Chapter 407: Repercussions, and Onward to Xiangyang

The Battle of Luoyang saw Chuang’s Mouzi Yiqing’s thousand armored troops routed; the bandits shed their armor and fled, their carts overturned and blocking the roads, while government soldiers pursued relentlessly. Li Zicheng fled and the government troops chased — from Luoyang, Yiyang, Yongning, Lushi, all the way until they plunged into the mountains.

The surrendering roving bandits numbered in the hundreds of thousands. The Yidougu contingent and others, who had been holding their troops back and watching the battle, saw that King Chuang had suffered a crushing defeat. In great alarm they immediately struck camp and fled for their lives. Along the way the bandits scattered — some vanished without a trace, some surrendered to the government army — leaving only a few trusted followers to escape with Yidougu and the others.

In this battle the government troops seized countless weapons and supplies. When they swept the battlefield, they discovered vast stores of grain abandoned by the Chuang army at each encampment. A tally of what was found in the Jianshan granary alone yielded over fifty thousand dan of wheat and beans, along with more than three thousand head of abandoned cattle and several hundred horses and mules.

The gold, silver, and valuables left behind in the camps were not plentiful — only a little over thirty thousand taels of silver. Presumably, since grain and fodder were difficult to carry, the Chuang army’s old camp had taken these light, portable valuables with them when they retreated.

However, when sweeping the Chuang army camps, over four thousand abandoned women were also found. Relatives were ordered to come claim them, but more than seven hundred remained; these were sent to various temples and nunneries to be cared for.

While sweeping the camps it was also discovered that every camp was indescribably filthy — corpses strewn everywhere, cut hair covering the ground, interspersed with the hides, intestines, and lungs of cattle, donkeys, and horses, the stench rising to the heavens. Army Supervisor Vice Commissioner Wang Yinchang ordered local soldiers and civilians to bury them on the spot, but even after many days the cleanup could not be completed.

The government troops pursued the Chuang bandits for several days in succession, until the fourteenth year of Chongzhen, the twentieth day of the first month, 1641, when the pursuing troops turned back. The battle results were fully tallied and could be called incomparably brilliant.

Setting aside the seizures and the roving bandits who surrendered, in this battle alone many great generals of the Chuang camp were slain, including Li Shuangxi, Zhang Ding, Liu Xiyao, Li Mou, Ma Shiyao, Xie Junyou, Wu Ruyi, and others.

Others might not know, but Wang Dou understood the weight of this list. Li Shuangxi and Zhang Ding, needless to say, were both Li Zicheng’s adopted sons — Zhang Nai would later even be enfeoffed as Marquis of Yi. Li Mou was Li Yan’s elder brother. Liu Xiyao, Ma Shiyao, Xie Junyou, Ma Zhongxi — all would later become key generals of the five camps. Liu Xiyao would also serve as General-in-Chief of the Right Camp, and Wu Ruyi would be enfeoffed as Count of Taiping.

In this battle Li Zicheng suffered a complete and utter defeat. Regrettably, however, although the pursuing government troops publicly declared that only a few dozen riders of the Chuang bandits had fled into the mountains, according to confidential intelligence from the Night Scouts, Wang Dou knew that Li Zicheng still had over a thousand core troops around him, including the old camp and the cavalry detachment.

Wang Dou sighed: “In the end we could not destroy Li Chuang. Li Zicheng’s skill at fleeing — I am no match for him!”

The great victory at Luoyang spread in all directions like a thunderclap, traveling at lightning speed. Not to mention the boiling excitement within Henan Prefecture — when the victory report reached Kaifeng Prefecture, Nanyang Prefecture, Guide Prefecture, Runing Prefecture, and elsewhere, all were scenes of wild joy and celebration. The morale of the government troops soared, while the roving bandits everywhere were left stunned and paralyzed.

Wang Dou’s name shook the Central Plains. The scholars spread his fame, and all came to know that in the Xuanfu Garrison there was an army called the Shunxiang Army. For a time, every detail of Wang Dou’s past became a subject of relish and discussion.

The Provincial Governor of Henan, along with the Prince of Fu in Luoyang, the Army Supervisor, the Prefect, and others, jointly submitted a memorial detailing the causes and course of the battle, listing a thorough roster of those meriting reward, along with several memorials of impeachment and censure, sent by fast horse to the capital.

When the news spread, the capital was rocked. Memorials of congratulation from court officials poured in like a tide. The Chongzhen Emperor also breathed a sigh of relief — not only was his uncle safe, but at this critical juncture, with the Battle of Songshan about to begin, the great victory at Luoyang was like a powerful stimulant, its benefit to army morale and fighting spirit self-evident.

From the time Wang Dou arrived in Henan, from the great victory at Ruzhou to the great victory at Luoyang, and especially his great merit in rescuing a princely fief — how he should be rewarded would require careful deliberation by the court officials.

And at this moment, Wang Dou had to leave. On the very day the victory report was sent, Wang Dou resolved to depart from Luoyang.

The overall situation in Luoyang was settled. Yang Sichang urged him repeatedly — especially since the historically imminent Xiangyang Incident was close at hand. He needed to hurry there, seize another great merit, and make his name resound throughout Huguang.

Wang Dou remembered clearly: historically, on the fifth day of the second month of the fourteenth year of Chongzhen, Zhang Xianzhong would use a stratagem to capture Xiangyang. Today was the twentieth day of the first month — by his reckoning, not much time remained. By the roads of this era, the distance from Luoyang to Xiangyang was no less than eight hundred li, if not a full thousand.

Moreover, he had to arrive several days early to prevent any change in events.

A cold gleam shot from Wang Dou’s eyes. In Luoyang he had let Li Zicheng escape — this time, in Xiangyang, he absolutely would not permit Zhang Xianzhong to escape again!

Later generations’ Qing dynasty would pin the atrocities of slaughtering Sichuan on Zhang Xianzhong’s head, but that does not mean Zhang Xianzhong was a good man. Looking at his life, killing people and massacring cities was routine. They were no different from the Qing soldiers — the pot calling the kettle black, one brother no better than the other. Toward these peasant army leaders of the late Ming, Wang Dou felt not the slightest shred of goodwill.

On the twenty-first day of the first month of the fourteenth year of Chongzhen, Wang Dou led his army out of Luoyang. The soldiers and civilians of Luoyang turned out in full to see him off, escorting him all the way across the Luo River.

Among those seeing him off were the various officials of Luoyang, as well as Chen Yongfu and his son. They were to remain garrisoned in Luoyang for some time yet. Seeing Chen Yongfu’s face glowing with health, one could tell he was thoroughly satisfied. Indeed — with this great victory, not to mention military merit, the post of Henan Regional Commander was as good as his, and his share of the spoils was not small either.

Of course, Wang Dou was also satisfied in his heart. In this battle, he too had reaped no small harvest.

He looked at the old general’s spirited, proud face and smiled: “When this humble officer returns once more, I shall have to address you as Commander Chen!”

Chen Yongfu laughed heartily: “The same to you, the same to you — is General Wang not in the same position?”

Indeed, once the rewards for this battle came down, Wang Dou was certain to become a Regional Commander. If he were given command of a garrison sector, he could be called Regional Commander.

In the Great Ming, Viceroys and Provincial Governors were addressed as “Your Excellency,” but the form of address for Regional Commanders had never been fixed across the different eras of the dynasty.

Before the Jingtai and Chenghua reigns, they were called “Regional Commander.” From the mid-Wanli period onward, the titles Grand Marshal and Grand General came into vogue, to the point that even court officials could not bear it and petitioned the Emperor to put a stop to it.

By the late Ming, the commander of a garrison sector was mostly called “Commander” or “Regional Commander.” For instance, when Zuo Liangyu and Meng Ruhu were pursuing Zhang Xianzhong at the time, the troops grumbled about the two, uttering words like: “They want to kill us, Commander Zuo, run us to death, Commander Meng…”

Of course, if one held an official seal of command, being addressed by one’s title was even more prestigious.

The two exchanged a few more pleasantries. Chen Yongfu said: “May the wind be at your back. This old man will await General Wang’s victorious return in Kaifeng Prefecture, and then we shall drink and talk to our hearts’ content.”

Wang Dou nodded. He understood Chen Yongfu’s intentions — besides befriending him, Chen also wanted to send his son Chen De to the Eastern Route Military Academy. Wang Dou also had a mind to plant a chess piece in Henan, and agreed to Chen Yongfu’s request — but that would have to wait until he returned with his army.

Yet as he was about to depart, Wang Dou felt a slight unease about the situation in Luoyang. The Chuang army had a hundred thousand surrendering troops. The Luoyang authorities, like the Ruzhou authorities, apart from recruiting some able-bodied young men into the army, sent the rest back to the fields. Would these people eventually become a future threat?

But at the time, this was how things were done everywhere — government troops surrendered to bandits, bandits surrendered to the authorities. In local internal affairs, it was not his place to interfere too much. He could only wish them good luck.

A village elder brought over a cup of rice wine. The cup was enormous — this was a local Luoyang custom, the “farewell wine,” meaning that when an old friend was traveling far, if not drunk now, then when?

The village elder held the cup, and the common people beside him said in unison: “Grand General, drink this cup full, and may the wind be at your back. We, the people of Luoyang, will never forget Your Lordship’s great kindness and great virtue.”

Their voices were simple and honest, yet came from the heart. Wang Dou’s eyes grew somewhat moist. He looked back at the faint, indistinct silhouette of the ancient capital, then looked again at the people living on this great land before him.

Wang Dou took the wine cup and drained it in one fierce gulp.

Before leaving Luoyang, Wang Dou had convened a military council. He would personally lead his own Guard Battalion, along with Wen Fangliang’s Yi Division, Li Guangheng’s Geng Division, and Gao Shiyin’s Ren Division, straight to Xiangyang. These troops were either cavalry or mounted infantry, moving like the wind — covering a hundred li a day was nothing to them.

Accompanying the main force were Wen Daxing leading two squads of Night Scouts, medical officers such as Wang Tianxue, provosts from the Central Army headquarters, and various staff advisors and strategists. This was because Wang Dou wanted to seize the moment, so the infantry, artillery, and heavy supply battalions were all left to follow behind.

To increase speed, even the field kitchen carts did not accompany them. Each man carried only a bag of roasted flour, a bag of dried meat, and the like — enough to last fifteen days. Since the horses required large quantities of bean fodder, a large number of pack horses and mules accompanied them as well, along with some essential supplies, tents, and such, also carried by horses and mules.

Wang Dou led these three thousand-plus men ahead first; the rest would march at normal pace and follow the main force. Wang Dou also sent orders to Sun Sanjie, the Supply Battalion Commander in Ruzhou, instructing him to lead the supply battalion to transport all the gains from Luoyang to Ruzhou, and then to move all grain and fodder to Jia County, making that location the key grain stockpile.

After the Luoyang campaign, Wang Dou obtained twenty thousand dan of wheat and beans — this was to make up for the seventy thousand taels of silver owed by Henan Provincial Governor Li Vanguard Commander, along with some shares of spoils due to the army. From Kaifeng to Ruzhou, and all the way to Luoyang, reckoning the days spent in Henan, the Shunxiang Army had in total obtained one hundred thousand taels of silver, fifty thousand dan of grain and fodder, and over two thousand horses and mules — a fairly good harvest.

From Luoyang to Ruzhou was a little over a hundred li. Wang Dou led his three thousand cavalry out of Luoyang on the twenty-first and by evening arrived at the walls of Ruzhou. By now the great victory at Luoyang had long since spread thunderously throughout the region. The soldiers and civilians of Ruzhou were even more awestruck. The Department Magistrate and local gentry hurried out to welcome them, laying on a banquet for Wang Dou and his men, and bringing wine and meat to feast the army.

Wang Dou had urgent business. After summoning Sun Sanjie and giving him instructions, the next day he pressed on toward Baofeng.

Luoyang, Ruzhou, Baofeng, Ye County, Yuzhou, Nanyang, Xinye, all the way to Xiangyang — this was Wang Dou’s line of march.

The great army marched along, and gods and ghosts alike kept clear. Every man in Wang Dou’s army wore armor, every man had a fine horse — at a glance they were elite government troops. Who would dare provoke them?

As the saying goes, in small chaos take refuge in the city, in great chaos take refuge in the countryside. With the coming of troubled times, from Luoyang all the way toward Nanyang, everywhere there were common people banding together in stockades to protect themselves.

The common people were extremely sharp in sensing the coming of troubled times. Every village, every hamlet, had rammed-earth walls built around it, with deep moats dug around the walls, entry and exit by drawbridge, and arrow towers built at the four corners, with lookouts posted twenty-four hours a day.

In wealthier hamlets, the walls were even built of brick and stone. Great surnames and great clans had even deeper walls and larger stockades, like military fortresses.

The sort of villages seen in times of peace and prosperity — open on all sides, small and unfortified — simply did not exist now. Not to mention large bands of roving bandits, the swarming bandits and horse thieves of today were enough to make every village build walls.

Of course, many villages and stockades that appeared to be civilian in fact occasionally doubled as bandit operations. Not to mention weak traveling merchants and commoners passing by — even government troops who looked feeble they dared to rob. No one without real strength could travel far. The more chaotic the times, the more escort agencies and martial arts halls flourished.

But Wang Dou’s army marched south without incident. On the twenty-seventh day of the first month, the great army had already passed straight through Nanyang without stopping.

By now they had roughly crossed the Qinling–Huaihe line. The fields in the open country were no longer all wheat and rapeseed; some rice paddies also appeared. And the roof tiles gradually grew lighter and more delicate in appearance.

Greenery in the wilds gradually increased. Though there was drought, compared to Hebei, Zhongzhou, and such places, it was much better here.

Unlike those places, where there was nothing but yellow earth and more yellow earth, and even trees were scarce on the plains.

Of course, this “better” was only relative. In the fourteenth year of Chongzhen, even Suzhou Prefecture suffered a great drought, and everywhere was filled with locusts — the price of rice was four taels of silver per dan. At this time, the Great Ming, whether north or south of the great river, was in a time of dire hardship.

The fourteenth year of Chongzhen, the twenty-eighth day of the first month, near noon, in the territory of Xinye, not far from the county seat.

Hoofbeats like thunder — along the official road not far from the west bank of the Xiaoshui River, a dark mass of cavalry, no one knew how many, came rushing forth.

Dust and smoke surged skyward; the very ground trembled. Judging by that momentum, it seemed they might even crash through city walls and great mountains. Pedestrians and traveling merchants on the road all hurriedly withdrew to the roadside, watching these knights who had come from who-knew-where with pounding hearts and quaking courage.

They looked to be government troops, so the crowd grew even more cautious, lowering their heads and keeping their eyes down. Many even knelt. Government troops were no kindly sort — be careful they don’t kill you to claim merit, or rob and murder you.

Fortunately, these riders paid them no heed, thundering past them in a rush. Each person felt the ground beneath their feet shaking without pause; the trees beside them and the dead branches on the ground all kept quivering.

The hoofbeats rolled on like ceaseless thunder. After a long while, they finally passed. Everyone let out a breath, rose, and began discussing animatedly — where had these government troops come from? …

Someone who had stolen a glance just now said these riders all wore vivid red armor, their bearing fierce and imposing, cloaks draped over their shoulders, every mount a spirited, sturdy steed — fine fellows, clearly battle-hardened elites at a glance. No telling which Viceroy’s or Provincial Governor’s personal battalion troops they were.

The banner at the head bore the character “Wang” — which general was surnamed Wang?

Leaving aside the commoners’ whispered speculations, Wang Dou led his great army rolling onward, utterly ignoring the bone-piercing cold wind. They all rode five abreast in a column, the Guard Commander at the very front, Li Guangheng’s cavalry following after, then Wen Fangliang and Gao Shiyin after them — even at a gallop, their formation did not break.

The arrival of such a massively imposing cavalry force had already been discovered by the defending troops of Xinye City on the opposite riverbank. Every one of their faces changed drastically, and the warning gongs clanged out with a mountain-shaking clamor. For a moment, inside and outside the city, chickens flew and dogs leaped.

Wang Dou raised his hand, and at once the sharp, shrill bugle call of the central army division rang out.

“Halt the advance!”

Amid the neighing of sturdy horses, all the riders swiftly came to a stop. Apart from the snorting of the warhorses, the entire force made no other sound, a display of strict training.

Wang Dou spurred his horse forward and gazed thoughtfully at Xinye City across the river. The officers of the central army division, along with Wen Daxing, Wen Fangliang, Li Guangheng, Gao Shiyin, and others, also gathered around Wang Dou.

Wang Dou carefully surveyed both banks of the river. The Xiaoshui was broad, surrounded entirely by flat plains, but Xinye City on the east bank was not large in area, and its walls were rather dilapidated. At each of the city’s four sides stood a small pass. Not far from the troops was a pontoon bridge spanning both banks, leading to Xinye’s southern pass.

Wang Dou said with considerable interest, “For an official, nothing beats holding the Golden Mace; for a wife, one should marry Yin Lihua. I’ve heard that Yin Lihua was a native of Xinye?”

Staff Adviser Qin Yi smiled and said, “Yes, General. Not only that, Xinye was already famous during the Three Kingdoms period — ‘Three Visits to Zhuge Liang’ and ‘Burning of Xinye’ are known to every household.”

He pointed to the surrounding land and said, “Moreover, Xinye is a hundred li of flat plain, with the Ji River to the east, the Pi River to the north, the Xiaoshui to the west, and the Tuan River as well — one could say eight rivers race through, a hundred li of fertile fields. The weight of Nanyang rests entirely here.”

Wang Dou nodded. Judging from the march all the way, although refugees and beggars could still be seen in places like Nanyang and Xinye, at least the common people’s lives were still fairly stable. Every village and hamlet had signs of life, unlike Hebei, northern Henan, and other places where often for a thousand li no human habitation could be seen.

At the same time, a shadow passed through his heart. According to history, after Zhang Xianzhong seized Xiangyang, within a few months he successively took Dangzhou, Suizhou, Xinye, Yexian, Shucheng, Bozhou, Biyang, and other places. Everywhere he went, he slaughtered people and butchered cities, burning everything to emptiness. This city of Xinye would not escape calamity either.

But now that he himself had reached Xinye, it was only a day’s march to Xiangyang. According to history, when Zhang Xianzhong raided Xiangyang, he had only a thousand picked cavalry; the bulk of his remaining forces, numbering in the tens of thousands, were all at Yicheng, over a hundred li from Xiangyang, led by Luo Rucai.

Hmph — he had brought three thousand cavalry. He would make sure to slaughter them until not a single piece of armor remained.