Chapter Fifty-One: The Scholar Who Ruined the Nation

"Fan Mengling, you know the defenses of Suzhou, and as an aide to the Military Commissioner of Zhongwu, I trust you understand them very well?" Yang Lian asked inside the tent.

Fan Mengling looked somewhat dispirited. He felt utterly wretched. They were clearly still within the borders of the Kingdom of Wuyue, and he had brought a full fifty soldiers with him; yet when faced with merely twenty scouts from the kingdom of Southern Tang, the elite troops of Zhongwu had been unable to hold them back, and in the end even he, a mere staff officer, had been captured.

Fan Mengling felt aggrieved. Under the command of Qian Wenfeng, the Military Commissioner of Zhongwu, he was not the only aide; men like Ding Shoujie and Han Mi had also won favor in Qian Wenfeng’s service, and the competition among advisers was fierce. Taking advantage of an opportunity, he had come to the Changshu area to survey the terrain, hoping to find a gap through which he might make a breakthrough. Who could have imagined that Southern Tang soldiers would appear here?

Still, Fan Mengling was by nature rather strong-willed, and when Yang Lian questioned him, he said nothing.

Yang Lian paced slowly within the tent, then suddenly laughed. "When a scholar meets soldiers, reason becomes impossible to speak of. Fan Mengling, you are a man steeped in books and learning—do you understand the meaning of that?"

Fan Mengling remained silent.

"I advise you: speak now, and you will suffer far less. If you wait until the tortures begin, and you confess everything while your body is battered and broken, what good will that do you?" Yang Lian smiled faintly and drew closer.

Fan Mengling’s eyes shifted. He swallowed a mouthful of saliva, and his throat gave a faint click. Yang Lian’s words had some effect on him. After all, he was flesh and blood; how could he not fear pain?

"What, still hoping to resist?" Yang Lian said. "I tell you, I have a hundred ways to make your life worse than death. Believe me, I am absolutely not lying."

Smiling, he took from his sleeve the bamboo needles that had been shaved earlier that day. They were extremely fine, with sharp points and handles at the back, resembling nails in some ways.

"If these bamboo needles are driven into your calves, thighs, arms, or abdomen, a great deal of blood will flow out, staining your skin red. Do you think that is the end of it? No, far from it. I will then take a cloth and wrap the wounds."

"In that way, the blood and the cloth will congeal together. Once the wound has begun to knit ever so slightly, I will rip the cloth away again. Fan Mengling, think about it—isn’t that sensation exquisite? You would even feel the bamboo needles shifting inside your body, and then slowly being pulled out, leaving behind many thin, narrow holes, after which more blood would surge forth."

What Yang Lian described was fiendishly cruel. He did not mind explaining it to Fan Mengling in detail. What could a mere scholar be worth? No matter how iron-willed a man was, he could not easily withstand such torment, especially when Yang Lian had other methods besides these.

Fan Mengling’s expression changed. He clenched his teeth, struggling fiercely to force Yang Lian’s words completely from his mind. Yet Yang Lian continued speaking, this time describing another method: forcing in mustard paste. In this age there was no chili pepper, but that did not mean there were no pungent foods; mustard was one such substitute. As Yang Lian calmly described the method, Fan Mengling’s face changed again.

"You are truly a devil," Fan Mengling could not help saying.

"Thank you for the compliment." Yang Lian smiled brightly; he could already see that Fan Mengling was beginning to break. After all, he was only a scholar—his will was not as hardened as a soldier’s.

Fan Mengling turned his head away, furious.

"After saying all this, will you confess or not?" Yang Lian set a brush before him.

Fan Mengling sighed. He had only recently attached himself to Qian Wenfeng, and he had no relatives in Suzhou. If his family were here, he would never dare to behave so recklessly. Looking at the sheet of white paper before him, he picked up the brush and began drawing.

Half an hour later, a map of Suzhou’s defenses lay before Yang Lian, with the troop dispositions recorded in great detail. After looking it over, Yang Lian asked, "Are you certain you remembered correctly?"

Fan Mengling gave a bitter smile. "I have been imprisoned by the Southern Tang army, with my life in the general’s hands. How would I dare write carelessly?"

"Good. In any case, you cannot escape. If there is anything wrong with this map, your head will not come off so easily." Yang Lian took up the map and strolled out unhurriedly. Before leaving, he instructed the soldiers, "Keep a close watch on him. Do not let him escape."

"General Yang, rest assured," the soldier replied with a grin. "Even if he grows wings, we’ll shoot him down."

At this moment, Li Zhengu was in the main tent studying the maps. Although the primary goal was to draw the attention of the people of Wuyue, Li Zhengu still hoped to achieve some feat of arms. Yet with fewer than twenty thousand troops, it was impossible to seize Suzhou, whose defenders numbered nearly ten thousand, especially now that reinforcements from the ruler of Wuyue had already arrived and Southern Tang no longer held the advantage in numbers.

"The main thing is still to draw away Wuyue’s forces," Li Zhengu said, unable to suppress a furrow in his brow.

At that moment, a personal guard outside announced, "Commander, Yang Lian of the Divine Martial Army requests an audience."

"Yang Lian? Send him in." Li Zhengu was very courteous.

After entering, Yang Lian bowed and said, "Your humble servant pays respects to the Commander."

"No need for ceremony, General Yang." Seeing the bandage wrapped around Yang Lian’s shoulder, he asked, "How is your injury?"

"Thanks to the Commander’s great blessing, it is no longer serious. The wound is only rather deep, so it may take ten or fifteen days to heal."

Li Zhengu nodded. Remembering that Yang Lian had sought an audience, he assumed there must be something to discuss and asked, "Why have you come to see me?"

"Commander, this is the Suzhou defense map drawn by Fan Mengling." As he spoke, Yang Lian handed over the map in his hand.

"Oh? This is excellent." Li Zhengu grew excited. With Suzhou’s defenses in hand, it would be much easier to deploy troops and avoid strength while striking weakness.

He spread open the map. The ink had not fully dried yet, but Li Zhengu could see at a glance how tightly Suzhou’s defenses were arranged. Around the city, with Suzhou and Kunshan as the two supporting strongpoints, Qian Wenfeng had built numerous fortifications. Judging from the number of hidden troops, each fortification held about a hundred men. Stockpiled within were large quantities of bows and arrows, rolling stones, logs, and the like—purely defensive military strongholds.

Li Zhengu merely counted roughly and found no fewer than fifty such forts. Moreover, Fan Mengling may not have recorded every one of them. If that were the case, there were likely even more of these military positions than he had written down.

"Qian Wenfeng has truly spared no expense," Li Zhengu said with a frown.

Yang Lian also shook his head. Although Changshu itself did not have many fortifications, that was likely because it lay farther north and was not favorable for an overall defense, so Qian Wenfeng had drawn the defensive line back toward Kunshan. After all, for Southern Tang, even capturing Changshu would be of little use.

Yang Lian offered a kind reminder. "Commander, Fan Mengling is Qian Wenfeng’s aide. Even if the information he provided is accurate, the fact that he has vanished without a trace means Qian Wenfeng will certainly know something is wrong. In my opinion, within one or two days at most, this defense map will lose its effect."

There was hope in Yang Lian’s eyes. If Li Zhengu agreed to attack, then although Suzhou could not be taken, at the very least a few forts could be torn down.

Li Zhengu nodded, but he misunderstood the implication. Tapping lightly on the table, he said, "In that case, we indeed must not advance rashly."

As expected, scholars are still scholars; they lack a spirit of enterprise. Yang Lian had intended to suggest striking a few forts before Qian Wenfeng had time to react, but Li Zhengu took this to mean that Qian Wenfeng must surely have prepared defenses and that they could not push forward recklessly. Yang Lian sighed inwardly. Truly, those with different principles cannot plan together. Yet for now, he still had to rely on them, and even maintain good relations with them. He did not like the factional struggles of Southern Tang—he disliked Feng Yansi and Feng Yanlu wielding power through their literary influence, and he disliked even more the condescending arrogance of Song Qiqiu. But dislike was one thing; he needed them to achieve his aims.

From another angle, flatterers had their uses as well.

After thinking it over, Yang Lian said, "Commander, since Qian Wenfeng has not yet reacted, why not lead troops to raid a few forts and give the people of Wuyue a lesson?"

Li Zhengu scarcely hesitated before shaking his head. "Yang Lian, since you are close with the Prince of Qi, I may as well be frank with you about some things. This time I am acting under the Emperor’s orders, and my main purpose is to draw the attention of the Kingdom of Wuyue so that it cannot fully reinforce the fighting in Fuzhou. In this campaign, I seek no merit—only no fault."

Yang Lian was stunned and thought to himself, no wonder it is like this. Since the tone of the campaign had already been set, Li Zhengu’s march had seemed fierce in appearance but slow in action; all the grand fanfare along the way was indeed meant to draw Wuyue’s attention.

He immediately clasped his hands and smiled. "I understand."

Li Zhengu gave a quiet acknowledgment, rubbed his temples, and said, "Go down for now. I will think it over more carefully."

Yang Lian took his leave and exited the main tent. His mood was complicated. When he returned to the camp, Lin Renzhao and Chen Tie were there as well. Neither of them was badly hurt. Seeing Yang Lian return, Lin Renzhao stood up and said, "Brother Yang, where have you been? Why are you not resting properly?"

With a bitter smile, Yang Lian told them what had just happened, and warned them again, "This must never be leaked."

Lin Renzhao and Chen Tie both knew how important this was, and hurriedly nodded in agreement.

After a moment, Lin Renzhao said, "I never expected that His Majesty would have such intentions. Yet even so, will this really help the fighting in Min territory?"

Chen Tie gave a low grunt. "Wuyue has sent troops to help several times already, all in hopes of holding onto Fuzhou and making it a stronghold for resisting Southern Tang in Min territory. They are all wolves with treacherous hearts; we cannot fail to guard against them."

Yang Lian nodded. "Li Renda does not want to be swallowed up by Southern Tang for the sake of his own interests. But if you drive out one tiger in the front, another wolf will come in from behind. Whether Southern Tang or Wuyue wins, Fuzhou will certainly not remain in Li Renda’s hands."

Lin Renzhao nodded silently. The destruction of Min had already become a fact; unwilling though he was, he could do nothing but accept it. As for the road ahead, he had not yet decided. He had great ambition and would never be content to remain merely a small-scale military aide, commanding a dozen men.

His gaze drifted to Yang Lian, and his eyes brightened slightly. This man before him was loyal and righteous, knew the Prince of Qi, and even Li Zhengu treated him somewhat differently. Perhaps he was someone worth serving. But what exactly was his aim? Lin Renzhao always felt he could not see through Yang Lian, and did not know what path he would choose.

A mere soldier? A great general? A powerful minister? Or, in this age when dynasties changed as casually as meals were eaten, could he even replace this decayed realm itself? In an instant, Lin Renzhao’s imagination ran wild, and he thought of many possibilities. But soon he shook his head. He was probably thinking far too much. Yet of one thing he could be certain: taking refuge under Yang Lian was likely a good choice.