Chapter 87: Even a Small Meal Has Great Deliberations

"Your Majesty, letting him go like this—could there be...?"

Watching the Shun bandit squad leader Huzi being dragged away stumbling by the agents, Zhang Shize hesitated as if to speak. The Chongzhen Emperor also sighed and said:

"I know full well this carries risk, but since ancient times, opportunity and risk have gone hand in hand—only those who can bear the risk can seize the opportunity."

"The Grand Ancestor, with his surpassing brilliance and bold vision, unified the realm—yet even his path was not smooth all the way. Did the choices he made along the way not carry their own risks? Had he been timid and hesitant, how could there be our Great Ming's realm today!"

Having said this, the Chongzhen Emperor turned his head and continued:

"My mind is made up—no further discussion on this matter. Instruct the generals to arrange the personnel properly. Rations at the Hour of the Ox tomorrow, assembly at the Hour of the Tiger, and the oath-taking ceremony at the Hour of the Rabbit. Anyone who is negligent shall be executed without mercy!"

The Chongzhen Emperor's words were harsh, but in truth this was merely a move to steady the hearts of the men.

Deep down, the Chongzhen Emperor also knew this was a great gamble. If this bandit were a spy sent by Liu Fangliang, then everything about his camp would already be known to the roving bandits. But if the man were sincere, his chances of victory would rise greatly.

The Chongzhen Emperor knew full well that although the government troops had mustered their courage under his personal example, that courage was in fact extremely fragile—it desperately needed a resounding victory to consolidate it.

This victory was far too important for the present-day Great Ming.

He was the Emperor—he had to lead by example. Even if he had no confidence in his heart, he had to put on the appearance of having a well-thought-out plan for others to see; otherwise, how could those below him have any faith?

With such anxious thoughts weighing on him, the Chongzhen Emperor tossed and turned, unable to sleep. He could only gaze at the sparse moonlight and wonder—was Empress Zhou, sitting alone in the palace at this moment, also thinking of him?

That night, the officers and soldiers went to sleep early. Everyone had heard what the generals said—excitement and agitation mingled with unavoidable fear. But whenever they remembered that the Emperor of Great Ming was eating and sleeping alongside them, courage welled up unbounded in their hearts once more.

"For Great Ming! So that future generations can escape this damned hereditary military household status—even if I die on the battlefield tomorrow, I'll fight these roving bandits to the death!"

Some, fearing the trouble, even slept in their armor through the night, standing their blades and spears beside their beds, ready to assemble the moment the order came.

Some, afraid that if they died tomorrow no one would care for their aged parents, wives, and children at home, began writing farewell letters to their families by the dim light of torches.

Of course, the letters were written—but whether anyone would ever read them was another matter. They served as a comfort, nothing more.

At midnight, the Hour of the Rat, apart from the soldiers assigned to patrol, most had already sunk into deep sleep—yet the kitchens of Huang Village Camp began clattering and banging into action.

"Yo hey—two liang of white salt, four liang of ginger, five catties of fried flour, two of fennel seed; if you want it sweet and tasty, add half a catty of almonds and stir-fry with the flour~"

The old army cook in the kitchen sang this tune—the 'Fried Flour Recipe Song' familiar to all—while personally working with his own hands. Before the other soldiers had even stirred, the kitchen was already bustling upside down.

This Fried Flour Recipe Song, as it happened, had been passed down from the time when Ming Emperor Chengzu, Zhu Di, campaigned north against the Mongols. Since those days, when officers and soldiers marched abroad, apart from crude dry rations, the most delicious thing was this fragrant fried flour.

In these present Chongzhen years, for officers and soldiers to have a coarse corn bun to gnaw on was already a stroke of fortune—as for dry rations or fried flour, don't even think about it. Many people had never even dared to hope they might enjoy such things.

As it happened, this time the military grain and fried flour had been issued as a supplementary allowance by the Chongzhen Emperor himself—otherwise everyone would have gone into battle on empty stomachs again.

Before long, a man dressed in the attire of a palace eunuch walked in through the door. He first took a deep breath of the fragrant air, then broke into a shrill laugh:

"Aiyo ho—good on you, old Xing! After all these years, your kitchen skills haven't slipped a bit. I said it long ago—bringing you back was the right call!"

Hearing this, the army cook Old Xing chuckled and stepped forward to greet him:

"So it's Eunuch Li from the Directorate of Imperial Meals! This old man being able to get this post back is all thanks to your patronage, sir. What wind blows you over here?"

Eunuch Li laughed again, turned back, and clapped his hands, saying:

"Come now—bring everything in."

Old Xing stared speechless at the sacks being carried in by the young eunuchs of the Directorate of Imperial Meals. He crouched down, opened one to inspect its contents, and was both astonished and overjoyed—grinning so wide he couldn't close his mouth.

"Th-this—where did all this come from?"

Seeing Old Xing's exaggerated reaction, the other cooks in the kitchen eagerly opened the sacks out of curiosity—and were equally stunned by what they found inside.

The sacks were filled with good things they wouldn't have dared to dream of. Besides scarce ingredients like granulated sugar and pepper, there were even plenty of dates and cured meats—things one couldn't see on ordinary days even if one tried.

"Look at you all, making such a fuss—hardly fitting for the imperial troops of our Great Ming." Eunuch Li chuckled and teased them a little, then turned serious and said:

"These things were originally brought out of the capital by our Directorate of Imperial Meals and the Court of Imperial Entertainments, specially for His Majesty's use along the road. But His Majesty, in his benevolence and virtue, thinking fondly of the three armies, has specially ordered that they all be distributed to the soldiers for their enjoyment."

"His Majesty's thoughts, day and night, are all on whether the court can win this battle. Old Xing, you must strive to do him proud!"

As he spoke, seeing Old Xing's dazed expression, Eunuch Li suddenly felt he was playing the lute to an ox. He waved his hand, turned, and left the kitchen, saying as he walked:

"Hey, look at that—what did I say before I came? I've said too much again. Old Xing, it's getting late—get busy now. A hundred thousand mouths need feeding."

Old Xing, still not having snapped out of it, stood with his mouth agape—he even forgot to see Eunuch Li and his party off.

A fellow cook came up and nudged him several times with his elbow. Only then did Old Xing suddenly close his mouth. His expression abruptly turned stern as he spun around and shouted:

"Did you all hear that? His Majesty hopes for victory. We cooks can't wield blades on the battlefield, but we must take good care of our brothers' bellies. Understood?"

The cooks all answered in unison: "Understood!"

"The Hour of the Ox has arrived—rations are being served!"

"Rations are out! His Majesty, in his benevolence and virtue, has improved our fare!"

Accompanied by several crisp rooster crows, the officers and soldiers of Huang Village Camp rose one after another from their beds. Hearing the shouts outside, they immediately began excitedly discussing among themselves.

A soldier in one tent suddenly sat up, casually grabbing the long spear standing beside him. He was dazed for a few moments, then nudged another soldier and asked with a frown:

"Dengzi, can you smell something? Why is it so fragrant!"

This Dengzi, though shaken awake from his dreams, was not angry. His first reaction was also to hang his saber at his waist. He shook his head with a bewildered look—then suddenly, as if catching a scent, exclaimed in delight:

"I've got it—it's fried flour!"

"Huh? The kitchen made fried flour?"

The whole tentful of soldiers exploded into chaos at the news. They began packing their belongings at the speed of a hundred and eighty miles per hour. Those who hadn't gotten up yet were kicked awake—and once they heard the news, they too scrambled to pack with frantic urgency.

When they ran out of the tent to look, the area outside was already a flurry of activity.

The aroma of fried flour and cured meat wafted through the entire Huang Village Camp. The government troops began noisily dismantling the camp, and those queuing up in order at the kitchen to receive their food had already formed a long dragon of a line.

Seeing this scene, Dengzi grew anxious on the spot and shouted urgently: "Brothers, hurry up and get to work—if we're any later, the fried flour will be gone!"

"Right, right—hurry and break camp. Gouzi, go tell the Company Commander first!"

"Alright, I'm off."

To guard against any possible disturbance, the soldiers of the Divine Martial Army in their black armor were maintaining order all around. The troops cooperated very well, craning their necks to catch the scent from the back of the line—no one came out to cause trouble.

Huang Degong stood before his own tent, looking at the bowl of fried flour brought over by his personal guards. Tears streamed down his aged face as he choked out:

"With such a sage ruler, Great Ming is truly blessed!"