After drilling through the mountains for several days, it was time to take a boat again.
This time, Cheng Danruo could clearly feel that they had entered the rebel army’s territory. The fishing boat no longer concealed its movements. Bai Mingyue changed into a white silk jacket and skirt, and put her hair up in a bun, wearing no gold or silver ornaments, only a few velvet flowers, yet she carried an air of otherworldly elegance.
On the riverbank, a squad of rebel soldiers sent to meet them were all dressed like peasants. They pressed their palms together and said, “Divine Mother.”
Bai Mingyue returned the greeting.
“How are things?” she asked.
These guards dressed as peasants were her trusted followers. The congregation called them the “Arhat Army” – only five hundred strong, but utterly loyal, the most devout believers.
“The Left and Right Protectors have already retreated to Mengyin,” the leader said. “Xintai only has a naval force, no cavalry. The troops sent from the capital have all been drawn away. Everything is going smoothly.”
Bai Mingyue raised an eyebrow. “What a brilliant scheme. Who came up with it?”
The leader said, “There’s a scholar in Mengyin, surnamed Tang. His family is very poor -all the ancestral property was divided up, and he lives depending on his elderly mother. This spring, his mother fell gravely ill. Not only did the clan refuse to lend money, they also wanted the last old family home. Thanks to your medicine, his mother’s life was saved. This time when we took Mengyin, his mother insisted on joining the congregation, so he had no choice but to throw in his lot with us.”
“Plant good causes, reap good fruit,” Bai Mingyue said, lowering her eyes demurely. “My Buddha is compassionate.”
“My Buddha is compassionate,” the Arhat soldiers chanted along, incomparably devout.
Cheng Danruo sat in the cabin, assessing their fighting strength.
Very strong.
They were all young men in their prime, accustomed to hard labor – tall and broad, palms covered in thick calluses, skin darkened, faces weathered by wind and frost. These were the laboring poor at the very bottom, the most heavily exploited, filled with blood and tears. If they were truly devoted to the Wusheng Cult, they would be the hardest to deal with in the entire rebel army.
She adjusted her breathing, trying to minimize her presence as much as possible.
After Bai Mingyue finished speaking with them, she ordered someone to bring her out of the cabin and stuff her into a mule cart.
The leader asked in confusion, “Who is this?”
“Someone from the court,” Bai Mingyue said. “Don’t touch her. She’s useful to me.”
Then came another long stretch of journey.
Cheng Danruo calculated silently that seven days had passed since she was abducted. By now they should have reached Qingzhou territory, so the destination definitely wouldn’t be too far.
She guessed right.
The light outside gradually dimmed as night fell. Just when her bladder could barely hold on any longer, the mule cart stopped.
“We’re here.” Bai Mingyue jumped down and looked back at the obedient Cheng Danruo, smiling. “You’ve really been quite cooperative. Well then, we’ve come this far – no need to hide anymore. Come down.”
Only then did Cheng Danruo lift the curtain and slowly climb down.
It was dusk, and she saw an utterly real mountain forest stronghold.
Compared to TV set locations, the real stronghold was far more dilapidated – hardly any proper buildings could be seen, only sheds made of thatch and wood. When the wind blew, a few strands of thatch would fly off, and the roofs teetered precariously.
Sallow, emaciated commoners were weaving straw sandals, chopping firewood, or fetching water. In the late autumn weather, many had only a single tattered padded jacket, and some had nothing but a pair of trousers to cover their shame.
Inside the thatched sheds, some straw mats were laid out, where men and women, old and young, crowded together in dark, narrow spaces.
From the simple earthen stoves rose smoke without any fragrance – no telling what was being cooked, though it vaguely resembled some kind of plant root.
Cheng Danruo was silent for a moment, then turned to look at Bai Mingyue.
Bai Mingyue smiled and said, “This is all the conditions we have here. You’ll have to endure some hardship.”
“Don’t always assume that no one outside your ranks has ever suffered.” Cheng Danruo took out the handkerchief from her bosom – inside were the hairpins and ornaments she had removed. “Take these. Buy some cotton clothes for the women and children.”
Bai Mingyue hadn’t expected her to do such a thing. She was stunned for a moment, then burst out laughing. “Trying to send a message out? You really are clever.”
“You’re overthinking it.” Cheng Danruo furrowed her brows. “These are ordinary items, not from the palace. If you’re worried, melt them down and use them however you like – it makes no difference.”
Bai Mingyue glanced at her, then took it and examined it closely.
What was wrapped in the handkerchief were indeed the hairpins and ornaments she had worn on the day she was abducted. The gold hairpin was delicate but not valuable; the earrings were gold-set pearls, the pearls not large – altogether worth at most a hundred taels of silver. Nothing special.
But she still wasn’t reassured. “You said it yourself.”
“Gold and silver are but worldly possessions.” Cheng Danruo said sternly, “I am with the court, but I’m not made of stone. I can’t just watch them freeze to death.”
Bai Mingyue smiled, saying neither whether she believed her nor not, but she pocketed the items.
The leader asked, “Where should we lock her up?”
Bai Mingyue thought for a moment and said, “In my room. I’ll guard her myself.”
The Arhat soldiers looked at Cheng Danruo’s slender build, then thought about Divine Mother’s abilities, and said nothing.
Cheng Danruo was escorted into a relatively decent wooden house, which seemed to have been built in imitation of a Buddhist hall. The largest space was the main hall, with a raised platform at the far end holding a single prayer cushion, and side rooms on either side.
She was locked into one of the side rooms. There was nothing inside except two prayer cushions.
The burly man named Ah-Niu went around to the outside of the door, pulled out two wooden boards from who knew where, and with a few “bang bang” strikes, nailed the window shut.
Bai Mingyue had disappeared, replaced by a sharp-eyed young girl with slender limbs, who brought her a newly woven straw mat.
“Thank you.” Cheng Danruo took it and made her own bed.
The girl looked her over, then turned and brought back a blackened cotton jacket, torn in many places, with the straw and reed fluff stuffing exposed.
Cheng Danruo’s scalp tingled – she had a visceral sense there were lice inside – and she quickly said, “Keep it for yourself, I’m not cold.”
The girl pursed her lips, snatched the jacket back, and shut the door.
The room was instantly plunged into pitch darkness. Cheng Danruo sighed silently and consoled herself: the conditions were poor, but between preparing a prison room and offering clothes, Bai Mingyue clearly didn’t intend to kill her.
But resigning herself to fate wouldn’t do.
No matter how friendly the enemy appeared, she couldn’t pin her hopes on their kindness. Everything now could be an act, could be a way to lull her into complacency – once she lost her value, they could very well turn on her without a second thought.
Her way out had to be in her own hands.
Everyone in the stronghold listened to Bai Mingyue. She was the key.
Cheng Danruo pondered silently, hugging her knees. The mountain nights were truly cold.
On the day Cheng Danruo passed through Sishui, Xie Xuanying was crossing the Yimeng Mountains.
He had lost over fifty soldiers – not counting the civilian laborers transporting supplies.
And these were soldiers of the personal guard!
They hadn’t died on the battlefield against the enemy, but deep in the mountains and forests. Some fell off cliffs to their deaths, some were bitten by venomous snakes, and one horse broke its leg and threw its rider, who ended up breaking his neck.
Others inexplicably developed fevers, or diarrhea so severe they were vomiting and purging uncontrollably.
Xie Xuanying found it utterly baffling.
Yes, they were crossing mountains, but they weren’t actually riding horses over the peaks!
They had found two guides familiar with the Yimeng Mountains – a father and son, and a pair of brothers. The former was a peddler, the latter a groom, all fairly familiar with the surrounding terrain.
The mountain paths, though steep, had been trodden by mountain folk for generations. Mules could walk them, horses could too, and at night they could rest in villages.
Even so, they had inexplicably lost men. The actual combat capability of the personal guard was easy to imagine.
Xie Xuanying was very glad he hadn’t dragged these men straight onto the battlefield.
He seized the opportunity to drill the troops.
According to the organization: each Small Banner commanded a squad of ten, each General Banner commanded fifty, each Centurion commanded a hundred, and each Deputy Chiliarch commanded five hundred. Adding a hundred civilian laborers transporting grain and a hundred personal guards, the total force was about two thousand two hundred men.
With so many people marching through narrow mountain paths, they were in fact one enormously long dragon – those in front couldn’t see those behind, and if anything went wrong, if anyone midway ran into trouble, the whole column would fall into disorder.
Xie Xuanying required the Small Banner to ride at the very front, with his nine subordinates simply following their officer. Within a hundred-man unit, the Centurion was at the front, and the two General Banners took the middle and rear respectively, each responsible for their own fifty men. If anyone fell behind, they were to wave a flag immediately as a signal.
Officers commanding five hundred men, like Centurion Zheng and Deputy Chiliarch Liu, were responsible for coordinating the daily march arrangements – which unit took the lead, which brought up the rear, which stood guard, which protected the supplies. Everything had to be in perfect order.
Whoever failed at their job ate last that day.
At the same time, Xie Xuanying not only ate and lived alongside the soldiers, but every day he also ate leftovers with the worst-performing unit.
When a commander shares his clothes and food with his men, at least seven or eight out of ten can win their subordinates’ hearts – the rest simply put on a poor act. And Xie Xuanying was not only a descendant of a military family; he had an advantage others didn’t.
When a burly, rough officer calls everyone brother, his men think he’s generous and loyal. When a peerlessly beautiful man shares hardships with everyone, his men reflect on themselves and feel they’ve committed an unforgivable sin.
That night, the moon was bright and the stars sparse, the campfire faint.
Xie Xuanying held a cold, hard dry biscuit, tore it apart expressionlessly, softened it in water, and swallowed it.
Around him, there was dead silence.
Today’s bottom performer was the unit responsible for escorting supplies. The soldiers had been careless – a cart broke down, and they failed to heed the civilian laborers’ advice to repair it in time, blocking the road for half a day and delaying the entire army by over half an hour.
Xie Xuanying punished the Small Banner escorting that cart by forbidding him dinner, and promoted the civilian laborer who had made the suggestion earlier. Then, late at night, he ate cold food together with everyone.
It was awful.
The punished Small Banner stood at attention with his head bowed, avoiding his comrades’ reproachful looks: Aren’t you ashamed? Making the beautiful general eat cold food? Is that any way to behave?
The Small Banner was so ashamed he wished he could crawl into a crack in the ground.
Fifteen minutes later, Xie Xuanying finally finished the half biscuit in his hand.
He handed the remaining half to the punished, starving Small Banner. “Eat. Be more careful next time. The common folk may seem simple, but they must not be underestimated.”
The Small Banner was moved to tears, wanting to decline his kindness, but when his gaze fell on Xie Xuanying’s face, he forgot what he was going to say.
When he came back to his senses, he had half a biscuit in his hand, and the man was already gone.
After several days of this, the army’s discipline and organization improved greatly. They finally threaded their way out through the gaps of the Yimeng Mountains and arrived at the southern part of Xintai. Heading straight east along the mountain range would bring them to Mengyin County.
Scouts were sent to probe the route, men were sent to infiltrate the surrounding villages and towns to ask questions, and others were dispatched to Xintai to make contact with Commander Jiang.
Soon, the latest battle situation emerged.
Xie Xuanying had guessed everything correctly!
The naval force had arrived at Xintai and caught the rebel army off guard. But when the county seat changed hands, Commander Jiang discovered that a small detachment of cavalry was escorting a sealed carriage, intending to retreat to Mengyin.
It wasn’t that he didn’t suspect a decoy. However, the rebels were shouting, “Prince Lu is here – dare you come forward?” putting him in a dilemma.
Commander Jiang had no choice but to send men to harass and delay them on one hand, while questioning the officials of Xintai on the other.
The county magistrate had been killed, but the registrar remained.
He said that during the days the rebels occupied the county seat, they had indeed imprisoned someone. The attendant who delivered food had heard him cursing, saying he was Prince Lu and demanding they rescue him.
Commander Jiang asked again: there were only a few rebels in the city – where had the main force gone?
The registrar truthfully informed him that the Left and Right Protectors had led their trusted troops out days earlier.
Jiang Yi was cautious in his work. Fearing the man had been bought off, he questioned others as well, and all said the main force had left several days before the attack on the city. Only then did he make up his mind to pursue.
The main force of the Left and Right Protectors was waiting for him in the mountain paths between Mengyin and Xintai.
He had fallen for the trap.
