Chapter 183: The Bizarre Western Front

Dasa Pass.

The wind of the fourth month of the second year of Kaixi flipped over the northern slope of the Qin Ling Mountains, carrying the sand and dust of the Loess Plateau, making the flags on the pass city flap and crackle. Wu Xi stood behind the battlements of the pass city, his hand resting on the cold green bricks, his gaze looking north across the mountains. To the north was Shaanxi, the Fuyan Circuit and Fengxiang Circuit of the Jin State, the mountains and rivers lost by the Great Song eighty years ago. The soldiers under his command were lined up and equipped below the pass wall, their blades and spears polished to a snow-white shine, their morale high. The news of the Northern Expedition had reached Shukou two months ago, and reports of victory from the two allied armies had arrived one after another—Sizhou recaptured, Hong County recaptured, Tangzhou recaptured. The Eastern Route was fighting at Lingbi, the Central Route was besieging Dengzhou, fighting fiercely. The Western Army, five thousand elites, crouched behind Dasa Pass, crouching for two months, not moving a single step forward.

"Deputy Commander." A voice came from behind. Wu Xi did not turn around; he knew who it was—Cheng Song. The Pacification Commissioner of the Western Army, the nominal commander-in-chief. Cheng Song wore a brand-new official robe, his belt tied tightly, his steps quick and broken as he walked, like a golden pheasant kept in a cage for too long. Cheng Song walked to Wu Xi's side, lowered his voice, "Lin'an has sent another reminder. This is the third memorial of the month. Grand Preceptor Han asked personally—when will the Western Army march north?"

Wu Xi slowly turned around. He was nearly a head taller than Cheng Song, looking down at Cheng Song with a casual gentleness: "My Lord Cheng, this subordinate also wishes to send troops early. But you see the current situation—the Xia barbarians are moving uncertainly in the west. According to spy reports, tens of thousands of troops from the New Ming Party are stationed in the Western Xia Territory. If our main army marches north, and the Xia barbarians attack from the flank, cutting off our rear, who will bear this responsibility?"

Cheng Song opened his mouth.

"And," Wu Xi continued slowly and steadily, "the plank roads north of Dasa Pass have not been repaired on a large scale since the end of the Shaoxing era. Grain carts on them stumble every three steps and collapse every five. If these plank roads are not repaired, how will the grain and fodder for the fifty thousand troops be transported? If they cannot be transported up, will the soldiers fight by drinking the northwest wind?"

"Then... then how long will it take to repair the plank roads?"

"Hard to say." Wu Xi shook his head, his tone as if pitying Cheng Song, "This depends on the weather. In April, there is much rain in the mountains; the newly laid wooden planks rot after a single rain. It also depends on the laborers—My Lord Cheng knows, it is difficult to mobilize laborers in the Shu region. The spring plowing has just passed, and there is still a shortage of hands in the fields. This subordinate is already doing his utmost to supervise the work, but such matters cannot be rushed." His tone remained slow and steady, as if truly exhausting his mind for the greater good, his expression on his face so sincere it was flawless.

Cheng Song stood in place, his lips moving for a long time, but ultimately said nothing. He was not a fool; of course, he could see that Wu Xi was stalling. But what could he do? He was the Pacification Commissioner, nominally commanding the troops of the Lizhou East and West Routes. But the Wu family had operated in Shukou for generations; from Wu Jie, Wu Lin, to Wu Xi, three generations and seventy years of foundation; every pass, every stationed army, and every powerful general in Shukou were old subordinates of the Wu family. He, this parachuted-in Pacification Commissioner, could not issue orders beyond the camp gate—outside the camp gate, not a single Commander-in-Chief listened to him.

Wu Xi watched Cheng Song's back disappear down the steps of the pass wall, and the smile at the corner of his mouth slowly faded. He was not afraid of the Western Xia; the Western Xia had long been a possession of the New Ming Party. Those people were now digesting the Western Xia, busy reorganizing the army and transforming the iron smelting, completely unable to look south. He also did not care about the memorials from Lin'an urging battle. No matter how urgent Han Tuozhou was, his hand could not reach into Shukou. Shukou was the Wu family's Shukou.

He looked at the northern mountains once more, then turned and descended the pass wall. After returning to his own military tent, he dismissed his attendants, leaving only one person in the tent. That person wore the uniform of an ordinary soldier, was of short stature, kept his head down, and had a gray cloth mask covering his face. Wu Xi took a sealed secret letter with red wax from his sleeve, placed it on the table, and pushed it over.

"The old rule. Go via Fengxiang, find Wanyan Anguo."

That person took the letter, tucked it into his chest, performed a bow, and silently exited the tent. Wu Xi sat alone in the tent, brightened the oil lamp a bit, spread out a blank military report, picked up his brush, and began writing the routine report to Lin'an—"The Western Army has been repairing plank roads, transporting grain, and investigating enemy conditions in the Xia Territory for several days; all matters are proceeding smoothly. We will soon exit Dasa Pass and fight a decisive battle with the Jin thieves. Please, the Court, rest easy and wait for the report of victory."

The secret messenger traveled through a mountain path known only to the Wu family's direct lineage, crossing the border. This path did not pass through any official checkpoints; along the way, hunters and woodcutters provided assistance; the round trip between Dasa Pass and Fengxiang took only four days. When the secret messenger arrived at Fengxiang, it was late at night. Wanyan Anguo received him in the temporary headquarters in the Shaanxi Circuit. After reading the secret letter, Wanyan Anguo fell silent for a moment, then held the letter paper to the candle flame and burned it. He did not reply immediately; he arranged for the messenger to rest in a side courtyard, then summoned his trusted advisors overnight.

"Wu Xi is willing to talk." Wanyan Anguo sat down and poured himself a cup of cold tea. The advisor's eyes lit up, and he was about to speak, but Wanyan Anguo raised his hand to stop him. After finishing the cold tea, he slowly opened his mouth, "He wants Sichuan and Shu. Shall we give it to him?"

The advisor was stunned: "Sichuan and Shu? He—"

"He did not say it explicitly in the letter. But after several rounds of talks, I know clearly what he wants. He wants to be an independent King of Shu between Jin and Song. The condition is that he will not send troops to attack our Shaanxi; we do not need to give him anything, just acknowledge his status. The fifty thousand elites of Shukou under his command will only watch from the sidelines." Wanyan Anguo put down his teacup, his fingers tapping lightly on the table, "This person has great ambition but very little courage. He wants to wait until we and Han Tuozhou have fought each other to a standstill, then come out to settle the score."

"Then we—"

"Stall." Wanyan Anguo interrupted him, his voice steady, "He wants to stall; we want to stall even more. He stalls for a day, and the Western Front has five thousand fewer enemies. I stall for a day, and Shaanxi can build one more defensive line. He wants to wait until we and Han Tuozhou are mutually exhausted; we are also waiting—waiting for the situation in the north to become clear, waiting for Heshilie Zhizhong to hold the line on the southern front, waiting for Wanyan Honglie to return from Lin'an. Wu Xi wants Sichuan and Shu? Very well. Sichuan and Shu are not mine; they belong to His Majesty the Emperor of Great Jin. If he wants them, let him wait first. The longer he waits, the more advantageous it is for us. Reply to him, be enthusiastic, say that Great Jin attaches great importance to his sincerity, and specific terms are being submitted to His Majesty for imperial approval. Ask him to continue maintaining the standoff and not to act rashly."

The advisor hesitated for a moment: "What if he really acts—"

"He dares not." Wanyan Anguo said, "If he really dared to fight, he would have exited Dasa Pass two months ago. He crouches behind the pass, repairing plank roads and investigating enemy conditions; to put it plainly, he neither wants to be our vanguard nor wants to be used as a weapon by Han Tuozhou. Such people are the easiest to deal with—you just need to make him feel very safe, and he will keep crouching." Wanyan Anguo gathered the paper ash left from the burned letter, ground it into powder, and blew it away gently. The ash floated onto the table; he wiped it with his hand, leaving a gray mark. "Our greatest enemy now is not Wu Xi, not Han Tuozhou." He raised his eyes, "It is the red flags in the north. Wu Xi wants Sichuan and Shu; just draw him a pie. A pie costs nothing."

Four days later, the secret messenger returned to Dasa Pass with Wanyan Anguo's reply. The reply's wording was extremely polite, starting with "Wanyan Anguo, Commander-in-Chief of Shaanxi of Great Jin, bows twice to the subordinate of Wu Shaobao." The letter addressed Wu Xi as "Shaobao," using his Great Song official title, yet discussed matters with him in the capacity of a high-ranking Jin official, calling him a "talented man who understands the times," implying that the Court had "considerable approval" of his conditions, but time was needed for procedures. It also asked Lord Wu Shaobao to continue maintaining the standoff posture and not to arouse suspicion in Lin'an. The end of the letter even thoughtfully added a sentence—"The wind at Dasa Pass is strong and the weather is cold; please take care of yourself for the sake of the nation, Lord Shaobao."

Wu Xi read the letter, satisfied, and burned it. What he wanted was not for Great Jin to agree immediately; he wanted a promise. With this promise, he could conscientiously continue to crouch behind Dasa Pass, writing to Lin'an "victory reports will come soon" while writing to Great Jin "do not act rashly."

Cheng Song's third memorial urging the advance arrived at Wu Xi's desk in early May. By then, the Eastern Route had captured Lingbi, the Central Route was besieging Dengzhou, both routes fighting bloody battles, while the Western Route remained completely motionless. Cheng Song wrote very anxiously in the memorial—"The Court urges urgently; Grand Preceptor Han is already angry. If troops are not sent out, it will be difficult to account for."

Wu Xi read the memorial, casually placed it on the desk, and ordered someone to send a short reply to Cheng Song. The entire short reply contained only four sentences—"Grain and fodder have not gathered, plank roads are not open, the Xia barbarians are not clear; do not move rashly." The signature was "Wu Xi bows."

When Cheng Song received this short reply, he finally could not hold back. He personally rode from the Pacification Commissioner's headquarters to Wu Xi's main tent, and as soon as he entered the tent gate, he shouted straight at him: "Deputy Commander! Now the Eastern and Central Routes are breaking through like a storm, capturing several cities in a row; the Jin people flee at the sight of them! This is a once-in-a-lifetime war opportunity, fleeting!"

"Fleeting?" Wu Xi suddenly smiled, that smile flashing and vanishing, fast like a reflection on the edge of a blade; he said, "My Lord Cheng, it is not that this subordinate refuses to send troops; it is that we are not prepared. A battle that is not prepared cannot be fought."

"Then when exactly will it be ready?"

"When it is ready, troops will naturally be sent."

"You—" Cheng Song trembled with anger, "I will report to the Court immediately!"

Wu Xi did not stop him. Cheng Song, furious, left the main tent, returned to his own headquarters, spread out paper, picked up his brush, and wrote a military report to Lin'an. He wrote "The Western Front is progressing smoothly," wrote "Deputy Commander Wu supervises the repair of plank roads day and night," wrote "Victory reports will come soon." As he wrote, his hands shook, and the tip of his brush pierced the paper twice. Of course, he knew Wu Xi was stalling, but he dared not tell the truth. Because he was the Pacification Commissioner, any problem with the Western Army would first be held accountable to him. The only thing he could do was urge, stall, and conceal, hoping that Wu Xi would suddenly have a change of conscience one day, or that Grand Preceptor Han would suddenly fly into a rage and dismiss Wu Xi from his post one day.

But Wu Xi was not worried about being dismissed. Because he knew Han Tuozhou dared not—Shukou is a natural fortress; except for the Wu family, no one can defend it.

The spring wind poured into the valley of the Qin Ling Mountains, making the curtains of the tents flap and crackle. Dasa Pass remained the same—blades and spears snow-white, flags waving, fifty thousand elites resting with their weapons ready. From the outside, this looked like a mighty army ready to exit the pass and march north at any moment. But as spring was about to end, this mighty army was still crouching behind the pass wall, not moving a single step. Cheng Song's military reports were still being sent to Lin'an as usual, with flowery wording but empty content.