Chapter 6: Postwar Syndrome

When Wei Wuyi slowly regained consciousness, night had already fallen.

Blinking sleepily, he looked around. The seven faces that greeted him were the same ones he had seen upon first waking that day. The only difference now was that above his head there was no longer a military tent to shield him from wind and rain. Around them, dozens of guards stood watch, their eyes alert for any movement in the surrounding forest.

Wei Wuyi gazed up at the sky, where the stars had just begun to glimmer. A gentle breeze drifted by, and swallows returned to their nests. The tranquil scene finally eased the tension that still lingered in his nerves.

"You've awoken, my lord!" This time it was not Zheng Dali, but Wang Xiu who leaned forward, a note of excitement in his voice.

Wei Wuyi could not help but smile wryly at the words. It seemed this was the second time he’d awakened that day—he hoped he would not be so unlucky as to faint again.

"My head aches terribly," he said, pressing a hand to his forehead.

"My lord, your injuries from falling off your horse have not yet healed, but it is nothing serious," the bearded Zheng Dali replied gruffly. In his view, for a man to take a tumble was no more than a minor scrape, hardly worth mentioning.

But Wei Wuyi knew better. Though his old wounds had not yet healed, what truly caused him to faint was the exhaustion and relief after the fierce battle—a deep fatigue that left his strength spent.

He took a deep breath and propped himself up, Wang Xiu and Zheng Dali hurrying over to help. He waved them back. "I’m fine," he said. "Wang Xiu, tell me quickly what happened after the battle."

Wang Xiu, seeing that business was at hand, straightened his expression, organized his thoughts, and reported the essentials. "My lord, after the battle today, the vanguard of the Chen army was routed by our forces, allowing us to cross the bridge safely. Then, on my orders, the wooden bridge was destroyed to prevent the Chen soldiers from pursuing us across the river."

"Where are we now?" Wei Wuyi pressed.

"This place is within Xianghe County of Chen. The main force of Great Wei is camped here as well, holding the Chen army firmly in check."

"My lord, we are likely safe now. Perhaps our own troops are not far from here," Wang Xiu said, a look of joyful relief on his face.

After surviving such a mortal crisis, everyone present felt as if granted a new lease on life—no wonder their spirits had lifted. It is said that nothing forges bonds like sharing a classroom or a battlefield. Glancing at these men, most of them wounded, his companions through life and death, Wei Wuyi felt the world was no longer quite so strange.

"Today, you all risked your lives for me. I, Wei Wuyi, thank you," he said, struggling to his feet and bowing to the company.

Whether out of loyalty or mere necessity, these men had saved his life. Though he was a stranger among them, he felt genuine gratitude. Had he fallen into enemy hands that day, he shuddered to imagine what fate awaited a "young master" like him.

His gesture startled the seven men, who scrambled to return the salute, protesting, "My lord, you honor us too much."

Wang Xiu spoke up earnestly, "We have already failed you by letting you fall into danger; no apology could atone for it. Rather, it is your refusal to abandon us, your willingness to share life and death, that has won our heartfelt loyalty."

The others immediately echoed his words.

"Indeed! Captain Wang speaks the truth."

"My lord is a true man—I, Old Liu, salute you."

Their praise was not mere flattery. For one so young, Wei Wuyi had displayed the courage to abandon the river crossing and stand with his men against the onrushing Wei army, showing no trace of fear. That alone had earned their respect. And for a man of noble rank to share the fate of his subordinates—such a leader was worthy of their awe.

"Enough with the bootlicking!" Wei Wuyi said with a laugh, the distance between them melting away. In his previous life of over twenty years, he had seen more than enough trickery and deceit. The sincerity on these faces left him no room for reserve.

At his mock scolding, the men grinned all the wider. That he set aside the airs of a noble and met them as equals only increased their affection for him.

But joy aside, business could not be delayed. Wei Wuyi’s expression grew serious. "Tell me the state of our forces. How are the men?"

At this, the officers fell silent, expressions darkening as a shadow of sorrow crossed their faces.

Since no one else spoke, Wei Wuyi fixed his gaze on Wang Xiu.

Wang Xiu glanced around, saw that the others would not speak, and knew the task was his. With a sigh, he reported, "My lord, in this battle, we lost two hundred sixty-three men, with two hundred eighty-seven wounded, of whom one hundred sixty-seven are gravely hurt. Less than two thousand remain fit for duty, and morale is very low."

Learning how grim the situation was, Wei Wuyi felt a pang of grief. "For one general’s success, ten thousand bones must bleach," he murmured, not out of affectation, but from the depths of his heart.

Though fewer than three hundred had died—not quite a mountain of bones—the fact remained: living, breathing men had perished. He could not easily let it go.

The officers, moved by his words, showed their own sorrow. After all, these were brothers-in-arms of many years; though ranks separated them, to watch friends die was always bitter.

By then, Wei Wuyi had recovered enough to stand. "Come. Let us go see them."

"Yes, my lord!"

…

"The general is here! Everyone, stand up straight!"

The soldiers, huddled in the wilds, forced themselves upright at their officers’ shouts, swaying with exhaustion. Their faces were filthy, hair disheveled, armor caked in blood—some their own, some not.

Their wounds were bound in dark, dirty strips of cloth, haphazardly tied—who knew if they would do any good. It was, in truth, Wei Wuyi’s own orders to abandon all baggage that had left his soldiers in such dire straits.

…

"On your feet, you lot! The young master has come to see you!" Captain Liu Xuanba’s rough voice bellowed over his men.

Liu Xuanba’s unit had distinguished itself at the bridge, fighting bravely to hold the central line against repeated attacks by the Chen. But that valor had its price—of the more than two hundred dead, over half were his men. Hence, Wei Wuyi came to them first.

As Wei Wuyi approached, surrounded by his officers, all who could move knelt in salute.

"Greetings, my lord!"

But unlike the scene he had witnessed hours earlier, the men before him now were utterly spent. Before, even in retreat, they had glared back, daring to challenge the likes of Zheng Dali. Now, each stood dejected, barely mustering the strength to kneel, like eggplants struck by frost.

It was clear: though victorious, the cost had been dear. After such a savage fight, the soldiers’ spirit, strength, and will were utterly drained.

Wei Wuyi suspected that, had his own conduct in battle been less than it was, these men might not even bother to salute—if they acknowledged him at all.

Faced with such a scene, Wei Wuyi’s headache worsened, and inwardly he began to curse.

"What rotten luck is this? I’ve just crossed over, and already ten thousand men are chasing me down. I barely escape, only to be stabbed in the back as I try to cross the river. Lucky to be alive, and now these men are all at their wit’s end."

He knew well: with the army in this state, not only was it unfit for battle, getting everyone home in one piece would be a struggle.

"I’ll have to tread carefully," he sighed, rolling up his sleeves, ready to get to work.