Chapter Forty-Six: Li Jing's True Intentions

Within the Prince of Qi’s residence, Li Jingsui was wrapped in thick garments, appearing chilled. Yet it was already spring: the ice had melted, and the weather was warming. Yang Lian and Lin Renzhao wore only light clothing; though the air was still a touch cold, as martial men, they endured it easily. At a glance, Yang Lian could tell Li Jingsui was in poor health, needing extra layers to ward off the chill.

“This time, it was I who advised my royal brother,” Li Jingsui said, smiling to clarify Yang Lian’s doubts. “Soldiers are trained for years, only to be used in crucial moments. The Imperial Guard bears the heavy responsibility of protecting Jinling—it must venture out to battle if it is to become truly formidable.”

Only then did Yang Lian understand why the emperor had sent the Shenwu Army, the elite of the Imperial Guard, to campaign, and furthermore, why he entrusted command to the deputy envoy of the Privy Council. Yang Lian harbored concerns about Li Zhenggu’s abilities, but he kept them to himself. Before events unfolded, all was mere speculation, and he had grown familiar with Li Jingsui’s character.

Li Jingsui’s intentions were clear: he hoped Yang Lian would seize this opportunity to earn merit through military action. Yang Lian recognized the prince’s goodwill and quickly nodded his thanks. Since the Prince of Qi had instructed Li Zhenggu to look after him, Yang Lian knew he must grasp this chance, lest future opportunities slip away.

The two conversed for some time. As dusk approached, Yang Lian rose to take his leave. On his way out, he encountered Princess Huairou, her cheeks flushed and breath quickened. Seeing Yang Lian, she paused, feigning composure. “What brings you here again?”

Yang Lian smiled. “In a few days, I’ll march with the army against Suzhou. I’ve come to bid farewell to the Prince of Qi.”

“Going to attack Suzhou?” Princess Huairou was taken aback, pouting. “Go then, and best not return!” With that, she stamped her foot and walked away. Her maid, Lüshang, waved at Yang Lian. “The princess is upset.”

“Lüshang, you’re talking too much—tomorrow you’ll be punished with no food,” Princess Huairou called, her hearing sharp despite her departure.

Lüshang’s face went pale with fright, hurrying after her. “Princess!”

Just a young maid after all, Yang Lian mused, stepping out of the Prince of Qi’s residence.

On the third day, Yang Lian was fully prepared. His weapons and armor had been inspected and polished until they gleamed, reflecting his own image. With Wang Hu’s help, he donned his fine-scaled armor, shouldered his bow and quiver, and belted his long saber. He stood a full eight feet tall, and clad in armor, cut a striking figure. The suit weighed over seventy pounds; had he not trained extensively and developed thick muscles, he could never have worn it.

Yang Lian led the way, his armor clanking with each stride, its cold gleam intimidating all who saw him. With his saber at his hip, he exuded an aura of violence and menace. Wang Hu, at his side, could not help but feel a faint dread.

“Let’s go. If we’re late, we’ll face military discipline,” Yang Lian said, hand resting on his saber as he strode out.

Wang Hu followed, spear in hand.

At the gate, Zhao Peng waited with a warhorse. Upon seeing Yang Lian, he stiffened, both respectful and apprehensive. It was the first time in half a year he’d seen Yang Lian in armor: the raised sword-brows gave him a stern, commanding presence—was this the amiable master he knew?

Yang Lian patted the warhorse, purchased at great expense and raised for over three months. He’d lavished care upon it; though it was early spring, the horse was plump and strong, testament to his dedication.

After half a year’s training, Yang Lian was now adept at riding. As he was about to mount, Lüshang ran up, breathless. “Young Master Yang, wait!”

“Lüshang, what brings you here?” Yang Lian glanced back.

“Um…” Lüshang hesitated, then approached, suddenly rising on tiptoe to grab his hand, pressing something into his palm before running off.

“What’s this?” Before Yang Lian could react, she had vanished.

He opened his hand: a small, red charm for safety, delicate and lovely.

“Master, I daresay that’s from the princess,” Xiao Erhei remarked nearby.

Yang Lian shook his head, but after a moment’s thought, hung the charm around his neck. Seeing that time was short, he mounted his horse. On the road, soldiers marched or rode in armor, hurrying toward the parade grounds.

Vendors and pedestrians moved aside in fear at the sight of the armed troops. Two days earlier, the emperor had issued an edict: the Wu-Yue people were arrogant, and this campaign against Suzhou was a must-win—Southern Tang would force Wu-Yue to beg for mercy.

On the way, Yang Lian met up with Lin Renzhao and Chen Tie. They traveled together, arriving at the parade grounds to find it packed with people. Soon, more troops from Jinling arrived, and the grounds became a cacophony of voices and excitement.

Since the reign of Emperor Xuanzong, the military system had shifted from conscripted soldiers to professional mercenaries. By the late Tang and Five Dynasties, commanders were unruly and often rebelled when dissatisfied—Zhu Wen, Xu Wen, Li Bian, and later Zhao Kuangyin followed this model, some more temperate than others.

Most of the soldiers present were career professionals, unlike the old conscripts who farmed in peacetime and bought their own gear. Mercenaries’ equipment was issued by the government; some looked poorly outfitted.

Especially among the captains—seeing Yang Lian, merely a junior officer, riding a fine horse, their eyes reddened with envy. Yet with so many people present, they dared not act, but silently memorized his appearance.

Besides the Shenwu Army, the Tianxiong Army gathered here too, numbering nearly ten thousand, causing confusion until the commanders arrived. They ordered roll calls, arranged units in formation, and with captains and junior officers patrolling, the troops gradually settled into silence.

Yang Lian stood out, mounted on his warhorse. Few junior officers could afford to keep horses; even within the Shenwu Army, cavalry belonged to a different command. Gao Shensi turned a blind eye, letting Yang Lian be. But Zhou Hongzuo, displeased, thought Yang Lian’s horse was better than his own—how infuriating.

With the count completed, numbers were reported up the chain. Those who shirked were finished for life. The Tianxiong Army’s commander was Zhu Kuangye: before Liezu ascended the throne, he was a military instructor. After Li Bian took the throne, Zhu was appointed as governor of Shezhou, later commander of the Divine Guard. When Li Jing became emperor, he was made Tianxiong commander—an old minister, a founding veteran like Gao Shensi.

Gao Shensi and Zhu Kuangye reported the numbers; Deputy Envoy Li Zhenggu began his speech. His voice was soft, understood by only a few, but Yang Lian caught most of it—a rousing call to fight well and bring glory to the nation.

After the brief speech, drums thundered, firecrackers exploded, pigs and sheep were sacrificed, and the ceremony grew lively. When the drums ceased and the ritual ended, the army set out, marching south along the Imperial Avenue, out the south gate and over Changgan Bridge, leaving Jinling behind.

The Imperial Avenue was Jinling’s main thoroughfare; crowds packed both sides, mostly relatives of soldiers—parents, wives, children. They carried baskets filled with eggs, flatbread, steamed buns, showing their support for the troops and fearing their loved ones would never taste home-cooked food again. Many women, reluctant to part with husbands, fathers, or sons, wept bitterly.

Yang Lian rode, looking around at the crying and commotion, feeling a strange envy. Did anyone in this world care for him? He touched the charm around his neck and thought the princess was, in her way, endearing. He searched the crowds but did not see Princess Huairou, and so let the matter drop.

In the distance, Princess Huairou, clad in a ruqun, stood with Lüshang atop a tavern, gazing out. Yang Lian stood out among the walking junior officers.

“Princess, that’s General Yang!” Lüshang clapped and cheered, a little girl’s excitement.

“General? He’s just a lowly junior officer. In Jinling, toss a stone and you’ll hit a third-rank official. What’s special about him?” Princess Huairou scoffed.

“But why did you give him the charm?” Lüshang wondered aloud.

“You talk too much—two days without food!” Princess Huairou snapped, her brows raised, showing sparkling tiger teeth.

“Princess, Lüshang was wrong,” the maid replied meekly, head bowed in apology.

“Too late!” the princess declared.

Next door, someone else watched Yang Lian. This campaign by Southern Tang involved the Imperial Guard, clearly showing the emperor’s deep concern. Yang Lian’s role drew their attention.

“Convey my orders: closely monitor this battle. Report any news immediately,” said a soft voice—remarkably, a woman.

“Yes,” another voice replied.

“Furthermore, should his life be endangered on the journey south, he must be protected—at any cost,” the woman instructed.

“As you command, I’ll pass it on,” came the response.

No more words were spoken. Only when Yang Lian passed beyond the south gate and disappeared from view did the two descend the tavern.

At that moment, Yang Lian was unaware of the intrigues that had unfolded during his departure. His heart was already soaring toward Suzhou.

He wondered what strategy Li Zhenggu would employ. The combined forces of the Shenwu and Tianxiong Armies totaled ten thousand. Once they entered Changzhou, the local garrison numbered five thousand. How would these fifteen thousand men take Suzhou? Yang Lian saw it as a daunting task. The city had been defended for over thirty years by Qian Wenfeng and his father Qian Yuanqiao, beloved by the people. Suzhou, on the border, boasted formidable walls; the Central Wu Army had over eight thousand men. Should the ruler of Wu-Yue, Qian Zuo, hear of the attack and send reinforcements, Southern Tang would not have the advantage.

This realization stirred Yang Lian’s heart—he sensed something, but uncertainty lingered.

He would have to reach Suzhou and observe Li Zhenggu’s actions before deciding his next move.