Chapter 356: Winning and Praising

Liu Chengzong wore a dome-shaped hat with a red tassel, beneath its brim a pair of tiny sapphire spectacles framed in corundum, a Hetian jade pipe held at the corner of his mouth, a dark-patterned blue satin robe on his body, a string of southwestern gemstone necklaces around his neck, riding a tall, sturdy gray Hequ horse as he traveled the official road through the Hehuang Valley, holding an account book and reading as he went.

He wore the big hat — but felt no cold; he wore the spectacles — but did not look through them; he held the pipe in his mouth — but did not light it.

The whole man had already departed from practicality.

The reason for this getup was that Liu Chengzong, for the first time in his life, had discovered that having money was truly wonderful.

Chengzong was no stranger to money — as the grand steward of the Lion Army, the wealth that passed through his hands exceeded what most people in the world would see in several lifetimes.

A hundred thousand cattle and sheep — he bought and sold them single-handedly; ten thousand taels of gold — he moved them in and out of the treasury; three hundred thousand taels of silver — those he handled entirely on his own, and Liu Chengzong never even laid eyes on that money.

But that money was not Chengzong's own — he could not touch it, nor had he ever thought of touching it.

Only this time, with the new factory nearing completion, when Master Shi Chengwo distributed reward silver to the craftsmen for inventions and innovations, Chengzong was issued five hundred taels in reward notes for creating the Lion Note anti-counterfeiting system.

He had struck it rich!

All of Xining knew that the cloth used to make Lion Notes was woven by a special brocade technique, supplemented by dye-printing — all the Wang family craft, virtually impossible for common folk to counterfeit.

But even if the Wang family workshops to the east counterfeited the Lion Notes with the exact same weaving process, they would still be detected at the Ju'erwan market — and every last one, no matter how many came, would be detected.

At the Ju'erwan market, only the three orphans Chengzong raised could verify authenticity — no one knew why; those three children, hidden away in a dark room, could tell genuine from fake.

Even Chengzong's father-in-law Wang Kun did not know the principle; he only knew that when redeeming large sums above fifty taels, the note had to be handed to an old soldier, who gave it to the children, and in a moment they would know whether it was real.

Wang Kun had worried about the old soldier and the children being bribed, but Chengzong laughed and said, "That old soldier knows nothing at all, only that he must protect the children; the children also know nothing at all, only the method — what use would bribing them be? Besides…"

"What wealth and rank could be greater than following me, Liu Chengzong? For that, he'd have to go find my second brother."

In truth, Chengzong's second anti-counterfeiting measure was very simple: the Lion Note was a cloth note, and Chengzong had mixed wool into the raw cotton of the cotton threads — outwardly it looked no different, but if the cloth note were held over a flame, it would give off the acrid stench of burnt wool.

If there was none — it was a fake.

The real anti-counterfeiting was Chengzong's common sense: people who regularly handled wool did not have the ability to commission fabric from top-tier weavers; people with the ability to deploy top-tier weavers never had wool on their minds at all.

Having received the Marshal's mansion reward, for the first time in four years since the uprising, Chengzong's savings finally broke into three digits, and it thrilled him to no end.

He splurged ruthlessly, spending a full forty-eight taels in Ju'erwan to outfit himself from head to toe, and gave the remaining four hundred and fifty taels to his wife in Ju'erwan, telling her to dutifully look after his father-in-law and his second uncle and aunt in Ju'erwan.

Only after all this was done did Chengzong pocket the two taels of silver he had exchanged as pocket money and set about his proper business.

The proper business was converting post stations into towns, building a framework in the Hehuang Valley, based on the baojia system, for transmitting information to every corner.

This was the mission his second brother had entrusted to him; donning his newly purchased outfit, Chengzong, brimming with drive, raised a force of two thousand five hundred men and marched east from Xining.

He requested Wang Wenxiu's infantry camp of twelve hundred foot soldiers from New City, pulled Feng Rang's eleven hundred banner troops from Xining Garrison, and obtained two hundred mining soldiers from Sky Monkey at the Sun-Moon Mountain Ironworks — forming the core of five towns and leading them to take up their posts.

Ever since he had gotten this force, Chengzong had been planning how to divide it; he intended to have two infantry centurions lead two banner troop centurions, adding forty post riders as dispatch soldiers, to form one town garrison.

In this way, from Xining to Shangchuankou, with a structure of five towns and ten relay posts, each town would be responsible for forty li of the river valley, with express relay posts set in between — a message could make two round trips from Xining to Shangchuankou in a single day.

And should any one town come under attack, at least a thousand troops could be assembled within half a day — and a thousand troops would be enough to deal with any rebellious landlord militia or tribal armed force in Hehuang.

What's more, once militia were organized in the future, the five towns could continuously supply new recruits to the training camp every year.

In fact, Chengzong believed that Hehuang absolutely had to train civilian braves, which was precisely why he had asked Wang Wenxiu for troops — the soldiers from the training camp could all serve as militia officers; Chengzong had even already written out the plan.

Twenty village wards — in each village, able-bodied men of age would train three days a month and intensively for one month in winter; learning basic military knowledge was only secondary.

In peacetime, these youths would have the chance to interact with officers; how the local village officials performed, whether anyone was monopolizing power and seizing profits — these could be reported from another angle; in future eastern campaigns, they could also provide help transporting supplies.

Chengzong was brimming with confidence, but before he had even reached the first town, he saw several cavalry scouts galloping from the east, small yellow flags strapped to their backs, their expressions urgent.

The Marshal's mansion had a rule: no one was to obstruct scout riders; even with his army, Chengzong had to clear the official road. He watched the scout riders cut across his column, then wheel back — the lead rider dismounted, knelt, and reported, "Third Master, a letter from the Grand Marshal."

Chengzong cheerfully took the letter, figuring he must have been dressed so gaudily the scout riders hadn't recognized him; smiling, he said, "Oh, the Grand Marshal is looking for me."

He unfolded the letter, but had barely read the opening lines when his expression turned grave.

Feng Rang, the Xining Garrison battalion commander traveling with him, noticed the change in his face and asked nervously in a low voice, "What's happened?"

Chengzong said nothing; he glanced left and right, pulled Feng Rang aside, and said, "Brother Feng, Second Brother says over ten thousand Lintao border troops and Hezhou native soldiers are advancing west from south of the Yellow River — either they mean to strike straight at Xining Prefecture, or they're closing in from behind the main army to encircle it."

"Then what are we waiting for? We have to go rescue the Grand Marshal!"

Feng Rang's eyes bulged, and his ferocious manner so startled Chengzong that he felt like sending him two children to snack on; he hurriedly raised a hand and said, "No — Brother Feng, wait a moment, let me think this over… think it over properly."

Suddenly hearing that a large government force was bearing down on his position, Chengzong was so frightened he felt somewhat lost and panicked.

Chengzong still held the official rank of Supply Camp Deputy General; strictly speaking, he was one of the Marshal's mansion's generals, and for a long time he had been on the front lines of battle.

But his responsibility had always been how to get the army moving — he had never been responsible for where the army moved.

In the past, there had always been either Liu Chengzong or Liu Chengzu at his side, or at worst Cao Yao — all people who could make the big decisions; this sort of thing had never required him to worry.

Now, in his fluster, his instinct was to find someone nearby who understood military matters and ask for advice, but Feng Rang's shout to hurry and rescue the Grand Marshal instead forced Chengzong to calm himself down.

'Feng Rang is too impulsive — I can't ask him.'

As he stood there racking his brains, a soldier came to report that the scout riders had ridden west again — they had other missions.

Chengzong merely responded hastily, then stammered to himself, "First… if my eldest brother and second brother were here, what would they do? They'd… they'd send out scouts first — if there are no scout riders, we have to send reconnaissance riders, right? First, know where the enemy is."

"Then… once we've scouted, where do we report? Report to Xining. We withdraw — back to Xining."

"Back to Xining?" Feng Rang asked, somewhat incredulous. "And just… leave the Grand Marshal?"

"My eldest brother and second brother command thirty thousand troops — even if the government forces encircle them, they may not prevail. What if the government troops strike Xining?"

Chengzong's train of thought grew smoother as he spoke, his tone more and more resolute: "Even if our two thousand five hundred men charged over there, it'd be like pissing on a burning house — it wouldn't put out the fire… Back to Xining. My second uncle and aunt, the soldiers' families — they're all in Xining."

As he spoke, Chengzong's eyes had already lit up; rubbing his hands together with full confidence, he said, "I know what I'm supposed to do in this battle."

He had figured it out.

Whether to advance east to support the main force or to hold Xining — it was not his call to make; it depended on the reconnaissance riders probing the enemy's movements. If the enemy struck Xining, they would defend Xining; if the enemy attacked the main force, they would pursue and support from behind.

But his own ability as a commander was insufficient — Chengzong believed he was not up to such a heavy responsibility; he had to hand the troops over to Deputy General Wang Wenxiu and let Wang Wenxiu command this battle.

Chengzong knew his own limits very well in his heart: what he could do, he would do; what he could not do, he must not force.

He reckoned his leadership ability, somewhere between greater than zero and less than one, and had no intention of dragging the soldiers down on the battlefield — he could be of some use off the battlefield, and that was about right.

Chengzong lightly smacked his left fist into his right palm: "It's decided — we're going back to Xining!"

Feng Rang, persuaded by the reason that Liu Xiangyu and Madam Cai were in Xining, offered no further argument and very crisply followed Chengzong in leading the army back to Xining.

He accepted what Chengzong had said: the Old Master and Old Madam were in Xining, the families of many officers and soldiers were also in Xining, their property, and even the military pay that was always said to be issued but never had been — all of it was in Xining. That city could not be lost.

By the time Chengyun returned to Xining, the city was already under martial law by Liu Xiangyu's order — markets and streets all shuttered, every household with doors barred and windows shut.

The lockdown was only slightly eased after two thousand five hundred soldiers entered and garrisoned the city. The martial law order had mainly targeted the tusi families residing in Xining; before Chengyun came back, the city had only three hundred seventy soldiers and eighty bailiffs.

Yet even with Chengyun bringing troops back, the prefectural office still issued wartime proclamations throughout the city — forbidding climbing to heights, making noise, setting off firecrackers, lighting fires, hanging laundry, and the like, with violators to be executed on the spot.

As soon as Feng Rang entered the city, he was assigned the task of digging pits along the inside of the city walls and burying water vats upside down, so that during battle they could listen for the enemy tunneling underground, and of building watchtowers at the northeast and southeast corners that rose one zhang above the walls.

Chengyun, meanwhile, was ordered by Liu Xiangyu to lead men in taking inventory of all courtyards in the city that could be dismantled — the beams and pillars of houses, the earth and stone of the walls, even the trees in the yards, all to be thoroughly catalogued.

Should a siege begin and defensive supplies run short, Liu Xiangyu wanted a plan ready for where to start tearing down.

Chengyun toiled all day. At dusk he was summoned to the prefectural office — his scouts sent to the Yellow River bank had returned. The scouts had seen enemy troops covering the hills and plains, encamped on the south bank of the Yellow River south of Nianbo, with their vanguard still pressing westward toward the Sala outpost. Their target, they feared, was Xining.

Inside the prefectural office, Liu Xiangyu was not nearly as tense as Chengyun had imagined. Instead, he was breaking apart a yellow cornmeal bun, taking a bite himself, then pinching off a piece to feed Little Zuanfeng, perfectly at ease.

Seeing Chengyun enter the rear residence of the office, Liu Xiangyu brushed the crumbs from his hands, casually sat down on a stone in the courtyard, and said, "I asked General Wang. None of us have ever defended a city before. He thinks our odds defending the city aren't great. As for open battle… General Wang dares to fight, but only says the odds are slightly better than defending the city."

Chengyun thought to himself, that line sounds exactly like a general from the Marshal's headquarters — arrogance without bounds. Three thousand six hundred against a Regional Commander's ten-thousand-plus troops, one against three, and he says open battle gives slightly better odds than defending a city.

He asked, "Then what does Second Uncle intend?"

Liu Xiangyu laughed. "Elite troops and crack generals all sent out — we're lucky the Lion left General Wang behind. But this battle will be hard. Chengyun, take the family and go back to Nangqian. If the fighting goes badly, at least the family line will survive."

"Second Uncle, no one is leaving. With a great army bearing down, the soldiers' morale is already nothing to speak of. But if I take the family away, the city defense will surely collapse — morale will plummet."

"Besides, Second Brother has beaten a Regional Commander before. One Regional Commander isn't enough to wipe out the whole Liu family." Chengyun forced a casual smile, picked a stone to sit on as well, and said, "What if General Wang had reinforcements — another three thousand, making it one against two? How would that look?"

Liu Xiangyu paused. "More reinforcements? You mean… Haixi and Haibei?"

Chengyun nodded. "I took the liberty of writing to the two magistrates Chen and Liu, General Zhong Hu of South Mountain Fort, General Bao Hu of the Guide Battalion, and Tusi Chen of Eight Corner City, ordering them to bring all their troops back to Xining."

"You!" Liu Xiangyu stared at Chengyun, his hand outstretched and frozen for a moment before he broke into a smile. "You've got nerve."

Liu Xiangyu had considered doing the same, but he had been weighing how the situation developed. Unless it became absolutely necessary, he found it hard to make that decision.

On one hand, it meant abandoning all territory outside Xining and pulling everything back — and that was the smaller issue. More importantly, it would make him, as a father, offend both his sons at once.

Their family had grown like a rolling snowball. Everyone stood in positions they were unfamiliar with, or that exceeded their talents, requiring immense study just to be worthy of their station. But no sooner had they become worthy — or even before they had — their status and power swelled even larger.

This left everyone walking on thin ice. The most relaxed, ironically, was Liu Chengzong, who only ever needed to win and be praised.

As long as he did not fail, as long as his authority went unshaken, Liu the Lion could sit securely as Grand Marshal.

But for everyone else — take now, for instance — Liu Xiangyu would rather not be Prefect of Xining at all, because a prefect had no authority to mobilize the troops of Xining Prefecture. Xining had Vice Regional Commander Liu Chengzu, but Liu Chengzu had gone off to war.

If Liu Xiangyu were merely an old father with no official post, he could step forward and overstep his bounds without hesitation. But he was also the Prefect of Xining — he had both usurped Liu Chengzu's men and altered Liu Chengzong's rules.

In truth, the matter was easily resolved: just send a letter to Liu Chengzong at the front. But Liu Xiangyu was also an old father — to throw away the lands his son had conquered before the battle had even begun made him feel deeply ashamed.

"Second Uncle, I've thought it over. Even a lion pouncing on a rabbit must use full strength. General Wang knows warfare. Let's recall all our troops and give General Wang our full support to win this battle. As long as we win, the land we've let go won't fly away."

Liu Xiangyu sighed and slowly nodded. Only then did Chengyun breathe a sigh of relief and give a rueful laugh. "A pity about this outfit of mine — only got to wear it for one day."

Liu Xiangyu asked, "What's wrong?"

"I have to take it off. Rules are rules. Second Brother's law shows no mercy. If I keep wearing these gaudy clothes, I'm afraid Second Brother will beat me."

"That won't happen." Liu Xiangyu had thought it was something serious and shook his head, laughing. "Still, the court has one Regional Commander and two Vice Regional Commanders per garrison for good reason. We still need to perfect our system — we can't have you stripping off your outfit every time."

With that, Liu Xiangyu clapped his hands with great enthusiasm. "Alright, now that we have reinforcements, I'll go invite General Wang back. Let's put our heads together and figure out how to fight this battle!"