In early September, preparations for the northern expedition were completed. Chen Yang and Guo Weili set out ahead with the grain convoy. The Luoshan mountain road had already been restored; Zhongbo grain carts traveled directly from Danzhou to Luoshan, then from Luoshan onward to the Sand Three Camp.
Major troop deployments were underway across all large battle camps. Sand One and Sand Two Camps were respectively stationed by Zuo Qianqiu and Zhaohui. This time, Xiao Chiye personally led ninety thousand elite Lubei cavalry.
“This time, the grain supply is entirely supported by you alone,” Xiao Jiming said. He wore plain civilian robes, his demeanor upright and unadorned; no trace of illness could be seen. He looked out toward Hongyan Mountain. “When A Ye returns victorious, Lubei must properly thank Zhongbo.”
“Amur has wolfish ambitions. If he cannot be eradicated in one decisive strike, he will return in the future, and by then Danzhou will be the first to suffer. This expedition is also for Zhongbo’s sake,” Shen Zechuan said, shifting his stance. “Moreover, October is when the common people are free to repair household needs. The six prefectures can use that time to focus on strengthening defenses. If A Ye sets out now, from this point until next March, it will not interfere with agricultural work.”
A breeze moved Xiao Jiming’s sleeves, revealing the arm guards on both wrists. “He has become a commander-in-chief.”
Shen Zechuan often sensed at night that Xiao Chiye would gently stroke his face. During the day, unless necessary, Xiao Chiye would rather stay at home; he seemed unwilling to be away from Lan Zhou for even a moment.
“A sharpened sword comes from grinding,” Shen Zechuan said, his gaze complicated as he looked toward Hongyan Mountain. “I only worry that the terrain is complex, the weather unstable, and the expedition will be far more arduous than expected.”
“With Lu Guangbai assisting A Ye, you need not worry too much,” Xiao Jiming said. “I heard from Yi Zhi that after the Zhenzhou battle, you were bedridden for some time and seriously injured. Now that Lubei’s cavalry has been greatly reduced, only Wuziyu stationed at Luoshan can manage Danzhou and nearby affairs. If anything happens, you will have to rely on him for support.”
Of the original 120,000 Lubei cavalry, only 30,000 remained. With so many battle camps spread across a vast region, troop coordination had become extremely difficult. Before Xiao Chiye returned, Shen Zechuan could only rely on the Danzhou garrison, the Jinyi cavalry, and five thousand imperial guards for self-defense.
Shen Zechuan’s brow tightened slightly. “Has Big Brother heard any rumors?”
“Back when aristocratic clans interfered in politics, they suppressed the true strength of Juandu’s hidden forces. Now,” Xiao Jiming smiled faintly at Shen Zechuan, “it is time for everything to come to light.”
Qiao Tianya dripped wax onto the candlestick, forming the shape of a rabbit along its edge. He occasionally glanced toward the inner room, where Gao Zhongxiong was still sitting.
Yao Wenyu had recently been writing furiously; he slept less and less. Several times when Qiao Tianya lifted the curtain, he only saw him bent over the desk until dawn. Papers on the table were scattered in disorder, while the bookshelves beside him grew fuller by the day.
“The Imperial Academy supported Xue Yanqing because he reformed the aristocratic clans,” Yao Wenyu said. “By October, the situation is still uncertain, but if the Second Young Master’s expedition goes smoothly, Juandu will inevitably issue a proclamation in November.”
Gao Zhongxiong said, “They will definitely use the case of Shen Wei’s military defeat as leverage.”
“Correct.” Yao Wenyu’s brush dipped in ink but did not fall.
The difficulty lay in the fact that Shen Wei’s defeat was an established fact. Unless Shen Zechuan were willing to distort truth and blame Hu Siqian, there was no way to refute it; no matter how it was argued, he would be subjected to public condemnation.
“I previously discussed this with Cheng Feng and found no solution,” Gao Zhongxiong sighed, leaning on the desk. “If we replace ‘Shen Wei’ with ‘Ji Gang,’ we could claim that the Prefect is the youngest son of Ji Gang’s disciple. During the Zhenzhou ambush—”
Yao Wenyu waved his hand. “When Xiao Jiming supported Zhenzhou, he personally verified the Prefect’s identity. Later, the Jinyiwei conducted further investigation in Danzhou, and the Prefect’s name is recorded in the Shen clan genealogy. Moreover, he resembles his mother; people in Juandu still remember Bai Cha’s beauty.”
“Then what can we do?” Gao Zhongxiong asked. “Once the proclamation is issued, public sentiment will be incited. That would be disastrous for us.”
Yao Wenyu tried several times to write, but still stopped. Ink dripped onto the paper.
“Let me think,” he said.
It was already late. Gao Zhongxiong did not want to disturb him further and rose to leave. Seeing Yao Wenyu still deep in thought, he added, “There is always a way out. Look at how the six prefectures once refused to accept the Prefect—now they are completely convinced. That proves there is a solution.”
“That was because the Prefect defended the city and shared hardship with them,” Yao Wenyu said, putting down his brush. “It is late. Go back and rest.”
Gao Zhongxiong then took his leave.
Behind the beaded curtain, Qiao Tianya’s candle was nearly burnt out. Seeing that Yao Wenyu still had not moved, he said casually, “The Prefect’s origin in the Jianxing Prince’s household is true, and his reforms in the six prefectures are also true. But whether the Empress’s origin is real or not is another matter entirely.”
Yao Wenyu’s eyes sharpened; he turned toward him.
“In chess,” Qiao Tianya blew out the candle, “you must strike first.”
Juandu was humid in September. After court, Cen Yu met Chen Zhen at the palace gate.
Cen Yu approached, surprised. “You usually do not wait for me here. Is there something urgent?”
Chen Zhen gestured for him to board his carriage first. Once both were seated, he stroked his beard and said, “I came to ask your opinion. A month ago, the Eight Great Garrisons recruited new soldiers—forty thousand young men from eight cities. What are they planning for these forty thousand troops?”
Cen Yu frowned. “Then you should ask them directly. Military arrangements are handled by the Ministry of War. Why come to me if there is no candidate?”
“I have been Minister of War for nearly thirty years. From the Yongyi Four Generals to the Xiande Four Generals, all were recommended by me. How could I have no candidates?” Chen Zhen said troubledly. “But this time is different.”
“How is it different?”
“The person I intend to recommend,” Chen Zhen said, “is a bun seller.”
Even Cen Yu was visibly stunned.
“Xun Yi, this matter is of great importance. I ask you to persuade Pao Ran with me. Hu Siqian persecuted loyal ministers, and Juandu has no generals left—that is only because of necessity. Now that the new emperor is enlightened and wise, he will surely clear the names of wronged officials!” Chen Zhen bowed within the narrow carriage. “During the Yongyi years, the Hu and Pan factions colluded with Ji Lei to frame the crown prince for rebellion. The prince died by suicide at Zhaozui Temple, countless members of the Eastern Palace were killed, and many officials of the Ministry of War were executed along with their families. Were not Shao Chengbi and Qiao Kanghai among them?”
“The Empress Dowager is dead. Reopening the Eastern Palace case may cause hesitation in the Emperor. Moreover, Shao and Qiao families have no survivors—what are you planning to do?” Cen Yu suddenly recalled something. “Xun Zhi, don’t tell me you—”
“Shao Chengbi is my brother-in-law,” Chen Zhen said, his eyes dark as he steadied himself. “When the purge happened, I bribed prison officials from the Ministry of Justice and hid him in Juandu.”
Cen Yu was shocked.
“He has endured humiliation for twenty-seven years,” Chen Zhen said quietly, “just waiting for this day.”