Chapter 149: Beneath the Walls of Yedu

Yedu was not the same as the ancient Ye County (modern Linzhang); it was not the same place as the Ye City of the Han, Wei, and Jin dynasties. Through the changes of the ages, it was no longer sufficient to serve as a capital. It was only since the end of the Han, when Cao Cao was enfeoffed as King of Wei and made Ye his capital, that for a long time Wei and Ye were one and the same—different names for the same place.

The Yedu of this period had a city named Yuancheng, originally belonging to Weizhou, now under Guangjin Prefecture. In the early Tongguang era of the Later Tang, Weizhou was renamed Xingtang Prefecture and given the title of the Eastern Capital, later changed to Yedu. During the Shi Jin period, Xingtang Prefecture was renamed Guangjin Prefecture, but it was still called Yedu.

The autumn days were dreary and desolate. At this time, Yedu had become a city of sorrow, shrouded in a bleak and cold atmosphere, silent and still, with an especially oppressive mood—after all, the siege had already lasted two months. In a beleaguered city locked in bitter fighting, it was always the besieged side that bore the greater pressure. Especially in such a situation—an isolated city, short of food within, cut off from reinforcements without.

Outside the city stretched continuous camps of the Han army, locking Yuancheng in a death grip, choking the Yedu troops so they could not move.

On the southern side of the city, the traces of battle were heavy—the previous assaults must have been the Han army's main direction of attack. Behind the city walls, the few remaining Yedu soldiers huddled and curled their bodies, yet the cold wind still kept drilling through their armor and robes into their flesh.

These Yedu soldiers on the walls were posted there for defense; more people hid within the barbican. However, they clearly did not seem very attentive. Since the last fierce Han assault was beaten back, there had been no movement for over ten days. Moreover, Du Chongwei had sent men to completely block up all the city gates, determined to turtle up inside the city.

Since the siege began, Yedu's walls had remained sturdy, but the morale of the soldiers and civilians within had sunk to the lowest point. Du Chongwei was not loved by the army, let alone by the people, and the two losses at Lujiadian had dealt him further blows.

That they had managed to hold out this long was due to Du Chongwei exhausting every means. First, he sent people into the city to spread word that the Han army would massacre the populace after breaching the walls, terrorizing soldiers, civilians, and officials alike. Second, he organized several supervisory squads that took turns patrolling day and night without rest, enforcing strict discipline. Third, there was still a formidable Yan army in the city serving him—indeed, they were trusted even more than the Yedu troops. Fourth, he squeezed the gentry and commoners of the city mercilessly, plundering their grain and goods to supply the army—yet his own mansion was stocked with vast amounts of money and grain, while he was stingy about rewarding his soldiers...

With the enemy in such a state, failing to take the city was basically the Han army's own problem. Of course, it was not just the discord among the generals—the Han troops below the walls, including those of the imperial army, were all second-rate forces of the Great Han, their fighting strength not up to that level, compounded by Gao Xingzhou's conservative tactics.

In fact, since the siege began, apart from that one fierce assault, the two sides had not clashed many times. On the surface, this city siege did not look all that brutal.

But the cruelty of war was not limited to what was directly seen on the battlefield. The destruction of civilian life was the most severe. Besides the mere thirty-odd thousand Yedu troops remaining in the city, there were still over a hundred thousand commoners—people who had become targets of Du Chongwei's exploitation, and as the war situation grew daily more dire, he had come to view them as burdens.

The plight of the people within Weibo's borders, especially in Guangjin Prefecture, was also beyond words. Previously, the court had issued a decree that the Han army of the Yedu field headquarters was to provision itself from within the prefecture. Acting on orders, the Han army did exactly that—taking advantage of the autumn harvest, they continuously sent troops together with local officials into the countryside to levy grain.

In name it was borrowing; in reality it quickly devolved into looting. At first it was only grain, but later they took people along with the grain. The Han army's forward ramparts could not waste the imperial soldiers' strength on construction. By now, over a hundred thousand troops of the pacification army had gathered beneath Yedu's walls, and more than half were able-bodied men conscripted from nearby.

The result was that on the southern side, as time passed, Gao Xingzhou's stockades were steadily advanced right up to the city walls—very close, less than two arrow-flights away. Essentially, as long as the Han army left camp and ran a few steps, they could directly enter the assault phase... Faced with such a threat, Du Chongwei showed little reaction, almost watching with his own eyes as the imperial army's blades pressed against his nose.

A hill to the southeast of the city, once covered in dense forest, was now left bare and barren—its trees, along with sand, stone, and earth, had all been turned into the rows of camps below the walls.

Inside Yedu it was cold, silent, and oppressive, but the Han army outside was hardly better off. In a stalemate between two armies, discipline was especially harsh—in recent days, quite a few soldiers had been executed for violating military law. Some of them had lost their lives simply for making noise without cause.

Fortunately, compared to the defenders in the city, the imperial soldiers' lot was somewhat better—at least supplies had basically never run short. The food might not have been good, but it was enough to fill the belly. As the weather turned cold, the court had also issued additional autumn and winter clothing, and Gao Xingzhou, dragging his aged body, kept making rounds to reassure the troops.

In contrast, the tens of thousands of commoners conscripted to serve at the front fared far worse. Though not deliberately abused, doing hard labor at the front—that life was worse than a dog's.

Over this period, nearly two thousand able-bodied men had fallen beneath Yedu's walls. Some worked to death, some died of illness, some were executed by military law, and some were killed by the defenders. A while back, the temperature suddenly dropped, and in a single night, over four hundred men froze to death outright...

In the southern main camp, behind the stockades, on an open patch of ground, the autumn wind swept the earth and withered grass flew about as conscripted craftsmen concentrated on building siege equipment. All of it was big stuff—nest carts, cloud ladders, wooden screens, and assault towers—with laborers hauling materials back and forth all around, the clanging and hammering sounds never ceasing, blending with the mournful cries of cold cicadas nearby, making it all feel especially sorrowful.

Guo Rong led a squad on patrol, stopped to observe for a while, then summoned the responsible equipment supervisor to ask about progress. The cold wind stung his face with a hint of pain. Guo Rong wore a bitter expression, looked around, gave some instructions, and led his men northward.

In front of the southern camp, a company of laborers, under the direction of military supervisors, was reinforcing and repairing the foremost stockade. The supervisors were harsh—whenever they saw someone slacking, they would unceremoniously lash them with a whip. When Guo Rong arrived, he saw this scene but felt no surge of righteous indignation, nor did he step forward to say some fine words to display his benevolence.

Participating in this pacification campaign, Guo Rong truly came to understand what it meant that "one who is kind cannot command troops." Compared to his earlier time at Luancheng breaking the Khitan—when he was filled with heroic fervor, slaughtering until corpses littered the fields and blood flowed like rivers without a second thought, indeed feeling great satisfaction—this was different.

But facing this kind of civil war, with the Great Han's soldiers and people slaughtering each other, Guo Rong was far more deeply affected. As said before, the bloodiness on both sides of attack and defense was not that high, yet the grinding battle of over two hundred thousand people inside and outside the city—its immense impact, its wide reach, the severity of its consequences—weighed on him even more heavily.

Guo Rong knew the suffering of the common people; he knew what the people of Weibo and both banks of the Yellow River had paid for this pacification campaign. And as a general of the court, even if his heart could not bear it, he had no choice but to conscript the common folk to labor for the sake of victory in war.

Guo Rong noticed the eyes of the laborers repairing the stockade—numb and indifferent, and when they looked at the supervising soldiers, their gazes even carried hatred.

Climbing a watchtower in front of the camp, Guo Rong gazed toward Yuancheng, his eyes almost solidifying. After a long while, he finally let out a sigh, then his cold, hard expression grew even more resolute: no matter what, this war had to end as quickly as possible!

"General Guo!" A messenger urgently found Guo Rong.

"What is it?"

"The Son of Heaven's imperial carriage is approaching—the commander-in-chief summons you back to the central army to prepare for the reception!"