Chapter 646: Weak Water, Shifting Sands

Diba Jiao was seeing the Wei army off beyond the pass at Jianshui Jin Pass.

It was now late in the tenth month. The bitter winds of the Mobei Plateau drove south with ferocious force, carrying sand and gravel that swallowed countless grasslands and oases in a sky-blotting tide. The vegetation was already far sparser than in the Former Han. The only thing that could still offer some slight obstruction to the windblown sand was a rammed-earth Great Wall that seemed to stretch to the edge of the sky, built in the time of Emperor Wu of Han. Running parallel to the wall was a river that wound and threaded through the vast desert and Gobi, gradually dyeing the barren land with green.

The river was named "Weak Water" — even in the Classic of Mountains and Seas, it foretold the end of the world.

Jianshui Jin Pass lay at the junction where the Han Great Wall extended northward. This pass was as renowned as Yumen and Yang passes, known as the Three Passes of Hexi. Diba Jiao was certainly no stranger to this place. Several years ago, when the "Western Han" collapsed, his good friend — and likewise his enemy — Liu Long, had sat upon these very empty walls and handed the four commanderies of Hexi into his hands! He could only wonder whether Liu Long, who had ridden a thousand li alone, heading southeast to join the "Great Han," had made the journey smoothly.

"'On the eve of the Western Han's destruction, Liu Long was still able to drive the Right Worthy Prince from Juyan Fortress and hold that patch of soil — how could it be lost in my hands?'"

This was precisely why Diba Jiao insisted that Wu Han retake Juyan. He himself had not been idle either, striving to revive Hexi's military readiness and manpower, sending grain to the main army. But Jianshui Jin Pass was the furthest point the civilian laborers could reach. From here on, the Bing Province cavalry would have to carry five days' rations and strike swiftly on their own.

Wu Han drank the wine of heroic departure and, together with Dou You, who had brought Hexi troops to assist, led his forces out of the pass. They advanced along the Great Wall and the Weak Water toward the desolate lands to the northeast.

Diba Jiao watched as the last rider's silhouette vanished into the Gobi. At cavalry speed, a distance of four hundred li would not take many days. Perhaps the vanguard was already drawing near!

……

The Wei army's vanguard was indeed not far from Juyan Fortress.

The vanguard comprised a full cavalry brigade, with five battalions under its command. Geng Guang was one of the battalion commanders.

As the younger brother of the "Grand General of Chariots and Cavalry," Geng Guang's starting line was naturally higher than others'. Setting aside the shelter of his father and elder brother, the Bing Province cavalry itself had been built from the ground up by Geng Yan. Although Wu Han had later been parachuted in to take command, many of Geng Yan's old subordinates remained, and they naturally looked after Geng Guang in ways both overt and subtle.

Geng Guang had a stubborn nature and did not want to ride on his family's coattails. He had once declared: "Prime ministers must rise from the provinces; fierce generals must emerge from the ranks. I am willing to start from the humblest soldier!"

Very well then — he would start as a Corporal. Yet from his very first day in office, the men Geng Guang commanded were invariably the most seasoned veterans, and opportunities for merit came streaming his way in an endless flow. His superiors, and their superiors, assigned him tasks that were critical but not dangerous. When operations concluded, they wrote him up lavishly in the merit ledgers. Wu Han, who had grown "shrewd," saw all this clearly but pretended not to notice, instead happily letting it run its course. Every time he promoted Geng Guang, Geng Yan's old subordinates grew that much more inclined to treat Wu Han as one of their own.

And so, in less than a year, Geng Guang's rank shot up as if riding a kite — absurdly fast. Before the expedition, he had already become a Centurion.

Geng Guang was no fool; he knew perfectly well that he was receiving special treatment. His temperament closely resembled his elder brother's, and he only pushed himself harder to prove his worth, determined to take first place in the autumn drills and demonstrate with solid, tangible results that he deserved his position. After coming to Hexi to fight, the rigorous training Geng Guang had always demanded of his troops paid off. They fought several small skirmishes and won resounding victories each time. Now, having accumulated merit, he had been promoted to Battalion Commander, with five hundred cavalry under his command.

Meng Ze, the deputy general commanding the vanguard, was a veteran of merit who had joined the army back when Diwu Lun first occupied New Qin. He looked after Geng Guang attentively and had not originally intended to let him accompany him on the risky venture to Juyan, but Geng Guang had insisted on volunteering.

"In both the autumn drills and actual combat, my subordinates are no worse than the other four battalions. Why, when our brigade serves as the vanguard, would the General want to swap me out?"

Meng Ze, not wanting to bandy words with him, said offhandedly: "You are the younger brother of the Grand General of Chariots and Cavalry. A son of a wealthy house does not sit beneath a dangerous roof."

But Geng Guang had his arguments ready: "The Inspector of Liang Province is His Majesty's own younger brother, yet did he not travel a thousand li into the void, take up his post on the frontier, and face deadly peril several times, nearly dying? General, you must treat all officers equally!"

Seeing that he possessed such resolve, Meng Ze finally agreed — but still placed Geng Guang at the very rear of the entire brigade.

And so Geng Guang, following the hoofprints of his comrades, stepped into this desolate land.

In the Hexi of AD 28, after a century of development, the population was more prosperous than in the past. But the local ecology was quite fragile, and as the climate gradually shifted, the land was far less fertile than in the pre-Qin and Former Han eras. Here, you could see desolation and abundance dancing together.

The Weak Water, flowing from the Qilian snow peaks, nourished the parched earth, leaving behind scattered pools and salt-crusted meadows on both banks. Even on the dried-up flats, dense thickets of splendid achnatherum, tamarisk, and reeds still grew.

Yet beyond this slender ribbon of green, the surroundings were stark and desolate. Though he was bringing up the rear, Geng Guang still followed the military handbook that the Emperor, Diwu Lun, had compiled for mid-ranking officers, sending out scouts in all directions and even going to see for himself at times.

Occasionally they would step into a "stone city" of jagged, grotesque rocks — some boulders as massive as fortresses, others as small as fists, tumbling everywhere in a riot of strange shapes. At other times, they would see an endless expanse of crimson Gobi, where dead tamarisks stood like enormous tombstones. Slowly, towering sand dunes came into view, and beneath the cold wind, they seemed to be moving.

"So this is why Juyan is called 'Weak Water, Shifting Sands.'"

Geng Guang, who had never had the chance to witness such a scene even in New Qin, could not help but sigh — and gradually grew excited. For a young man, especially a martial young noble, war was a grand adventure, the soaring heroism he had yearned for since childhood!

Geng Guang remembered that from a very young age, he had followed his elder brother Geng Bozhao in Shanggu Commandery, learning hand-to-hand combat. He had also seen border alerts and, immersed in that environment, had early on mastered the bow and horse.

Once, their father told them the stories of Wei Qing and Huo Qubing from the time of Emperor Wu of Han. His elder brother Bozhao immediately rose to his feet, head high: "In this age, with the Xiongnu once more raiding the border, Geng Yan wishes to be the Wei Qing of our time and one day strike Dragon City again!"

At the time, Geng Guang was not yet ten. Before his older brothers could react, he too sprang up, waving his fists: "Since Elder Brother is going to be Wei Qing, then I'll be Huo Qubing!"

Everyone burst into laughter. Geng Yan doted on this little brother and teased him: "A-Guang, Huo Qubing had to call Wei Qing his maternal uncle — you've got the seniority wrong!"

No, it was his elder brother who was wrong. Geng Guang's ambition was to be like Huo Qubing — to fix his gaze on the figure ahead, emulate his heroic bearing, and then surpass him!

Now, Geng Guang felt he had taken the first step on that long campaign. Did not Sima Xiangru's fu say, "Passing through blazing fire and floating upon the Weak Water, crossing the desolate islets and treading the shifting sands"? Was that not exactly what he was doing now? Surely when Huo Qubing first led troops beyond the frontier, he must have beheld a similar sight?

This exhilaration at the prospect of building merit and a name did not change until they drew near Juyan.

Though the expedition's vanguard was an isolated force striking deep, they were not truly alone. On the right bank of the Weak Water, the red-yellow rammed-earth Great Wall shielded the army from the fierce windblown sand. Beacon towers, standing every ten-odd li, were like sentries on guard, gazing out at every stir and rustle beyond the frontier. It was only a pity that since the Xin Dynasty, the beacon guard posts here had existed in name only — no wonder the barbarians could ride deep into Hexi unhindered.

And where the Great Wall ended — that was Juyan Fortress!

The four battalions at the front began to slow their pace. Geng Guang led his men, spurring their horses to close the distance. South of Juyan Fortress lay a vast expanse of military farmland. Ever since Huo Qubing seized this place and Emperor Wu of Han ordered the fortress built, military farming colonies had been established here to ensure the garrison troops' provisions, clothing, and shelter. Even from Zhangye in Hexi, the cost of transporting grain to Juyan was far too steep; it was far cheaper and easier to continue the frontier-farming strategy first formulated in Chao Cuo's time.

And so the garrison troops defended the frontier while tilling the land, becoming self-sufficient. They had transformed the desolate Gobi into a thriving settlement, even persisting with the stubbornness of the Foolish Old Man who moved mountains, digging small channels from the Weak Water and Juyan Marsh to connect them across a radius of several dozen li. This had considerably expanded the Juyan oasis — though the extra greenery was mostly crops.

Yet when the Wei army returned today, they did not see the old scene of frontier gates quietly closed at dusk and cattle and horses spread across the fields. What greeted them instead was desolation and ruin.

The farmland that should have been sown with winter wheat seed had been trampled into a wreck by Xiongnu hooves. Huts and cottages had been set alight and burned, leaving only blackened broken walls and collapsed ruins. The hamlets were utterly silent — not a single neigh of a horse or low of an ox, not even half a crow from a rooster or bark from a dog!

And human figures? Not a single one in sight. Neither local inhabitants, nor any Xiongnu riders glimpsed by the scouts — nor the tens of thousands of Hexi residents they had carried off to Juyan!

That was right — after the Xiongnu right wing was struck on the flank by Wu Han and realized they could not swallow Hexi in a single gulp, the Right Worthy Prince could only do what he had done on every previous incursion: plunder on a massive scale, mainly seizing people... Those innocent common folk — where had they gone?

The Wei army spread out into a wild-goose formation and advanced, searching for the enemy. Fearing a Xiongnu ambush, they moved cautiously with every step. It was not until they pushed forward to the Jiaqu Fortress, an auxiliary fortification west of Juyan Fortress, that they finally saw people.

Dead people. Innocent people.

They lay still in the Jiaqu Canal, like a cruel dam. Blood had dyed the canal waters red. A rough count put the number at a full two to three thousand! What was even more hair-raising was that the majority were white-haired elders!

Geng Guang no longer remembered anything about making a name for himself or winning glory and honor. All he knew was that in that instant, his fists suddenly clenched rock-hard!