Chapter 479: A Lifetime

The calculations and assessments before the battle of Aocang, the hot blood and heated wine of the clash itself — these thousand strands and myriad threads, when gathered into the victory dispatch sent to Diwu Lun, condensed into just one short passage:

"Relying on Your Majesty's brilliance, the soldiers' devotion, and the clarity of the heavens, your servant Yuan, together with Tiger's Might General Zong, Sweeping Wilds General Tong, and Yuyang Governor Gai Yan, broke the enemy lines between Guangwu Mountain and Aocang. We beheaded over ten thousand of the Red Eyebrow bandits, from their Elders and Attendants on down, took more than thirty thousand prisoners, and the bandit chieftain Yang Yin fled to Chenliu Commandery. The remainder have all scattered."

The Wei army's main force was trapped by wind and snow in Longyou, and the You and Ji province troops were delayed in their southward march by the rebellion in Zhuo Commandery. The Red Eyebrow grand army seized this chance to launch a massive assault on the Central Plains — a perilous situation that had been on the verge of disaster. But after this battle, the Red Eyebrows' western-route army of a hundred thousand collapsed utterly. If half of those who fled manage to regroup, that would be the best they could hope for.

When this battle was fought, Spring Commander Diwu Lun was still on the road from Longyou to Chang'an, too preoccupied even to send an urgent eight-hundred-li directive. The victory had little to do with him.

"I look forward to Wenyuan's detailed memorial."

Diwu Lun greatly enjoyed corresponding with Ma Yuan. Old Ma had received an excellent education, was adept at formal addresses, and his memorials were elegant and richly emotional, a pleasure to read without tiring. This victory dispatch, constrained by time, could not go into detail, but knowing Ma Yuan's character, he would surely take up the brush himself soon after and compose a grand, sweeping piece of prose — which would conveniently be included in the military history Diwu Lun was having compiled.

In the first year of Wude, great battles came one after another. This battle of Aocang was the opening of the Central Plains campaign, but not its end. Events proved that Diwu Lun's decision to assign Ma Yuan to oversee the entire Sili–Central Plains theater of war had been the right choice of man.

At the same time, Diwu Lun thought to himself, "Once the Red Eyebrows are dealt with, Wenyuan's title of General of the Swift Cavalry will probably need a 'Grand' added to the front."

In Han times, from Emperor Wu onward, there was the title of Grand General, who served as the head of the inner court — wielding state governance within and bearing the battle-axe to command campaigns without. His authority far exceeded that of the Chancellor. Huo Guang and Wang Mang both used the position of Grand General to oversee all affairs, internal and external; even the enthronement and deposition of emperors hung on a single thought of theirs.

After drawing lessons from the former dynasty, Diwu Lun decided to use a special method to abolish the Grand General system.

What made the Grand General 'grand' was his singular, unparalleled status. But what if this 'grand' became standard issue for generals, so that in the future even those with miscellaneous titles who performed brilliantly could get one tacked on? If everyone gets a promotion, it's the same as no one getting one. It would transform from actual sole control of power into a purely honorary title. And for this first man, who else but Ma Yuan?

Diwu Lun kept a ruler in his heart, measuring the merits of his generals. Ma Yuan was permanently stationed in the east and missed every major battle during the founding of the state in Guanzhong, which led to him being gradually caught up by young Geng and the others. His performance in the Hebei campaign had also been unremarkable.

But the elder statesman had been saving up a massive move: he would not strike unless it was for a decisive battle!

For the sake of fairness, Diwu Lun assessed military merit primarily on two dimensions: enemy killed or captured, and strategic value. The population base of the Central Plains and the sheer numbers of the Red Eyebrow Army were there for all to see — armies of two or three hundred thousand at a stroke, nothing like the pitiful twenty or thirty thousand troops in Longyou. Wu Han toiled bitterly for half a year, and his total killed and captured still fell short of Ma Yuan's haul from a single afternoon. Tell me, wouldn't that infuriate a man?

Diwu Lun wrote a reply to Ma Yuan's victory dispatch, ordering him not to rush in pursuing the Red Eyebrows. It was now the start of the twelfth month; the La festivals forbade military action. In the coldest season, let the Red Eyebrows wander and starve and freeze in the empty lands of Chenliu and Xinzheng. Once spring arrived and the Ji province troops could march south in coordination, that would be the time for a grand counteroffensive.

After the edict was sent out, the Jianzhang Palace west of Chang'an came distantly into view. Diwu Lun had at last made it back before the Laba Festival.

The Empress's pregnancy was already near nine months. Carrying a large belly while worrying simultaneously about her husband and her father was truly not easy. On top of that, her imperial grandfather Diwu Ba was gravely ill, giving her even more to fret over.

"Imperial Grandfather is lucid at times and asks when Your Majesty will return, but at other times he is confused."

Ma Chanchan told Diwu Lun that when she visited, Diwu Ba could not remember her name half the time. Only when Diwu Lun was mentioned did the old man suddenly realize.

And the Commandant of the Capital stationed outside Diwu Ba's palace, Diqi Biao — he should be called Wu Biao now, one of the few clansmen also granted the Wu surname — told Diwu Lun, rather dejectedly, that when those clansmen from Changling came in an endless stream to visit Diwu Ba, his confusion grew especially severe. He would even mix them up with their fathers' and grandfathers' generations.

"When Your Majesty enters, do not bring up Imperial Grandfather's failing memory." The Empress was meticulous and instructed Diwu Lun that whenever Diwu Ba became aware of his own "senile muddle-headedness," his expression was a mix of shame and anger.

Diwu Ba, tough as nails his whole life, had never feared anyone, despite his low station. Even past seventy, he could still drop the Diqi brothers with a sliding tackle. Even when it came to something like his grandson rebelling, after a brief moment of shock he actively cooperated, refusing to be some Retired Emperor and wishing only to be "Marquis of Ten Thousand Households."

But old age was an enemy at which he gathered all his strength and threw a punch, only to find he had struck himself.

Yet when Diwu Lun entered and hastened to bow before his grandfather, Diwu Ba recognized him at once.

"Boyu."

The old man's wrinkles grew even more pronounced when he smiled. His legs and feet were so badly swollen he could no longer leave the bed; he merely beckoned Diwu Lun over.

His empire was growing day by day, but his grandfather was aging day by day.

Old age was truly terrifying. Diwu Ba's body, still fairly robust just a few years ago, had shriveled considerably. As he talked with Diwu Lun, his hand, covered in age spots, clasped his grandson's.

The iron palm of old was now a touch of gaunt bones. One wondered if he could still lift the iron tongs to chase and beat him.

But though Diwu Ba was failing, he was not as confused as the Empress and Wu Biao had described. Diwu Lun spoke with him of his own western campaign, the great deeds Diba Jiao was accomplishing in Hexi, and Ma Yuan's defeat of the Red Eyebrows — all glad tidings. Diwu Ba was very pleased, happy for his grandson.

It was only when Diwu Lun urged the old man to rest well, saying that tomorrow for Laba he would have the hundred entertainments brought to the palace to liven things up, that Diwu Ba murmured his assent but drifted off in a daze.

The old man's energy was limited; he must have been weary. Diwu Lun gently withdrew his hand from his grasp, and Diwu Ba jolted awake, as if afraid of losing something, and seized his grandson's hand again, staring at him wide-eyed. After a brief panic, his gaze filled with joy.

"Boyu, you're back!?"

…

"Boyu's back?"

Over the next few days, every time Diwu Lun visited Diwu Ba, their conversations would always fall into a strange loop.

Diwu Ba could only remember that he was Diwu Lun's grandfather, waiting for his grandson to come home. As for his current status and the experiences of the past few years, he had forgotten them completely.

He no longer recognized Wu Biao, who stood there with a brazen face and a feigned simple, honest grin. Diwu Ba took him for some lowly servant or hired thug and told Diwu Lun that one of these days the fellow must be dismissed — he truly was an eyesore.

But the moment he heard two particular words, it was as if someone had flipped a switch in Diwu Ba's memory, and his recollections became exceptionally sharp!

"Liang Province?"

www●tt kan●c○

For the umpteenth time, as Diwu Lun patiently repeated the events of his past half-year to Diwu Ba, the old man's eyes lit up.

"I've been to Liang Province."

Human memory is a wondrous thing, allowing you to shuttle back and forth between nodes at different points in time. Diwu Ba was now in just such a state. He cut Diwu Lun off and launched into an endless account of his own experiences in Liang Province.

He said he had gone to the Western Regions in the third year of the Jianzhao era of Han Emperor Yuan (36 BC), just eighteen years old when he set out.

He remembered the Liupan Mountain road at Longban, how it made a man's legs ache from climbing, and how he had envied the mounted archers, the sons of good families, on the Qin River plain in Tianshui. For Diwu Ba had been conscripted for frontier garrison duty as one of the "wicked youths" of the Five Tombs, his status very low and base.

"And then we reached the four commanderies of Hexi. Boyu, you came back from Hexi, didn't you!"

Diwu Lun smiled and said, "I only got as far as Longyou. The one who went to Hexi was Jizheng."

"Who is Jizheng?"

"That is Wu… Diba Jiao, the direct grandson of the Diba clan, the one I yielded my Imperial Academy place to."

Diwu Ba shook his head. This unfamiliar name baffled him, and he cared nothing for it, continuing on with his tales of adventure.

The dawn in the northwest was dry and cold, the outline of the Qilian Mountains growing sharp and clear, the Silk Road to the Western Regions faintly visible, bursts of barking dogs drifting from the distant garrison troops… This was the Hexi Corridor that Diwu Ba had measured with his own steps.

What he relished recounting most was that within the borders of Xiaogu County in Dunhuang Commandery, at a small frontier post called Xuanquan Station, he and the wicked youths and convict laborers traveling with him had actually encountered the Deputy Colonel, Chen Tang, likewise hurrying on his way to the Western Regions.

He was a military officer of Confucian scholar origin. Whenever he passed a city, town, mountain, or river, he would often climb to gaze out, which made his convoy advance slowly and allowed Diwu Ba's group to catch up with him time and again. This stood in stark contrast to how Chen Tang later overrode all objections to advance at breakneck speed, plunging deep into foreign territory to behead the Zhizhi Chanyu.

Right, he even remembered that the meal that time was a local specialty, hair-vegetable soup, which truly looked just like human hair. Word had it that a man who left the frontier with nothing but bare poverty could return wearing sable furs, a fine horse of the Western Regions between his legs, and a gorgeous barbarian beauty in his arms…

When Diwu Ba spoke of Gan Yanshou, the Protector-General of the Western Regions at the time, it was with heartfelt admiration. That man must have been his lifelong idol.

But when it came to Chen Tang, beneath the admiration there was a hint of mockery and a laughing curse.

"Deputy Colonel Chen was far too greedy for wealth."

What followed was a long stretch of recollections about his garrison service in the Western Regions. It was a marvelous thing: Diwu Ba could not recall complex clan relationships, yet he could rattle off the names and nicknames of every comrade in his squad during his time under the Protector-General as if reciting his own family treasures.

"Perhaps that is because those days were the ones Grandfather is least willing to forget in his entire life."

The bitterness is hard to forget, the joy is hard to forget — the clash of steel and warhorses, the frontier spirit, snowy mountains, grasslands, deserts, serving under the two Colonels Gan and Chen, striking down any who dared offend the mighty Han no matter how far away. This was the story Diwu Ba could boast about for a lifetime.

Diwu Ba would lose himself in it like this. He remembered the taste of the foreign beauties of Qiuci City. Hearing that the last Protector-General of the now-fallen Xin Dynasty was still trapped in Qiuci by the Xiongnu and the barbarian kings, he grew quite indignant, clamoring to personally lead troops to fight there, and even asked Diwu Lun to lend him soldiers.

"Would ten thousand do?" Diwu Lun played along and joked with Diwu Ba. Because of his grandfather, he had not attended to governance for five days already, leaving all miscellaneous affairs to Ren Guang and the others to handle.

"Three thousand would be enough!" In his excitement, Diwu Ba even tried to rise and set out on campaign at once, only to find he could barely manage the couch, collapsing heavily into Diwu Lun's arms.

He wept.

In that moment, the old man's dream seemed to shatter, his expression turning deeply desolate.

In this cold palace, a lonely lamp flickers and trembles. Even with all the glory, wealth, and rank, with nothing lacking, how could it compare to a youth's heroic ride across the vast desert sands?

And so, when Diwu Lun once again personally fed him meat porridge, Diwu Ba turned his head away and refused to eat, unless Diwu Lun agreed to let him shakily feed himself.

Diwu Ba grew much more silent, like a tiger fierce and mighty all its life suddenly discovering its teeth had all fallen out, able only to rest its chin on its paws, tongue lolling, barely clinging to life.

The Laba Festival passed, and mid-December arrived. On a day when heavy snow fell from the sky, Diwu Ba finally grew so muddled that he could no longer even recognize Diwu Lun.

This time, when Diwu Lun drew near, Diwu Ba only squinted his dim, aged eyes and mistook him for his commanding officer in the Western Regions.

"Major."

Diwu Ba's speech was rapid, carrying the fluster a young man often shows when facing a major event, as he sought help from a senior he deeply trusted and admired.

"I'm only eighteen. How come I suddenly remember having grandchildren already?"

"And... I keep remembering that the Great Han has fallen! That my grandson has even become Emperor. But when I open my eyes, isn't the Han banner still flying?"

"Could it be that those foreign merchants drugged me back in Loulan? Trying to trick me into rebellion?"

Diwu Lun held his grandfather's hand, rocked back and forth by him. Listening to that nervous tone, he felt like both crying and laughing.

This young man was rather endearing.

His memories had begun to twist together in chaos. Should he help him sort them out, tell him "it's all true," inform Diwu Ba that, just as you wished, the family's power and prestige rank first under heaven, your grandson's imperial enterprise is nearing completion — and let the old man's heart be comforted?

Or should he stay silent, letting him remain immersed in the dream, believing he was still in his youth, in the Western Regions, in the most hopeful years of his life?

In the end, Diwu Lun choked back his sobs and spoke to him in the tone of that "Major."

"Diwu Ba, get up and stand guard."

"You — you only dreamed that you grew old!"

Two days later, at the midnight hour, when Diwu Lun rushed from the side hall where he slept in his clothes to the sickbed, the imperial physician tremblingly told him that the Imperial Grandfather had passed away in his sleep.

Soon, after the news spread, wailing rose up right on cue. The Empress, though her labor was imminent, was also weeping. The Imperial Grandfather had been stern with others, but toward her he had been very kindly. Then, remembering the child in her womb was what mattered most, she steeled herself and held back her tears.

The palace maids covered their faces as well. The clan relatives who rushed over upon hearing the news outside the palace gates wailed to the heavens and beat the earth — who knew how many fainted dead away. The ministers, after a few dry howls, began gathering in small groups to murmur, arguing endlessly over what rites should be used for Diwu Ba's funeral affairs.

Only Diwu Lun, just as he had for the past dozen days, knelt before the couch, silently gazing at Diwu Ba's face.

His grandfather loved to laugh, especially great, booming laughter — when he was happy, when he heard something comical, when he was triumphant, even when covering up embarrassment.

And at this very moment, though life had left him, a smile still rested on his face.

So, had he said the right thing to his grandfather that day?

"The Imperial Grandfather passed away peacefully at nearly eighty without illness. I beg Your Majesty not to grieve to excess."

As the closest clan relative with the highest status in the capital, Diqi Biao wept with tears and snot streaming, growing garrulous as he spoke.

"For the Imperial Grandfather to have a grandson like Your Majesty — whether a marquis of ten thousand households or a grand courtyard like this imperial palace, he enjoyed it all. Most importantly, he could see with his own eyes the Wu clan's power and prestige soar above the heavens. In this world, what could bring greater contentment and let him close his eyes in peace than this?"

In Diqi Biao's view, Diwu Ba was truly the luckiest old man in the world — with one foot already in the coffin, he could still, through his grandson's great achievements, rise to the clouds in a single bound.

"Indeed."

Diwu Lun wiped away his tears and patted Diqi Biao, thanking him for his consolation. But in his heart, he held a different thought.

Diqi Biao was wrong.

Do not look at Diwu Ba as an office-seeker, always prattling about his grandson rising to prominence and bringing glory to the ancestors. In the end, the period of his life he found hardest to forget was not the high rank and clan prominence of his declining years, the soaring success won by lying back — but rather his youth, that ordinary garrison soldier's extraordinary experience: washing weapons in the waves of the Tiaozhi Sea, letting horses graze among the snows of the Heavenly Mountains, seeking a noble title three thousand li from home, beheading a famed king to present at the Cassia Palace.

That was the glory and pride he had earned by his own efforts!

Outside, the wailing grew louder, like the rush of water, the gloom of reeds and rushes.

But Diwu Lun only quietly held Diwu Ba's hands. He knew what words the old man most wanted to hear.

"Grandfather."

"Even without me."

"Even if nothing had ever changed."

"Even without these last few years."

"This life of yours — it was already brilliant enough!"

PS: The second chapter will be up in the middle of the night.