Chapter 355: The Moon Falls Within Rouge

The three barbarian chieftains' fear of the Prince of Badong was not nearly as great as Bao Yue imagined.

First, Wang Yang had plainly stated that the Prince of Badong was merely using the suppression of barbarian unrest as an excuse to gather troops, and had no time yet to act against the barbarian tribes—any real move would likely wait until after he seized the empire, so the tribes remained safe for now.

Second, the barbarians had endured since time immemorial and had their own ways of survival; in dire straits, they could retreat deep into the mountains, even at the cost of grievously damaging their vital energy, and wait until the Han troops withdrew, preserving their chance to survive without annihilation.

Third, and equally important, the barbarians understood nothing of the Southern court's political structure; many chieftains, like many Han commoners, held unrealistic fantasies about the situation. In their minds, even if the Prince of Badong seized Jingzhou, it was still only one province—if other provinces did not join his rebellion, he could never truly rise. The neighboring provinces could easily unite to encircle and crush him, attacking from front and rear, left and right—how could defeating the Prince of Badong not be a simple matter?

But the truth was far different. Because the court had to resist the powerful northern enemy externally and guard against regional warlords internally (the term "warlord" was common in medieval times, not a later invention—"fan" meant barrier; for instance, Liu Yu said: "The court's officials and ministers, the regional warlords, delight in fearing nothing" — Book of Song, Biography of Wu Xi), the court was forced to maintain a sizable standing army at great expense. Subordinate military garrisons lacking financial resources also required imperial subsidies. Jingzhou, as such a vast province, received annual imperial funding exceeding ten million, sometimes reaching thirty million, and at times even grain had to be transported from other provinces (such as Jiangzhou and Xiangzhou). Thus, whether from fiscal constraints or the need to prevent regional powers from growing too strong, the court forbade local authorities from maintaining powerful armies.

Ordinary prefectures without a regional commander (non-military zones, understood as civilian prefectures) possessed no troops capable of open-field combat beyond the minimal garrisons needed to maintain internal order; their numbers were small. For example, in a commandery, the force might number only a few hundred, or at most a few thousand. Even if conscripted during unrest, they were merely rabble.

Only military garrisons possessed battle-worthy troops, though their authority was often fragmented or burdened with guarding duties, and their exact numbers varied according to defense needs.

The above were the regular local forces. Beyond them were the township and county militias and corvée officers (though "officer" carries the character for official, these were not civil clerks but akin to constables; military garrisons sometimes employed over ten thousand such men, and provincial ones several thousand), all outside imperial command, and alongside private retainers, formed the local armed forces.

Without imperial orders, no one could ever assemble military forces (combine existing troops), even during wartime against northern invaders—no one possessed the authority to recruit or conscript new soldiers from the populace without the emperor's permission.

Likewise, even if a neighboring regional command rebelled, one could not cross borders to suppress it without a royal decree. First, most prefectures lacked the capacity to suppress rebellion—sending troops would only aid the enemy. As for the garrisons capable of doing so, the court dared not summon them lightly. This was both to prevent regional commanders from exploiting the chaos to rise and rebel, inviting a tiger to repel a wolf; and to prevent local forces from being mobilized, leaving their own borders vulnerable to invasion by the north or other emerging powers.

Thus since Liu Song, when regional commands rebelled, the court never summoned external troops to suppress them unless absolutely necessary; instead, it relied primarily on the central army (the central army referred to the capital's garrison forces, distinct from the "outer armies" of regional commands—specific units and their conditions will be detailed after Wang Yang assumes his guard officer post), with nearby capital troops as auxiliary.

As for the prefectures along the river, they were either untrustworthy, lacked the strength, or lacked the time. Especially, the number of ships in riverine commands was strictly limited and could not support the transport of large reinforcements; those capable of moving large armies were invariably those who had secretly repaired ships and stockpiled bamboo, wood, and straw (for ship equipment), oars, and other materials—all of whom harbored disloyal intentions. Once the court detected such activity, it prepared for contingency measures.

This is why, in the Southern dynasties, when regional commands rebelled, other prefectures either waited for the enemy to enter before surrendering or resisting, or remained passive—rarely did any force launch a surprise attack from behind. First, they lacked the strength. Second, they dared not. Third, their resolve was uncertain.

This is also why some regional commanders, with only a few thousand elite troops, dared to gamble everything and march straight toward the capital. After all, no regional command would move; if they could defeat the central army and seize Taicheng, they might control the court. Along the way, they could still rally destitute peasants and outlaws, win over powerful clans, and swell their numbers. Departing with a few thousand, they might arrive at the capital with tens of thousands. Yet such recruits generally had poor combat effectiveness, so some chose not to recruit at all, relying solely on their core elite troops.

Most barbarian chieftains knew nothing of these intricacies. Even those like Ang Ta and Le Le Le Luo Luo who understood a little were overwhelmed by Wang Yang's sweeping, strategic exposition of the situation—

He spoke of northern Yong and southern Xiang, flanking from north and south; eastern Ying and western Yi, encircling from east and west; controlling the Yangtze, cutting off retreat; converging at Dongting, blocking southern escape routes; River River Jiang and Yu as pincers, Qin and Zhuge Zhuge Liang as cutting blades; tall masts breaking the waves of Qutang, war drums shaking the walls of Huarong. And with Xiao Bao Yue adding her own embellishments—claiming the Prince of Badong's every move was known to the court, which had long prepared, and that she herself was one of the court's spies—she further detailed the intelligence she had gathered on Jingzhou. The barbarians' confidence soared; they now felt the Prince of Badong's rebellion was reckless and absurd, that Jingzhou, fighting the whole empire from a single corner, was doomed to fail.

This confidence was partly stirred by Wang Yang and Bao Yue's words, partly by their trust in Wang Yang's abilities. But most crucially, Wang Yang showed no intention of using this confidence to pressure them into fighting a losing battle—this greatly eased their minds.

Tian Tian Dadao immediately declared: regardless of whether the odds were against them or not, regardless of victory or defeat, if the Divine Messenger gave the order, the Yidu clan would charge ahead.

Le Le Le Luo Luo: o( Yi ︿ Yi +)o

Ang Ta: (╬ Yiminyi )

Wang Yang formalized the pre-sermon ritual and added a new daily ceremony: morning reverence to Pan Wang and the Divine Messenger, evening prayers to Pan Wang and the Divine Messenger—each person must perform it daily; those who failed would be punished. He appointed Tian Tian Dadao as chief of the three clan leaders, overseeing affairs of the three villages; the Right Grand Shaman (formerly the small shaman of Tian Village) managed sacrifices and finances; Chen Chen Chen Qingshan became the Holy General, with the twenty-three Holy Guards as Holy Officers, jointly commanding the Holy Guard. The Holy General acted on the Divine Messenger's behalf, supervising the chieftains above and training soldiers below.

Chen Chen Chen Qingshan had no desire to be Holy General; no matter what Wang Yang said, she stubbornly insisted on returning to Jiangling with him. Xiao Bao Yue grew annoyed, dismissed Wang Yang, told him to hurry and meet Le Le Le Luo Luo to deliver his instructions, then asked Chen Chen Chen Qingshan:

"Suppose the Prince of Badong wants to kill Wang Yang—can you protect him?"

"Yes."

"Protect him? A joke! One order from the Prince of Badong and you two will be chopped to dust in an instant."

Chen Chen Chen Qingshan remained silent.

Xin Yi glanced at her young master's face, held back, then couldn't help saying:

"Actually, even the fastest couldn't be instant—"

Bao Yue's gaze turned icy as snow; her folding fan pointed at Xin Yi, and an air of absolute authority arose:

"Shut up."

Xin Yi instantly clapped a hand over her mouth.

Bao Yue pointed again at Chen Chen Chen Qingshan, her words like an imperial decree:

"You stay."

Chen Chen Chen Qingshan was not cowed by Bao Yue; her gaze passed over the fan, fixed directly on Bao Yue, clear and bright as an arrow unwilling to bend—though she spoke not a word, her posture made everything clear.

Seeing Chen Chen Chen Qingshan's defiance, Bao Yue grew angry, even considering taking her to the Marquis's mansion to train her personally until she submitted—but she remembered Wang Yang would never agree, so she set the idea aside for now.

She grew restless, paced a few steps, and looked at Chen Chen Chen Qingshan:

"If the Prince of Badong wants to kill someone, going with him only adds another life to the grave—useless."

Chen Chen Chen Qingshan's expression remained calm, her voice low:

"Not useless."

Bao Yue raised an eyebrow, her tone edged with impatience:

"What use?"

Chen Chen Chen Qingshan's expression did not change; she repeated the same two words, but her tone grew slower, heavier, more resolute:

"Not useless."

Bao Yue's eyes flickered with surprise; she studied Chen Chen Chen Qingshan's cold, composed face, and her gaze deepened with something complex, tinged with a hidden admiration. After a long silence, she said:

"There is greater use."

These words amounted to an implicit acknowledgment of Chen Chen Chen Qingshan's answer.

This improved Chen Chen Chen Qingshan's opinion of Bao Yue; curiously, she asked:

"What greater use?"

Bao Yue stepped out of the shade, gazing at distant mountains, her profile sharp against the mountain wind:

"If he dies, you must kill every person connected to this—make them all follow him to the grave. Not one spared. Even if you must slaughter the entire city, it will be worth it—that is the greater use."

Killing the killer was justified—but what did "slaughter the entire city" mean?

Chen Chen Chen Qingshan frowned, instinctively asking:

"What use is that?"

Bao Yue did not look at Chen Chen Chen Qingshan; her gaze remained fixed on the mist-shrouded mountains, her red lips parting to utter two words, her tone nearly identical to Chen Chen Chen Qingshan's earlier reply:

"Not useless."

Chen Chen Chen Qingshan, seeing this familiar scene, froze in stunned silence.

Bao Yue turned her face toward Chen Chen Chen Qingshan, her eyes reflecting mountain light, smiling with seductive grace, repeating:

"Not useless."

Chen Chen Chen Qingshan remained in the barbarian territory.

After arranging everything, Wang Yang and Bao Yue departed the barbarian lands. Throughout the journey, Bao Yue spoke not a word to Wang Yang, but she did not forbid Xin Yi or others from conversing with him—until they reached a grove of black gum trees, when Wang Yang said:

"Here is far enough. I know the road ahead—return early, don't delay your journey."

Xin Yi looked sorrowful, tugged gently at Wang Yang's sleeve, and asked carefully:

"Can't you come with us?"

Wang Yang smiled:

"Next time. Next time I'll go with you."

Lian San and the others stepped forward to bow farewell. Bao Yue was surprised to find Wang Yang had such good standing here—his "Young Master Wang" seemed well-liked by her own men.

Bao Yue paid them no attention, feigning indifference.

Wang Yang walked over and said:

"Xie Xie Niangzi Xiao, take care. I entrust you with the three matters."

Bao Yue gazed absently at the clouds on the horizon, her voice cool:

"Do you know that even if you return, the Prince of Badong won't release them?"

Wang Yang smiled:

"Wanna bet?"

Bao Yue's eyes flashed with anger, her voice chilled:

"Do you know that even if the Prince of Badong releases them, he'll keep them locked inside Jingzhou—you still can't rescue them?"

Wang Yang still smiled:

"We can bet on that too."

Bao Yue could no longer bear watching the clouds; she turned and glared at Wang Yang:

"I have a mole inside the Prince of Badong's mansion. If you need help, leave a message at the Hongyuan Bookstore in the eastern quarter. I can't reveal his identity—only that he is my subordinate, second in rank, long departed from the mansion. You may call him—um—"

Bao Yue hesitated. Wang Yang interjected:

"Cheng Er, right?"

Bao Yue was stunned!

Xin Yi looked equally shocked!

Lian San stared in disbelief.

Bao Yue's subordinates included the "Six Guards," but only Xin Yi had seen Cheng Er; Lian San knew his name but not his face. The rest had never even heard of him.

Bao Yue's eyes widened, incredulous:

"How… how do you know Cheng Er?"

Wang Yang smiled faintly:

"I guessed… Xin Yi, Lian San, Bai Si—I wondered what 'Er' meant, whether there was a 'Wu.' Later I recalled an ancient rhyme from the Lu Lianzi: six characters—Xin Cheng Lian, Bai Fa Huan Huan Huan Huan Huan Huan Xuan. Xie Xie Niangzi Xiao named them thus—truly a person of deep feeling."

A long-forgotten corner of Bao Yue's heart seemed lit by a sudden beam of light; dust motes danced in the glow, shimmering like fireflies. For a moment, she stood frozen, unaware of dawn or dusk, unaware of the hour.

Wang Yang took a sealed letter from his sleeve and pressed it into Bao Yue's hand, whispering:

"This is the document you wrote earlier, helping me assume the Langye surname. As for 'My Three Encounters with Xie Xie Niangzi Xiao,' I never copied it—only your original copy remains, the sole version."

Wang Yang stepped back, his expression bright, and bowed:

"Farewell!"

He turned to mount his horse.

"Wait! Wait a moment!"

Bao Yue snapped back to awareness, her voice trembling with unacknowledged panic and dread.

She would do something—something she had been planning since the journey began.

Wang Yang stopped, curious, turned to Bao Yue.

Bao Yue's cheeks flushed slightly; she opened her mouth, then halted, her gaze sweeping over her subordinates, and ordered coldly:

"Everyone, step back."

Xin Yi, Lian San, and the others obeyed and withdrew.

Bao Yue frowned, dissatisfied:

"Further back."

Everyone stepped back again.

"Turn around. Don't look back. Especially Xin Yi—if you dare peek, Wang Yang will cripple your meridians with Arcane You Finger!"

Xin Yi's face froze, expression like a dried fish had just been snatched away—he immediately abandoned any thought of sneaking a glance.

More than thirty people formed a semicircle, all turning their backs to Wang Yang and Bao Yue.

Bao Yue looked at Wang Yang, her gaze soft as water:

"You wanted to see me dance, didn't you? I'll dance for you."

Wang Yang:???

When did I ever want to see you dance???

(Wang Yang sipped his wine slowly:

"Life is rarely satisfying—eight or nine times out of ten, things don't go as you wish. Just as I've always wanted to see you dance, but you can't dance anyway...")

Bao Yue could no longer hold back! She leapt to her feet, exploding in place... —Chapter 221: "The Escape Route"

When Wang Yang had passed through this sycamore grove before, it had been summer—lush green, with only a few old leaves edged in gold. Now autumn had come, the grove ablaze with red and yellow, as if about to ignite.

Bao Yue stepped into the fire, untying her outer robe; it fell like flowing clouds, stirred by the autumn wind, sending fallen leaves swirling like butterflies.

Amid fluttering wings, a girl in a white gauze skirt danced gracefully, gathering all the sunset's glow, outshining every blossom, like the moon falling into rouge.

Her pale shadow startled autumn; the black grove clustered like a crown; fallen leaves cascaded like a waterfall.

Who understands the cloud-silk robe, her hair dusted with fading color, her slender wrists peerless?

Chaotic clouds obscure the setting sun's path; for you I dance this farewell ode,

Heaven and earth bear witness, the young master lost in awe, mountains and rivers lose their grace, ten thousand reds bow low.

"Let's go!"

Wang Yang tugged the reins, sharply turning his horse; the steed reared and neighed, startling countless birds from the grove.

Bao Yue shouted with all her strength:

"Wang Yang! You must live to see me again!"

Mounted on his horse, Wang Yang's brows arched, his spirit soaring; he cried out boldly:

"Rest easy! Within Jingzhou, no one can kill me!"

As his words ended, hooves shattered the last rays of the sun.

One man, one horse, cut into the boundless twilight.

————

So sleepy. Taking a day off. Back on the 10th.