Chapter 314: The Gambler

In Liu Bosheng's memory, the sky over Chongling was forever clear — blue heavens, white waters, waves of cicada song, and the green shade cast by a great banyan tree: that was their boyhood life.

Beyond swordplay and blade-work, the Liu brothers, born of the same mother, also played the games befitting imperial clansmen of cultured refinement — such as weiqi.

"Aaaargh! Lost again."

The elder Liu Bosheng was not so boorish as to imitate their ancestor Emperor Jing of Han, who lost both the game and his dignity and simply snatched up the board to smash his opponent's skull; he only slammed the table in frustration, sending black and white stones flying.

Liu Xiu, a few years younger, would always purse his thick lips in a slight smile, then obediently lower his head and crawl about picking up every scattered stone.

Liu Bosheng would fold his arms and watch his honest, inwardly gifted younger brother, stewing in silence — then after a while, feeling a twinge of guilt, he would grudgingly hand over the stake they had agreed on, a newly acquired dagger, and, annoyed that Liu Xiu did not know how to use it, would personally instruct him hand to hand.

"Axiu, remember this — you have to stab a man like this to kill!"

The bond between brothers is complicated: the mutual dependence of having lost their father early, and the small jealousy because the clan elders doted more on Liu Xiu. Yet however much Liu Bosheng might grumble about Liu Xiu, saying he would never amount to much, if anyone in Chongling or even Caiyang County dared slight his younger brother — be it the County Magistrate's son or some older cousin of the same clan — Liu Bosheng would march straight over with his companions, weapons in hand, and beat the other boy until he knelt and begged for mercy!

"What's so fun about weiqi?"

When Liu Xiu suggested another round, this time taking black and giving a handicap, Liu Bosheng answered thus. The elder brother was loath to admit that weiqi demanded too much patience and strategic vision — it was a game he could never beat Liu Xiu at — and merely said, "I still prefer liubo!"

Liubo was simpler than weiqi; before moving a piece you first cast lots, which relied heavily on luck — and Liu Bosheng loved to gamble!

"When I have no choice but to gamble, I gamble too." Liu Xiu simply gathered the black and white stones in his palm and dropped them one by one back into the bowls, like raindrops pattering onto a jade plate, clattering softly.

He raised his head and smiled at his elder brother. "But when you can win by strategy, why stake everything on a single desperate throw?"

"Grand General? Grand General!"

A call from outside the command tent pulled Liu Bosheng from the past back to the present. He looked down — the brush was in his hand, the bamboo slip bore his name and was already sealed. He looked up — directly ahead, a flawed and error-riddled campaign map hung in the tent, marked with the point Lai Xi might have reached by now and the location of the fighting in the east, but the outcome on both fronts was still unknown.

"Wenshu, by now I have already cast out both the pieces I could maneuver — east and west — and all I hold in my hand is the final desperate stake!"

Liu Bosheng murmured to himself, then turned to the man who had softly called his name: it was Liu Zhong, a Chongling clansman who had helped him ambush and kill the Huyang County Assistant at the start of the uprising, now serving as Palace Attendant in the Gengshi court and on very close terms with Liu Xiu.

The letter Liu Bosheng was writing now was precisely the one he intended to entrust to him.

Do not be fooled by Liu Bosheng's usual bluster, forever talking of "cutting off the Wei River to break the enemy" — after so many days of facing off against Diwu Lun, he knew he had met a formidable foe. The opposite bank was, after all, Diwu Lun's home territory: ruler and ministers of one mind, army and people a single body, holding the Wei River defense line absolutely watertight.

Simple feints were useless; he had to grit his teeth and give the elite of the Chongling troops to Lai Xi, while also sending the most capable fighters among his "motley forces," the Deng clan troops, east to reinforce Wang Chang.

Those two pieces were like stones thrown into the Wei River — no response for a long time — until this noon, when the Wei troops garrisoned at Xiliu Camp suddenly stirred restlessly; three or four thousand men marched out of camp and headed north, flying the "Geng" banner. Even the Greenwood's poor intelligence knew that was Geng Yan, one of Diwu Lun's great generals.

"The eastern and western thrusts must have succeeded, forcing Diwu Lun to pull troops back to reinforce!"

The officers were all delighted, and Liu Bosheng hoped it was so — it had to be so!

By dividing the Shanglin Park, the grain they had seized from the powerful families south of the Wei still had some surplus, enough to last them into winter; once that source was secured, the frequency of plundering had lessened somewhat, but the morale boost the troops had gained from dividing the palaces was being worn away day by day — they had to strike before it was utterly spent.

"Azhong, you are one of us." Liu Bosheng often addressed his clansmen with such affectionate familiarity.

"Tonight, I will personally lead the troops across the Wei to attack; you will stay behind and hold this place."

"If I return, this letter need not be delivered."

"If I do not return, then go south, seek refuge with Liu Jia, the King of Hanzhong, and later, deliver this letter to Wenshu for me."

Liu Zhong was stunned; close as he was, he had never seen Liu Bosheng act like this before, and could only say, "Grand General, is this battle truly…"

"What nonsense are you thinking!"

Liu Bosheng burst out laughing again. "If I return, it will surely be in total victory."

"If I do not return, it will be because I have gone berserk in the slaughter, fought all the way to Yueyang, or even Hexi, and had no time to come back — so I need you to go bring the good news to Liu Jia and Wenshu for me!"

He rose to his feet, tightened his armor, and resumed his scornful manner. "That so-called King of Wei, Diwu Lun — mere clay chickens and pottery dogs!"

…

After he strode out of the great tent, a group of Chongling colonels gathered to discuss the specific plan for crossing the Wei, and among them stood one conspicuous figure — Cen Peng, standing alone at a distance neither near nor far; as a surrendered general, his position was somewhat awkward.

Liu Bosheng greeted everyone with his usual hearty manner, then called Cen Peng aside.

"Junran, the plan of making noise east and west while striking the middle — I owe much to you for devising and refining it for me."

Liu Bosheng looked at Cen Peng and said, "You and Diwu Lun are acquainted, yet you have given your all in planning for me. I was not wrong — Junran is indeed a true man of honor."

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"General, you spared my life. Cen Peng acts with integrity — since I have surrendered to the Great Han and serve under your command, I will do my utmost."

Just as he had known full well the Xin Dynasty's cause was lost, yet insisted on standing with Yan You and holding Wancheng to the very last moment — Cen Peng offered his counsel out of personal loyalty, not for any fixed regime.

But Cen Peng had one question he had never dared to voice, until today, when he mustered the courage to ask: "Your subordinate once overheard that the King of Wei wished to exchange the General's younger brother's wife for me, but the Grand General refused. Why?"

"Is Cen Peng, a mere defeated officer, really more useful than General Wenshu's beloved wife, a daughter of the Yin clan?"

"Cen Junran, you think too little of yourself."

Liu Bosheng's expression grew solemn. "Xiao He said: 'Generals are easy to come by; a man like Han Xin is a state peerless.'"

"You, Cen Junran, are the same — of the seed of a commander, a state peer! And I admire your character besides; naturally I could not trade you for a mere woman and child. That would be an insult, a supreme humiliation — even if she is the woman my younger brother favors."

Liu Bosheng laughed heartily. "If Diwu Lun were willing to trade fifteen cities north of the Wei, I might consider it."

This was comparing Cen Peng to the Heshi Jade, which only made Cen Peng's heart heavier. He bowed his head and said, "A mere surrendered officer, receiving such generous treatment from the General — I have no way to repay it."

It was truly a torment and a dilemma: on one hand, Cen Peng hoped Diwu Lun would win; on the other, he did not wish Liu Bosheng to lose. The former had been the first to recognize his talent and recommend him — the grace of a patron who saw his worth; the latter had pardoned him to display righteousness and had the Gengshi court enfeoff him as a marquis — the grace of saving his life.

Yet the inevitably clashing ambitions of Diwu Lun and Liu Bosheng forced him to make a choice.

Liu Bosheng also looked at Cen Peng and asked the question.

"Junran, in your judgment — what are my odds of victory in this battle?"

"Speak truthfully!"

Since Cen Peng had drawn up plans for Liu Bosheng, he naturally understood what this battle meant. He could only grit his teeth and say, "If both the eastern and western thrusts — Generals Deng and Lai — succeed, and the Grand General strikes across the Wei, then it is five in ten!"

"Even then, only an even match?" Liu Bosheng pressed further. "And without them? Three in ten?"

"The King of Wei holds the advantage of the Wei River and his fleet — the odds would be nine to one."

"One in ten?"

Liu Bosheng fell silent, but after a long moment he laughed again. "Those odds — they're worth a gamble!"

He pointed at Cen Peng. "You truly never speak falsehoods, nor are you willing to dissemble. No wonder you languished unrecognized for over a decade in the Xin Dynasty, until you met Diwu Lun and Yan Erudite."

"For your sake, Junran — if I win, I will spare Diwu Lun."

After saying this, Liu Bosheng straightened his expression and departed, leaving Cen Peng behind in the camp south of the Wei. But in his heart, there were words he had not spoken.

"Yet if I am unlucky enough to fall, Cen Junran, do whatever you must do — you need not remember my kindness! On this wager, Liu Bosheng stakes his heart gladly!"

……

There were three bridges over the Wei in all. The Middle Wei Bridge faced Chang'an directly; the Eastern Wei Bridge led to Diwu Lun's old home, Changling. The Western Wei Bridge lay right before them, and on the opposite bank was Xiliu Camp.

Their pontoon bridge was built upon the wreckage of the Western Wei Bridge — it was said that Wang Mang had burned it out of fear of Diwu Lun, but Liu Bosheng believed Diwu Lun had burned it out of fear of him.

The wooden planks of the bridge had all been consumed by fire, but the stone piers, switched to stone back in the Han dynasty, still remained. Every dozen or so paces one stood, planted in the river's current, blackened by smoke and flame.

Work on the pontoon bridges had begun in succession over the past few days. First they sent strong swimmers across to haul ropes to the piers as anchors. Then they lashed small boats to the ropes, and laid planks over the boats. In practice it was of course far less simple, but in Liu Bosheng's eyes that was the gist of it. To delve deeper — which knot to tie how, how to lay the planks, how to keep the boats steady in the current — that was the craftsmen's fine work.

The Greenwood Army was accustomed to mobile warfare and rich in pontoon-building experience. To guard against enemy fire ships coming to destroy the bridges, they had taken the precaution of building one bridge to the left of the piers and one to the right — the left bridge longer, the right bridge shorter.

The left bridge was already three-quarters complete, with only a few dozen paces left to the northern bank; a few strong swimmers could have crossed it in a breath. But now the building had to be done under the enemy's crossbows and fire arrows, and every day was spent purely putting out flames. The right bridge was two-thirds complete, also just barely within the enemy's range.

Liu Bosheng sat by the Wei River, waiting for the sun to sink little by little in the west. From the opposite bank came what sounded like Guanzhong ballads — they were singing "Fighting South of the Wall." Word had it that Diwu Lun had personally entered Xiliu Camp, and it was also said that this King of Wei was most fond of having his soldiers sing back and forth to one another.

And when they reached the lines, "Beams built a house — how to go south? How to go north?" and "At dawn they marched out to attack; at dusk they never returned," the voices swelled especially loud. It seemed pointed.

Liu Bosheng merely gave a cold laugh. "What they're singing are neither Chu songs nor Nanyang tunes. The soldiers can't understand them — it won't be so easy to break our army's spirit."

But it still had some effect. On their own side, the rustic songs of Jing-Chu and Nanyang — the Xiali and Baren melodies — began to rise as well, one after another. They were homesick.

And so time slipped away little by little with the flowing water. It seemed today would pass like any other, in the calm of a standoff.

Yet as night fell, far off in the direction of the Middle Wei Bridge, thirty or forty li downstream, the sky blazed with fire! The din of battle rose on all sides!

That was where Liu Bosheng had assigned Yin Shi and others to use the piers there to build two more pontoon bridges. They were to launch a feint attack first, while the troops massed at the Western Wei Bridge hid in the woods along the bank and behind the village hamlets, making ready.

A short while later, another force of Wei soldiers left the camp, heading east!

"In Xiliu Camp, at Diwu Lun's side — how many thousand men remain?"

Liu Bosheng rose to his feet, picked up a thin, flat stone, and flung it skipping across the Wei. His strength was great, his aim true — it skipped over a dozen times before sinking into the river. But in the end, it still could not reach the opposite shore.

"Begin!"

He turned back and entered the dry fields hidden by the willow groves. On the just-harvested land, besides wheat stubble, there were only soldiers pillowed on the stalks, eating and drinking.

"Grand General."

"Grand General Who Pillars Heaven."

Liu Bosheng walked among the Chongling troops. By the faint firelight, he could call out many of their names one by one. He remembered when he and his brother had first raised the banner of righteousness at Baishui Village — the men who followed them then numbered no more than two or three thousand soldiers. Little by little they had expanded, though at times they had suffered setbacks and been scattered.

Many of those men had already fallen on the battlefield — some had perished in the dense fog at Little Chang'an, some had broken their blades in the siege of Wancheng, some had even died from the exhaustion of long marches. After all the comings and goings, winnowed down to the present, a total of just over six thousand troops from their core army had entered the pass. Two thousand had been given to Lai Xi for his daring venture; four thousand remained.

And now, Liu Bosheng had selected two thousand of them and entrusted them to his most trusted fierce general, Liu Ji. He too was a veteran of many battles; since they had raised their troops over a year ago, he had fought dozens of engagements large and small, his valor surpassing the entire army. He submitted to no one else — only to Bosheng himself!

"Aji, you shall be the vanguard!"

The Chongling troops were fine steel, to be used only on the blade's edge. Whether the river crossing would succeed depended on them. Only if they could fight their way ashore first would the ten-thousand-odd motley troops behind them have the courage to follow.

"I reverently accept this command!" Liu Ji dropped to one knee. "Glory in death — no disgrace in life!"

The same goes for me!

Liu Bosheng nodded and ordered them to make ready at once.

Meanwhile, by the river, under Liu Bosheng's direction, masses of motley troops carrying door planks torn from village houses, or timber felled from Shanglin Park, rushed toward the pontoon bridges. Shielded by the front rank's cover, they began racing to extend the bridges.

The opposite bank quickly spotted the signs. With a flurry of urgent horn calls, smoke-trailing fire arrows dipped in pine resin came streaking over, blotting out the sky and moon. Some men, struck by arrows, caught fire and toppled from the pontoon bridge. Soldiers stationed behind them on the boats, holding water buckets at the ready, immediately doused any spot that caught flame.

There were also moments when the shields could not hold. Every few breaths, the other side would loose several arrows of tremendous force, powerful enough to smash straight through a shield and skewer two or three unlucky Greenwood soldiers together, sending them straight into the water.

"It's the great yellow crossbows!"

"Great yellow triple-shot crossbows!"

Diwu Lun had packed up the Xin Dynasty's entire arsenal. These powerful crossbows could arm several thousand soldiers, and their fire was dense. They could only be blocked with large door planks covered in several layers of oxhide.

And from the Wei army docks built on the opposite bank, some boats had also cast off, riding the current downstream. As they charged, they suddenly burst into flame with a roar! Laden with firewood, they came hurtling straight toward the pontoon bridges!

"Bring up the hook-rams!"

As men of the south, how could they not know of the hook-ram that Lu Ban invented during the wars between Chu and Yue? The long rams could hold back oncoming ships — a sharp weapon in river combat. Now the Chongling troops leveled them, trying to stop the fire ships from closing in!

And even if the left bridge was unlucky enough to catch fire, it shielded the right bridge from the blaze. Over there, the frantic construction had also begun.

When the fire ships were launched, Liu Bosheng had already risen abruptly from his camp stool where he had been watching the battle. He unfastened his greatcloak and, with a cast of his hand, let it tumble away on the night wind!

He had not been idle; all along he had been estimating the number of crossbows on the opposite bank. They were far fewer than he had expected.

But Liu Bosheng had held back until now, waiting for the perfect moment. Had the fire ships not come, he would have suspected it was a stratagem of Diwu Lun's.

Once the fire ships came, it meant the enemy truly meant to burn the pontoon bridges. It seemed the ruse of shifting troops had genuinely worked!

"Beat the drums!"

"Order Liu Ji — attack!"

Two li east of the pontoon bridges, Liu Ji had arrived with two thousand elite Chongling troops. They waited there with skiffs, small boats, and rafts dragged down from the bank. When Diwu Lun had withdrawn months ago, he had swept away nearly every boat on the southern bank of the Wei. These were all that Liu Bosheng had ordered his few remaining craftsmen, along with twenty to thirty thousand men, to build in a rush, working day and night. The quality was poor — they would surely have fallen apart midway across the Yellow River or the Yangtze — but for the Wei River, just over a hundred paces wide, they were indeed enough to cross.

"Chongling troops — for the Grand General, smash the Wei slaves, restore the house of Han! This very night!"

With a great roar from Liu Ji, and with the motley troops assisting, over a hundred craft of every description plunged into the Wei River. The Chongling soldiers paddled with their hands, poled with wooden shafts, and surged toward the opposite bank with howling battle cries!

The pontoon bridges were only the open feint, meant to draw the enemy's fire. Even if they were lucky enough to finish them, it would be dawn. The only ones who could truly storm ashore in one furious charge were them!

The earth-shaking war drums had sounded. The cold spray of the Wei River trembled. Fierce warriors crossed the waters, bare-armed as tigers, fording the river. And the gambler Liu Bosheng had already opened his hand and cast toward Diwu Lun his final, last wager!

……

PS: (Alliance Leader bonus chapter 6/20)