Chapter 78: Section Six

"My thanks to Military Commander Mao, and my thanks to you, Big Brother." Huang Shi drained his wine in one gulp. "Your younger brother also wishes you a boundless future. Even more, I wish Lord Mao success in his endeavors and a name that will live on in history."

Help often comes from sympathy, and sympathy comes from understanding — or perhaps from resonance. That should be the principle, shouldn't it?

Huang Shi racked his brains for a few inspirational poems, but unfortunately none were quite suitable. He had originally intended to use an earlier allusion, so that Mao Wenlong would understand it without misunderstanding, but limited by his literary level, he had no choice but to plagiarize a later writer's work.

Borrowing the wine's courage, Huang Shi murmured under his breath: "A man's hand grasps the Wu hook blade, seeking a noble title three thousand li away."

Quit while you're ahead — don't bring out extra lines and gild the lily. This poem also had the advantage of being perfectly usable by a subject of the throne.

After Huang Shi finished reciting, Mao Wenlong seemed to freeze, wine bowl in hand. A glint of light flashed through his eyes as he stared at Huang Shi for a moment. But it lasted only an instant; Mao Wenlong immediately set down his wine bowl and clapped his hands. "Fine poetry — truly a man's heroic spirit. Did Mobile Corps Commander Huang write it?"

"No, it's something this humble officer once heard someone else recite." Huang Shi dared not boast falsely about this.

Ancient texts had no punctuation; breaking sentences in an essay was a basic accomplishment for a man of letters, while composing ci poetry and fu rhapsodies was an advanced skill. The two were roughly equivalent to the relationship between basic literacy and writing a doctoral dissertation. A modern person who couldn't even break sentences fluently, even if they rattled off the finest poems in one breath, would certainly be assumed to have copied them.

It was just like a modern person seeing an illiterate man holding a pile of first-rate calligraphy works — they would certainly know he hadn't written them, and that they could only have been stolen. Huang Shi had used punctuation marks his entire earlier life; although he had adapted for a few years in this era, his sentence-breaking was still very stiff, so he didn't have the nerve to spout any poetry.

"Oh? Whose poem is it, and what is it called?"

Huang Shi shrugged. "This humble officer only remembers the content. The name was long forgotten."

"So that's how it is. 'Seeking a noble title three thousand li away, seeking a noble title three thousand li away.'" Mao Wenlong repeated this line of poetry several times. His ideal was to be enfeoffed as a noble, but he had never proclaimed this ambition within the army. At this moment, in the entire Dongjiang, only Huang Shi, relying on his historical knowledge, had seen through his heart.

"Is Mobile Corps Commander Huang's ideal also to be enfeoffed?" Mao Wenlong suddenly shot the question at Huang Shi.

"This young man is presumptuous; I make a laughingstock before General Mao." Huang Shi shamelessly admitted it.

"So Mobile Corps Commander Huang harbors such aspirations," Mao Wenlong smiled. This smile was brimming with friendliness, giving a warm, comforting feeling. "Remarkable!"

This smile made Huang Shi's heart leap with joy. He weighed every word carefully as he said: "This humble officer was once a beggar. When fortune was against me, I made a living telling people's fortunes."

After these two sentences left his mouth, Huang Shi noticed Mao Wenlong's expression become subtle. Historical records said that in his youth, Mao Wenlong had been destitute and also made his living by fortune-telling and begging for food.

"I make a laughingstock before General Mao. So-called fortune-telling is merely tricking a meal out of someone. When there was no fortune-telling business, this lowly man begged along the streets, one meal when hungry, one meal when full, barely avoiding starvation. But even when this lowly man was suffering from hunger and cold, he always held the ideal of establishing merit, being enfeoffed, and becoming a general."

Kong Youde burst out laughing at this, while Mao Wenlong smiled and shook his head repeatedly, his right hand unconsciously tapping the tabletop before him with his fingers. He recalled how, when he was down and out, he had boasted to his relatives: no noble title, no rest. His friends and family treated it as a bizarre tale, ridiculing him until he was utterly humiliated, so mortified he wanted to burrow into the ground.

Huang Shi continued: "When the Jianzhou slaves rebelled, Lord Wang Huazhen wanted men to infiltrate the Jianzhou army as spies. Everyone was afraid and dared not go, but although this lowly man knew the mission was nine deaths for one life, I gladly accepted the order — because wealth and rank are sought amidst danger."

Kong Youde praised him: "Brother, you truly have great courage."

But Mao Wenlong remained silent. Back then, when Wang Huazhen recruited brave men to strike out into Liaodong, the over one hundred thousand troops at Guangning all dared not go. Mao Wenlong picked fewer than two hundred soldiers and sailed three thousand li out to sea, raiding Zhenjiang by surprise, beheading the Later Jin garrison commander, and recovering four hundred li of territory. This was the Great Ming's first counterattack victory, first beheading of an enemy commander, first presentation of captives at the palace gates, and even more, the first recovery of lost land. Mao Wenlong, too, had relied on one life-or-death strike to obtain the post of Vice Regional Commander.

Huang Shi downed another large bowl of wine, having made up his mind to feign drunkenness and speak as if in wine. "Everyone thinks Huang Mou is loyal and righteous, but in truth, I also had selfish motives. At the Battle of Xiping, that traitor Sun Degong sent me to my death. If I were truly loyal and righteous, I should have died to repay the nation. But Huang Shi asked himself — he had not yet accomplished any great undertaking, and he absolutely refused to die. So I had to flee back to Guangning, had to fight to the death to kill the traitor Sun and earn merit. Huang Mou is not afraid of others saying he fears death, but Huang Shi fears dying in obscurity."

"Brother, you're drunk." Seeing Huang Shi speak more and more outrageously, Kong Youde moved to pull him away.

Huang Shi shook him off and continued: "If I were truly loyal and righteous, at the battle outside Lüshun I should have lived and died together with my soldiers. But I fancy myself a hero, and I absolutely refuse to die in vain!"

These words silenced Kong Youde as well. He didn't know what to say. But Mao Wenlong murmured quietly: "The true colors of a hero — only a true hero can show his true colors!"

At this moment, Mao Wenlong recalled his two experiences at Zhenjiang and Longchuan, where he had disguised himself as a common soldier to flee. When his army was defeated, Mao Wenlong had also refused to die before the battle lines, instead wanting to escape with his life and continue his ideal of recovering Liaodong and being enfeoffed, bringing noble rank to his descendants.

"My lord sees clearly," Huang Shi cupped his fist toward Mao Wenlong, his tongue already thick from drink. "I, Huang, consider myself an upright and honorable great man, and how can a great man not make his name known across the realm? How can he not bring noble titles to his wife and children? That is why I am unwilling to go to Shanhai Pass — there is no opportunity there to make a name across the realm, no chance to be enfeoffed and become a general."

"A great man naturally must make his name known across the realm," Kong Youde chimed in, raising another bowl of wine to toast Huang Shi. "Brother, I toast you."

In the end, both Huang Shi and Kong Youde drank themselves into a stupor, but Mao Wenlong did not drink another bowl. He had his personal guards help the two men out to rest, and remained alone before the table. He took out Zhang Pan's letter and read it through once more, then silently recalled his first meeting with Huang Shi at Zhenjiang.

"A man very like myself — ambitious and very capable, practically myself twenty years ago. Even his experiences are almost a replica of mine. This kind of man should not die in obscurity — just like myself..."

Huang Shi's current situation was very awkward. If he ultimately still had to slink off to Shanhai Pass, he would be unable to face the loyal subordinates who had followed him all this way. For soldiers, even the most devastating losses could be understood, but meaningless casualties were unacceptable.

Mao Wenlong weighed the pros and cons in his mind. Wang Huazhen's kindness was something he would never forget his entire life. To clear Wang Huazhen of his crimes, Mao Wenlong had historically submitted six memorials, repeatedly seeking to use his own military merits to spare Wang Huazhen's life.

"For someone like me, the opportunity to establish merit is the true kindness. Sun Degong gave him a daughter, but wanted to ruin his future. If I had encountered such a thing, Sun Degong would not be a benefactor but an enemy. Hmm. Back then, it was Lord Wang Huazhen who gave me a hand, letting me rise above the rest. Now, should I also give him a hand?"