Chapter 226: Trouble in Youyan

Youzhou, this great city of northern Hebei, remained as imposing as ever, its walls still sturdy—yet prosperity was no more. All splendor, before war and turmoil, was as fragile as paper, and since last year, it had been sliding rapidly into the abyss of decline.

During the ten years of Khitan rule, at Youzhou's most prosperous moment, the population had numbered nearly two hundred thousand. Yet in but a single year—massacre, war, plague, exile, a series of calamities—within and without the city walls, fewer than eighty thousand soldiers and civilians remained.

It was high summer, the heat oppressive, and several clusters of dark clouds hung over the city, making the whole place even more stifling.

At the city gate, many guards stood watch, the defense extremely tight. Ever since the Yan army had retaken the city, no matter the situation, vigilance had never been relaxed. Recently, it had grown especially strict; the common folk could clearly feel that the Yan army's patrols had intensified considerably.

Few people passed through the gates—besides a small number of merchants and civilians, there were mostly official supply convoys, officials, and military clerks. The city of Youzhou was increasingly turning into a military fortress. Because of the threat of Khitan cavalry, the Yan King Zhao Yanshou had already begun relocating the people under his rule south to the two prefectures of Zhuo and Yi. Farming in Youzhou was simply too difficult. And sustaining such a city with its soldiers and civilians, without sufficient money and grain, was an even greater burden.

Youzhou's situation was somewhat similar to that of the Eastern Capital—both lacked money and grain, with supplies running short. But compared to the Eastern Capital, Youzhou was clearly worse off. After all, the Eastern Capital lay deep in the hinterland, free from the threat of war, and was more or less supported by the various military governors.

Youzhou, meanwhile, faced the constant threat of war, head-on. In truth, the situation in Youzhou had never been good.

Though Youzhou's walls were strong, it was truly an isolated city. While the natural barrier of the Yan Mountains remained in Khitan hands, it could only passively absorb blows—Khitan cavalry could ride south at any time. It was only because the Hu were unskilled at siegecraft that Youzhou had not already fallen.

And the Khitan had clearly never abandoned their idea of "recovering" Youzhou. Controlling the lands of Tan and Ji, holding the strategic passes of the Yan Mountains, they sent light cavalry south to raid from time to time, attacking households and farmlands, destroying production. The Yan army was greatly harassed, and in the grinding struggle against the Hu cavalry, their own horsemen had suffered heavy losses.

In truth, had it not been for support from the Great Han, with Youzhou in such a state, the Khitan need only continue harassing in this manner—within two years, they could take Youzhou without a battle. And that was only if the soldiers and people of Youyan stood united as one, sharing weal and woe.

Yet the morale and hearts of Youzhou had long since grown unstable. The common folk could still flee—to the south lay Zhuo and Yi, and further south the Hebei prefectures had been ordered to absorb and settle them. But the army was different, especially the military officers, the landlords and bureaucrats. Over the past year, they had suffered heavy losses, and quite a few already regretted following Zhao Yanshou in resisting the Khitan.

"This damned weather—drought for so long, and finally it's going to rain!" Beneath Youzhou's north gate, several low-ranking officers gathered. The Captain of the guard raised his head to look at the clouds pressing down upon the city, layer upon layer, and cursed. His mood was restless, just like this restless weather and this restless city.

"Who knows how much longer we have to endure this kind of life!" A squad leader at his side leaned against the wall, his tone full of gloom.

"How much longer? If the Khitan really do come south to attack, when the fighting starts, the question is how Longyou and I can even live!" the Captain said angrily.

At the start of the month, according to reports from the northern outposts, the Khitan had made suspicious moves—several thousand Hu horsemen had come from beyond the Yan Mountains and gathered at Ji Prefecture. Such a large commotion had immediately put all of Youzhou on edge, fearing the Khitan would launch another major assault. The city of Youzhou was indeed in troubled times.

"I hear the grain harvest failed, and the summer planting was delayed. If the Khitan attack again during the autumn harvest, I reckon we'll be going hungry this year..." another officer remarked with a sigh.

"Hmph, who dares make us go hungry?" the Captain said coldly, glancing southward, his words pointed: "We are the Great Han court's shield, shedding blood and fighting to resist the Khitan. If even our bellies can't be filled, why should we risk our lives for that young Son of Heaven in Kaifeng?"

These words actually won unanimous agreement from the surrounding officers, with voices of assent rising one after another. Undercurrents were stirring within the Yan army in Youzhou. Under normal circumstances, how would these low-ranking officers know the ins and outs behind the Yan army's resistance to the Khitan, let alone direct their resentment toward the Great Han court?

Just then, a force of several hundred cavalry came galloping from the north. The officers instinctively stopped their idle chatter, and the guards below the wall immediately went on alert—the Yan army's discipline was still passable. However, catching sight of the "Zhao" banner faintly visible in the distance, they relaxed somewhat.

"The young lord has returned!" the Captain muttered.

At the head of the southbound cavalry formation rode a heroic young general in white robes, every inch a noble—none other than Zhao Kuangzan, Chief Inspector of Youzhou's infantry and cavalry, Surveillance Commissioner of Lulong, Acting Grand Commandant, and heir to the Yan King. He had come north to patrol and inspect the military situation upon hearing of the Khitan's movements.

It had been over two months since he came north to Youzhou. After arriving, Zhao Kuangzan had quickly settled into his role, participating in military and political affairs with the support of his father Zhao Yanshou. By now, he had already taken over Youzhou's military and civil governance on his father's behalf, and the most elite yabing guards under the command were entirely in his control.

He entered the city without hindrance; the cavalry returned to their own camp, while Zhao Kuangzan rode lightly toward the inner city, all the way to the Yan King's residence. A yabing guard took his horse's reins and lowered the stirrup; he dismounted nimbly, grabbed his riding whip, and strode inside.

"Young lord, you've finally returned!" A household official of the residence hurried up to greet him.

"What happened, that you summoned me back so urgently?" Zhao Kuangzan asked, his steps quick.

"Administrative Assistant Zhang has passed away!" the official reported.

As mentioned before, the top two figures in Youzhou's military and civil affairs were Zhao Yanshou and Zhang Li, and it was these two men who had painstakingly maintained the situation in Youzhou. Previously, both had fallen ill one after another—one could say it was from exhaustion, from pushing themselves too hard.

Lately, both their illnesses had worsened, and they gradually could no longer attend to affairs. Zhao Yanshou, for the sake of paving the way for his son, forced himself to carry on, like a dying man's last flicker of light. Zhang Li, with a weaker constitution and poorer foundation, had held on until now but ultimately could not survive this summer.

Upon hearing this news, Zhao Kuangzan's brows immediately knit together, his expression grave—yet not overly surprised.

"Where is the King?" Zhao Kuangzan asked.

This official was clearly a trusted confidant, and answered directly in a low voice: "Upon hearing that Administrative Assistant Zhang had passed, the King, in his grief, fainted on his couch. We dared not be negligent—we sealed off the news and sent someone to inform you, young lord."

"You did well!" Zhao Kuangzan praised him, and his steps toward the inner courtyard became noticeably more urgent.

In the inner courtyard of the residence, in the main hall, Zhao Yanshou lay on his couch, already revived. Two maidservants gently fanned him with palm-leaf fans, warding off the summer's stifling heat. At this moment, describing Zhao Yanshou as gaunt and withered would not be an exaggeration in the least—gravely ill and at death's door, with not a trace of the spirited vigor he had shown last year when invited to lead the northern expedition.