Chapter 169: Dog Head

From Guandu, where Zhi Pavilion borders Chenliu, heading north past Wuchao, you reach the most important crossing on the lower Yellow River: Baima Ford.

On the south bank, where a few huts stood, dozens of boats large and small were moored, watched over year-round by the ford officer. When Feng Yan arrived with his private retainers, the sky was barely light, yet the crowd waiting to cross was already packed so dense he could not see the end of it.

Feng Yan was resourceful. Though he had sent his seal and ribbon back to the General of Renewal, he had brought two sets of official robes and carried a conspicuous staff of authority, so he managed to cut ahead to the front. He summoned the ford officer and asked, "Why are so many people crossing the river?"

The ford officer licked his lips, not daring to speak the truth, until Feng Yan had his retainers flash their blades and gave him a bolt of silk. Only then did the officer confess: "It was always busy, but since summer began the river has been shifting wildly, so refugees downstream flee toward Zhi Pavilion. Yet life here is no easier. The Red Eyebrows hold Mount Liang southeast of the commandery. The starving refugees cannot travel far; they either join them, or, if they have families, they cross from Baima into Weicheng."

The ford officer pointed across the broad river and said enviously, "Because everyone says that ever since a Grand Governor Diwu came to Weicheng, Hebei has grown peaceful. And now that the imperial army has arrived nearby, people fear Zhi Pavilion will become a battlefield and are doing everything they can to flee to Hebei."

The armies of the General of Renewal and the Grand Preceptor had made Dingtao their rallying point and were advancing from west to east. Besides the main force, they had split into several columns, one of which passed through Zhi Pavilion Commandery.

Even though Wang Hong — the one who tried to kill himself by poison but failed — did his utmost to hold things together, he could not withstand the two forces of the imperial army and the Red Eyebrows twisting his jurisdiction apart. The commandery seat fell into ruin at once, bandits ran rampant, and the powerful local houses all fortified themselves in their strongholds while ordinary families wandered in despair, not knowing where to turn. The opposite bank, Weicheng, had become a fine refuge instead.

Feng Yan understood. Once aboard the boat, he looked back. The south bank was even more crowded with people desperate to cross, a chaotic mess, some even fighting over their place in line. He could only sigh: "In times like these, when will things ever get better?"

Braving the river wind, they reached the north bank. Before the boat could dock, Feng Yan saw the Liyang ferry crossing, guarded by a tightly disciplined detachment of troops. The officer in charge stretched out a hand and ordered the boat to halt.

Then the people aboard were made to disembark. Families hoping to take refuge in Weicheng went left; refugees who had clung to the boats went right. Each was received and questioned in turn — these were the subordinate clerks Diwu Lun had recruited in his second batch this year, registering every arrival's place of origin.

Feng Yan did not presume on his status as an aide to the General of Renewal. He simply bowed to the officer and said, "An old friend of Lord Diwu, Feng Yan, courtesy name Jingtong, requests an audience in Yecheng."

The officer was none other than Zhao Pang, the Bandit Section Clerk. With the two generals reaching Liang territory in the fourth and fifth months and the situation growing tense, Diwu Lun had dispatched him to guard Liyang and screen those entering the commandery — absorbing able-bodied commoners into the army, levying a heavy tax on wealthy households entering the commandery to fund the troops, while guarding against small bands of imperial soldiers coming north to plunder.

And so it was that Feng Yan witnessed this scene of strict order here. He nodded to himself: "Boyu has done the right thing. Liyang and Baima are contested ground in war. Never mind the more distant struggles of Zhao, Wei, and Qi, who fought over this place time and again — at the end of Qin, when Zhang Han besieged Julu, Xiang Yu crossed north from here to relieve Zhao. During the Chu–Han struggle, the Gaozu sent Liu Jia, Prince of Jing, with twenty thousand troops and several hundred cavalry to cross the river at Baima Ford into Liang territory and coordinate with Peng Yue in striking the Chu army's flank, thus lifting the siege of Chenggao."

Fortunately, the Yellow River had shifted its course downstream at Puyang, so the natural barrier of Baima still held — like a moat for Wei territory.

Once the realm descends into chaos, this place will surely be the critical passage between north and south. Diwu Lun's decision to send troops to hold this choke point was absolutely necessary — at the very least, it would keep Weicheng from being thrown into turmoil by the tempo of events on the south bank.

And the news of Feng Yan's arrival at Liyang traveled even faster than his northward journey, reaching the commandery offices in Yecheng.

"Feng Yan is coming? Wasn't he serving on the staff of the General of Renewal?"

Commandery Adjutant Geng Chun said, "Could he be here to requisition grain? Didn't the court agree to write off last year's grain arrears because Boyu argued forcefully that Weicheng Commandery needed the grain to raise troops and protect the Wang clan ancestral tombs at Yuancheng?"

Though it was hardly news for the Xin to go back on its word, this would be a stunningly quick about-face.

"I suspect Feng Yan has not come on official business this time."

Diwu Lun had noticed that Feng Yan did not call himself an envoy of the General of Renewal, but instead gave his own name and came as an old friend. That was highly unusual. Could he have offended the General of Renewal and lost his post?

"Then what sort of carriage should we send for him?"

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In this age, the post stations dispatched carriages and horses according to rank, in these grades: riding horse, yao relay, riding relay, four-horse relay, and post relay — corresponding respectively to petty clerks, officials of two hundred dan, six hundred dan, two thousand dan, and the Three Dukes and Nine Ministers.

But with the realm on the verge of chaos, who still cared about all that? How the official carriages were assigned was ultimately up to the commandery's Grand Governor. As long as he did not go too far and send out a six- or seven-team relay reserved for the Son of Heaven, it was fine.

"Send Feng Yan a four-horse relay with middle-grade steeds." Diwu Lun raised Feng Yan's treatment to the two-thousand-dan level, but then recalled that he did, after all, owe the man a great favor — and perhaps he could coax some inside information about the General of Renewal out of him — so he raised it another grade.

"Wait — receive him with a post relay, four horses of the highest grade!"

Geng Chun caught the subtle distinction and assumed Diwu Lun thought very highly of Feng Yan. As the third-ranking man in the commandery, he remarked, "I've only heard that he is an old acquaintance of yours and helped alter the Boar-Rush Braves' marching route in New Qinzhong. What of his actual ability?"

When it came to Feng Yan's ability, Diwu Lun felt a touch of awkwardness and was not sure how to explain it to others.

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The first time he met Feng Yan was a few years ago in Xinfeng, when they witnessed the arrival of that giant Ju Wuba together. Judging by his words and deeds, Feng Yan came from a noble and powerful clan, but his family had fallen on hard times. Though he claimed not to care, he was always a little bitter toward the newly risen elite.

In his youth he made lofty purity his creed and refused to serve the Xin Dynasty — yet he later accepted an appointment from Lian Dan. Diwu Lun never quite understood that move.

Feng Yan was widely read in poetry and classics; his level of learning was beyond question. He claimed to love verse and fu-rhapsodies. Back at the Hongmen encampment, he had even shown Diwu Lun a "humble composition" and asked for his opinion. But after reading it, Diwu Lun thought it was nothing special — the style outstripped the substance. Or perhaps his taste for prose had long since been spoiled by Yang Xiong.

Later, when they met again in New Qinzhong, Feng Yan's conduct was self-professedly loyal and righteous, yet in practice he was somewhat slick. When there was nothing pressing, he liked to comment on the state of the realm, but his judgment… well, it was rather mediocre, with no outstanding insight. Of course, it might have been a case of shallow acquaintance precluding deep conversation, and the man had been hiding his limitations.

So the impression this man had left on Diwu Lun so far could be summed up in a single word: tangled. He had some ability — by Huan Tan's five-grade standard for worthies, he reached the third tier, "a man fit for a province or commandery" — but Feng Yan always thought rather too highly of himself, believing he was a man fit for the whole realm.

In front of Geng Chun, Diwu Lun was not about to disparage a man's faults; it was better to let him observe for himself. So he merely praised Feng Yan in broad terms, while thinking to himself:

"If Feng Jingtong really has lost his post and come to join me, he should do just fine as a dog-headed strategist!"

…

Feng Yan was desperate to reach Yecheng quickly, so it was only when he got to Neihuang County that he boarded the post relay Diwu Lun had sent.

This was treating him like one of the Three Dukes or Nine Ministers. Feng Yan was inwardly overjoyed. Once seated, he thought to himself: "Boyu truly knows how to recognize great talent — he understands that I, Feng Yan, am worthy of such treatment."

From the moment he traveled north from Liyang, Feng Yan had decided: coming to Weicheng Commandery was the right choice!

Unlike Zhi Pavilion, which had fallen into chaos, here in Wei territory Feng Yan saw the order he had sorely missed ever since heading east.

It was high summer, and a fine rain hung like mist over the road. Everywhere Feng Yan looked along the way, the plains were lush and green. In the distance, in some powerful clan's orchard, green plums hung heavy on the boughs, a sight that made the mouth water. In the fields by the road, the winter wheat was turning gold — a sign that the harshest season was about to pass. Though every village had organized its militia to guard against bandits, there were still the old and weak mending tools beneath the mulberry trees, preparing for the coming summer harvest.

Judging by this pastoral scene before him, it was immeasurably better than the commanderies of Yan Province, which were ravaged by soldiers and bandits — as if they belonged to two different worlds. No wonder so many people were fighting tooth and nail to get here.

In the past, Feng Yan had observed Diwu Lun and thought him, like Wang Mang, a man fond of stirring up grand projects. But from last autumn until now, Diwu Lun had actually managed to restrain himself. He had not rushed headlong into launching new policies that would torment the common people; instead, he let them farm in peace, missing not a single seasonal task. It seemed he had matured considerably. To preserve a patch of tranquility amid all-encompassing chaos was proof enough of Diwu Lun's ability to govern a commandery.

Passing by the shores of Yellow Marsh, he saw that this land, once overrun with bandits, had now been turned into a training ground. Able-bodied refugees from Baima and the east were gathered here, and the number of troops being drilled had exceeded Diwu Lun's expectations — his Yellow Turban commandery soldiers were racing toward three thousand.

When he drew near Yecheng, he saw even more signs of prosperity. Cooking smoke curled from the ward lanes, and the cries of hawkers along the roads were endless. One had to remember that in many cities of Liang territory, even commerce had been wiped out entirely.

Diwu Lun adopted the manner of receiving an old friend and came out of the city in person to greet him. As Feng Yan stepped down from the carriage, they clasped hands and laughed. Diwu Lun even offered to have the full honor guard march ahead with drums and pipes playing as they entered Ye hand in hand, so that everyone in the city would know he had arrived.

This was a deliberate probe, and as expected, Feng Yan — a man who had just faked his own death — dared not be so conspicuous. He refused at once and was willing only to enter the commandery offices with Diwu Lun through a side gate.

"So he really has bolted," Diwu Lun understood. He did not ask Feng Yan's purpose, but first dismissed the irrelevant attendants and invited Feng Yan discreetly into the compound. On the way, he gestured at the Yecheng streetscape and asked with a smile, "Jingtong, you have seen all the great cities of the Central Plains on your journey. What do you make of my humble little Weicheng Commandery?"

"The benevolent man draws the common people to him like flowing water — Boyu, you have done well." Feng Yan began with a stream of praise, then added: "You have also sent crack troops to hold the strategic pass at Baima and are drilling soldiers within. It seems self-preservation is assured. Only…"

Feng Yan's tone shifted as he began to disparage: "Only, Boyu, do you truly believe that in this age of collapse and disintegration — with the imperial army to the south, the Red Eyebrows to the east, and the various Zhao powers to the north — you can really keep yourself safe in the great chaos with just a single commandery? You have no idea how bad things have become south of the great river. I fear the peace of Wei territory cannot last much longer."

Diwu Lun knew perfectly well that Feng Yan was using a bit of a formulaic ploy, but he played along anyway. Putting on the standard attitude of one seeking counsel, he said with a face full of worry, "I, Lun, often fret over this very matter. Outside, the great waves surge; the little boat of Weicheng can hardly stay intact. I am frequently startled awake from nightmares. But my virtue and talent are shallow — Jingtong, you are a man of great ability, and surely you have come with some brilliant plan to teach me!"

The truth was, Feng Yan had seen that Diwu Lun already had quite a few civil and military officers around him and realized he was rather late in coming to offer his service. If he wanted to stay in Wei territory, relying solely on the favor he had done in the past and the post relay he had ridden in on would probably not win others' respect — after all, they were not Diwu Lun and did not know his superior talent. So he wanted to prove his ability at once and secure the position of chief advisor in one stroke. That was the reason for this performance.

"It is actually not difficult."

Feng Yan pointed west and said in a low voice, "Why not secretly form an alliance with the neighboring commandery — for mutual protection!"

…

PS: Bonus updates continue tomorrow.

(Silver Alliance bonus update 6/11)