Chapter 33: Workplace Injury

Yang Dingrui's family were getting by all right.

On the way back, Liu Chengzong learned that the woman in the carriage was Yang Dingrui's wife, and two of the three little ones weren't even his children.

One boy had been picked up at the gate by a servant who heard crying early in the morning; the girl was picked up the next day.

On the third day there was crying outside the gate again, but the household didn't dare take in any more, so they didn't open the door.

By noon, the crying had stopped.

As for servants, they had two — an old maidservant with her niece. Yang Dingrui's wife wasn't a bad sort; seeing that Yang Dingrui had come to fetch her, she left all the remaining grain to the mother and daughter, who were watching the house in Ansai city.

It was just that the woman and the small children were in poor spirits.

Ever since chaos broke out beyond the city walls, Yang Dingrui's wife had not set foot outside. The old servant at home had never told her what it was really like out there, only mentioning in bits and pieces that Gao Yingxiang had come, that Gao Yingxiang had left — of the horrors beyond the walls, she knew nothing at all.

It was only when she saw the yamen runner holding the token that she followed him out. Catching sight of the refugees' mat sheds stretching endlessly between heaven and earth inside the sheep-horse wall beyond the city, she kept repeating to Yang Dingrui as they walked: "They're going to eat me."

The little ones were terrified too, especially Yang Dingrui's son — of the three children, only this youngest had reached an age to remember things. He cried without stopping the whole way, howling like a wolf, grating on everyone's nerves.

Once they left the main city, the road grew more and more desolate. At mealtime, it was perfectly normal to travel ten li without seeing a single wisp of cooking smoke. They feared the child's wailing would draw bandits, but they couldn't make him stop.

The only thing to do was this: whenever the child cried, Liu Chengzong would ride his horse three to five li ahead to scout the situation.

They didn't run into any bandits, but on the return journey, at a mountain pass, they encountered three wild wolves, so starved they were rail-thin, swaying unsteadily as they followed them. Neither Liu Chengzong nor Gao Xian noticed at first; by the time they got close, it was already too late.

One wolf darted out and bit Guo Zhashi on the calf, then bolted.

Creatures like wolves generally don't dare attack a person head-on — after all, a person standing upright is quite large. They hunt to eat, and they eat to stay alive.

That principle holds true for man and beast alike.

There's no need to risk their lives for a hunt. Normally, a wolf will bite a lone person from behind, going for the neck or the calf. A single fatal strike is best; if not, they'll bite the calf and then slowly tail the victim, waiting for them to weaken or bleed to death.

This wolf that struck, however, had rather poor luck — its escape route took it right past Liu Chengzong.

This time he didn't have Little Whirlwind, the slender hound eager to fight wild wolves, at his side. Drawing his saber from horseback, Liu Chengzong would have struggled to reach the wolf, so he strung his bow — but before the arrow could fly, the matter was already settled.

Red Flag, who had been given a full wash, trim, and blow-dry by his master, lifted a hind leg and, hopping, delivered a negative-distance hoof strike straight to the wolf's skull, nearly throwing Liu Chengzong off. The horseshoe had rendered great service.

The remaining two wolves immediately charged down from the mountain. The wounded Guo Zhashi leaned against the cart, pulled out his tools — an iron hook in one hand, a short blade in the other. His child was so terrified he'd forgotten even how to cry.

Yang Dingrui, clutching the child's mother, reacted quickly, though — she began screaming uncontrollably. Yang Dingrui was a beat slower; he drew his sword to prepare for defense, shouting urgently to ask about Guo Zhashi's injury and telling him to get on the cart.

Fortunately, they still had Liu Chengzong and Gao Xian, two border troops. Not only were the pair unafraid, but they exchanged a glance, both pairs of eyes gleaming — for a moment, it was hard to tell who was the man and who was the wolf.

The early spring weather was still cold, and their mandarin-duck battle jackets had been worn for two years. The material had never been substantial to begin with, and after long wear, it was even less warm.

What ill intent could border troops possibly harbor?

Who wouldn't want to add a fur lining to their battle jacket?

After all, a fully armed human being is the world's only true apex predator.

When a forged arrowhead shot from a seventy-jin draw-weight bow, even the thickest fur became utterly useless. In an instant, the charge was halted and the beast reverted to its true form, fleeing toward the hilltop with yelping howls.

Seeing his prey struck by the arrow, Liu Chengzong spurred his horse and gave chase toward the bare mountain and barren ridge, loosing a second arrow moments later.

Gao Xian was even more decisive. His first arrow missed, and the wolf he'd aimed at fled up the mountain path in blind panic — but he wasn't discouraged. He likewise spurred his horse in pursuit, firing sharp arrows without pause.

It wasn't that Gao Xian's archery was poor.

Wolves aren't like horses; they run fast, are very agile, and love to swerve. Hitting one with a bow and arrow is extremely difficult. Even Liu Chengzong's accuracy relied entirely on feel — to put it bluntly, it was a lucky guess.

No one missing a shot was anything remarkable. The most reliable method was still to get in close and land a blow with a mace.

Anyway, they were on horseback. As long as they gave chase, the wolf would eventually tire. Once it was tired and slowed down, they could aim true.

These two border troops, however, were enjoying the chase far too much, leaving Yang Dingrui behind with his hands full and his head spinning.

He looked around and, seeing no other wild beasts emerging, exerted great effort to help Guo Zhashi sit on the cart shaft. Yang Dingrui examined the wound — he happened to have brought wound powder precisely for skirmishes on the road — and inevitably set about applying it and bandaging the injury.

The bandaging was still underway when the clatter of hoofbeats sounded from the distant mountain ridge. As the people on the cart turned their heads, all they saw was Liu Chengzong, laughing heartily, holding aloft with one hand a dusty, four-legged, great ball of fur. He rode atop the overburdened Red Flag, whistling shrilly, tugging the reins as he came galloping down the hillside, a rolling dust dragon in his wake.

At the other mountain pass, Gao Xian looked rather more weary. He came back on two legs, leading his warhorse with a wolf draped across its back, each step leaving a footprint, a trail of blood left on the ground behind him — so much so that for a dazed moment, one might think he was wounded.

"All this time and you haven't even picked up the wolf carcass on the ground. And this — a little thing, forty-some jin."

Liu Chengzong didn't dismount. He first set his trophy on the cart, then, left foot on the stirrup and right foot free, he bent low and scooped from the ground — just as he'd once been trained to pick up fallen arrows at Fish River Fort — retrieving the wolf that Red Flag had first kicked to death and tossing it heavily onto the cart.

This move was called the Mounted Arrow Retrieval Technique, the most difficult of the methods cavalry used to replenish arrows in combat.

Besides this, there were two others: bow-tip arrow retrieval and bowstring arrow retrieval. The bow tip was used to pick up arrows lying on the ground; the bowstring could snag arrows stuck into the earth. These were skills every cavalryman had to master.

The horse warriors revered in the ancient East were always all-around cavalrymen. At least in the training manuals of the Great Ming border forces, a cavalryman not only had to be able to level a fifteen-chi lance and execute a couched-lance charge, but was also required to dispatch enemies with bow and arrow from the back of a heaving horse, and finally had to reach behind to his horse's rump, pull out a mace, saber, iron whip, or axe, and crack open his opponent's skull.

They demanded excellence in everything — mounted archery, charging, dueling, and melee.

By the time Liu Chengzong returned, the wolf bite on Guo Zhashi's leg had already been bandaged by Yang Dingrui.

The resigned Confucian scholar, possessed of some medical skill, smiled as if a great burden had been lifted: "Good fortune — the clothes were thick, no damage to sinew or bone. Just a surface bite. I've applied a bit of medicine."

"Rest a while when we get back and he'll be fine. Your carter gets to keep this leg."

Seeing Liu Chengzong approach, Guo Zhashi struggled to climb down from the cart, but Liu Chengzong stopped him, saying, "No need to get down. Just sit up there. Have your boy ride my horse. Those two horses are both hungry — they can't carry this many people."

He swung down from his horse, removed his six-lobed iron helmet, and looked at the white bandage stained crimson on Guo Zhashi's calf, then at Gao Xian approaching from not far away leading his horse, and worriedly scratched his head.

A newly recruited helper, and on his very first day working for him, he gets a workplace injury... This was hardly a good omen.