Chapter Sixty-One: The Emperor's Wrath

In early May, Nanjing was already alive with orioles flitting and grass growing lush; the sky was as blue as a piece of jade, so radiant that even the finest weavers would sigh in defeat before its splendor.

The imperial city, situated at the heart of Nanjing’s central axis, was now full of green leaves upon every branch. A single glance brought ease and delight to the soul. Yet the ruler of the Great Tang, the second emperor Li Jing, was pacing restlessly in the courtyard, his mood soured by recent events.

First, news arrived from Fuzhou: at Baixiapu, Feng Yanlu had intended to lure the Wu-Yue army ashore and annihilate them, but underestimated their fighting prowess. Forced to abandon his position and flee, his lieutenant Meng Jian was killed in battle, and the troops collapsed in defeat. The Wu-Yue army joined forces with Li Renda, their morale surging, and launched a pincer attack on Feng Yanlu’s southern forces. Unable to withstand the assault, Feng Yanlu escaped, and seeing the tide turn, Wang Chongwen, Wei Cen, and others burned their camps and retreated. The outcome of this battle was now decided.

Yu An led his troops in pursuit, slaughtering Tang soldiers until rivers ran red with blood; nearly twenty thousand Southern Tang soldiers died, with innumerable military supplies and equipment seized. The campaign in Fuzhou ended in utter defeat. Li Jing clenched his fists in anger—this was his first military expedition, intending to wipe out the Min state, but in the end, the peach of Fuzhou was plucked by the Wu-Yue. The Wu-Yue people, like troublesome insects, always brought him vexation and fury.

Yet Wu-Yue was formidable among the southern states; to destroy it, Tang would have to exhaust all its national strength, which Li Jing could not afford. The Fuzhou defeat made him feel that Li Zhenggu’s campaign had become pointless, so he sent envoys to recall him. But bad news kept arriving: Li Zhenggu fell into an ambush during his retreat, suffering heavy losses. According to the report from Sui Kuangfu, the Prefect of Changzhou, Li Zhenggu, Gao Shensi, and Zhu Kuangye had all gone missing; otherwise, the defeated troops would not be besieging the city.

Changzhou was a major stronghold at the border between Tang and Wu-Yue, its walls tall and garrison robust; these defeated troops could not take it. What irked Li Jing was that they dared attack Changzhou at all! Such betrayal—of Tang, of him—was intolerable. Once the Changzhou incident was resolved, he would punish these soldiers as an example to others, annihilating their entire families. For now, he needed to lift the siege of Changzhou.

Li Jing had resolved to send troops, but had not decided whom to appoint. The famed generals of Tang were either dead or lost, leaving him with no suitable candidates.

No longer in the mood to admire the scenery, Li Jing’s mind churned ceaselessly. Footsteps approached; Cha Wenhui came quickly. Years ago, Cha Wenhui had led troops against Min, capturing Wang Yanzheng and earning great merit, for which Li Jing bestowed many rewards. Currently, Cha Wenhui served as Deputy Chief of the Imperial Secretariat, overseeing Tang’s military affairs.

“Your servant Cha Wenhui greets Your Majesty,” he said, bowing.

Li Jing turned, recognizing Cha Wenhui, and his heart sank again. He suspected more bad news from Fuzhou or perhaps Changzhou, so he waved gloomily, saying, “Cha, speak freely.”

Cha Wenhui paused, seeing the emperor’s displeasure—clearly affected by the setbacks at Fuzhou and Changzhou—then reported, “Your Majesty, this time the news is good.”

“Oh? Good news?” Li Jing finally showed a hint of vigor.

Cha Wenhui smiled, “Sui Kuangfu, the Prefect of Changzhou, sent an urgent report: the siege has been lifted. According to his account, the Wu-Yue people stirred up trouble, and the defeated troops, gripped by panic, lost their senses and attacked Changzhou.”

“Hmph!” A faint joy flickered in Li Jing’s heart, but he remained displeased. If defeated troops, in their panic, dared attack Changzhou, what would stop them from attacking Nanjing or even the imperial city on a bad day?

Cha Wenhui said no more, handing over Sui Kuangfu’s memorial. Li Jing took it and read carefully. Sui Kuangfu not only wrote with fine calligraphy, but his prose was superb. The events in Changzhou, under his pen, became a stormy saga.

The defeated army swept in like locusts, overwhelming the city, intent on seizing Changzhou. The garrison and civilians were terrified, some even proposing to abandon the city. At this darkest hour, a hero emerged—alone, he captured the ringleader, exposed his plot, and resolved the crisis. Then, with remarkable skill, he pacified the defeated soldiers, settling them ten miles outside Changzhou.

At the end of the memorial, Sui Kuangfu shifted tone to confess his guilt, having unauthorizedly used Changzhou’s reserve grain, and asked for the emperor’s punishment.

Li Jing, who had risen above his royal siblings, was no fool. He knew the use of reserve grain was surely the result of negotiation between that hero and the defeated soldiers.

“This Sui Kuangfu shows great favor toward that man,” Li Jing remarked, turning to the next page—then froze.

The hero’s name was Yang Lian! This name had not been uttered for years—the former crown prince of the previous dynasty, a taboo in this reign. Though the Yang Wu court had vanished for years and the clan imprisoned in Hailing, Li Jing knew that the Yang clan, isolated from the outside world, had begun to fade into obscurity. Among the people, there was sympathy for the Yangs and opposition to the court, but as emperor, Li Jing would never be swayed by public sentiment.

Yang Xingmi had indeed been a great benefactor to the late emperor, but those were bygone matters—Li Jing cared not.

The name Yang Lian stirred ripples in Li Jing’s heart, recalling old memories. His own sister, the eldest princess of the royal family, had died in meditation after Yang Lian’s death, now buried in Sakura Isle, separated from Yang Lian’s tomb by an artificial river. In life, they had shared a bed; in death, they could not share a grave. Perhaps, that was the greatest torment of all.

Once a literary youth, now a middle-aged scholar, Li Jing sighed to himself. Like most, he believed the former crown prince was dead, buried in Sakura Isle; thus, the person named in the memorial could not be him.

Li Jing, keen and perceptive, reasoned further: had this man truly been the former crown prince, he could have incited the defeated troops to seize Changzhou and offer it to Wu-Yue for greater benefit; why then would he resolve the crisis alone?

The chaos in Changzhou resolved, Li Jing found some comfort despite lingering gloom. With the Fuzhou campaign settled and no further unrest expected in Suzhou, he considered his next move: “Convey my decree—henceforth, the Shenwu Army and Tianxiong Army are to rendezvous in Nanjing.” Settling accounts would wait.

Cha Wenhui nodded, “As you command.”

Li Jing suddenly recalled, “Cha, was it you who captured Wang Yanzheng a few years ago?”

“It was I,” Cha Wenhui replied.

“The defeat at Fuzhou emboldens the petty; I am most uneasy. Cha, you have commanded troops—what are your thoughts on Fuzhou?” Li Jing inquired.

Cha Wenhui pondered, “The defeat at Fuzhou appears to stem from Feng Yanlu’s policy errors, but in truth, it is a misjudgment of the situation. The generals competed for credit, which delayed the conquest for half a year.” In reality, Cha Wenhui felt that the emperor’s order for multiple commanders, each vying for authority, had caused the defeat, but such words could not be spoken.

His response was subtle. Li Jing, unfamiliar with military matters, caught only the phrase “generals competed for credit,” and thought no more. After a moment, he said, “Cha, I cannot tolerate the defeat at Fuzhou. If I appoint you as Military Governor of Jianzhou, commanding its troops, what would you do?”

Cha Wenhui was prepared, “Li Renda allowed the Wu-Yue into Fuzhou only to resist Tang. If Tang withdraws, and Wu-Yue refuses to leave, friction will surely arise. I would reorganize the army in Jianzhou, await any changes in Fuzhou, and seek the opportunity to strike.”

“Good.” Li Jing, impressed by his clarity, praised him, “In that case, prepare yourself for your appointment in Jianzhou.”

Though leaving the capital, for Cha Wenhui it was a promotion. He bowed, “Your servant accepts the decree.”

After Cha Wenhui withdrew, Li Jing lingered over Sui Kuangfu’s memorial, his gaze fixed on the name Yang Lian. To enter the Shenwu Army, this man must possess talent. Very well—having rendered great service, he would grant him an audience. The name, however, still left him uneasy.

Meanwhile, in Changzhou, Yang Lian was unaware of events unfolding in Nanjing. After the initial chaos, Changzhou gradually stabilized; the defeated soldiers were effectively resettled, with some returning to the city. Zhou Hongzuo had also returned—during the melee, he fled toward Xuanzhou, slaying several pursuers, but his achievements paled in comparison to Yang Lian, who had killed the commander and captains.

Yang Lian sensed Zhou Hongzuo’s animosity toward him, but he cared little. If he could not handle Zhou Hongzuo, how could he ever hope to restore the nation? After several days in Changzhou, most of the defeated soldiers had returned; counting their numbers revealed losses of about a quarter, nearly three thousand dead or wounded.

Given the surprise attack, such losses were acceptable. Wu-Yue had lost about five hundred men, including a commander named Gu and a junior officer named Hu, with two or three captains slain—a considerable achievement.

At this time, the imperial decree arrived, ordering all units to muster and return to Nanjing—no mention was made of the siege incident, and none dared ask, not even Li Zhenggu.

Yang Lian was unconcerned. He packed his belongings, buried the severed heads on the spot—military merit had been reported, so there was no point in keeping them. After resting for a day, the three armies began their slow march toward Nanjing.

Each person’s mood was different. Many had come to Suzhou and Changzhou hoping for glory, but now, as they returned, their destinies would be altered—Li Zhenggu, Gao Shensi, Zhu Kuangye, and even Yang Lian would all face changes. Perhaps, after this return, some would never be seen again.