Chapter 609: Wei Man

The Jiaodong fleet was busy with its "tower-ship diplomacy," overawing Joseon, while the land army had already crossed the Yalu River. After trudging two hundred li through sparsely populated territory, it reached Manfanhan.

This was the Qin dynasty's most remote border post — just a single watchtower, garrisoned year-round by a few dozen men keeping an eye on the frontier. Across the Pei River lay Joseon's border settlement, Zengdi City, also manned by only a hundred or so. The two sides stood in isolation at the edge of the world, gazing at each other across the river.

But now, the western bank had suddenly swelled with over ten thousand people. The watchtower was commandeered by the Young Master Fusu, while the rest built barracks around it. Columns of campfire smoke blotted out the sky, and tents sprouted like mushrooms after rain, making Manfanhan look like a booming new town.

"Once we cross this river, we are no longer in Yan."

While fetching water for cooking, Wei Man, a Yan man serving as a platoon chief, stood by the Pei River and stared long. To the south was a desolate, barren coast and cold, briny seawater; to the north, an endless expanse of forest. Though autumn had only just begun, a chill already permeated the air, damp, cold, and heavy.

Yan and Zhao are known for their men of stirring valor. Wei Man was chivalrous and righteous in his hometown, famed for his courage. He never imagined he would be forcibly conscripted by the officials. Had he been like the powerful magnate Zang Tu of Right Beiping, with a great house and influence, it would have been easy to send a substitute. But Wei Man had yet to make a name for himself. Cornered by the officials, he failed to escape and was hauled back to the county office, forced to grit his teeth and serve.

Fortunately, relying on his fierce and combative nature, he became a platoon chief — a minor officer, at least.

Yet this piddling rank still gave him no control over his own life or death. The two-thousand-li march nearly killed him. Crossing the Thousand Peaks, his platoon lost four men: one fell ill, two slipped and tumbled down the mountain, and one was killed by Wei Man's own hand while trying to flee!

That man, as it happened, was a fellow villager of Wei Man's, a very close friend. Yet Wei Man did not hesitate — he cut off the man's head and returned to report.

The remaining men in the platoon grumbled about this killing of a fellow villager, but Wei Man slammed the reward money onto the table and declared, "The Qin army's collective punishment system is no joke. If I had let this man go, we would all have to answer for his crime! So, we stay together, or we run together. To flee alone and drag everyone else down — what kind of conduct is that? Anyone who tries the same will meet this end!"

He had everyone divide the reward money. From that day on, Wei Man not only earned the respect of his own platoon, but even the neighboring platoon was willing to heed him.

Now, as Wei Man led his men to the river to draw water, everyone deferred to him. One man, eager to curry favor, pointed at a small boat just docking at the western bank's pier and said:

"Chief Wei, that's a Joseon boat."

"So small," Wei Man said contemptuously. Last month at Xi'anping, they had seen the Qin army's six-hundred-dan grain transports — truly great ships.

"They say there's a Joseon prince inside, dressed like a complete barbarian. He's already gone ashore to pay respects to the Young Master General."

"Young Master General" was what the Yan and Zhao soldiers called Fusu. Throughout the march, despite many conflicts between the Guanzhong troops and the Yan-Zhao conscripts, this young master's practice of sharing food and clothing with the common soldiers had won considerable loyalty.

Wei Man, however, did not appreciate the gesture. He curled his lip and kept his opinion to himself.

As the soldiers were talking, the watchtower door opened again. Out came the Young Master Fusu, well known to the troops, accompanied by a foreign prince with a bound crown and braided hair.

The two emerged hand in hand. Fusu escorted him to the pier. Once aboard, the Joseon prince bowed repeatedly with clasped hands. Fusu raised his hand in return salute and did not leave, watching until Ji Zhun's boat reached the opposite bank before returning to the watchtower with his commandant and advisors.

Seeing this, the soldiers immediately began buzzing with speculation. Wei Man said, "From the looks of it, they've likely reached an agreement."

"Agreed on what?" asked a dull-witted brute.

Wei Man's gaze grew solemn. "I fear within a few days, the general will drive us across the river, and we will leave Yan territory..."

This became the main topic of conversation for the officers and soldiers during their evening meal that afternoon.

The Qin army was organized into companies of one hundred men, divided into left and right platoons, further split into squads of ten per tent, with each platoon setting its own cookfire. Rice and vegetables were issued to the platoon chief, and fifty men ate together. Though this led to some inequality, it was convenient.

The provisions for the Yan conscripts were slightly inferior to those of the Guanzhong troops — no fish, and the rice was coarse. Though there was no meat, they ate with great relish. Thanks to the emergency grain ships from Jiaodong, the soldiers no longer went hungry as they had when crossing the Thousand Peaks.

They also owed much to the pickled cabbage shipped from Jiaodong, which made the rough fare easier to swallow. This was a product of Jiaodong farmers' widespread cabbage cultivation, and the one thing Jiaodong never lacked was salt. Cabbage, salted and packed into clay jars, was shipped by sea to Liaodong and became the army's main vegetable. It was sour and refreshing, crisp to the bite, far better than the wild bitter herbs the soldiers dug up themselves.

As they ate and chatted, Wei Man set down his bowl and said quietly, "I've heard some news that concerns our life and death. Would you fellows like to hear it?"

Everyone stopped moving. Dozens of eyes turned to Wei Man. On a distant campaign, the platoon chief Wei Man, a fellow villager, was the backbone of these conscripts.

Wei Man glanced back outside the camp, motioned everyone closer, and whispered, "I've heard that this time, the Qin Emperor's campaign against the Lord of the Vast Sea is ostensibly to severely punish the assassin's accomplices, but in truth, he wants to send us men of Yan and Zhao to die in a foreign land!"

"What!?"

Everyone was shocked, but then a few older soldiers who had friends in other platoons stepped forward. They had heard similar rumors; this was likely not groundless.

Another man hesitated. "The Young Master General is benevolent. Surely it wouldn't come to that..."

Wei Man shook his head. "No matter how benevolent, he is still a Qin man, the Emperor's son! When we ran short of grain on the road, he hypocritically shared our rations, drinking gruel every day. But have the men of Yan and Zhao who died along the way been few?"

"Once we reach the battlefield, Fusu will surely favor the Qin troops and send us to fill the ditches. We've trekked over mountains and rivers, and already one or two in ten are dead. They say the land south of Joseon is even more savage than the Thousand Peaks. March another thousand-plus li, and by the time this battle is over, I fear not one in ten of us will remain! And the Qin have no intention of letting us return to Yan. We'll likely be forcibly kept in some remote corner east of the sea, blowing on the cold wind for the rest of our lives."

The Yan men's trust in the Qin was as fragile as silk thread, snapping at the slightest tug. Frightened by Wei Man, many Yan men panicked:

"What do we do, Chief?"

"What do we do?"

Wei Man smiled, and drove a dagger deep into the table with a heavy thud:

"I've said it before."

"We stay together, or we go — together!"

"Unlike the fleet, the Great Qin's Young Master Fusu possesses a truly noble bearing!"

After leaving the Qin army's Manfanhan camp, Ji Zhun had someone bring a wooden tablet and began writing a letter to be sent to Wangxian City. Ji-surnamed Joseon still used the ancient oracle bone script. A few short sentences took half a shichen to write.

But unlike before, Ji Zhun did not use a crude wooden stick. He used a "Meng Tian brush" gifted by Fusu, and the ink was fine Central Plains ink. As the rabbit-hair tip swept across the surface, Ji Zhun's characters became somewhat distorted.

Yet this perfectly conveyed his excitement. Days earlier, Ji Zhun had encountered the aggressive Qin fleet at Liekou. He had humbled himself to negotiate, but the opposing general would not even see him, sending a young minor official to handle him with an arrogant attitude, implying that if Joseon did not hurry to negotiate with Fusu, they would besiege Wangxian City.

Ji Zhun had no choice. After heading south, he had to journey north again, to Joseon's former territory of Manfanhan.

The sheer size of the Qin camp at Manfanhan and the number of troops left a deep impression on Ji Zhun: neatly arrayed horses and war chariots stretched for half a li. To make the long poles for banners, an entire grove by the river had been felled. Under the bright afternoon sun, countless spear tips gleamed with a dull golden light.

Like the tower ships at Liekou, this gave Ji Zhun a tremendous shock. Even if Joseon mustered its entire national strength, it could not assemble an army this powerful and well-equipped. Seeing the disparity in strength, the thought of resistance never once entered his mind.

With the utmost caution, Ji Zhun met Fusu. But contrary to his expectations, this eldest son of the Great Qin Emperor was exceptionally refined and courteous. Not only was he amiable toward Ji Zhun and gave him gifts, but through an interpreter, he also expressed the ancient ties between the Ying clan of Qin and the Zi-surnamed Joseon, even reciting a stanza from "The Martialness of Yin" on the spot.

"Swiftly sped the Martialness of Yin, boldly attacking Jing and Chu. Deep into their fastnesses he plunged, capturing the Jing multitudes. Their territory was brought under control — the achievement of Tang's descendant."

This was a Shang hymn. When Ji-surnamed Joseon offered sacrifices to Wu Ding, they still sang it, though the wording had changed somewhat.

Fusu had the interpreter tell Ji Zhun that this was also the purpose of the Qin dynasty's campaign: solely to punish and destroy the Lord of the Vast Sea.

As for Joseon? Great Qin had no intention of using force against them. They only needed Joseon to open its borders to allow the Qin army south, and incidentally to lend the port of Liekou for storing grain.

With the fleet having played the villain first, Ji Zhun could only agree wholeheartedly. If his agreement came too late, the Qin army would not be borrowing — they would be seizing by force...

Beyond this, Fusu also made clear the First Emperor's stance: Joseon must formally submit to Qin as a vassal and pay tribute. After the war, Ji Zhun was to accompany Fusu to Xianyang to pay homage to His Imperial Majesty.

"Of old, when Cheng Tang reigned, from the Di and Qiang tribes beyond, none dared not to come with offerings, none dared not to come to acknowledge him, saying, 'Shang is the constant lord.'"

Having finished the letter, Ji Zhun recalled the next line of "The Martialness of Yin."

A thousand years ago, those who came to pay tribute and audience to Tang the Martial were the surrounding small fang-states. The Ying surname was among them, groveling at the feet of illustrious Zi-surnamed emperors like Tang the Martial and Wu Ding, trembling, willing to be slaves.

Now, the glorious Great Settlement Shang had fallen eight hundred years ago. Under the tyranny of the Martial Zhou, Joseon — the only one to preserve the independence and dignity of the Zi surname — had fled far, only to end up bowing to its former slaves...

Sighing in despair, Ji Zhun once again lost sleep. He stepped out of his room, stood atop the wall of the small settlement of Zengdi, and gazed out at the Qin camp.

Campfires blanketed the wilds, like fallen stars strewn across the land, merging into an endless sea of constellations.

With Jizhun's poor math, even counting until sunrise he'd never finish tallying how many campfires there were in the Qin camp.

He stared unblinking at the scene, fearful yet envious, though a trace of schadenfreude crept in as well.

"An army this formidable — the Lord of Canghai is in for a world of trouble."

Jizhun chuckled a few times, then sighed and turned to leave.

The night deepened; the soldiers in the camp had all fallen asleep. It was so quiet that only the crackling of burning firewood could be heard. The men on night-watch, huddled by the fires, nodded their heads bit by bit, beginning to doze off.

In this silent moment, inside a tent in one of the encampments, amid the grinding of teeth and the rumble of snoring, a sharp cry of alarm suddenly rang out!

"Ah!"

……

"Ah!"

In the great Qin army camp at Manfanhan, Prince Fusu had dreamed that after his army was defeated, he took his own life in shame. He woke with a start and realized it was only a nightmare, his sword cradled in his arms, his body drenched in sweat.

But then he realized this was no dream at all — the sounds were coming from outside the camp!

Fusu heard it clearly now: men shouting, horses neighing, even the clash of metal on metal! The sounds surged in like a tidal wave!

Ever since Yang Duanhe's tragic death, Fusu had borne a heavy burden, truly sleeping with his spear as a pillow, waiting for dawn. He sprang to his feet, grabbed his sword, and headed out, just as several of his personal guards pushed open the door, hurried in, and knelt.

"What has happened?" Fusu asked urgently.

"My prince, disaster has struck…"

A senior Commandant, whom Fusu had come to rely on as his right-hand man over the past month, raised his head. He had fought in the campaign against Yan, his battle honors as numerous as the scars on his body. He had never feared any foe and could jest and laugh at any moment — but now, his face was grim as iron:

"It's a camp riot!"

PS: Just one chapter today, but I've finally got my rhythm back. Starting tomorrow, I'll definitely resume two chapters a day!

(End of chapter)