Volume Two: When I Pull the World’s Strings Chapter 23: Shooting the Willow, Part II

Tong Doulan had been living a leisurely life these past few days. Chen Hu, Zhao Guo, and others were stationed on guard duty and responsible for provisions; Wu Henian and his team were repairing the city walls; Wen Huaguo and others were busy building the camp. He had nothing to worry about. Deng She was both courteous and warm, hosting a grand feast every three days and a smaller one every two days. His days were filled with eating and sleeping, and sleeping and eating. Concerned that he might grow bored, Deng She frequently invited him to lead the Jurchen hundred-families in various leisure competitions organized by the Han army during their downtime—racing on horseback by the willow camp. It was, indeed, a carefree existence.

Tong Doulan had come to Shuangcheng partly out of respect for Hong Jixun and partly due to the tide of events. The realm was in chaos, with numerous warlords rising. The Red Turbans, Mongols, and Goryeo forces in Liaodong jostled for power, their territories jaggedly overlapping, and battles were nearly daily, allowing no respite.

In just three or four short years, Shuangcheng had changed hands several times—from the Mongols to Goryeo, and now from Goryeo to the Red Turbans. This alone testified to the fierce struggle for territory among these factions.

If Liaodong was far across the Yalu River and only tangentially related to him, Shuangcheng was just within reach. As a hereditary thousand-house leader of the Three-Scattered Jurchen, how could he remain uninvolved? How could he stay aloof? Like Deng She, he had no choice but to take a side. Without doing so, he could not guarantee his own safety nor maintain his power and position.

Thus, when Hong Jixun left—he had known him since childhood and always admired his keen insight and talent, often hearing Hong's eloquent praise of Deng She as an unparalleled hero—and promised that if the mission succeeded, he would hand over the Helan estate to him, Tong harbored mixed feelings. He listened with half belief, deciding that if it worked out, he would stay; if not, he would leave. In any case, he had nothing to lose.

Because of this, upon hearing midway that the Goryeo army was besieging Shuangcheng, he hesitated. Yet Hong Jixun was confident and bluntly declared it must be Deng She’s stratagem. He persuaded Tong to come and observe the outcome. Though by a twist of fate they saved Shuangcheng, a thunderous roar erupted from the western mountain pass as Deng She’s ambush army rose, stirring a significant impression in Tong’s heart.

Even in dire straits, Deng She sharpened his resolve; most men would seek self-preservation, but he dared to aim for the complete annihilation of the enemy. Though young and inexperienced in military timing—barely managing to win and almost falling himself—his courage and strategy were rare. Given time, he might well become a great figure.

In recent days, Tong mingled among the camp and generals, observing secretly: morale was high, discipline strict, unity strong. As for governance, a series of measures followed: dividing land, comforting the people, encouraging cultivation, seeking talent—seeming to promise real achievements.

Moreover, yesterday a Liao envoy arrived. Since it concerned internal affairs, Deng She did not invite him, but he knew that Yao Haogu had brought a thousand iron cavalry and plenty of military supplies to support them. With strong external aid and internal diligence, his resolve to leave waned.

He decided to stay—if so, how? To cooperate or to submit? That night, while Deng She and Hong Jixun held a meeting, Tong was not idle. He summoned his troops to discuss. They unanimously agreed that submission was worse than cooperation. Submission meant losing autonomy and tying their fates together, risking too much; cooperation was different—it meant holding the initiative. If Deng She prospered, they would share the benefits; if he lost, they could part ways.

Ultimately, the thought remained: stay if united, leave if not. Tong Doulan deeply agreed. Having made this decision, he had to consider how to implement it. Deng She these days had given them the best camp, treated them with fine wine and meat, assigned tasks without a word—clearly waiting for their own request.

A poem said: “You give me peaches; I repay with jade.” Rather than wait for Deng She’s patience to wear thin, Tong decided to take the initiative to volunteer. This would not only show they recognized the value but also subtly affirm their stance of cooperation rather than submission.

Early that morning, Deng She’s personal guards came to invite him, saying that to welcome the envoy Guan Duo, the soldiers on rest duty would hold a large-scale competition: “My general specially invites the thousand-house lord to watch. If any of your brave warriors wish to compete, they are welcome to join.”

This was Deng She’s first formal invitation for him and the Jurchen troops to participate in army activities. Tong understood the elegant intent. Though ostensibly to welcome Yao Haogu, it was a chance to display military might and, ultimately, to urge him to decide sooner. He smiled knowingly; with fierce enemies lurking, Deng She’s patience had lasted well.

He readily accepted. If Deng She wanted to showcase his troops, Tong too wanted to use this opportunity to demonstrate strength and gain more bargaining chips for cooperation. He personally went to the camp, chose a hundred elite soldiers and officers, and they rode out fast to the nearly completed large training ground.

On the field, many soldiers were divided into teams and arranged in formation. Others came out from town or camp, streaming in from all directions. Following Hong Jixun’s suggestion, this competition was open to the public, and many locals had come to watch—though fewer than might have been expected given the shadow of past massacres.

In the center of the training ground stood a raised platform, from which five or six large flags fluttered in the wind. Deng She, He Guangxiu, Wen Huaguo, Monk Li, and other generals, as well as Hong Jixun and Yao Haogu, sat beneath the banners. Seeing Tong Doulan, Deng She descended and greeted him, leading him to a seat, with attendants serving tea and soup.

The weather was clear and warm, nearby green fields, distant blue mountains. Laughter and conversation filled the air. Officers reported one after another that all participating soldiers were present: over a thousand Han troops, more than three hundred Li troops, and over a hundred Jurchen, divided into archery and wrestling groups. Each hundred-house leader sent representatives according to their specialty.

Winners of each event wore flowers and received money and wine; the team with the most wins earned a red banner. The next day, the winning team would perform duties like camp construction, while the team with the fewest wins would replace them and be granted a day off.

At the sound of three drums, the competition began. Some hundred-house teams brought small drums, surrounding the field to cheer and beat for their players.

Those chatting atop the platform fell silent, watching intently only events involving their own soldiers—celebrating triumphs, cursing defeats loudly.

Tong Doulan behaved more reservedly but could not help smiling when a Jurchen soldier won. Yao Haogu’s eyes darted among Han, Li, and Jurchen troops without missing a one—clearly assessing Deng She’s army’s quality.

Deng She wanted his men to prove themselves—not only to impress Tong and strengthen his resolve but also to show Yao Haogu his might and lay groundwork for the future.

A landowner, unlike Tong or Yao, Deng She treated all winners equally, praising them regardless of origin. Among the generals on the platform, Wen Huaguo and Monk Li’s troops had fairly even results; only He Guangxiu’s face grew gloomier. Ambitious beyond reach, he had Li troops competing in every event but few victories.

Suddenly, cheers erupted from the left. All turned to see a Jurchen team in the main wrestling group. Since entering, one Jurchen had thrown three or four opponents, undefeated. Deng She praised, “A great general has no weak soldiers. Thousand-house Lord Tong’s elite troops are truly worthy of the Three-Scattered heroic name.”

Tong replied, “General, your praise is too kind.” At that moment, cheers rose from the archery group, where Lu Qianshi’s men had just won a round. Tong said, “How shameful—I just received the general’s compliment, yet here I am, losing a round.”

Most Jurchen in Shuangcheng had taken up farming, but the Three-Scattered Jurchen still hunted and shot. Winning at wrestling was no great boast, but losing at their traditional skill was truly embarrassing. The Han soldier who defeated that Jurchen was one of the famed Eight Hundred Old Soldiers. Deng She, seeing this, smiled warmly and comforted Tong: “A single lost round is nothing. When the thousand-house lord came to save Shuangcheng, I watched from afar. Your cavalrymen are all skilled riders and archers, perfectly coordinated—a rare sight.”

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Yao Haogu had not met Tong Doulan the previous day and was unclear about the battle’s course. Hearing Deng She’s courteous words to Tong, he guessed their relationship and interrupted: “In my past service under Guan Pingzhang, I often heard of a Three-Scattered Jurchen descended from Prince Yue. May I ask if you are the honored lord?”

Tong arrived late, so Deng She had not introduced him to Yao Haogu, but now filled the gap: “Thousand-House Lord Tong is indeed the seventh-generation descendant of Prince Yue.”

Yao Haogu stood respectfully and bowed: “Meeting the loyal and heroic descendant is a rare honor.” Tong quickly returned the gesture. Yao held his hand and sat, saying, “I have always admired Prince Yue most. Reciting ‘Man Jiang Hong,’ my heart is moved: ‘The shame of Jingkang yet unavenged, the hatred of subjects—when will it end?... Awaiting to start anew, to reclaim the old mountains and rivers, before the imperial court.’ The prince’s grand ambition remains unfulfilled. The Tartars have overrun the Central Plains for a century now! Amidst such widespread bloodshed, where are the eternal heroic spirits? Prince Yue is the backbone of our great Song dynasty. Seeing Thousand-House Lord Tong fills me with indescribable joy.”

Yao Haogu’s careful choice of words omitted the “starving ambition” lines and cleverly replaced the enemy Jurchen with the current Mongols, avoiding stirring unwanted thoughts while subtly invoking the Song dynasty to reveal his identity.

Deng She and Hong Jixun exchanged glances. They wished to win over the Jurchen, and Yao seemed to share this intention. Tong could not hide forever; living in the same city, they would meet sooner or later. Meeting sooner was better—it would also show Deng She’s sincerity.

Of course, they could not let the reinforcements Tong had painstakingly found be easily taken by Guan Duo. They surely had strategies: Hong Jixun would appeal with sentiment, Deng She with military prowess. Warriors generally respected fellow heroes.

Tong was unaware of their intrigue. To him, Deng She and Guan Duo were one and the same. He had heard Yao’s praise of Prince Yue many times and responded politely.

The flags fluttered in the breeze as the sun climbed. Deng She smiled: “Since my neck injury over a month ago, I have not moved my limbs. Watching the soldiers compete today makes me itch for action.” He turned to Tong: “Thousand-House Lord, would you care to join me and test our skills?”

Tong, thinking the same, did not demur: “General, your injury is not healed. I might have the advantage in wrestling, but how about archery?”

Deng She’s specialty was the spear; he had Chen Hu, a master archer, to coach him. After five or six years of relentless training, he did not dare claim to be top-notch but was confident enough to compete in archery. He smiled and agreed.

With the commanders personally entering the fray, the atmosphere surged. Wen Huaguo bared his chest and beat the drum vigorously. Several guards carried Deng She’s banner, circling the field on horseback; behind them, four or five Jurchen bore Tong Doulan’s banner, riding and shouting: “General Thousand-House Lord, join the soldiers and civilians in fun, personally compete in archery!”

Two large flags flew, front and rear, galloping into the archery field.

The venue was wide and long, cleaned and ready. Soldiers and citizens crowded in eagerly, buzzing with excitement. Fresh willow branches lined both sides, inserted five inches into the ground; their bark was shaved a foot long to expose white wood beneath. Red and black handkerchiefs were tied intermittently to them. According to tradition, red marked targets for Deng She, black for Tong.

Monk Li and Luo Guoqi led the way on horseback; Deng She and Tong followed, bow drawn.

The drums beat and cymbals clashed. Han soldiers loudly cheered Deng She. Jurchen riders galloped and performed mounted archery before the formal competition began. The arrows used differed from ordinary ones: they had no feathers, and their arrowheads were sideways—sharp-pointed tips would not work. Each archer had three shots.

Two or three Jurchen archers hit every willow branch, though some missed the shaved white parts, striking the green sections or white but not breaking the branch—eliciting boos from the Han and Li soldiers behind their shields. Breaking the white part was a win; hitting but not breaking, or missing entirely, was a loss.

Even so, it was remarkable. Galloping horses, bent bows, shooting delicate willow branches swaying in the wind—any slight misjudgment or excess force would miss or break the green, much less cleanly sever the white. Hitting just the edge without wild shots was already skillful.

Tong trusted his skill. After his round, he said: “This is the Mongol method. Any ordinary man with some archery training can manage this. Since the general wants to compete, why not use Jurchen rules?”

Deng She smiled: “As you wish, Thousand-House Lord.” The Jurchen rules were more difficult—not only breaking the white but catching the branch before it touched the ground while galloping. They rearranged the branches lower, just a few inches off the ground.

The soldiers grew even more excited.

Lu Qianshi, displeased with the Jurchen show, charged forward, nocked an arrow, steadied, and shot. The arrow hit the white part, broke the branch, which fell. He spurred his horse, leaned forward, caught it just before it hit the ground, raised it overhead, and laughed heartily. The watching soldiers, including the Jurchen, cheered wildly. Wen Huaguo on the platform beat the drum louder.

Lu Qianshi was tall and bulky but moved lightly and nimbly. Tong praised, moved: “Good skill! Good skill!” Someone near the field shouted: “Place your bets, place your bets! The master bets on the general’s victory. Come quick and bet... no latecomers!”

They both looked toward the voice—none other than Yao Haogu. Among Mongols, the previous Song, or Jurchen customs, respect for rank prevailed: the senior competed first, juniors later. Deng She yielded: “Please, Thousand-House Lord, first.”

Tong bowed, drew his bow, and stepped forward. The main event had arrived. Lu Qianshi and others left the field silently. The soldiers grew quiet. Wen Huaguo struck the drum sharply and called out: “Archery begins!”

Tong halted at the field’s edge, not rushing to shoot. He planned carefully. Seeing many branches already broken, he formulated a strategy.

First arrow: steady, mid-distance, warming up. He broke the branch and caught it smoothly.

Second arrow: equally steady. Hitting consecutively and catching without fail showed skill beyond the ordinary.

Outside, soldiers applauded wildly; Jurchen drew swords against their shields, shouting Tong Doulan’s name. Every successful catch was celebrated by drumbeats. With two sets of drumbeats, Tong galloped swiftly, raising dust. His bow curved like a full moon, arrows like shooting stars. The third arrow shot swiftly.

The arrow broke the branch, and before it fell, Tong reached out and caught it without slowing. The arrow’s speed did not wane; it broke a second branch tied with a black handkerchief. Using his right hand to catch the first, he passed the bow to his left, caught the second branch squarely on the bow, tossed it up, and caught it in his mouth.

One arrow hit two targets. The soldiers were stunned—none had seen this before. It was a trick of Tong’s, possible only because the black-handkerchief branches were already broken. Even so, all were convinced.

Deng She laughed heartily: “Extraordinary skill! Thousand-House Lord truly a divine archer.” The drummers finally realized, beating their drums thunderously. Tong returned modestly, removing the branch from his mouth: “General’s praise is too generous, mere luck.”

Yao Haogu’s voice came again: “The first round’s bets are settled. Now for the second round—those with money, hurry; those without, begone. The master bets on Thousand-House Lord’s win.” Seeing Tong’s skill, he feared losing the last bet on Deng She and doubled the stakes to win back losses.

One arrow breaking two targets—perhaps Chen Hu could do it; Deng She could not.

What now?

Hong Jixun remained on the platform, standing beside Wen Huaguo. Holding a folding fan to his chest, he gestured two fingers bent and three extended. Deng She, seeing this, took the hint, scanned the field, and chose his targets. He took three arrows, holding them between his fingers, and instead of running wildly, walked alongside the willow branches. As his horse galloped, he aimed carefully, firing arrows in quick succession—one arrow following another—breaking three branches. The horse rushed forward like lightning.

The three branches were close. Galloping near, Deng She held his bow with his right hand, sidestepped, and stretched out his left hand, catching all three branches with barely a moment to spare. This was somewhat easier than Tong’s trick. If Tong excelled in skill, Deng She excelled in boldness and precision.

This was a draw.

Deng She turned back and they stuck the willow branches on each other’s horses. The sky was high and clear, the city majestic, soldiers and horses joyful. Deng She raised his bow and pointed with fierce spirit: “Thousand-House Lord, watch this! With such elite troops and your aid, how could weak Goryeo stand against us?”

His guess at Tong’s character was accurate. He truly respected fellow heroes. When he had first met Lee Seong-gye, they bonded over archery. Seeing Deng She creatively regain the upper hand, brightening the scene with quick wit and strategy, Tong secretly praised him and resolved to cooperate.

He dismounted and bowed: “I have eaten at your expense for many days without contributing, feeling quite uneasy. General, just command, and the Three-Scattered Jurchen will give their all.”

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1. Serving tea and soup.

Soup here refers to beverages of many kinds, generally made from spices and medicinal herbs, sometimes dried fresh fruits or flowers, combined with seasonings. Preparation typically involves grinding ingredients into powder, then adding boiling water as a tonic; some are decoctions or pastes dissolved in boiling water.

Some soups are salted, others sweetened with honey or sugar; some retain the original flavor of the herbs and spices. Soups are used for disease prevention and nourishment—a form of dietary therapy. In the Song dynasty, guests were served tea on arrival and soup upon departure. This custom persisted into the Yuan era. In the play “Frozen Su Qin Returns Home in Glory,” Zhang Yi, prime minister of Qin, is visited by Su Qin; after their talk, Zhang Yi’s servant says, “Serve the soup,” meaning “send the guest away.” Su Qin responds, “Soup served means dismissal; I shall take my leave.”

2. The Jurchen wrestler who, upon entering, threw three or four men undefeated.

Jurchen were skilled wrestlers. In Jin times: Ang, originally named Bendu, served Emperor Taizu as a youth. Taizu ordered pairs of men to wrestle; at fifteen, Ang was asked if he could do it. He replied, “By command, I dare not shirk.” He then threw six men in a row. Taizu was pleased: “You are my clan brother. Stay close by.” He awarded him a Jin medal to wear in service. Another, Shimorong, also excelled in wrestling, defeating six or seven strong men in a row, earning gold coins from Emperor Xizong and promotion to commander of the palace guard.

3. Archery at willow branches.

This was a mounted archery contest shooting at willow targets. Originating with the Xiongnu and Xianbei customs, and ancient Chinese archery rites.

In Jin: willow branches were lined in two rows; archers took turns shooting according to rank, each branch marked with a handkerchief. Branches were inserted five inches into the ground, bark shaved to expose white wood. A rider led the way at speed, followed by archers shooting sideways-featherless arrows. Breaking the white wood and catching the branch while riding was a victory, signaled by drumbeats.

In Song: on the third day of the third lunar month in Renchen year, at Jinling, Li Xianzhong reviewed horse troops and ended with breaking willow branches in the archery field.

In Yuan: with banners raised, military officers prepared willow branches, shaved one foot of bark, inserted five inches into the earth, and tied handkerchiefs as markers. Riders led horses, archers followed, shooting arrows to break the white part. Success was celebrated with drums. This was a warrior’s skill display.

This practice gradually disappeared by mid-Qing dynasty.

4. Wild arrow.

An arrow whose whereabouts are unknown after shooting is called a “wild arrow.”