Chapter 70: Clouds of War

At the end of May, Liu Chengzong, together with Chengyun and others, escorted rice and grain to the prefectural city to buy horses and mules. On the way, they encountered Yang Yanchang, a probationary commander of a hundred households.

They learned that Liu Guoneng was not faring well.

Killing the government soldiers from the south hadn’t led to much trouble; in such matters, the local officials still protected their own people. However, during their inspection, the constables discovered that several villages in Nanjia Mountain had large stores of grain.

In a year of calamity, even the wages of bailiffs and yamen runners in Yan’an Prefecture were halved—everyone was starving.

Some officials entertained wicked thoughts, wishing to accuse the villagers of colluding with bandits, arrest a few people, and extort some grain.

What they never expected was that the villagers truly were bandits—bandits with secrets to hide.

Lacking the nerves for such a confrontation, the constables crumbled under intimidation.

All seven who came to investigate were killed in Nanjia Mountain.

The entire village fled with their families, carting grain into the remote mountains under cover of night.

The authorities couldn’t find anyone else, but they knew of a certain scholar, Liu Guoneng.

This time, he didn’t even need the alias he used for his most notorious exploits; his real name was posted on the wanted notices.

Fortunately, the authorities had no time to deal with such small fry.

Summer arrived, ushering in the biannual tax resistance in northern Shaanxi. Bailiffs and yamen runners became the most dangerous profession in Yan’an Prefecture; they had no time to concern themselves with other matters.

Learning that Liu Guoneng was wanted yet still alive, Liu Chengzong felt a sense of relief.

It wasn’t that he was heartless—one can never truly change another person, but reality can.

Harsh reality shatters beautiful illusions.

One must suffer a loss to gain wisdom.

Before meeting Zhang, the hundred-household commander who demanded grain without doing his duty, Liu Chengzong too had cherished hopeful illusions about the world.

To recognize one’s mistakes and correct them is a great virtue.

But Yang Yanchang had even more important news to share.

They walked eastward from the livestock market outside the south gate until they found a shaded spot on a hillside, away from prying eyes.

Yang Yanchang said, “You’ve noticed, haven’t you? The garrison camp in the southern city is drilling nonstop. Word is spreading through the military quarters that war is coming.”

The city of Yan’an is divided by the Yan River into northern and southern parts—the larger city to the north, the smaller to the south, with the drill grounds also on the southern bank.

Liu Chengzong asked, “Is it about Yanchuan?”

“I fear it’s more than just that. Five days ago, a new commander arrived from Xi’an; seven hundred bannermen have been drawn from the garrison to form new battalions for intensive training. The north has also sent two hundred elite cavalry to Li Bei.”

“There’s also the provincial governor’s personal troops to the south—this is bigger than just Yanchuan.”

Zhang Tianlin’s predictions had come true. The various rebel armies had converged, their numbers now too great for the court to ignore.

This time, the imperial forces meant business.

Liu Chengzong asked, “What’s the situation with the garrison troops? If they’re about to march and have no grain, will they… seize food?”

“You thought of that? That’s why I stopped you. Be careful—those bannermen seem crazed. I know of at least two who have hanged themselves these past days.”

“H-hanged themselves?” Liu Chengzong was incredulous. “Are they that afraid of war?”

Yang Yanchang was displeased by this remark, his expression darkening. “No one’s afraid of war—we’d be glad for the chance. Even starving, we’re not afraid to die. What we fear is being denied that chance. The new commander from Xi’an is a real bastard, drilling the troops to death. Some piss blood at night—just for a few days of frantic training! What’s the point?”

With that, Liu Chengzong understood.

The garrison had no military pay; their rations relied on the harvest from the military farms—barely enough to feed the regular soldiers, let alone the auxiliaries.

Now, in a year of famine, even the common folk can’t eat their fill; the bannermen have it worse.

Sending them to the front is sending them to die. But if by luck they take a few heads, they might become officers and change their fate—or, failing that, abandon their families and desert.

But if they’re denied even the chance to die in battle and are instead drilled mercilessly while starving, what can they accomplish? For the poor, life is already endless suffering—death by the blade holds little terror.

At least it’s quick.

Liu Chengzong asked, “So what are your plans?”

“Me?”

Although they were sure no one was nearby, Yang Yanchang still glanced around before whispering, “I came out today to get a batch of old weapons from the garrison, had them taken to the blacksmith for repairs. Once they’re fixed, I won’t take them back. My men won’t survive this war; I’m going to lead them away.”

“Where will you go?”

“To Guoneng, of course. He has grain, enough to last till autumn. We’ll figure things out after the government troops leave.”

Yang Yanchang seemed to be reassuring both Liu Chengzong and himself. “I’ve thought it through. This time, the government troops are targeting the big-name rebels. If we hide in the mountains and keep to ourselves, we shouldn’t get caught up in it.”

Seeing that Yang Yanchang had made up his mind, Liu Chengzong offered a few words of comfort and said no more.

Unexpectedly, Yang Yanchang turned out to be quite optimistic, abruptly changing topics. “Tell me, do you want to take a wife? Or perhaps one of your attendants, or clansmen? Do you want a daughter, a son?”

The sudden shift left Liu Chengzong bewildered. “Wait, Brother Yang, why bring up buying wives out of nowhere?”

“It’s about those three families. One was loyal enough to hang herself with her husband; the other two have left behind two women and five children—two boys, three girls—with no one to care for them. They’re all from garrison farmer families; the women are young and hardworking, the children obedient. If you want to buy them, I can help. They’re cheap—a woman for twenty or thirty jin of millet. Once things settle down, they’ll be sold off to Shanxi anyway.”

Liu Chengzong glared. “Why must they be sold? If their husbands are dead, do their in-laws have to pawn them off?”

“There’s no in-laws left. The men died and the debts remain. The grain must be repaid. Every garrison family is starving, just waiting for food to survive—mercy won’t fill their bellies. Look, you need a whole shi of grain and then some to buy a horse, but here, for a shi, you get seven people. Isn’t that better than a horse?”

Liu Chengzong quickly waved his hands. “Don’t drag them into this. Do you really think being with me is better than being sold to Shanxi?”

“Alright, if you’re not interested, I won’t mention it again. I just think that even if they lost their heads with you, at least they wouldn’t be mistreated. We’re brothers-in-arms—I can’t stand the thought of their families being humiliated after their deaths.”

Yang Yanchang took it in stride, and instead warned him, “But be careful of Zhang Xiong. He commands over three hundred men, and after being severely punished by Commander Fei a few days ago, he just brought back over twenty heads from outside.”

“Zhang Xiong—you mean Commander Zhang?”

“Yes, that’s him.”

Yang Yanchang nodded and leaned in. “Commander Fei wants him to guard Yan’an. Once the government troops set out, no one will be able to keep him in check. Who knows what he’ll do for grain and money.”

Liu Chengzong took a deep breath and pinched his brow.

Damn it. First buying land attracted starving peasants.

Now he was buying horses—he’d better not let Commander Zhang find out.

Given Commander Zhang’s history of dealing with bandits, if he learned that Black Dragon Mountain was trading grain for horses, he’d surely come to extort them as well.

How much longer would he have to endure this humiliation?

Liu Chengzong was silent for a long moment before suddenly looking up. “Where does Commander Zhang live? In the garrison outside the city?”

The question startled Yang Yanchang. “What are you planning?”

“That man brought troops to my house demanding grain, took it, and did nothing in return. He even made deals with the bandits who massacred a village—using the heads of commoners as proof of merit.”

Liu Chengzong smiled, his face kind and gentle. “I’m just asking.”

“Don’t do anything reckless, Tiger General. He lives in the city, right next to the Drum Tower, in the only large compound there. If you make a scene, you won’t get away.”

Yang Yanchang pointed toward the prefectural city. “Besides, the city’s under martial law. You can’t come or go without registering.”

Martial law made things difficult; he’d have to act outside the city.

“Hey, since you’re planning to run anyway, can you get me a cannon? A small one—light enough for two donkeys to pull.”

Before Yang Yanchang could refuse, Liu Chengzong raised three fingers and added, “Three shi of grain. Take the women yourself—I just want the cannon.”