Chapter 706: Changsha

It was midsummer, and the Xiang River was full and abundant, rolling northward in great torrents. After a heavy rain, it had grown even more turbulent, yet the downpour also refreshed the senses, dispelling some of the summer's oppressive heat.

Four swift boats broke through the river's waves, heading upstream southward at great speed. The hulls still bore traces of the rain that had beaten upon them, and the flags at the bows had long since been furled. Four wooden oars extended outward, driven ceaselessly by the boatmen's labor.

Each boat carried more than twenty Hunan soldiers. On the lead vessel, a young officer took charge. His armor and clothing were still damp and not yet dried, and he cradled his war blade, leaning against the boat's awning with his eyes closed, one hand resting on the hilt, as if ready to draw and fight at any moment.

The boats were very quiet, the atmosphere grave. Apart from the churning of the river and the boatmen's rhythmic oar strokes, there was no other sound. These four boatloads of soldiers were all Zhou Xingfeng's personal guards—the utterly loyal sort.

On the nineteenth, on the very night of the withdrawal to Baling, these men had slipped out on Zhou Xingfeng's orders, concealed themselves at Bian Mountain, boarded the four boats prepared in advance, and sped southward, their objective set squarely on Changsha.

Along the way, they passed from Dongting Lake into the Xiang River, through Xiangyin, and aside from the earlier heavy rain that had delayed them, all went smoothly. On ordinary days, though the Xiang could not be called crowded with a hundred sails, boat traffic was hardly scarce. But now, as far as the eye could see, the scene was desolate—even fishing boats were rare.

"Captain, we've passed the Weikou!" The soldier on watch at the bow turned and reported to the officer.

The officer opened his eyes, and a cold glance swept across. His ordinary features suddenly gained a fierce, formidable quality. He leaned out, gazing toward the western bank, where the Wei River surged into the Xiang, its distinct currents clearly visible.

Past Weikou, only sixty or seventy li of waterway remained to Changsha. If they spared no effort and traveled at full speed, they would arrive within an hour and a half.

After a moment's consideration, the officer gave his orders in a low, grave voice: "Rotate the oarsmen, full speed south. We must reach Changsha before dusk!"

"Yes, sir!"

"Captain, what do you think the situation in Changsha is like now? If the Han army has already taken it, then we..." A squad leader looked at the officer and asked.

"The Han army couldn't have moved that fast. If Changsha had fallen, there wouldn't be a single Han boat missing from this river!" The captain, familiar with the waterways and terrain, replied. He thought for a moment, then a look of resolve crossed his face: "The Marshal has shown us great kindness, and the Lady has treated us well. Even if we die, we must return to Changsha, protect the Lady and the young lord, and carry out the Marshal's orders!"

Having spoken, the officer stepped out from under the awning and gazed northward, his expression complex—tinged with worry and sorrow. Baling, perhaps, had already fallen. And what of the Marshal's fate...

Since the second year of Qianyou, the people of Hunan had suffered the bitter hardships of war, enduring calamity for years on end. Through all that time, warfare and turmoil had been the constant refrain of this land and its cities. And none had borne the heaviest wounds but Changsha, the greatest city in all of Hunan.

The Ma brothers fought over power, and a great fire burned down half the city walls, while the accumulated treasures of generations of the prefecture's storehouses fell into the hands of the barbarians. When the Tang army destroyed Chu, they took everything down to the last coin, looting goods and wealth until Changsha was nearly stripped bare.

And when the people of Chu drove out the Tang army together, more blood was spilled within and without the ancient city. Zhou Xingfeng entered Changsha and restored some order, but then internal strife broke out among the Langzhou military officers, and the city could never escape the shadow of war.

The great famine of last year had yet to fully pass, and this summer the entire state was resisting the imperial army. The north was locked in battle, and Changsha was in turmoil.

The summer sun blazed down, its radiance falling upon the ancient walls of Changsha within and without, hot and humid, agitating the hearts of soldiers and civilians alike. At this moment, Changsha was a city of desolation and scattered hearts. The streets were cold and empty; the common folk wore hungry faces, the soldiers were distracted, and the officers and clerks each harbored their own schemes.

Through this period, news from the north had arrived one piece after another—the fierce battle at Sanjiangkou, the great defeat at Liyang, the fall of Wuling, and the iron hooves of the Han army already descending upon Yiyang.

Against this storm-tossed backdrop, it was as if a rope were strangling the throat, suffocating all. Yet for many among Changsha's soldiers and civilians, they were already praying for the Han army to arrive quickly, to bring release. It was said that after taking Wuling, the Han army had distributed military grain the very next day to relieve the starving.

Compared to the upheavals and sudden violence in other prefectures and towns of Hunan, Changsha's situation, though hardly good, had not yet deteriorated to that point overall.

This was not because the military government's officers were of one mind or their measures sound, but because Zhou Xingfeng had a worthy helpmeet. His wife, Lady Yan, had risen from obscurity alongside Zhou Xingfeng, yet even in wealth and honor she had not forgotten her origins. She personally worked in the fields, sympathized with the people's suffering, and urged Zhou Xingfeng to temper his punishments. She had long enjoyed a reputation for virtue.

This time, with Zhou Xingfeng heading north, it was Lady Yan who held the overall command in Changsha. Of course, the fact that Changsha had not yet descended into chaos was the result of many factors.

First, a group led by Secretary Li Guanxiang labored to maintain order, laying a good foundation for the eventual surrender of the city.

Second, the spies and agents of the Wude Office and the Military Intelligence Office had gone quiet, because the southern field headquarters no longer needed a Changsha in turmoil.

Finally, and most importantly, Lady Yan had distributed the last remaining grain from Changsha's storehouses to the people, and emptied the military government's coffers to pay the soldiers—feeding their bellies and steadying their morale. Only thus was Changsha's order barely maintained.

In the offices of the Wuping Military Governor's headquarters, Secretary Li Guanxiang sat with several subordinate clerks, brewing tea and discussing affairs. Official business had long since been shelved—there was nothing left to manage. The other prefectures and counties had long gone their own ways, and Changsha was half-dead, muddling through as best it could. These men were simply waiting for the Han army to come and take over—indeed, they awaited it with anticipation.

"If not for that heavy rain, the Han army should have reached Changsha by now!" One clerk sighed.

"They've already taken Yiyang, and that's barely a hundred-plus li from here. Cavalry can reach us in half a day. It won't be long now!" Another said.

"We haven't received news from the north in quite a while. I wonder how the battle at Yuezhou is going?" One man remarked.

"What, are you worried about Zhou Xingfeng's safety?" Someone teased.

"After all, there is a bond between lord and minister! The Marshal's character is resolute and unyielding, defying heaven itself—in the end, it is a pity to behold!"

"Since ancient times, those who defy heaven have never come to a good end. The Han army swept south with irresistible force. His stubborn resistance at Yuezhou only adds to the casualties of our Hunan sons!"

"The people of Hunan have suffered war for so long. Now the whole province is exhausted, all crying out for food, all yearning for peace. We can only hope this senseless calamity ends soon..."

"The military government's grain stores are down to less than a hundred dan. If the Han army doesn't come soon, we'll all be going hungry!"

"We can endure a little hunger, but if the garrison soldiers in the city go hungry, disaster will be upon us!"

"..."

The aroma of tea filled the office, making the very air more pleasant. The assembled clerks debated heatedly, while Li Guanxiang sat in the seat of honor, appearing quite composed, neither anxious nor hurried, quietly listening to the discussion.

"Secretary Li, aren't you worried at all?"

Glancing at the man who had asked, Li Guanxiang said calmly: "What use is worry? In any case, the situation is beyond recovery. For so long, the entire military government has labored tirelessly. We rarely have such leisure—drink some more tea. Once the Han army enters the city, under the imperial court's rule, our futures are uncertain, and we may not enjoy such ease again..."

A clerk walked in and stopped at the doorway. Seeing him, Li Guanxiang asked: "What is it?"

"Someone has returned from Yuezhou—one of the Marshal's personal guards!" The clerk replied.

"How many? Where are they?" Li Guanxiang's composure vanished from his face at once, replaced by gravity, and he asked hurriedly.

"Over a hundred men. They went straight to see the Lady!"

His brow furrowed tightly, a hint of gravity upon it. One of those nearby could not help asking: "Nothing's gone wrong, has it?"

Li Guanxiang shared the same doubt. At this critical juncture, nothing could be allowed to go awry. He rose and paced a few steps, then ordered: "Quickly, contact Commanders Sun and Wang!"

Sun and Wang were the commanders of the only two remaining garrison battalions in Changsha. They had long since colluded with Li Guanxiang, and had already made their preparations to surrender the city.

Meanwhile, in the inner hall of the residence, the returning officer knelt prostrate, his head bowed low. Behind the desk sat a plainly dressed woman with light makeup. She was not particularly beautiful, her skin even somewhat rough, but her bearing was dignified, commanding respect—this was Zhou Xingfeng's wife, Lady Yan. In her arms she held a young child, gazing about with innocent, bewildered eyes—Zhou Xingfeng's youngest son, Zhou Baoquan.

She tore open the letter the officer had presented. Some of the ink had already smeared. She read it silently to the end, and two lines of clear tears fell unbidden, landing upon Zhou Baoquan's face.

In the end, she could not hold it in, and the sound of sorrowful sobbing rose into the air......