between her thighs beneath her skirt. Months of pent-up desire had erupted in that moment; her face burned with shame and a peculiar excitement.

Deng She, misunderstanding, said, “Perhaps you’ve caught a chill on the road and haven’t rested—are you ill?” He called for a doctor and ordered the maids to help her back to rest.

The sensation was so intense that Lady Wang had never experienced anything like it. The aftershocks lingered, her hips trembling, her cheeks aflame to the very tips of her ears. She glanced at Deng She with dewy eyes. After days of fear and then such intense pleasure, her emotions swung wildly. In this moment of feminine vulnerability, hearing Deng She’s repeated calls for the doctor, for the first time she felt a shy joy. She savored the feeling as she let the two girls help her away.

Hurried footsteps sounded on the stairs. A guard entered. “General, the scouts have returned.”

The man who entered was the scout sent to track Wang Shicheng. Deng She raised a hand; after waiting for Lady Wang to be far enough away, he asked, “Dead or alive?”

“Reporting to the General. Before I reached Shangdu, I heard that Wang Shicheng and Xu Jizu, three days ago, took all their forces across the sea to Shandong to avenge Mao Gui.”

“Pass my orders: have Zhao Guo select the finest treasures from the spoils and send them to my lady. Say nothing but that it is a token of my regard.” If Wang Shicheng and Xu Jizu were defeated by Zhao Jun, a few treasures mattered little; if they succeeded and took Shandong, they would matter even less.

Seeing the ginseng soup on the table, Deng She added, “Send this bowl to her as well. Tell her to rest and assign more maids to care for her.” He warned, “No one is to speak of this but me. If there is any leak, execute them.”

The guards and scout accepted the order with awe.

It was not yet time to speak of this. The Twin Cities were remote and news traveled slowly—if Deng She said nothing, no one would know. He thought he must find an opportunity to make up for his recent coldness to Lady Wang. Just then, a guard announced that Chen Hu and the other generals had come to see him.