Chapter 451: Assembly

The blazing sun was like fire. Chen Sheng and Ju Yiwu rode their horses along the official road from Huailai to Yanqing Prefecture.

Since the day before, Ju Yiwu had kept his head lowered the entire journey, from time to time avoiding the gazes of Chen Sheng and the people in the carriage beside them.

Chen Sheng knew his good friend was thin-skinned, so he did not bring up the matter of Sun Pannan. And the soldiers from the original Fansanbao in the various carriages were all somewhat afraid of this often expressionless, stern-faced "Cold-Faced Ju" from the fort, and dared not tease him about Sun Pannan either.

They chattered noisily, only discussing the coming Liaodong campaign, both longing for it and nervous about it. Chen Sheng understood their feelings — had he not been exactly the same back then?

As someone who had been through it, an elder brother figure, he offered guidance and explanations from time to time. His prestige in the fort was already high, and now he earned the unanimous respect of the young men. Many also looked enviously at his armor and his horse.

"Speaking of fighting the Tartars, according to what former Squad Commander Yang said..."

At this point, Chen Sheng suddenly brightened. On the county road beside them came several carts and horses, and among the people seated on them — weren't a few of them precisely Chen Xu and his sons, whom he knew?

He spurred his horse over and greeted them: "Elder Brother Chen, three worthy nephews."

Those several people were in the middle of talking. One among them was in his forties, with a refined, handsome face. The three young men beside him all somewhat resembled him.

Hearing the greeting, the several people all turned their heads. Chen Xu's delighted, thick Shandong accent rang out: "So it's Brother Chen Sheng. What a coincidence indeed."

The two exchanged pleasantries, both extremely happy.

Back then, the two had shared the same experience in Zhuozhou, and were both members of the Ditch-Filling Heroes. But later, Chen Sheng joined Gao Xun's unit, while Chen Xu joined the Logistics Department. Moreover, one was at Fansanbao in Huailai, the other at Jiaojiapu in Yanqing — they rarely had the chance to meet. Meeting now, their joy knew no bounds.

Chen Xu's three sons also greeted Chen Sheng, calling him uncle.

The three were actually not much younger than Chen Sheng, but since their father and he addressed each other as brothers, in terms of seniority they were unavoidably a generation lower.

Chen Sheng saw that his several worthy nephews were all First-Class soldiers, and on Chen Xu's helmet fluttered a black tassel, while the waist token at his belt was also black. He said respectfully: "Congratulations, Elder Brother Chen, on already becoming a Squad Leader."

Chen Xu smiled slightly: "Promotions in this Logistics Department and the Supply Battalion are different from other units — they're still relatively easy. It's not like the military merit you've earned, Brother Chen, by spear and blade."

Though he spoke this way, as his gaze turned to his three sons, he could not suppress his pride. His several sons, just like Chen Sheng back then, had joined the new army of the Yu unit, and their military merit was also hard-earned through real combat — all had now been promoted to First-Class soldiers.

Chen Sheng found it a bit strange that the four of them were not riding horses. Since they had been promoted to First-Class soldiers, they naturally would have been issued horses. On second thought, perhaps they had never learned riding skills before.

Chen Sheng smiled: "Elder Brother..."

"Ah-yah!"

Just then, a dozen or so riders galloped wildly past them, leaving a cloud of dust in their wake that made Chen Sheng swallow the words in his throat.

The people in the carriage beside him all ate a bellyful of dust and could not help but burst out cursing, instantly a mix of accents from every corner of the land.

Chen Sheng, chosen as a sharpshooter, naturally had sharp eyes. In that short span, he had already seen that these men all wore armor with white fur trim, and on their helmets uniformly fluttered black tassels — the one in the lead even fluttered a blue tassel. At their waists, most also bore black-and-red waist tokens.

What this signified: they were uniformly Squad Leaders, numerous soldiers of Superior Skill grade, and the one in the lead was even a Company Commander.

Chen Sheng's gaze was deep: "Who are these people?"

Chen Xu, widely experienced and knowledgeable, smiled: "They were all originally under Assistant Regional Commander Gao. The one in the lead is called Sun Xuesheng; the remaining few are named Zhao Rongcheng, Lai Dexiang, Luo Liangzuo, and so on — every one of them exceptionally fierce and brave. After returning from the campaign against the roving bandits, most of them were transferred into the Second-Class units to serve as Squad Leaders. Sun Xuesheng was even appointed as Company Commander. Now they are all soldiers in General Zhong's Right Battalion."...

Ju Yiwu, at some point having spurred his horse over, said coldly: "So arrogant, so smug."

Chen Xu smiled: "They are all from Baoanzhou, so naturally they have the capital to be smug. But it doesn't matter — as long as we earn military merit, being promoted to Squad Leader, appointed as Company Commander, is only a matter of time."

Toward the people of Baoanzhou, people from other places on the Eastern Route held complex feelings — there was envy, admiration, and even more jealousy. Many people said: if the Grand General had not risen to prominence in Baoanzhou, how would it ever be the turn of these Baoanzhou people to be smug and arrogant?

"This is?"

Chen Xu looked toward Ju Yiwu.

Chen Sheng hurriedly said: "Elder Brother, let me introduce you. This is my good friend..."

As he spoke, his thoughts had already flown far away. Only after becoming a First-Class soldier did he realize that in the army, crouching tigers and hidden dragons abounded — the road he had to walk was still very long.

Amid cheers and wild whoops, the long-limbed and robust Zhao Rongcheng, along with his former old Squad Leader and former brothers of the squad, spurred their horses in a wild gallop the whole way.

Zhao Rongcheng's heart was filled with delight and joy. After the battalion reorganization, he had been promoted as he wished, transferred to the Right Guard White Tiger Battalion, under the command of Rear Unit Company Commander Tian Qiming, serving as Squad Leader of the First Squad while concurrently holding the post of Vice Company Commander. What delighted Zhao Rongcheng was that his old Squad Leader Sun Xuesheng had been transferred to the company as Company Commander, still serving as his superior.

The old Squad Leader, gentle in temperament and who treated the brothers in the squad like sons and nephews of his own family, had won the unanimous support of Zhao Rongcheng and the others. Having him as a superior officer could not be better.

There were also Lai Dexiang, Luo Liangzuo, and several other close brothers, likewise serving as Squad Leaders of friendly squads under the company, which made Zhao Rongcheng even happier.

This time he had gone home on leave again, and his grandfather was greatly delighted. However, he had also given his precious grandson face-to-face confidential advice: to manage well his relationships with the soldiers in his squad.

It would be best to make them admire and respect him — only then would they be like a tiger with wings in battle. Although by Jingbian Army military law, soldiers dared not disobey a superior officer's orders, still, one was coercion and the other willing self-motivation — the combat strength of the squad would naturally be different.

The older the ginger, the spicier it is. Zhao Rongcheng thought his grandfather's words made great sense, and he planned that after returning to the barracks, he would gather the brothers of the squad, have some drinks, and cultivate their bonds.

Besides, from the twentieth onward, heavy drinking would not be permitted in the army. Taking advantage of the fact that today was still leave, he would drink to his heart's content.

When the group returned to the military camp, soldiers from various places had already been returning one after another, and the barracks were once again filled with a mix of accents from every corner of the land. Zhao Rongcheng and the others first led their precious horses to the stables, gave them a good brushing and washing, slowly walked them in a circle, then fed them hay and bean fodder, and finally tied the horses' heads up high to aid their digestion.

Looking around, the old Squad Leader and all the brothers were doing the same. Actually, these horses all had dedicated personnel from the Logistics Department to care for them, but in order to cultivate a bond with their horses, most people in the army, like Zhao Rongcheng, personally looked after them.

After finishing the horse-related tasks, Zhao Rongcheng returned to his own barracks, removed his helmet and armor, took off his long felt boots, changed into a pair of bamboo clogs, went to the bathhouse and took a satisfying bath, and changed into a set of dry, clean clothes.

The Jingbian Army's supplies provided each soldier with one winter and one summer uniform, along with inner garments, shoes, and socks. But those First-Class soldiers, with fuller purses, mostly bought a few extra sets themselves for changing and washing.

The mandarin-duck battle jacket Zhao Rongcheng wore now was of summer fabric, without cotton inside, making it quite cool to wear in the summer.

He returned to his room, lay down on the large communal bed, closed his eyes and pondered, calculating what words he should say when his brothers arrived.

Around the you hour, a clamor came from outside the door. A group of soldiers jostled in noisily. The collars of their armor were all round, their helmets bore red tassels, and their shoulders had neither red velvet nor velvet balls — they were all Second-Class soldiers.

These people came in laughing and talking. The one in the lead was tall and large, sturdier than the average man, but his complexion was sallow, as if he had suffered a serious illness.

This man was twenty-five or twenty-six years old, with the accent of Julu in Beizhili. His name was Mou Dachang, and it was said that he had studied, so he had taken the courtesy name Molin....

At his waist hung a red waist token. Not long ago, during the army's skill competition, Mou Dachang had earned the assessment standard of Superior Skill, becoming a Superior-Grade soldier, and thus became a Squad Leader within the squad.

The next person had the look of a fair-faced youth, twenty-one or twenty-two years old, named Han Kaihui, a native of Xingtai in Shunde Prefecture.

There was also one called Liu Lie, even younger than Han Kaihui, but tall and robust, with a square face, dark complexion, and heavy brows, looking very simple and honest.

There was another man with a gloomy face, and one with a robust build but ordinary looks — these were Wu Dingguo and Cui Qi.

Besides them were several others, each with an ordinary wooden waist token hanging at the waist.

Seeing Zhao Rongcheng lying on the bed, the group hurriedly saluted: "Greetings, Squad Leader."

"Squad Leader Zhao, good day."

Zhao Rongcheng sat up, his face full of smiles: "Brothers, you've returned to camp on time — very good!"

He said: "We've all been together for a while now. As your Squad Leader, I'm ashamed that I haven't gathered everyone together properly. How about this: tonight, my treat at the Haokeju in camp. Whatever you all want to eat, just say the word!"

Instantly, cheers filled the room, and everyone shouted: "Squad Leader Zhao is mighty!"

"Company Leader Zhao, what spirit!"

Han Kaihui, lively by nature, was the first to shout: "I want the smoked pork slices stir-fried with Shunxiang Fort brand fat pig."

Liu Lie said in a simple, honest way: "Roast duck is fine for me."

Wu Dingguo said with a dark face: "I want Yongning's braised pig face."

"I'll have..."

Mou Dachang coughed once: "I'll have pig trotters, doesn't have to be a brand name, just fat and big is good."

Zhao Rongcheng's face was full of heroic spirit but inside he was secretly groaning — this bunch of gluttons didn't even show a bit of politeness, ordering nothing but expensive dishes. That Haokeju was no small expense; now his own wallet was going to bleed heavily.

But he knew that after the brothers in his company entered the army, although the food was much better than in the village, they had never had the chance to eat fine, specially prepared meals.

He waved a hand and said with an air of utter indifference: "Brothers, you're all saving me money, ordering nothing but cheap stuff... Fine, let's leave it at that."

He frowned: "Look at yourselves, every one of you reeking of sweat. All of you, go take a bath."

The crowd responded in a hubbub, each stripping off their clothes and armor, hanging them on the armor racks, right beside the weapon racks.

Then they grabbed a change of clothes, nearly every one of them stark naked except for their underpants, shuffling in bamboo clogs or wooden clogs, crowding off to the bathhouse to wash.

After everyone had changed clothes and saw that the sky was getting late, each man wore only his summer mandarin-duck battle jacket, hung his waist tag at his belt, and then crowded around Zhao Rongcheng as they headed for Haokeju.

That Haokeju was a newly opened restaurant in the Right Camp district, famous for its abundant dishes and delicious flavors — who knew which officer's family had opened it. Most of the various shops inside the military camp were like that; if not set up by soldier households' families, then by officers' families.

Not to mention that in the Ming, officials and merchants were one body — even in later ages, were officials' family members and children engaging in business ever few? Wang Dou knew this situation was unavoidable, so he let it run its course, but he treated their tax management with equal strictness. If anyone dared pass off inferior goods as superior or evade taxes, the Pacification Office was not to be trifled with.

The group entered Haokeju. Inside, the shouts of waiters, the clatter of cleavers and ladles, the aroma of wine and meat drifted out continuously. Upstairs and downstairs, seats kept filling with people; business was extremely brisk.

Smelling the fragrance of wine and meat, the men could not help but salivate.

Zhao Rongcheng had sharp eyes and spotted in a corner of the main hall his former brothers, now Company Leader Lai Dexiang of You Company and Luo Liangzuo with a few others, who were calling their own company brothers over to eat and drink.

Zhao Rongcheng thought to himself: "Damn, they're all shrewd operators. I'm not the only one who wants to build good relations within the company."

Lai Dexiang was a lean, wiry man. The moment he spotted Zhao Rongcheng and the others, he hurriedly called out: "Old Zhao, over here..."

Zhao Rongcheng quickly led his men over. Luo Liangzuo also stood up: "Perfect timing, let's all push our tables together."

Unlike Lai Dexiang, Luo Liangzuo was quite fat, resembling a sumo wrestler from later ages. His fatness and Lai Dexiang's leanness formed a stark contrast.

But don't assume that because Luo Liangzuo was fat he was clumsy — he was as agile as Hong Jinbao. Anyone who could become an A-grade soldier in the Jingbian Army was not to be underestimated.

Zhao Rongcheng greeted: "Old Lai, Old Luo."

But then he spotted someone, his face darkened, and he jeered: "Deng Yijiao, you're here too? A penny-pinching petty clerk like you is willing to treat your subordinates to drinks?"

The man he referred to was a lean, dry middle-aged man, originally named Deng Yibiao, who had once been a grain-collecting petty clerk in Baoanzhou city. In order to collect extra surcharges, he had bitterly trained his footwork, claiming he could kick a cow to death with one kick, and so earned the nickname Deng Yijiao — few even remembered his real name.

Back when Wang Dou went to the prefectural city to pay grain tax, he had personally witnessed the power of that footwork.

Later, Deng Yibiao abandoned his clerk post to join the army, enlisting in the Shunxiang Army. Over the years he had also earned military merit and now had become a Company Leader, in the same platoon as Zhao Rongcheng.

Zhao Rongcheng's military unit was fully designated as: Right Camp, Rear Section, Yi Platoon, Ding Squad, First Company. Ding Squad also had Second Company, Third Company, Fourth Company, Fifth Company, and so on.

Deng Yibiao was precisely the Company Leader of Fourth Company.

Hearing Zhao Rongcheng's mockery, Deng Yibiao remained composed, looked at Zhao Rongcheng, and said flatly: "Little Zhao, I didn't provoke you. You come right at me — is it that you find me an eyesore?"

Zhao Rongcheng slammed a fist onto the table with a huge bang: "Damn right, I find you an eyesore! You crafty, slippery petty clerk — back then, how much extra grain and rice did you squeeze out of my family?"

"Your damned Deng Yijiao — was that foot of yours always aimed at the measuring dipper?"

This noise startled everyone in the entire restaurant into looking this way. Cold sweat streamed down Lai Dexiang and Luo Liangzuo as they urged: "Old Zhao, let bygones be bygones. Now we're all part of the Jingbian Army; we should be sincerely united, sincerely united."

An angry roar came from upstairs: "Who's making trouble? Looking for a taste of the military cudgel, are you?"

Zhao Rongcheng shivered. Han Kaihui and the others in the company were also greatly alarmed — they hadn't come to eat only to end up with a military beating — and hurriedly joined in the persuasion.

Zhao Rongcheng knew the consequences of stirring up trouble, so he took the chance to back down. He snorted at Deng Yijiao and swaggered into a seat.

The man upstairs was still roaring: "Damn it, every one of you brats is turning the world upside down. If I don't rein you in, there'll be no end to it!"

Then someone was heard laughing heartily: "A few shouts from the lads are nothing. But Old Li, ever since you became Platoon Leader, you've gotten even more spirited. Last time you bought your subordinates dozens of jin of smoked meat and ham — so what, today you're going to foot the bill for the whole restaurant's brothers, right?"

That Old Li roared back: "Foot the bill my ass! Everyone can go home and eat their own."

The whole restaurant burst into laughter.

Zhao Rongcheng remembered that he was the host. Whatever the brothers in his company liked to eat and drink, he told them to just order it.

Several companies combined into one big table, eating, drinking, chatting, and laughing as they pleased. As the wine warmed their ears, they talked about the coming Liaodong campaign, and every man was stirred beyond measure.

Luo Liangzuo slapped the table and suddenly stood up, swaying.

His face bright red, he was the first to roar out the Jingbian Army's military song, "Man Jiang Hong": "My hair bristles with rage, I lean on the railing — the pattering rain has ceased. I lift my eyes, toward the heavens I roar, my heroic heart fierce and ardent..."

Fat people generally have a broad vocal range, and Luo Liangzuo's voice was especially deep and resonant. He sang the song with the flair of Pavarotti.

Hearing him sing, Zhao Rongcheng and the others' blood boiled. They all pounded the table and joined in chorus: "Thirty years of fame and merit — mere dust and dirt; eight thousand li of road — clouds and moon... The shame of Jingkang is not yet avenged. When will the subject's hatred be quenched? Driving long chariots, we shall trample the gaps of Helan Mountain..."

Others in the restaurant were infected by the mood and joined in, pounding tables and stamping feet in unison. For a moment, the entire restaurant resounded with the chorus of "Man Jiang Hong."

Wu Dingguo and Liu Lie, as if recalling something, wept as they roared at the top of their lungs: "Kill the slaves! Kill the slaves!"

On the twentieth day of the sixth month of the fourteenth year of Chongzhen, the atmosphere in the military camp west of Yongning city was solemn and heavy. The various units preparing for the expedition entered their final preparations.

Each man's campaign pack, tent and bedding, winter clothing, and so on, were all stowed into the supply wagons of each camp, each section, each platoon. All the soldiers' campaign gear was fully sorted.

Early in the morning of the twenty-first, Zhao Rongcheng woke. Listening to the watch drums outside, it was not yet the hour of Mao, but he was not the least bit sleepy. He sprang up like a carp leaping from the water.

He put on his long felt boots, went to the armor rack, and took down his zhaojia. This armor and garment were one piece; he put it on just like slipping on an outer coat.

Then Zhao Rongcheng slowly fastened the brass buttons, took his belt and buckled it, picked up his saber, and hung it on.

By now, the others were slowly waking. Han Kaihui, who was rather fond of sleep, rubbed his eyes and said: "Good morning, Company Leader Zhao."

Watching the others rubbing their eyes and stretching, Zhao Rongcheng somewhat understood how the old Company Leader had felt when he looked after them back then. The brothers in the company were just like his own children. Only after becoming Company Leader himself did he understand that the burden on his shoulders was not light — you had to take responsibility for the life and death of the brothers in your company.

He grunted: "It's not early anymore. Everyone up."

Han Kaihui sat up and watched Zhao Rongcheng hang the head-taking knife at the back of his belt. Although the Jingbian Army no longer required each man to cut off heads, this kind of dagger had countless uses, and every man in the army truly could not do without it.

Seeing Zhao Rongcheng go to pick up his arm guards, Han Kaihui said: "Company Leader, let me fasten them for you."

Watching Han Kaihui put the arm guards on him, Zhao Rongcheng flexed his arms and said: "Brother Han, are you nervous?"

Han Kaixiao smiled and said, "Squad Leader Zhao, we're about to go on campaign — it's impossible not to be nervous."

Zhao Rongcheng looked at Han Kaixiao. This fellow was dashing and handsome, truly a fine-looking young man. He had heard that his family was in Xingtai, originally a wealthy household with a comfortable life, and he had several older sisters at home, each of whom doted on him dearly. Why had he thought of joining the army?

He sighed inwardly and said, "It's nothing. Once you've killed a man and seen blood, you'll be fine. When you reach the battlefield, don't be nervous. Just bring out fifty percent of your usual skill."

Zhao Rongcheng finally put on his helmet, threw a few punches and kicks to loosen up his body, and at last urged everyone to get up. After washing up, they all went to the battalion mess hall to eat.

Today's food was very abundant, but many of the Yi-grade troops found it somewhat hard to stomach.

The Jia-grade troops, on the other hand, all looked perfectly composed. They ate a hearty breakfast, even praising the food as they did so.

After each battalion had eaten, at roughly the hour of Mao, approaching the hour of Chen, a sharp cannon blast suddenly rang out from the central army encampment.

In Zhao Rongcheng's Jia squad room, everyone was waiting anxiously. When they heard the cannon, they all started.

Zhao Rongcheng, who had been sitting quietly with his eyes closed, suddenly snapped them open. His blood boiling, he roared: "Assemble!"