Lu'an, Shucheng.
Inside the main command tent, Zuo Liangyu was eating like a king in exile who had already decided the throne was his. The outside world was starving. Refugees chewed bark and scraped dirt for roots. Children cried until their voices went hoarse.
Inside the tent, however, the table groaned under chicken, duck, fish, braised pork, fragrant wine. Not a single dish missing. Not a single grain wasted.
Across from him sat his son, Zuo Menggeng, who poked at a slice of meat but did not seem entirely at ease.
"Father," he began cautiously, "the Grand Coordinator of Yingtian, Zhang Guowei, has issued three proclamations ordering us to enter the mountains and wipe out the remaining rebels. We've… done nothing. Won't that look improper?"
Zuo Liangyu burst into loud laughter, oil shining on his lips.
"Zhang Guowei? Useless scholar. Why should I listen to him? What can he do to me?"
Zuo Menggeng hesitated, then continued, "The Anlu Circuit Censor, Shi Kefa, also sent a letter urging us to march west and pressure the Eight Great Kings."
Zuo Liangyu snorted. "The Eight Great Kings? That's a tiger with iron teeth. I'm not stupid enough to shove my head into its mouth. I'd rather sit comfortably here. Shi Kefa cannot leave Anqing or Lu Prefecture. Is he going to personally jump out and cut me down?"
His son lowered his voice. "I just feel… we're playing with fire. And the flames are getting higher. One day…"
Zuo Liangyu waved his chopsticks dismissively, then slowly put them down. His voice shifted, heavy, grounded in memory.
"You weren't there. You didn't see what I saw in Liaodong."
Zuo Menggeng looked up.
"When I was Commander of the Right Flank Chariot Battalion in Liaodong, I saw the Manchus with my own eyes. Their cavalry rolled like black thunder across the plains. Discipline. Ferocity. Ruthlessness." His gaze darkened. "Let me tell you something plainly. The imperial court cannot defeat them. It simply cannot. Sooner or later, they will ride into Beijing. Zhu Youjian will not die on a dragon throne. He will die under iron hooves."
Zuo Menggeng sucked in a breath.
"Since I left Liaodong, I swore never to go back. That place is a graveyard." Zuo Liangyu leaned back. "Better to 'suppress bandits' in the Central Plains. And tell me, can bandits ever truly be eliminated?"
Zuo Menggeng did not answer.
"They cannot," Zuo Liangyu said flatly. "As long as the court has no money to pay soldiers, no grain to feed refugees, bandits will always sprout like weeds. Suppress one, two more grow. And this court having money?" He laughed bitterly. "That's a fantasy."
"Why won't the court have money?" the son asked.
Zuo Liangyu shrugged. "Ask the civil officials. They shuffle numbers, argue over taxes, squeeze peasants dry, and still the treasury is empty. I don't need to understand why. I only need to see the result. This Zhu family empire is unstable."
He leaned forward, lowering his voice.
"Our Zuo family must prepare early. Who knows? One day this empire might not be named Zhu."
Zuo Menggeng froze. The ambition in those words was not a passing thought. It was something that had been quietly fermenting for years.
After a long silence, he said carefully, "Even so… abducting women… is that really necessary?"
There it was.
Zhang Guowei had demanded mountain searches. Mountain searches meant exhaustion and no loot. Zuo Liangyu had instead unleashed his men across Southern Zhili. They robbed grain, seized silver, dragged women back to camp.
Grain and silver could be justified under military necessity. Women could not.
They were distributed among the absorbed bandit soldiers as wives. A crude reward system. Loyalty purchased not with coin, but with stolen flesh.
At night, cries could be heard through the camp.
Zuo Liangyu's expression hardened. "You are still soft."
"I—"
"Listen well. I cannot shower my men with silver like the rich households. If I want loyalty, I must use what I have. Those who achieve great things do not fuss over trifles."
Zuo Menggeng fell silent again. The meat on his plate had grown cold.
At that moment, a soldier entered and knelt.
"Report, Commander. A messenger has arrived from the Governor of Henan."
Zuo Liangyu frowned. "The Governor of Henan? I'm in Huguang. What does he want with me? Bring him in."
A moment later, the messenger entered.
Zuo Liangyu blinked.
"Eh? Isn't this my Runing Garrison Commander? Dajin Wang? Why are you delivering messages now?"
Dajin Wang, formerly Zhang Xiaoyi, looked like a man trying to appear dignified while remembering he had once believed a radish-stamped appointment letter was legitimate.
"General Zuo," he said with strained grievance, "the post you gave me… it was fake, wasn't it? It was never reported to the court."
Zuo Liangyu laughed. "Fake? When I hold real power, that paper will become priceless. A treasured artifact."
Dajin Wang thought, If literacy were power, you would not own a single county. But he swallowed the thought.
Zuo Liangyu waved impatiently. "Why are you here?"
"I was captured by an immortal," Dajin Wang said solemnly. "I am now undergoing labor reform. I came to atone through service."
Zuo Liangyu stared.
Dajin Wang continued bravely, "The Governor of Henan sends this message: 'Surrender immediately. Go to Luoyang and accept punishment. You may yet preserve your life. Persist in stubbornness, and there is only one path. Death.'"
CRACK.
Zuo Liangyu's boot slammed into Dajin Wang's stomach before the sentence finished. The former bandit flew backward, rolled across the carpet, and stopped near a table leg.
"Get out!"
Dajin Wang clutched his belly. Oddly, there was a flicker of satisfaction in his eyes.
The more I'm beaten, the greater my merit when I return, he calculated.
"You were my man!" Zuo Liangyu roared. "Now you dare threaten me?"
"I would not dare," Dajin Wang said quickly, adjusting his tone. "General, please calm your anger."
"Go back and tell that Governor," Zuo Liangyu barked, "I am in Huguang. If he has courage, let him come here and kill me. Does he dare leave Henan? Does he dare?"
Dajin Wang hesitated, then whispered, "He has an immortal assisting him. His name is Dao Xuan Tianzun. He is extremely powerful. Perhaps General should reconsider."
CRACK.
Another kick. Dajin Wang rolled again, like a sack of grain kicked out of storage.
"Immortal?" Zuo Liangyu spat. "I'll kill even an immortal for you to see!"
"I'm afraid," Dajin Wang muttered while rolling toward the exit, "that may be difficult."
CRACK.
One final kick sent him fully out of the tent.
He stood up outside, brushed dust from his clothes, and grinned.
Good. Very good. Plenty of bruises. Surely this counts as hardship endured in the line of duty.
He mounted a horse and began the long ride back to Luoyang, occasionally touching his sore ribs with satisfaction.
By the time he arrived, however, after days on the road, wind and sun and sweat had done their work.
The bruises had faded.
Dajin Wang stared at his unmarked skin in disbelief.
"All that rolling," he muttered, deeply offended by time itself. "And not even a mark to prove it."