Chapter 225: Cantonese

At the end of the third month, as Wanyan Loushi launched a surprise attack on northern Shaanxi, the war between Song and Jin erupted once again.

This time, in terms of the scale of mobilization, breadth of involvement, and political resolve on both sides, it could be called unprecedented. To fight this war, the Jin state staged a coup against their own emperor; to respond to this war, the Great Song staged an incident of entrusting an orphan at the palace gate... Moreover, once both sides made up their minds, they paid no further attention to the messy affairs left behind.

Matters like the Mongol Khabul Khan, the Great Sage of Dongting Lake, or Yelu Dashi of the Western Liao—figures and terms that would normally demand the utmost caution—were simply cast aside by both sides at this moment.

There was a faint sense that both nations were burning their boats.

There was no choice. For both Great Jin and Great Song, this was a destined war for national fate.

Indeed, it was destined. If before, Zhao Jiu had only relied on his 'experience' as a time-traveler for rough guesses and muddled thoughts, now there was no longer any need for doubt:

The full-scale war between Song and Jin had already lasted five or six years, and these five or six years of war had been divided into stages.

In the first two and a half years, the Great Song, which possessed absolute strength, suffered repeated collapses, while the Great Jin expanded again and again. What is called quantitative change leading to qualitative change—this unending collapse and ceaseless expansion ultimately led to the Jingkang Incident, which nearly destroyed the Great Song. In the following three years, the Great Song, though still possessing most of its body, had just awakened from shock and struggled desperately to survive. After three years of struggle, it finally returned to its old capital. At the same time, the expansionist momentum of the Jin state since its founding was gradually curbed.

At this point, after tempering and accumulation, the war entered a new stage—the signs of a stalemate between Song and Jin along the Yellow River line were already very clear.

However, at this very moment, since both sides had already entered a war machine mode... as long as they both persisted in this mode, many things were no longer subject to human will... the battles that were bound to erupt would erupt sooner or later, and even the default battlefield was destined.

Everyone knew that after three years of effort, the Great Song's Imperial Camp Army was stronger, while the Western Army remained weak. Everyone knew that Guanzhong was a strategically advantageous region—take it and you could secure the Central Plains; preserve it and you could sustain the Central Plains.

This battle was destined to erupt, destined to erupt in Guanxi, and destined to be influenced by the overall situation of each nation. Every move, every action, every tactic in peacetime—from national strategy and ethnic character down to specific decrees and appointments—would all be tested in this battle.

And whether it was Loushi or Zhao Jiu, they were less the initiators and greeters of the battle than the sword-bearers and shield-bearers chosen by two vast nations. They simply did not decline or evade.

In fact, if Loushi had not sensed that his body could barely hold out, it might have been Wanyan Nianhan, who would have snapped back to attention half a year later after political strife, or even Wanyan Wushu, who would have come to Guanxi to do this.

If Zhao Jiu had not suddenly discovered that he had his own true flesh and blood in this era, and thus made up his mind deep down early on, then it might have been Han Shizhong who presided over this matter... Even if Zhao Jiu had never crawled out of that well, wouldn't Zhang Jun have still staked everything in Guanzhong to buy a breath for the southeastern court?

This battle was inevitable!

"This battle is inevitable, because only by winning this battle can we preserve Guanzhong. You must understand, once Guanzhong is lost, the Central Plains cannot be held either. Then Guanzhong and the Central Plains will end up like Hebei..."

"What happened to Hebei was already made very clear in the official gazettes. I've already explained it, and you men of the Imperial Camp Central Army along the Yellow River—I don't believe you haven't seen the refugees from Hebei. If you don't know, just ask your comrades in the Eight-Character Army... Don't think that becoming obedient subjects of the Jin will get you anywhere. Those Jin Meng'an and Mouke don't treat local people as human beings. When they gamble among themselves, they grab people from the villages as stakes—a strong man counts as two stakes, a woman as one, an old man or a child as half a stake... That's how the Eight-Character Army in the Taihang Mountains rose up..."

"But if this battle can be won, then Guanzhong can be preserved. With Guanzhong preserved, given our Great Song's population, wealth, and weapons, in three years we can surely raise three hundred thousand troops for a northern expedition, in five years we can surely restore the Two Rivers, and in ten years' effort, we may not necessarily be unable to destroy Jin..."

On the last day of the third month, at dusk, before Sishui Pass, a Song army of about four to five thousand men was setting up camp.

Thanks to the military conflict two months earlier and the corresponding imperial expedition, this time the Song army was familiar with the route. The most obvious point was that along the route from Dongjing to Shanzhou, there were large camps left over from last time, which made setting up camp much easier—so much so that the newly minted jinshi sent with the army could even deliver the emperor's will and explain the official gazettes to the company commanders before dinner.

It was said that before His Majesty Zhao set out on this imperial expedition, he had tried to have these jinshi directly enter each company (a unit of a hundred men) to ensure that his resolve, will, and military orders were conveyed and implemented down to the lowest level. It was only abandoned because there simply weren't enough men.

But even so, after the emperor and the central government expressed an unprecedented stern attitude, these new jinshi and military staff had no choice but to increase direct contact with the officers.

At the very least, reading the official gazettes to the company commanders every night during camp, explaining the emperor's will and military orders, and introducing geography and military intelligence had become a 'standing practice' that these jinshi had to perform—and also a rope tightening around their necks.

In fact, the official gazette system under the Court of State Ceremonies had also entered a so-called wartime state after that incident of entrusting an orphan at the palace gate. Supplements were issued almost daily, and the content was no longer confined to traditional forms. At the same time, to ensure the widespread dissemination of the gazettes in the army, several hundred Imperial Academy students, including several hundred scholars from Dongjing city—whether young men from noble families or booksellers—were uniformly conscripted into the Imperial Academy to copy and organize each supplement.

"Today's gazette supplement is about like this."

Beside the campfire, after talking himself hoarse, Liang Jiaying, a jinshi of the same rank who was only in his twenties, looked at the seven or eight company commanders and two or three reserve officers around him, appearing somewhat timid. "Dinner won't be ready for a while. Do you gentlemen have any other needs? Feel free to speak up. If there's anything you didn't understand, ask away. You can also write letters..."

The veteran soldiers around him, each old enough to be Scholar Liang's father or elder brother, exchanged glances and also seemed somewhat timid, or rather uncomfortable.

For Scholar Liang, the second son of a Guangzhou maritime merchant family, he had gone with his father to collect goods north of the Huai River last year when they happened to encounter the court's decree encouraging ransom and opening up special examinations. His father had seized the opportunity, using the merit of spending money to ransom people in Huainan and Huaibei to find a way out for this second son, who would likely have to split the family property in the future. He had hoped to get him a status as a prefectural student, so he could return to Guangzhou as a minor official and complement the eldest son.

Who would have thought that Zhang Jun, the Pacification Commissioner of Huaidong, was a man who handled business for money very efficiently. Seeing that this maritime merchant had ransomed people and offered tributes in no small amount, he simply waved his brush and gave this Cantonese Jiaying kid a special merit, securing him entry into the Imperial Academy. In the end, he even appeared before the throne and obtained the status of jinshi of the same rank.

And Scholar Liang considered himself self-aware, so he never took his own jinshi status seriously. When assigned to the army as a clerk, he dared not make a sound. Even reading the gazette made him nervous. First, he knew his Guangzhou accent couldn't master the elegant Luoyang pronunciation, which was indeed problematic and made him stand out as an outsider. Second, coming from a merchant family, he understood the immediate stakes. He knew that a second-rate bookkeeper like him, in the midst of war and before drawn blades, was utterly worthless...

Correspondingly, these veteran soldiers also felt uneasy... They knew that a jinshi of the same rank was a bit inferior, but wasn't a jinshi of the same rank still a jinshi? Could they be compared to men who wielded blades? Who would dare?

Besides, his strange accent was another important reason they dared not speak... He had talked for a long time, repeated himself many times, and with effort they could roughly grasp the meaning, but it still made them apprehensive.

Scholar Liang called out once, and seeing no one respond, he looked around at the other campfires. He saw other jinshi with the army—some sat upright with a stern expression, speaking calmly, with the soldiers around them silent and daring not to offend; others were familiar and easygoing, chatting and laughing with the military officers, making people feel as warm as a spring breeze. Even the notoriously rigid old scholar-jinshi of the same rank was slowly reading the gazette without pause, maintaining an excellent rhythm... This made Liang even more embarrassed.

Dinner was probably still half an hour away. Several military officers also sensed something was wrong and gradually focused their gazes on a one-eared officer among them.

Liang Jiaying, being young and quick-eyed, immediately stared nervously at this man as well... Scholar Liang knew that this one-eared reserve officer was named Hou Dan. He was one of the most senior officers under the commander Qiao Zhongfu, known for his daring in battle. It was said that ear had been cut off by the Jin during the resistance on the Huai River. Although he was only a reserve officer now, he actually controlled the two most elite companies in Qiao Zhongfu's army. One company, fully armored, was modeled after the Beiwei Army of Deputy Commander Wang De of the Imperial Camp—all wielding great axes. The other company was modeled after Han Shizhong's Cuipian Army—all wielding divine-arm crossbows. They were the core of the core combat power of this army.

Basically, second only to Qiao Zhongfu's few dozen personal guards.

As for Hou Dan, he was used to such situations. Although he had no interest in this kind of thing, seeing that the jinshi had already looked at him, he had no choice but to speak casually: "Secretary Liang..."

'Secretary' was an abbreviation for the position of 'Secretariat of the Military Governor's Headquarters.' By extension, it became a respectful term for those handling financial and clerical documents in the army.

"Commandant Hou, if you have any business, feel free to speak..."

Sure enough, upon hearing himself addressed as 'Secretary,' Scholar Liang immediately replied with 'Commandant,' showing no airs at all.

However, Hou Dan, pushed by the others to strike up a conversation with this Guangzhou jinshi, didn't really know what to ask him to do. After thinking for a long time, he finally came up with a nonsensical request: "I remember there was a story in the gazette before about a Huai River water god. If you have time, Secretary, and remember it, why not tell it to us casually..."

Liang Jiaying had thought he would be asked to help write a letter home, but upon hearing this, he didn't mind. After all, they were all just going through the motions, and passing the time was fine... Besides, the story of the fourteen-zhang great blade had been included in the first issue after the gazette's reformatting, and he was very familiar with it.

And so, while the other jinshi with the army spoke of loyalty to the sovereign and great principles, discussed the scenery of the land, or expounded on the subtle words of the sages, this unambitious and destined-to-be-hopeless jinshi of the same rank, Secretary Liang, simply gave up on himself and, in his strange accent, told the officers around him an outdated tale of monsters and spirits.

Strangely enough, the one-eared Hou Dan and the several officers around him listened with exceptional attention.

The story finished, and dinner began. Secretary Liang, having fulfilled his duty, breathed a sigh of relief. The officers also returned to their respective units for their meals as usual. The various tedious matters of military life need not be detailed. Suffice it to say that the next morning, the one-eared Hou Dan got up to prepare his troops but received a strange order: he was to lead those two companies to remain in camp and await the rear army.

This truly surprised Hou Dan, because such tasks were usually assigned to auxiliary troops. Why use the most elite units? Moreover, as a senior officer, he had already learned from Qiao Zhongfu that this advance was extremely urgent—they needed to enter Guanxi before the Jin eastern army could assemble and cut off Guanxi, to rendezvous with Han Shizhong, Commandant Han.

He had to understand that although they were only going to the Chang'an area, still far from his hometown, as a man from Guanxi, he hadn't been back in five or six years. Chang'an was still where his native dialect was spoken.

However, this time Qiao Zhongfu didn't allow him to joke around or play tricks. With a blunt military order issued, he set out with the main force, marching rapidly westward.

It was only then that the usually shrewd Hou Dan discovered a new problem: Secretary Liang was also staying behind at the main camp with a team of auxiliary troops... In other words, this unit was responsible for handing over the camp. He had been deliberately left behind.

This made Hou Dan a little tense, but also a little relieved.

Sure enough, by the evening of that day—the evening of the first day of the fourth month—when he saw a familiar dragon banner rolling in from east to west along the official road, not entering Sishui Pass but going into the camp before the pass, Hou Dan finally breathed a sigh of relief.

Regardless, from a psychological standpoint, following the emperor and protecting the emperor was also a good excuse he could use to convince himself not to go home.

As for Liang Jiaying, Secretary Liang, he grew increasingly panicked... Because according to the rules, he still had to read the gazette tonight. But were the company commanders of the Imperial Guard so easy to fool? Would high-ranking officials from the central government come to listen?

Would the emperor notice his Cantonese? Would he become a laughingstock in the army, in Dongjing city, and even throughout the entire realm?

If only he had studied the elegant Henan pronunciation more!

At this thought, the jinshi of the same rank, Jiaying kid, was utterly disheartened.

PS: I thought about it, but I'll still release half a chapter. Web novels need to follow the rules... I've been a bit obsessed with plotting these past few days. At noon, I was even telling people that literary, angsty, protagonist-torturing works are the real masterpieces... I'm brain-damaged too.