In the capital, a heavy snowfall at the end of the first lunar month brought an auspicious atmosphere, as a timely snow promised a good harvest.
Early in the morning, the snow on the streets had already been cleared by manpower organized by the local authorities, and the area in front of the imperial palace was particularly spotless.
In the grand hall, the censors were already standing in front of their seats, and the court officials had also taken their positions. However, the emperor had yet to appear.
Someone nearby couldn’t resist whispering a remark, and immediately, a censor’s reprimand echoed from the corner of the hall.
After another moment, the sound of uplifting music finally filled the air. Accompanied by the emergence of court attendants and eunuchs, the emperor also made his entrance. The officials knelt in reverence, marking the beginning of this month’s court assembly.
Among the ranks, Chen Shao glanced up and frowned slightly. The emperor appeared even more emaciated than before. In the past, he had mustered some energy to attend the court sessions, but recently, it seemed he could not even feign vitality.
The court assembly concluded quickly, and high-ranking officials such as the Minister, the Three Judicial Officers, and the Hanlin academicians were summoned to the council hall.
As they arrived, a senior eunuch was speaking with the emperor, and faintly, they could hear the emperor’s voice tinged with irritation: “What nonsense…”
“…The two princes roaming outside – what kind of behavior is that?”
“…Their Highnesses said they intended to continue searching for a better doctor…”
Though only these two phrases were audible, the words “Their Highnesses,” “doctor,” and “roaming outside” immediately made it clear to Chen Shao and the other high officials that this concerned Duke Jin’an, who had taken Prince Qing out to seek medical treatment.
It was said that they had not even returned for the New Year celebrations, and it now appeared they would not be back for some time.
The door was pushed open, and everyone hurriedly composed themselves. The eunuch bowed and gestured in invitation. The emperor sat on the throne, his expression calm and unreadable, showing neither joy nor anger. The officials began to report on court matters. As the discussion touched on military affairs in the northwest, the atmosphere in the hall quickly grew tense.
“…Zhong Chengbu is an arrogant upstart who relies on his family background and clashes with military officers. He should indeed be reassigned.”
“…Master Guo, the words of Jiang Wenyuan alone cannot be lightly believed. Inspector Zhou has praised Zhong Chengbu for his sharp and vigorous spirit. In the few months since his transfer to the northwest, he has already achieved military merits.”
The dispute over the command in the Northwest Route continued. The emperor raised a hand to massage his temples.
“We will discuss this matter later,” he interrupted the two, turning to the others. “Next.”
An official from the Ministry of Finance stepped forward.
“…Feng Lin has reported on the supervision of the Fiscal Commissioner’s Office in Taicang Circuit…”
As the reported figures of deficits and corrupt officials were read aloud, the emperor’s frown deepened.
“Investigate! Investigate all of them! Send the Censorate, the Court of Judicial Review, and the Grand Court of Revision – everyone must go. Not a single one is to be spared,” he thundered.
This case was clearly escalating into a major purge.
Chen Shao and the others naturally had no objection to this, and those who might have opposed it knew better than to challenge the emperor at such a moment. The hall echoed with murmurs of assent, otherwise falling into silence.
Not a single piece of news had been satisfactory. The emperor let out a weary sigh and swept his gaze across the assembled ministers.
“What else is there?” he asked gloomily.
Before anyone in the hall could respond, a eunuch entered to announce that Grand Coordinator Gao was requesting an audience. Given his rank and the fact that he had not yet been granted the title of imperial decree, Grand Coordinator Gao did not share the privilege of Chen Shao and the others to discuss matters without being summoned.
Under normal circumstances, Grand Coordinator Gao would have been made to wait. But at this moment, the emperor was feeling stifled and decided to have him admitted. Perhaps he would bring news that was less disheartening.
When the eunuch’s announcement was heard, another eunuch was whispering to Grand Coordinator Gao.
“…That’s how it is…” the eunuch said softly, stepping back a few paces. “Please consider carefully, Your Excellency.”
Grand Coordinator Gao nodded, glanced at the memorial in his hand, hesitated for a moment, and then put it away. Given the current circumstances, bringing up this matter now would likely be inappropriate. What could he say to lift the emperor’s spirits?
The problem was, there had truly been no major joyous events recently… No significant successes, only minor matters…
Frowning as he stepped forward, Grand Coordinator Gao suddenly thought of something, and his expression brightened.
Yes! There was indeed a piece of good news, albeit a minor one. At this moment, the emperor wouldn’t care whether it was major or minor – as long as it was good news, it would suffice.
He took a deep breath and adopted an expression of delight.
“Your Majesty… I bring wonderful news…”
His voice echoed through the hall, causing Chen Shao and the others to frown. However, the emperor on the throne seemed to relax slightly.
“…It’s excellent news from the Group Pasturage Office.”
As soon as Grand Coordinator Gao uttered these words, nearly everyone present couldn’t help but stifle a laugh.
“Did the Group Pasturage Office fetch a high price for this year’s horse manure again?” someone whispered to Chen Shao with a hint of mockery.
But Chen Shao remained silent. He hadn’t paid much attention to what Grand Coordinator Gao was saying. Instead, he noted that the emperor had actually allowed Grand Coordinator Gao to enter and participate in the discussion – something that would not have happened in the past. At most, Grand Coordinator Gao would have been made to wait until after the court matters were concluded.
It seemed Grand Coordinator Gao would soon achieve his wish of being granted the title of imperial decree.
This was not good news. Such imperial relatives by marriage ought to be kept at a distance. Allowing them to remain in the capital was already the beginning of trouble, and now they were being permitted to participate in court affairs with official recognition? Was the emperor losing his judgment?
Chen Shao’s face darkened as fragments of Grand Coordinator Gao’s report reached his ears.
“…The losses of military horses in the northwest have decreased somewhat…”
Military horses? Chen Shao immediately perked up.
Somewhat?
“This hardly counts as great news,” the emperor remarked, shaking his head, though his expression softened slightly.
“Your Majesty, while the improvement may seem modest, it demonstrates that the new methods they have implemented are proving effective. Previously, the horse pastures could only supply three hundred warhorses annually, and shortages arose due to excessive losses. If these losses are genuinely reduced, even if the number of horses supplied remains unchanged, the effective total has effectively increased. Your Majesty, this means we can expand our cavalry forces in the northwest…” Grand Coordinator Gao explained.
Cavalry!
In the military, cavalry had always been the commanders’ most prized asset. Why was this the case? Because they were highly effective in battle yet exceedingly scarce. The principle that rarity increases value held true here as well.
Why were the cavalry of the Western bandits so formidable? Because they had an abundance of horses – each of their cavalrymen could be allocated three horses, while ours had to make do with just one. If we could ensure a sufficient supply of horses, what would the Western bandits have left to boast about?
They had found a way to significantly reduce the losses of military horses! This was indeed momentous news. The emperor straightened in his throne, and Chen Shao and the others adopted solemn expressions.
“What is this thing called?” the emperor asked.
Grand Coordinator Gao stumbled over his words.
“It was something devised rather haphazardly and hasn’t been given a proper name yet. The Group Pasturage Office humbly requests that Your Majesty bestow one,” he replied with a smile.
At these words, everyone present inwardly scoffed.
No proper name? More like you simply couldn’t remember it! Instantly, they all understood: this was not the matter Grand Coordinator Gao had originally intended to bring up. Having learned of the emperor’s foul mood after his arrival, he had likely switched to a different topic at the last moment – one he might have heard mentioned in passing but hadn’t taken seriously himself.
“Since it involves attaching iron to the horse’s hoof, let it be called the ‘horseshoe,'” the emperor said with a laugh.
Thanks to this minor matter concerning horse hooves, the council meeting concluded on a pleasant note. Watching Grand Coordinator Gao preen as several officials gathered around him, Chen Shao stopped the Three Judicial Officer.
“How is it that you were unaware of the Group Pasturage Office’s achievement, allowing that opportunist to seize the credit?” he asked with a stern expression.
Who would have thought the Group Pasturage Office could accomplish anything beyond selling horse manure? the officer thought to himself.
“I will look into it immediately,” he said.
It wasn’t too late to act now. Though Grand Coordinator Gao had taken the lead in reporting this matter, they couldn’t allow him to claim any further credit.
Before the emperor’s bestowed name for the horseshoe could spread through the court, the horseshoe itself had already become familiar to everyone in the northwest.
The castles damaged in the battle of Longgu City had been largely restored. New Year decorations still hung, not yet taken down, adding a touch of festive cheer to the desolate winter landscape.
On the narrow, crowded streets of the city, a rider galloped past, hooves kicking up dust, the crisp clatter of iron horseshoes echoing through the alleys. Passersby turned to look, and upon noticing several human heads hanging from the rider’s saddle, they recoiled in shock.
The rider charged into a military camp without slowing, causing the horses inside the vast wooden-fenced enclosures to stir restlessly.
“Fourth Brother! Fourth Brother!”
A rough, unruly voice rang out.
A man who had been busy with several veterinarians in the horse enclosure stood up. Seeing the rider approaching, he smiled and shook his head.
“Keep your voice down. Don’t startle the horses,” he said.
“If these warhorses spook that easily, they don’t deserve to be tended by you, Fourth Brother. They should be sent off as packhorses instead!” Xu Bangchui cackled, waving his hand. “Come here, quick!”
Xu Sigen sighed and walked out of the enclosure.
“What are you doing here again?” he asked.
Xu Bangchui, still atop his horse and looking immensely pleased with himself, urged his mount to circle a few times, making sure Xu Sigen got a clear view of the human heads hanging from the saddle.
How could Xu Sigen not have noticed the gruesome heads? He could only shake his head.
“You rascal, how many this time?” he asked.
Xu Bangchui laughed and held up his large hand.
“Ten!” he announced proudly.
“Not bad. That’ll earn you a handsome reward this time,” Xu Sigen said with a smile.
In the army, success was measured by military achievements. With enough merit, a commoner could become an official, a junior officer could be promoted, and a soldier could earn substantial rewards.
“Our ‘Brave’ unit has been reinstated!” Xu Bangchui declared triumphantly.
As they were speaking, a group of men hurried over.
“Xu Sigen!” the leader shouted sharply.
The tone was unmistakably hostile. Xu Bangchui frowned, but Xu Sigen quickly stepped forward.
“Commander Song…” he said, bowing in greeting.
Before he could finish, Commander Song hurled an object fiercely at him.
The military officer was tall and powerfully built, his physique imposing even in winter. With a forceful swing, he struck Xu Sigen’s arm with the object. Caught off guard, Xu Sigen grunted in pain, clutching his arm as he collapsed to the ground, unable to get up.
The object that had been thrown rolled to the side – it was a horseshoe.
“You bastard!” Xu Bangchui shouted, both shocked and furious, leaping off his horse and charging forward.
The officers surrounding the commander immediately stepped in to shield him, shouting reprimands.
“What do you think you’re doing? Dare to defy your superior?”
In the military, insubordination was a grave offense.
Struggling to his feet, Xu Sigen grabbed Xu Bangchui’s leg to hold him back.
“Why did you hit him? Why?” Xu Bangchui yelled, his eyes bloodshot as if he wanted to tear someone apart.
The commander ignored him, instead looking down at Xu Sigen with a cold sneer.
“So, the credit for strong soldiers and sturdy horses goes to you?” he said. “You certainly have the nerve to claim that.”
Xu Sigen shook his head.
“Commander, I never said anything like that,” he replied.
The commander snorted.
“All you did was put horseshoes on the horses, and now you’re trying to take credit for what we’ve achieved with our blood and lives?” he roared, pointing accusingly at Xu Sigen. “Before these things existed, did our Han ancestors not defeat the Xiongnu and trample the Qilian Mountains? Was all that bravery nothing? Without you, would our forefathers’ courage have meant nothing?”
