Chapter Ten

The weather grew colder by the day, and the last batch of provisions requisitioned by the Han military government finally arrived. Amidst the terrifying cold, tens of thousands of laborers, barefoot and wearing straw sandals, risked their lives trudging through the muddy official roads, wave after wave, delivering life-sustaining food to the million refugees ahead. This state-organized transport operation achieved a minor historical miracle; indeed, in five thousand years of Chinese history, there may never have been such selfless and desperate laborers. By this point, the Han officials supervising and commanding the convoys no longer needed whips or other coercion; these young men, conscripted from the refugees, labored furiously under the elders’ scolding—so long as they had breath left, they would not abandon their duties.

According to official statistics, during the great migration, the food, timber, and building materials these laborers carried forward—if weighed—could have rebuilt half the Great Wall; if measured by the length of their moving columns, they could encircle the equator one and a third times. The price paid was the endless “ten-man graves” and “hundred-man tombs” lining the roads. From this time on, the locals referred to the road as “the Path of the Yellow Springs,” and for the next two hundred years, the density and prosperity of shrines and burial houses along this route stood unrivaled in China.

The resilience and ingenuity unleashed by the Chinese people in this crisis defy description. The extreme shortage of fuel and building materials spawned countless humble technological innovations—extraordinary “warm houses” and “fuel-saving stoves” that spread even to the capital region, widely adopted by the northern populace. Moreover, diligent and kind-hearted women forged a culinary culture that astounded all: bark, grass roots, black beans, barley, and stale crumbs—things even livestock disdain—were studied day and night, ground, sun-dried, air-cured, pickled, steamed, boiled, stir-fried, and transformed into dishes fit for the table. Intriguingly, these humble foods eventually evolved over centuries into traditional delicacies of the nation, with some becoming signature dishes at the Diaoyutai State Guesthouse. Ironically, when later generations savored these meals, they had long forgotten the blood, tears, and helplessness of their ancestors.

That year, fewer than a quarter of the infants among the northward-migrating refugees survived.

The task of safeguarding the refugees’ migration fell to Wang Dahai’s Han army division and Sun Sike’s cavalry under Lin Feng’s central command. Lin Feng’s directive was strict: they must not provoke the Qing garrison in Liaodong. Though conservative, human plans can never match the designs of fate; in the days to come, they achieved results that left the Han high command in awkward embarrassment.

The ten thousand new recruits in Beijing, after more than two months of training, were basically combat-ready. After deliberation, Lin Feng decided to reinforce the various regional garrisons before the harsh winter arrived. Since the last war, all Han units stationed across the land suffered from shortages, with Zhao Liangdong’s forces in Datong—the strategic hub—being the most depleted, numbering just over six thousand and lacking artillery. The Dezhou front was better off; Liu Laosi had temporarily taken over Yang Haisheng’s division, which had been reassigned to the navy, bringing total troop strength to about thirteen thousand. Seizing the opportunity, Lin Feng issued transfer orders for Yang Haisheng and Shi Lang, and formally promoted Zhao Liangdong and Sun Sike to corps-level commanders. Zhao’s troops were to be replenished and augmented with fortress artillery, while Sun Sike was recalled from the Liaodong front to take over Yang Haisheng’s vacancy.

With Sun Sike’s dust-laden return to Beijing came a result both laughable and lamentable. Not long ago, he had coordinated with Wang Dahai’s troops to approach Shanhai Pass, deploying cavalry for vigilance and warning the Qing garrison not to act rashly. The Qing troops at Shanhai Pass, fewer than two thousand, were clearly too weak, so for over a month, both sides coexisted uneventfully. However, after several heavy snows, Sun Sike’s routine patrols discovered that the Qing garrison at Shanhai Pass had vanished overnight, leaving only a few dragon banners on the gatehouse; even the cannons had been removed. When this news reached camp, Wang Dahai and Sun Sike were astonished, suspecting a Qing trick. Out of caution, they organized a small-scale reconnaissance feint, yet the outcome was that the Han army occupied Shanhai Pass without losing a single man.

“But that’s not the only news,” Chen Menglei and Zhou Peigong exchanged a smile. “There’s another important report—the tenant farmers around Liaojin have recently risen in revolt, forming several bands of roaming brigands, almost severing the connection between Shanhai Pass and Fengtian…”

“What did you say?!” Lin Feng was stunned, abruptly rising to take the battle report from Chen Menglei, muttering, “Impossible, how could this be?!…”

“The Marshal may not know—this is no accident. The cause traces back to the Three Feudatories’ rebellion!” Chen Menglei stroked his beard with a smile. “The Three Feudatories all hail from prominent Liaodong families; for decades they prospered with the Tartars, buying vast estates. Thus, Liaodong is said to have ‘Wu, Shang, Geng, and Zu—the four pillars.’ The three surnames are the Feudatories, and the ‘Zu’ refers to Wu Sangui’s kin, the former Ming’s Zu Dashou line…”

Lin Feng immediately grasped the implication and blurted, “You mean… after their rebellion, the Qing court conducted a massive purge in Liaodong?”

“Precisely, Marshal!” Chen Menglei bowed with a smile. “Once Wu Sangui raised his army, Kangxi immediately executed Wu Yingxiong, the Prince of Pingxi’s son held hostage in Beijing, and ordered the confiscation of all Feudatory estates, slaughtering their kin residing in Qing territory. Just this one imperial edict brought immense profit to Qing officials outside the pass—Wu Sangui’s kin were wiped out, and the tenant farmers working their lands suffered ruin and devastation…”

“So that’s it, so that’s it…” Lin Feng nodded.

“There’s more—another piece of good news!” Chen Menglei eagerly continued. “According to our spies, a major disturbance has erupted in the deep forests of Heilongjiang, the Manchu homeland. At some unknown time, a band of Russian ghosts arrived, now tying down all Qing military strength in Liaodong…”

“Nonsense!” Lin Feng’s expression changed sharply, pointing at Chen Menglei’s nose. “How is this good news?!” He realized his slip as soon as he spoke, glanced at the bewildered Chen Menglei, then apologized with a smile, explaining, “That… I mean, the Russians are even more hateful than the Tartars. Frankly, I’d prefer the Tartars drive them out!”

“Oh, of course, I feel the same!” Chen Menglei deftly sidestepped, continuing, “It’s said those Russian ghosts have red brows and green eyes, looking more beast than human, and are vicious to the extreme—apparently, they even eat people…”

“Haha, brutal yes, but the cannibalism is nonsense,” Lin Feng laughed. “But you can’t be blamed—Zezhen, do you know where they come from?”

“Haha, my lord underestimates us,” Chen Menglei and Zhou Peigong laughed heartily. “The former Ming left many records. Years ago, the Mongols routed them, then established the Golden Horde in their land, though it faded with time. This Russian state is called ‘Orloss,’ said to border Europe, its ruler titled ‘Tsar,’ commanding many musket troops and Cossack cavalry—quite fierce. The Ministry of Rites’ archives even have Ming-era intelligence from the Embroidered Uniform Guard, mentioning Orloss at war with a European nation called Sweden…”

Lin Feng stared, as if seeing aliens, utterly amazed. In his impression, scholars of this era should be ignorant of foreign lands, yet Chen Menglei and Zhou Peigong spoke with expertise. He probed, “Zezhen, you truly are learned—surely most other scholars don’t know these things?”

“Not so!” Chen Menglei dismissed the thought. “The Ming court considered the Mongols national enemies, and the Embroidered Uniform Guard maintained offices to monitor Mongol intelligence. While little was known of the English or Dutch overseas, the northwestern and Liaodong powers—the Arabs and Orloss—could hardly escape the Celestial Empire’s notice! Any patriot must study them carefully!”

“My heavens… the Embroidered Uniform Guard did this?”
“Certainly!” Chen Menglei looked at his lord in surprise. “Though many were cruel officials, the Guard’s work concerned the fate of the realm; as the empire’s eyes and ears, it spent untold treasures—how could it lag behind? Early in Emperor Yongle’s reign, the Guard was ordered seven times into the southern seas to investigate foreign states!”

“Heh… I’ve learned something today. The Embroidered Uniform Guard was really the Ming’s ‘Central Intelligence Agency’!” Lin Feng exclaimed. “Remarkable! Truly remarkable!!”

“‘Central Intelligence Agency’? That’s a fine name…” Chen Menglei murmured.

Lin Feng sighed deeply, his admiration for the Qing emperors reaching its peak. These men had mastered the art of manipulating the populace, dragging a civilized and dynamic nation back to tribal primitivism. Judging by Chen Menglei and Zhou Peigong’s knowledge, they outstripped even the “revival ministers” several centuries later. How fortunate—if that turtle ever completed the “Complete Library of Four Treasuries,” the only talents left would be ostriches living with their heads buried.

Beside him, Zhou Peigong, who had been silent, smiled gently and chided Chen Menglei, “Zezhen, you’ve wandered far from the topic!” Turning to Lin Feng, he bowed and said, “Lord, I believe Wang Dahai’s division at the front should advance opportunistically and gradually occupy Liaodong!”

“That… may not be possible,” Lin Feng mused, and asked Sun Sike, “Sike, how’s Wang Dahai’s logistics?”

“Marshal, when I returned, Old Wang’s troops still lacked many cotton coats and shoes. With snow piling high on the roads, marching will be difficult!”

“Indeed. Opportunity there may be, but the weather is against us!” Lin Feng sighed. “Let’s wait until spring to launch a major campaign.”

Zhou Peigong smiled and added, “You are wise, Marshal—but General Wang must not remain idle. This winter, we must recruit and support Liaojin’s volunteer armies to harass the Qing, and also send small detachments to slowly nibble away at Liaodong’s border cities. This way, the Tartars won’t have the leisure to build their strength!”

“Good! We’ll proceed as Peigong suggests!” Lin Feng immediately ordered, “Zezhen, from now on, send more spies to Liaodong—don’t spare any expense, buy, scout, assassinate, whatever it takes. Best to cripple the Qing’s remaining offices—get to work at once!”

He then told Sun Sike, “Sike, hand over your central cavalry, and hurry to the Dezhou front to assume command. Old Yang’s been gone so long, I fear morale is low—you must reorganize. Remember, if you don’t perform, I’ll replace you at any time!”

After the two departed, Lin Feng turned to Zhou Peigong with a light chuckle, “Peigong, how are the wedding preparations?”

Zhou Peigong sighed inwardly. Ever since Lin Feng had arranged a Mongol marriage alliance, he realized he would never again command troops independently. His lord was willing to bestow the honor of a Mongol princess—clearly intending him to serve as advisor for life. He smiled bitterly and bowed, “I follow your orders, Lord.” Now, he addressed Lin Feng as “Lord.”

“Ah, there you go again,” Lin Feng smiled wryly, helping him up. “But first, you must help me establish our Han army’s military system!”

“By your command, I will serve without hesitation!”

“No need for such extremes—it’s tiring but not that dire,” Lin Feng said seriously. “First is the rank system—I’ve studied the old Han dynasty records and decided to model our military after theirs…”

“That may not be wise…” Zhou Peigong said, surprised. How could an ancient system work today?

Lin Feng waved off his concern. “I’ll divide all officers into three main classes: generals, field officers, and junior officers, each further split into upper, middle, and lower ranks.”

“The Han dynasty… had such a system?” Zhou Peigong couldn’t believe it. He was well-read, yet had never heard of this.

“Tsk tsk… See, your scholarship is lacking!” Lin Feng counted off his fingers, explaining, “First, generals: this rank is divided into three—full general, lieutenant general, and major general. Major general is called ‘Zhonglang General,’ lieutenant general ‘Chariot Cavalry General,’ and full general ‘Commander Cavalry General.’ Of course, these are simplified; the navy can use titles like ‘Pacifier General’ or ‘Sea Guard General’…”

Zhou Peigong was dumbfounded—these titles seemed familiar, but different from the histories.

“Right, as we rotate officers through training, we’ll reorganize the troops. Look at our current units—they’re a motley crew. My central division has musketeers and cavalry, while except for Zhao Guangyuan’s unit, others have their own setups—what nonsense! We call ourselves the Han army, but if every unit follows its own officer, what am I as commander?”

“Lord, your vision is vast… I am deeply impressed…” Zhou Peigong suddenly felt sweat trickling down his face and body, but dared not wipe it.

“So, you need to focus—go talk with the experienced officers and develop a practical, unified structure!” Seeing Zhou Peigong’s confusion, Lin Feng explained, “Here’s an example: if each Han division has eight thousand men, we must organize our branches properly. I propose we have only musketeers, artillery, pikemen, and cavalry. For an eight-thousand-man division, what should the proportions be? How many musketeers? How many cannons? How much cavalry?”

“Lord!” Zhou Peigong interrupted, frowning, “I believe cavalry should be concentrated for best effect!”

“Absolutely—excellent point!” Lin Feng smiled. “This proves that three cobblers are worth a Zhuge Liang; your advice is even better than mine! Work with your experienced staff and draft a grand strategy for me!”

“Very well!” Zhou Peigong exhaled deeply, invigorated. The Marshal had entrusted him with such a heavy task—true trust indeed. As a scholar, to achieve this much, he had fulfilled his ambition.

“Peigong, beyond this, there are many details—how many medical officers, how many logistics laborers, how many carts and mules does a division need? Also, what does each soldier get besides weapons—how many uniforms? What armor? Should we issue straw sandals and leggings?”

“In short, it’s a complex and difficult task, Peigong, your burden is great!” Lin Feng sighed, heavily patting Zhou Peigong’s shoulder. “We’ve fought side by side since Linji County—I’ll confide something: it’s not that I won’t let you command troops—you’re a scholar, never experienced in war. History teaches us: Zhao Kuo’s fate at Changping is a warning for all ages. Sun Tzu said: war is the great matter of the state, the path of survival and destruction, not to be taken lightly. My caution in using you is for your sake and for the army’s. Your talents are in strategy and planning, not in hand-to-hand combat. You must stay at our Han core to realize your full potential!”

“Lord’s wisdom in employing men is my fortune!” Zhou Peigong replied solemnly. “Rest assured, Lord, you have shown me great kindness—I will serve as a loyal statesman, never with resentment!”

“Now I am at ease!” Lin Feng smiled. “Peigong, you have always earned my trust. I will select talents for you in the imperial exams—your staff will be ‘staff officers,’ granted ranks according to their duties! Moreover, this staff system for military affairs will be extended to brigade-level units. In future, the everyday management and logistics of the Han army will be yours—do not relax your vigilance!”

“Understood,” Zhou Peigong smiled. “I wonder… may my office be called the ‘General Staff Headquarters’?”

Lin Feng’s laughter ceased abruptly. He stared at Zhou Peigong, speechless for a long time.