Chapter 73: Now Yizhou Is Utterly Exhausted

The journey from Hanzhong into the lands of Shu had always been a hard one — especially once you left Zitong County (Zitong in Sichuan) and traveled between Greater Sword Mountain and Lesser Sword Mountain. The two mountains pressed close together, bordered by the Jialing River to the east and Wuzhi Mountain to the west, stretching on for over a hundred li.

The northern face was all thousand-ren cliffs, sheer as if hacked by blade and hewn by axe; the southern face bristled with peaks, leaving almost no path at all. The only way through was to bore holes into the rock and build plank roads that scaled the ridges and crossed over the mountains.

This road was called the "Stone Ox Road."

It was the dead of winter, and the little party escorting Yang Xiong's coffin home for burial traveled along the Stone Ox Road. Hou Ba, the most skilled driver among them, trusted no one else and took the reins himself. In places so narrow and treacherous that the cart could barely pass, they even had to lift the coffin down and carry it slowly across on their shoulders.

And when they rested along the way, the three of them would speak of their teacher's ties to this land.

Legend had it that during the Warring States period, King Huiwen of Qin wished to conquer Shu, but the mountain roads were too perilous. So he fashioned five stone oxen and claimed they could shit gold, using the ruse to deceive the King of Shu. The King of Shu ordered five strongmen to open a road and lead the oxen in — and the Qin army followed right behind and destroyed Shu. Thus it is said: "The earth split, the mountains crumbled, the mighty men died — and then the sky-ladder and stone trestles hooked together."

"These matters are all recorded in the 'Annals of the Kings of Shu' that our master wrote in his youth."

Wang Long was puzzled by the title alone: "According to the format of the Grand Historian's book, it ought to be 'Biographies of the Kings of Shu.' Why 'Annals'?"

Diwu Lun cut in: "According to our master, from Emperor Wangdi Duyu down through five generations of the Kaiming clan, they all proclaimed themselves emperors. They did not subordinate themselves to Shang or Zhou but stood as an independent realm — therefore he called it 'Annals.'"

But beside them, Huan Tan burst out laughing. "Is that truly the reason? The way I see it, Shu was a petty state — even if it presumptuously claimed the imperial title, it had no right to be called 'Annals.' I suspect it was mostly Ziyun's fondness for the figures and ancient kingdoms of his homeland."

That was the plain truth, and it was Huan Tan's way — blunt and direct. He often became the conversation-killer on the journey. Wang Long and the others, unwilling to speak ill of their late teacher, all fell silent.

Diwu Lun, however, gazed at the forbidding cliffs on either side and thought to himself: "If our master were still here, and I were to chant a few stanzas — 'The road to Shu is hard, harder than climbing the blue sky! Cancong and Yufu, how vast and dim the founding of their kingdom...' — I wonder what he would make of it."

As for why only a few stanzas — it was because he had long since forgotten the whole poem. But come to think of it, Li Bai was a man of Shu too. This land truly produced a wealth of poets and men of letters.

And the historical events after the fall of the ancient Shu kingdom were also touched upon in the "Admonition for the Shepherd of Yizhou" that Yang Xiong had left to Diwu Lun.

"Qin acted without the Way, and on three sides the lands crumbled in revolt. The righteous troops marched to punish tyranny, and thus a kingdom was founded in Han. They expanded the borders, broadened the wilds of Liang, arrayed them into twelve provinces, their glory surpassing that of Yu and Xia..."

Diwu Lun was especially interested in the part about Liu Bang being enfeoffed as king in Ba, Shu, and Hanzhong, and using that as his base to march north and seize the Three Qin.

He held the provincial admonition he had specially brought along and a simple map, comparing the routes marked on them, and discovered that Yang Xiong had been most meticulous when depicting the strategic mountains and rivers of his homeland — far more accurate than the Yongzhou Admonition.

But Diwu Lun still had to constantly revise and supplement it. What Yang Xiong had left behind was like a terribly inaccurate map of China — good enough for grasping the general shape of the realm, but who would carry it to navigate and find their way?

While they rested at a post-house in Jiameng County, Huan Tan saw Diwu Lun diligently recording notes the whole journey. He came over silently and stealthily, stole a glance, smiled without a word, then suddenly shouted to startle him: "Well, well, Diwu Boyu — recording maps and registers, the strategic passes of mountains and rivers — what exactly are you plotting?"

Diwu Lun rolled his eyes and only said: "I intend to write supplementary annotations for the Twelve Province Admonitions."

The excuse was terribly feeble — he was simply not the scholarly type. Huan Tan merely laughed. "Really? I don't believe you."

Listen to that tone! Diwu Lun absolutely loathed this fellow!

Conditions on the road were limited, and they often had to squeeze together on shared sleeping platforms — you couldn't avoid each other. After half a month of close quarters, Diwu Lun had discovered that he and Huan Tan got along not one bit.

Ever since crossing over, Diwu Lun had often been desperately sleepy. In order to press on and get Yang Xiong buried as soon as possible, they had no choice but to rise early and rest late. One night, having finally managed to sink into deep sleep, he was suddenly shaken awake!

"Boyu! Boyu!"

Diwu Lun thought bandits had come or something. He promptly grabbed the sword from under his pillow and rose — only to find Huan Tan fully dressed, smiling as he invited him to go outside... and observe the night sky?

"The starry sky tonight is brilliant — truly a rare sight."

Diwu Lun swallowed the curse that was about to burst from his lips, flung the sword aside, collapsed back down, and slept, ignoring Huan Tan entirely.

Back when they first left Chang'an, Diwu Lun had still wanted to discuss the celestial sphere theory that Yang Xiong and Huan Tan had studied, or to delve into the discourse on form, spirit, candle, and flame — but now he had no mood for any of it.

Moreover, Huan Tan had always been irreverent. The whole journey, even in the very presence of Yang Xiong's coffin, he laughed and joked and cursed, showing no trace of grief — the complete opposite of Wang Long, whose eyes were brimming with tears all day long.

Had they not known that he was indeed the one true bosom friend of Yang Xiong's entire life, the three fellow disciples would truly have wanted to throw Huan Tan right off Sword Pavilion!

It was not until they entered the plains and reached Jiudu Commandery (Guanghan Commandery) that Huan Tan's expression gradually grew somber.

What kind of scene unfolded before their eyes?

"Yizhou is utterly exhausted!"

The land of Guanghan was the collar and lapel of Yizhou. Its northern reaches were girdled by mountains and rivers, its terrain steep and defensible — but once you entered its heartland, everything opened wide. On both banks of the Mian River, countless fine farmhouses and fertile fields should have made it a land of abundance, a veritable heavenly storehouse.

Yet what Diwu Lun and the others saw was the complete opposite of the fabled prosperity of Shu.

Inside the cities of Zitong and Mianzhu, it was still tolerable — a bit desolate, but people came and went on the streets, and it could even be called bustling. But once they left the city walls, with the horses traveling the roads and lone birds skimming the empty sky, the desolation was extraordinary.

For days on end, they traveled seven or eight li at a stretch, and on the broad official highway they saw not a single traveler — only tangled weeds growing wild across the fields and distant trees shivering in the winter wind. Now and then they came upon a small hamlet or village cluster and went to look, only to find the area outside the village gate utterly deserted. They cocked their ears and listened, but heard neither cockcrow nor dog's bark.

"Old sir, where has everyone here gone?" they asked a lame old man who still remained in the hamlet.

The old Shu native shot them a white-eyed glare — the locals now harbored a deep loathing for outsiders. "Where else could they go? They've fled the famine."

Even Wang Long, who had never planted the five grains in his life, sensed something was terribly wrong. "The heart of Shu should be a paradise on earth, yet now it is so desolate and cold!"

"It's all the fault of the Five Might General," Huan Tan said somberly. "Though Shu has seen no great upheaval, this dynasty's war with Goujing has dragged on for a full ten years!"

Ten years ago, when the Xin Dynasty was first established, the Five Might General, by Wang Mang's command, traveled across the realm to the lands of the four barbarians. He also went to the Kingdom of Goujing, south of Zangke Commandery in Yizhou, and demoted its king to a marquis.

Afterward, the Grand Governor of Zangke, using the pretext that Goujing harbored resentment, followed Yan You's example in killing the Marquis of Goguryeo and lured the King of Goujing into a trap and killed him.

This decapitation strike, however, provoked the people of Goujing, who placed great stock in blood vengeance, to furious indignation. They slaughtered oxen and smeared the blood upon their bronze drums, raised a full army from the entire populace, and made themselves enemies of the Xin Dynasty.

The war dragged on for years. The Grand Governor of Zangke himself was killed, and from the third year of Tianfeng, Wang Mang began dispatching large armies from northern Yizhou to march south and quell the rebellion. The result was two campaigns, two defeats. Of two hundred thousand troops, sixty to seventy percent died of plague — and most of them were local men of Yizhou.

Furthermore, supplying such an enormous army across the treacherous Shu roads meant that provisions and pay could not be transported all the way from the rear. They had no choice but to apportion and levy them from the local commanderies and counties.

Diwu Lun added: "I heard from the Remonstrance Officer Geng Boshan that at first, an additional tax was levied on the Yizhou Inspectorate, taking five parts in a hundred of the people's wealth. In practice, the petty clerks were so greedy that it actually reached five parts in ten. After the first campaign against Goujing failed, at the time of the second campaign, General of Renewal Lian Dan even imposed another property tax, taking four parts in ten."

Over two years, they had stripped the common people of nine-tenths of their property — what madness. No matter how rich and prosperous Shu might be, it could not withstand such torment. Thus came the present scene of Yizhou's exhaustion. Truly, it was a winter of peril and survival!

"The former Grand Governor of Jiudu, Feng Chang, strenuously remonstrated with the Son of Heaven to cease military operations, and was transferred to Changsha. The newly arrived Grand Governor, under orders to prepare for the third campaign against Goujing, is still conscripting corvée labor."

Huan Tan said this, shook his head, and then looked at Diwu Lun. "Boyu, once Ziyun is laid to rest, you will return to Chang'an and join the Boar-Rush Braves. Whatever office His Majesty assigns you, your commander will be none other than General of Renewal Lian Dan. Are you afraid?"

With a commander as pig-headed as that, of course he was afraid. It was one thing that Lian Dan could not take Goujing — he even managed to drive the barbarians of the two neighboring commanderies into revolt as well, plunging Nanzhong into utter ruin. A talent indeed.

That Wang Mang did not punish him, but instead restored him to his original post and confidently entrusted the northern expedition army to this fellow as well — it was truly miraculous.

But there was no helping it. To live in this world and aspire to great deeds, could one really avoid all risk? Diwu Lun could only steel himself and comfort both himself and the deeply worried Wang Long and Hou Ba: "The north at least has one advantage over the south — fewer plagues."

Huan Tan sneered. "Hmph. I only hope that when you reach the frontier, you can still hold to your original heart. Do not oppress the people like the southern expedition armies did, wantonly slaughtering the innocent to claim false merit!"

After more than a month of arduous travel, in the middle of the eleventh month, they finally reached their destination: Pi County in Daojiang Commandery (Shu Commandery).

Mercifully, Wang Mang had at least not changed this county's name — otherwise Diwu Lun would not have been so pleasantly surprised: "Pi County douban — I've eaten it!"

This was Yang Xiong's hometown. He heard Hou Ba speak of their master's family background: they were grandees of Jin during the Spring and Autumn period who migrated south. By the time of the Chu-Han Contention, the Yang clan had traveled upriver and settled in Ba Prefecture. Yang Xiong's great-great-grandfather rose to the rank of Governor of Lujiang. During the Yuanding era of Han, fleeing from enemies, they again traveled upriver and arrived at Pi County near Chengdu.

This was the capital of the Shu kings Duyu and Bieling, the cradle of the ancient Shu kingdom — no wonder Yang Xiong held it in such high regard.

"The Master truly loved his homeland."

Wang Long said, "In his youth, he made his name throughout Shu with the 'Rhapsody of Mianzhu,' the 'Inscriptions on the Four Corners of Chengdu,' and the 'Rhapsody of the Shu Capital.'"

"That is why he never forgot his longing to return." Diwu Lun let his gaze roam — he understood Yang Xiong all the more now.

Like Li Bai of later ages, he had grown up among the Ba mountains and Shu rivers. A local hero, in his youth he was bent on leaving Shu, on escaping this plain for a greater stage where he could display his talents and serve all under heaven.

But Chang'an was cold to him. Trapped for years in petty posts, his brimming learning was like a choked river, desperately seeking an outlet; his boundless frustration was like the chill moonlight of an autumn night, impossible to shake off. Chang'an had also taken his two beloved sons, leaving Yang Xiong utterly alone. He could not even save himself — how could he speak of saving the common people?

It was better to come home. Since Chang'an met you with a cold face, far better to return to the warm embrace of your native land. The young should not enter Sichuan, the old should not leave Shu — this truly is a place where one can set everything down and lie down in comfort.

The only regret was that, because Yang Xiong had lived to such a great age, nearly all his old friends were dead. And the Yang line had been a single heir for five generations — in all of Shu, he had not a single relative.

Only his lifelong confidant Huan Tan chose the grave site by turtle-shell divination, and three disciples bore his coffin and saw him buried.

The next day was the appointed date. Wang Long once more spent lavishly, arranging all the necessary items. Dressed in unhemmed mourning sackcloth, Diwu Lun led the way, holding the spirit banner high; Hou Ba carried the spirit tablet. With drums and pipes playing, they proceeded toward the Yang family burial ground.

It was winter, but the outskirts of Pi County were not bleak and lifeless like the north; instead, everything was lush and green. Come spring, around Yang Xiong's grave the breeze would surely be gentle and the hillside fragrant with blossoms.

Beside it lay the graves of his parents, his wife, and his children — among them, Yang Wu.

Yang Wu had been a famous child prodigy. While still very young, he had helped Yang Xiong compose the 'Supreme Mystery' — the very work that gave Diwu Lun a headache just to read. He died at nine. It was a terrible loss.

Diwu Lun went over, plucked the withered grass from Yang Wu's headstone, and brushed away the yellow dust. Softly, he gave the boy just one instruction: "Look after your father."

Yang Xiong's coffin was slowly lowered into the pit. As the earth was filled in, bit by bit, he at last sank into the embrace of his native soil.

Wang Long included, the three of them did not weep too bitterly. They had thought it all through on the journey here; their tears were long since spent.

The locals, too, showed little reaction to Yang Xiong's homecoming burial. Only the County Magistrate of Pi, learning that a local grandee was being laid to rest, came by to observe for a while.

Just as the funeral was about to end, several carriages and riders appeared in the distance. A man in hempen mourning clothes and a tall cap leaped down from a carriage and came stumbling toward the grave, wailing loudly as he walked.

"Alas, Ziyun! Cruelly struck down and gone!"

When he drew near, he threw himself down before Yang Xiong's headstone, beating his chest: "Henceforth, the world shall have no more rhapsodies of the Shu capital, no more songs of Mianzhu! Oh, what agony! I pour out this offering and pray you receive it. Shu has lost its true son, and I have lost a renowned scholar — it pains me beyond bearing! It pains me beyond bearing!"

His offering finished, he lay prostrate, weeping copiously, tears streaming like a spring, grief-stricken beyond measure — more heartbroken than the composed Huan Tan or the three disciples, who could hardly summon more tears.

Diwu Lun was somewhat surprised. He studied the uninvited guest, a man nearing forty. "Is he a friend of the Master's?"

Hou Ba shook his head: he did not know him.

It was Huan Tan who circled around to the front and peered at the still-weeping man. The face seemed familiar. After a moment's thought, understanding dawned. He returned and told Diwu Lun: "That is the Director of Retainers of Daojiang — Gongsun Shu!"

PS: Chapter 3 at 8:00.