Chapter 221: The Prince

By the Jie River northwest of Pingliang Prefecture, the Prince of Han fled for his life.

A vast, chaotic column stampeded through the river valley — two or three hundred men ahead running as if their lives depended on it, and several hundred behind chasing as if their lives depended on it.

A dozen or so personal guards sprinted at the front, blades in hand and horses in tow, their wooden-soled black boots pounding the ground with sharp thuds. Every one of them wore crimson cloud-brocade qilin robes under coats of chain mail and gold-and-silver fish-scale armor that glittered like scales in the sunlight.

Several dozen garrison troops in studded armor held the rear with sabers and bows. Their martial skill was hardly poor, but they lacked the will to fight. When the two sides clashed, one wanted only to kill, the other only to flee — of ten parts of martial prowess, not even one could be brought to bear.

As for the middle of the column, it was a riot of floral splendor: four-clawed python robes, over-the-shoulder flying-fish and bull-fighter roundels — qilin were so common they barely drew a glance.

Every shade of cloud brocade, patterned gauze, and figured silk — reds and blues, bright motifs and subtle ones — dazzled the eye.

It even looked as though they feared no one would realize this was a flock of imperial princes and commandery princes fleeing for their lives: the column alone had five or six yellow silk canopy umbrellas propped up.

The spectacle was so magnificent it almost made one hope some commandery prince would topple over and explode into a shower of loot.

The force behind them was a different story — a chaotic tide of starving peasants, armed with every sort of farm tool and weapon.

At their head rode a man on a black donkey, gripping a four-foot pole-blade cobbled together from a firewood chopper and a dog-beating staff. Again and again he charged forward; sometimes the pole-blade toppled a man, but more often the black donkey carried him off in some other direction.

The black-donkey rider darted before the ranks, now left, now right, never pausing in his leaps and bounds.

Like a fierce sheepdog, he herded a great mass of beasts in official robes.

And straight toward the direction of the princes' flight, a rolling mounted column came sweeping through the river valley in layers of dust, splitting into two wings that enveloped them from north and south.

Beneath the yellow silk canopy, the Prince of Han, fleeing for his life, raised his eyes to the west — and for a moment was overcome with wild joy.

The prince was a sorry sight. His black-gauze winged cap had long since fallen off somewhere, and his jade belt had been torn loose at some unknown moment. Only his hair-cloth still bound his hair, preserving the last shred of his sartorial dignity and sparing him the indignity of disheveled locks.

He first turned and shoved aside the attendant holding the canopy, rode to one side and sought out a nephew, snatched the nephew's winged cap and placed it on his own head, then took the nephew's jade belt and hung it at his own waist. Only then did he turn back and, in a voice long since shouted hoarse, curse: "Zhu Qier, the Guyuan army has arrived — you shall die without a burial place!"

The rider being carried passively left and right by his mount heard this and reined in the black donkey — but not completely. The beast merely paused for a heartbeat before charging madly into the outer edge of the princely escape column, fixing its eyes on a garrison cavalryman and lunging to bite.

The garrison soldier raised his saber to fend it off, but the Golden Cicada on the donkey's back blocked it with his pole-blade. Then the black donkey sank its teeth into the man's thigh, dragged him from his horse, and the Golden Cicada finished him with a single thrust.

In that instant, man and donkey became one, felling a garrison soldier and filling the Golden Cicada's heart with savage delight. The black donkey reared up on its hind legs, and the Golden Cicada, raising his blade atop the donkey, roared in fury: "You swinish wretches, today your grandpa will surely— ah, damn you!"

Sometimes a man and his mount can become one, but sometimes the mount has ideas of its own.

For instance, at this moment, the black donkey beneath the Golden Cicada would not permit its master to finish his tough talk. It reared just a little higher — and dumped the Golden Cicada straight off backward.

When the Golden Cicada scrambled back to his feet, one look left him dumbstruck. As it turned out, the garrison soldier had been riding a mare, and now the black donkey had already mounted the horse's back, its great donkey haunches pumping away without pause.

The Golden Cicada was mortified. Seeing more garrison soldiers about to close in, he could only drag his blade and flee back to his own lines.

In an instant, the riverbank that had bristled with drawn swords a moment before fell so silent one could hear a pin drop.

The situation was bizarre. Centered on this open-air mule-and-horse mating ground, to the west stood a crowd of sumptuously dressed imperial clansmen, to the east starving peasants in rags, and to both north and south the cavalry of the Lion Battalion.

In that moment, the high-born princes were not the main attraction, nor were the righteous army bent on exterminating every noble and minister, nor even the Lion Battalion with its disciplined ranks.

Everyone watched the black donkey's performance in dead silence.

It was not until the Lion Battalion's cavalry fired their blunderbusses skyward in unison, using the voice of fire to call back everyone's attention.

Liu Chengzong arrived belatedly from further west, both hands resting on the pommel as his horse paced forward, his troops following step for step behind him.

Zhou Riqiang, in his official robes, galloped ahead, drove off the princely guards with a shout, and searched among the yellow silk canopies with his eyes, yelling: "Where is His Highness the Prince of Han?"

"This prince is here."

The Prince of Han stepped out from the column, and Zhou Riqiang hurriedly saluted. The prince returned the salute with clasped hands and asked, "Who are you?"

"Your humble servant is Zhou Riqiang, Magistrate of Ningzhou. By order of Supreme Commander Yang, I have brought troops to guard the princedom."

Before the Prince of Han could speak, the chief minister at his side frowned and said, "Magistrate Zhou has just been discourteous. How can one shout before the royal carriage?"

Though the princely chief minister held the rank of full fifth grade, one grade higher than a department magistrate, Zhou Riqiang paid him no attention whatsoever.

It was the Prince of Han who waved a hand and placated, "Ai, it is nothing. Magistrate Zhou has come leading troops — this prince has already received his goodwill. As for shouting before the carriage, do not speak nonsense."

The chief minister cupped his hands. "His Highness instructs rightly."

The Prince of Han knew perfectly well in his heart: what mattered most for a princely vassal? Not virtue, but knowing exactly where one stood.

Those he could afford to provoke, he provoked with all his might; those he could not afford to provoke, he placated with every kind word.

He could not afford to provoke civil officials — those men could memorialize the Emperor directly, and the affairs of the Imperial Clan Court had all been transferred to the Ministry of Rites. Any of these prefectural or departmental officials might well have a fellow examinee in the Ministry of Rites; turning around and making trouble for him would be all too easy.

But while the Prince of Han was all smiles and pleasantries with Zhou Riqiang, he was not the same with the army behind him.

His bearing had already recovered, and his face no longer showed any trace of terror. He stepped out from under the canopy and strutted around in front, thoroughly displeased with this army.

Their armor and uniforms were neat enough, but their banners were a chaotic mess, and the soldiers' helmets were bare except for a single helmet-spear — not even a small pennant.

Outrageous — they actually dared to meet this prince's gaze head-on.

The Prince of Han made a round of inspection, and not a single man dismounted to salute. They all raised their chins and stared straight at him; some even dared to lean over on horseback and whisper to one another, pointing and murmuring.

Rude.

Extremely rude.

The real problem was that the Prince of Han had looked around and simply could not tell who their general was.

This army had not a shred of proper military protocol — just a lot of men and a lot of horses. Their formation was quite disciplined, but the Prince of Han could not read military formations. Looking solely at the quality and color of uniforms and armor, he could not tell who the officers were at all.

Never mind not going to suppress the rebels — every single one of them just stood there planted and staring. What was the meaning of this? Never seen a prince before?

He drew a deep breath, snorted coldly through his nose, and turned to Zhou Riqiang. "Who is the commander of this army? That young officer on the red-haired horse up front looked at this prince with extreme insolence — he must be severely punished!"

Zhou Riqiang had been questioning the chief minister about how many commandery princes and generals had been killed. When he suddenly heard the Prince of Han's words, his expression turned ashen in an instant, as if he had swallowed excrement. He shot a terrified glance to the west, then glared and said urgently, "Your Highness, do not speak recklessly!"

The Prince of Han was startled, then laughed in anger. He was a donkey that had to be stroked the right way — the more one opposed him, the angrier he got. "Truly, a tiger fallen to the plains is bullied by dogs. Can this prince not even speak of a squad leader? Come over here and look."

Without waiting for agreement, he pulled Zhou Riqiang along and walked to ten paces before Liu Chengzong's horse. Raising a hand to point, he said, "Take a look. Magistrate Zhou, what sort of troops have you brought?"

"A fine-looking fellow — quite imposing sitting astride his horse. But look at this: a dog sprawled before the horse, a cat perched behind it, and a little girl at his side. And look at his expression — utterly disdainful of this prince. He must be very unwilling to come guard the princedom. Is this the army of our Great Ming? A disgrace to military prestige!"

Seeing Zhou Riqiang's face ashen as death, the Prince of Han grew even angrier. "What, can I not even speak?"

Zhou Riqiang's heart was bitter. He thought to himself that this prince was not foolish at all. Turning back and seeing Liu Chengzong suppressing a laugh, with no sign of anger, he finally relaxed a little, cupped his hands, and said, "His Highness is truly as sharp-eyed as a torch."

At that phrase, Liu Chengzong was genuinely amused.

He had been listening to the Prince of Han's scolding while exchanging glances with the soldiers to his left and right. Seeing his subordinates' expressions, he guessed they all felt as if they were visiting a zoo, and he had been holding back laughter the whole time.

If he did not laugh, his subordinates did not laugh either — they all held it in.

It wasn't until Zhou Riqiang's "eyes like blazing torches" that he simply couldn't hold back anymore — he looked left and right and burst out laughing. For a moment, laughter rippled through the ranks like a mountain roar, thoroughly startling the Prince of Commandery, the Princess Consort, and all their guards.

It even directly scared off the Golden Cicada troops behind them. That group, already hemmed in by the cavalry and frozen in place, too afraid to move, only now reacted to the laughter and hurriedly fled east.

"Eyes like blazing torches?" The Prince of Han, hearing the laughter, finally sensed something was wrong. He asked, "What does that mean?"

Zhou Riqiang thought to himself that the Prince of Han's tirade against Liu Chengzong could not be called an accidental hit — it could only be called completely accurate.

Liu Chengzong indeed held him in utter contempt, had indeed come to guard the princedom very unwillingly, and indeed was not a Ming army.

But how was he supposed to say that?

"Does Your Highness know that Guyuan has no soldiers left?"

The Prince of Han said dismissively, "I've heard something to that effect."

"So they are not Guyuan soldiers." Zhou Riqiang said to the Prince of Han with utter seriousness, "Has Your Highness heard of... Liu Chengzong?"

Liu Chengzong?

The Prince of Han blinked. Why did that name sound so familiar?

Suddenly a bolt of lightning flashed through the Prince of Han's mind, memories surging back like an electric shock.

When the Supreme Commander of the Three Frontiers had moved his headquarters to Ningzhou, he had briefly stopped at Pingliang Prefecture and said a great bandit from Yan'an Prefecture had led his army into Qingyang, and that he was relocating to Ningzhou precisely to prevent him from sacking the princely state.

The Supreme Commander of the Three Frontiers was the very man who had now sent troops to rescue him — his name was Yang He, and he was in Ningzhou.

What was that great bandit called again? Right, Liu Chengzong.

In an instant, the Prince of Han was dumbstruck. He glanced cautiously beyond ten paces, and from the corner of his eye saw that young general on the chestnut horse still staring at him. He instantly turned his head back, slowly shifted his body to block Liu Chengzong's line of sight with his back, and whispered to Zhou Riqiang, "He is Liu Chengzong?"

Zhou Riqiang let out a sigh through his nose, closed his eyes, and nodded once.

The Prince of Han looked up at the sky and rolled his eyes, every muscle in his face moving with a mind of its own. He tugged at his collar, his whole body rigid with fury and cowardice, and hissed, "Who told you to save me? I don't want you to save me!"

"Your Highness, do not be ungrateful. This humble official begged for a very long time before he was willing to send troops to guard the princedom."

Zhou Riqiang remained expressionless. "Had he not come, I fear there would be no Princedom of Han henceforth."

"If he came, that's when there'd be no Princedom of Han! I can run, I can run!"

Only a bastard would want you to save him.

The Prince of Han looked around, wanting to cry but having no tears. It was too damn late to say anything now — he was already surrounded by the great bandit of Yan'an.

Zhou Riqiang said, "Your Highness, do not be afraid. General Liu is not difficult to get along with. The court is negotiating amnesty; the matter has not yet been settled."

"You brought him here before it was settled?"

It would have been better if Zhou Riqiang hadn't spoken. Once he did, the Prince of Han was even more terrified and furious. "If anything happens to me, Zhou Riqiang, you will meet a bad end!"

"Calm yourself, Your Highness. Hear this humble official out. General Liu has no love for wealth, governs his troops with restraint and shrewdness, and after entering the city will not harm the life of a prince."

The Prince of Han pointed at Zhou Riqiang... this bastard still wanted the great bandit to enter the princely city. Finally he sighed and said, "Does he truly not care for wealth? Ah, whether he cares or not, the princely estate probably has little money left anyway."

"But he likes reading books. Once back in the city, Your Highness can find him a few hundred books." Then Zhou Riqiang added, "As for the amnesty matter, his coming to guard the princedom also carries the intent of seeking an official appointment. He hopes Your Highness can put in a word for him with His Majesty."

Hearing this, the Prince of Han felt he could puff himself up again.

"Books are easy. Unique copies, lost editions, manuscripts — I have plenty." The Prince of Han asked, "An official post for him is also easy. What does he seek? His Majesty may not necessarily listen, but he saved my life. All of us, the many Princes of Commandery and generals of the Han princedom, will petition for him together."

The Princes of Commandery and generals who had been listening quietly all around nodded in agreement. Anything to save their lives, they'd do it. But at the same time, they all cursed Zhou Riqiang fiercely in their hearts... bringing a god of death here.

One Prince of Commandery asked, "He doesn't want to be enfeoffed as a king, does he?"

"What a foolish question. Who cares what he wants?" The Prince of Han glared. "Whatever he wants, you just petition for it. You are not to step forward later, lest you provoke him and bring disaster upon us all!"

In ordinary times, even as an Imperial Prince, he would never be so harsh to a Prince of Commandery. But now, hovering between life and death, things were different. The surrounding Princes of Commandery all nodded in assent one by one.

So what if he wanted a kingship under a different surname? Whether it succeeded or not was for the Emperor to decide; their job was only to petition.

Zhou Riqiang shook his head. "He wants the post of Qinghai Pacification Commissioner, and for his elder brother, the post of Xining Guard Commander."

"Pfft!"

The cluster of Princes of Commandery didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

One was a rank of Upper Third Grade, the other a rank of Principal Third Grade.

That was it?

"Ha!"

The Prince of Han snorted. "All of us great princes aren't even worth two third-rank officials."

Knowing what Liu Chengzong wanted, and knowing he didn't want his life, the Prince of Han felt much better. He waved a hand dismissively. "Enough... Zhou Riqiang, you're on your own."

With that, the Prince of Han straightened his robes, lifted his two large sleeves to free his hands and rubbed them together, swallowed, took a deep breath, turned around with hands raised, and walked toward Liu Chengzong, his face brimming with a smile.

He stopped three paces before the horse, gave a sheepish grin, cupped his hands in a bow, and said in a warm but trembling, utterly cloying tone, "Great King, please dismount."

Liu Chengzong had campaigned north and south and never been knocked from his horse, yet he was nearly thrown from his warhorse by the Prince of Han's "Great King."

"No, you are the Great King." Liu Chengzong glanced at the Prince of Han with half-lidded, sleepy eyes and cupped his hands from horseback. "I am the captain who rides the chestnut horse."

"Ah, the Great King is magnanimous. That was but a jest from this little prince. Lord Zhang Wenzhong once said, if a man's transgression stems from an unintentional error, though it be great, it may still be forgiven." The Prince of Han cupped his hands again and asked, "What does the Great King think?"

To be honest, Liu Chengzong thought this Prince of Han was all right — he could bend and shrink as needed.

When someone brought you a ladder, you should climb down.

So he turned and dismounted, raised his hand in a bow as well, and said, "If Your Highness wishes to honor me, then call me General."

As he spoke, he gave an order to those behind him. "Drive out the bandit troops and restore Pingliang City."

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