Chapter Thirty-Nine: The Visitor Seemed Hostile

He clearly understood why Zhu Cilang had detained Liu Pei without striking him dead at a blow. Liu Pei had seized the Bamboo and Timber Levy Office, and behind him stood a vast trading house named Perfect Security. Clearly, the man was tied to Liu Zeqing’s purse strings. By taking hold of Liu Pei, Zhu Cilang had secured an ace with which to knead Liu Zeqing at will. Only by firmly controlling Liu Zeqing could Zhu Cilang truly gather strength and take part in the broader shaping of the realm.

As for Liu Zeqing, he was a powerful local magnate in his own right, and after being the first to strike only to be dealt with cleanly and decisively, he could hardly swallow both the practical loss and the humiliation in a hurry and bow his head to Zhu Cilang. At best, he would seek an intermediary; otherwise, he would have to grit his teeth and endure for a while before deciding whether to fight or make peace.

Yet it was precisely this interval of hesitation that Yang Chuan had perceived as harboring profit.

By this point, whether Liu Zeqing had sent Yang Chuan to test the waters, or Yang Chuan had come of his own accord as a broker among local grandees, Zhu Cilang had developed a profound interest in him.

At that thought, Zhu Cilang narrowed his eyes and said, "Then go and invite Mister Dongshan."

Zhu Cilang stepped out of the inner hall and stood respectfully before the study at Liuhua Cottage, waiting to receive his guest.

Very soon, he saw the man called Mister Dongshan, Yang Chuan.

He was a lean, middle-aged scholar, wearing a straight-cut long robe of dark jade gray. With sharply defined features and a rather handsome face, he looked refined and courteous, with the steady composure of a man mature in years.

He was the sort of gentleman whose first appearance made it hard to feel any dislike.

But even though such a man had come in the dead of night, Zhu Cilang’s wariness only deepened.

"To come so late at such a critical time, he is either up to no good or after something not his to have," Zhu Cilang warned himself silently to remain on guard.

Outwardly, however, he displayed all the upbringing and grace of royalty.

It was a manner born of innate assurance and the finest education, tempered by years into something unshakable. There was a self-confidence and pride difficult to describe, yet also the warm, jade-like gentleness of a Confucian gentleman. When Yang Chuan saw him, his eyes brightened, and the impression he had previously formed from hearsay was instantly refreshed.

So this was not a tax officer who abused force and was crude and greedy for wealth. He was plainly a Confucian scholar.

He thought to himself that Qin Xia had once been an impoverished scholar in Qingtuo, under the Prince of Wuqing. Likely he had failed the examinations repeatedly, and only then turned to the byways of clerks and petty officials. From his conduct, he must surely have held some great ambition in his heart. Such a man... surely understood the way of blending in with the world.

With that in mind, Yang Chuan offered a slight bow. "Linqing’s Yang Wensi pays respects to Lord Qin."

"Mister Dongshan honors my humble home with his presence; it is truly brightened thereby. There is no need for such ceremony. My residence is simple, and there is little to offer by way of hospitality. Please, take a seat."

Zhu Cilang led Yang Chuan to a small couch by the window inside the study.

It was a soft couch with a small charcoal brazier beside it, plainly arranged to evoke the style of the Tang and Song.

The two men removed their shoes and climbed onto the couch, sitting cross-legged. They met each other’s eyes, and after a brief exchange, the polite courtesies on Yang Chuan’s tongue were swallowed back down.

After a moment’s thought, Yang Chuan noticed a pot of clear wine warming over the little brazier and made up his mind. With a smile, he said, "May I ask what Lord Qin thinks: since the Emperor has ascended the throne, who among the famed generals of the realm stands highest?"

At that, a few words flashed through Zhu Cilang’s mind: speaking over wine of heroes? That is amusing indeed...

It truly was an interesting topic, and an interesting way to open a discussion. Whether it was this realm on the verge of chaos or the renowned man before him, there was much for Zhu Cilang to say.

"If we speak of great generals, there are only three and a half whom I admire," Zhu Cilang said aloud.

Yang Chuan straightened at once. "I should like to hear the details."

"Among the world’s finest commanders, there is none like Zao Wenzhao, Protector-General of the Heir Apparent," Zhu Cilang said, his gaze distant with recollection. "Men like Zao Wenzhao are born with valor and ferocity; wherever they point, they break the enemy. All are called a match for ten thousand. In the army of the court, if there were but one Zao, the bandits of the rising calamity would tremble at the mere mention of him. Had such a fine general never suffered a fall, there would be no fear for the fate of the empire."

At the first few sentences, Yang Chuan nodded slowly, clearly in agreement.

But when Zhu Cilang reached the final two lines, Yang Chuan’s expression changed.

Had such a fine general never suffered a fall, there would be no fear for the fate of the empire.

The meaning was subtle indeed. It could be understood to mean that had Zao Wenzhao not been thrown from his horse, he would likely not have died at Autumn Head Village. Yet it could equally be taken to mean that now that Zao Wenzhao was gone, the court’s fortunes had also reached a dangerous point.

Though the Ming court had no such superstition as a destined turn of fortune, Yang Chuan no longer wished to continue this subject. It had strayed too far from the point, and it only made the atmosphere more somber.

"A general who falls in battle is the proper end of a famed commander. Those who can save a great house from collapse can only be men of the present age. What of the Peace-Subduing General, Zuo Kunshan?" Yang Chuan smoothly steered the conversation back.

"Brave beyond the ordinary, but far too selfish. Though he commands many troops, he is no more than a bandit in the court’s employ. How could he possibly deserve the title of famed general? If Master Sun of Gaoyang were in power, perhaps there might emerge a true commander among the men of the Liaoxi faction."

Zhu Cilang slowly shook his head.

"In that case, who are the other two and a half?" Hearing Zhu Cilang dismiss Zuo Liangyu so lightly, Yang Chuan’s curiosity was further stirred.

Zhu Cilang gave a faint smile. "The first is Mao Wenlong."

"Mao Wenlong took Zhenjiang with two hundred men, captured the rebel, and presented him before the throne without spending the state a single spear, a bundle of grass, or a measure of grain. To achieve such a wondrous feat—truly a hero of unmatched brilliance, one fit to be entrusted with frontier affairs! Such courage and boldness were rarely seen in that age. What matters even more is that the city of Zhenjiang restrained the right flank of the Jurchen forces, preventing them from stabilizing their rear and allowing them no full deployment. That Commander Yuan could strike down Wenlong with the sword was the court’s good fortune, and also the sorrow of the state."

Yang Chuan’s brow twitched. He understood Zhu Cilang’s meaning.

Mao Wenlong held Dongjiang Town alone, and while this was beneficial to the state, in truth Mao Wenlong had already acquired something of the bearing of a warlord. Yuan Chonghuan’s successful killing of Mao Wenlong could be said to prove that the court still possessed the strength and authority to deal with warlordism.

But once such a warlord, harmful though he was to the enemy, died at the hands of the Ming court, it brought nothing but one blow after another to the state’s fortunes. Not only did Dongjiang Town weaken further, losing its ability to threaten the Jurchens, but it also triggered the Dengzhou rebellion and the loss of Jinzhou.

"And the others?" Yang Chuan looked at the jade-like gentleman before him, and his appraisal of him was refreshed once more.

"The second is Shaanxi Governor Sun Boya. Governor Sun held the Three Frontiers of Shaanxi, and by rights he ought to have been a great marshal of his era. Yet the court could not sustain him; supplies and pay dwindled day by day. It may not be long before the Shaanxi governor is forced to kill with his own hand on the battlefield. If he falls in defeat, then the collapse of the Great Ming will be right before our eyes."

As he spoke, Zhu Cilang furrowed his brow in thought and let out a soft sigh.

That sigh from Zhu Cilang made Yang Chuan uncomfortable all over.

He could not help muttering inwardly that Zhu Cilang looked every bit the gentle, extraordinary gentleman, yet how could he open his mouth with such arrogant certainty?

Sun Chuanting was indeed formidable, but was it really to the point that if Sun Chuanting died, the Great Ming would perish?

Thinking this, Yang Chuan even began to regret bringing up this subject today. Zhu Cilang’s overwhelmingly confident words had completely thrown off his rhythm.