Chapter Seventeen

The Great Zhou envoy delegation was temporarily housed in the former guest residence of the Qing Dynasty’s Ministry of Rites and Mongol Affairs. The architect, mindful of diplomatic secrecy, had designed the building to resemble a military barracks, with high walls, secluded courtyards, and winding paths. It was located in a rather remote area, and precisely for this reason, when the Forbidden City and its auxiliary structures were dismantled, this house was spared and left intact.

Meeting secretly with Wang Shirong required no particular tricks. In fact, from the moment this group of just over two hundred set foot in Han military territory, they were met with meticulous care from the Han army. At first, a five-hundred-strong elite field unit protected them on the road, and upon entering Beijing, the imperial guards took over the duty. Now, this once-deserted guest house was surrounded by visible and hidden sentries, with an entire battalion of musketeers stationed nearby, facing the entrance, while the pitiful envoy group’s only force was less than a hundred of the Great Zhou’s imperial guards.

Once they had settled in, the Han guards, at Zhou Peigong’s instruction, politely but firmly assumed all security responsibilities. The Zhou soldiers were courteously disarmed, then scattered and placed under soft surveillance in corners of the guesthouse, while the accompanying civil officials were housed in separate courtyards, thus preparing the ground for the commander-in-chief’s private meeting.

As the chief envoy, Wang Shirong was naturally given the most lavish courtyard. When Lin Feng and Zhou Peigong entered, they found Wang Shirong sitting alone at a stone table in the courtyard, his back to the gate, raising a flask of wine and drinking in solitude.

“Brother Jiyun, you have quite the taste for tranquility,” Zhou Peigong remarked with a gentle laugh.

“Peigong, you’re most considerate—Wang admires you greatly!” Wang Shirong slowly stood, turned, and smiled. The two men gazed at one another for a long moment, both revealing a mutual appreciation. “I may be bold, yet I know Peigong understands me!”

Zhou Peigong understood what he meant. They were, in essence, kindred spirits; though they had never met before, whenever they conversed, an inexpressible sense of affinity welled up in their hearts.

Sensing Lin Feng’s surprise, Wang Shirong smiled. “My lord may not know this, but Wu Sangui is old and frail. Recently, he’s collapsed in sickness several times and has been unable to attend to affairs for months. I estimate he has little time left. Forgive my frankness: if Wu Sangui had another ten years, I would have advised Your Excellency to submit early and avoid disgrace in defeat.”

Lin Feng felt a little awkward, but he was self-aware enough to know that in terms of ability, he was far from Wu Sangui’s league. Such words, therefore, did not sting much. He managed to joke, “Jiyun, you’re certainly candid! So, you’re saying that once Wu Sangui dies, the Great Zhou will scatter like startled monkeys from a fallen tree?”

“Not exactly,” Wang Shirong shook his head. “But with Wu Sangui’s passing, the state chancellor of Xia will surely seize power, and I myself will face disaster. As it is said, a wise man seeks benefit and avoids harm—thus, I wish to serve Your Excellency!”

This man was indeed forthright, with a modern air about him. Hearing his plain words, Lin Feng felt no contempt, only greater appreciation. Come to think of it, someone as wise as Wang Shirong would hardly bother with empty platitudes—if their interests aligned, he would stay; if not, he would leave. Such straightforwardness was a mark of a true talent.

“Exactly so. That’s why I advise Your Excellency to let the Chakhar tribes return to the steppe, supply them with funds and release some soldiers, and establish a buffer on the Chakhar and Suiyuan grasslands…”

Lin Feng’s expression immediately darkened. Frankly, giving away some money was one thing, but those several thousand cavalrymen were his pride and joy—his most cherished asset.

“Mr. Wang speaks truly, but…” Lin Feng nodded, though he felt something was amiss. “But wouldn’t this just lead to war with the Mongols?”

“You’re right, my lord. In this world, it is all survival of the fittest. Where can peace be enjoyed for nothing? What I’m saying is simply that we must have the means for war—if we’re well-prepared, others won’t dare seek trouble. Once the Chakhar are released, you can have elite Han cavalry patrol the steppe and flaunt our military might. Then, immediately open trade with all the tribes!”

“Trade?” Lin Feng asked, puzzled.

“Exactly. The Mongols are in grave danger themselves. All three major tribes vie for dominance, but the steppe produces no fine steel and they sorely lack weapons and armor. So, trade is essential for their peace of mind! Besides, they require vast quantities of tea bricks, cloth, and salt—these are vital for their livelihood. If we don’t supply them, they’ll resort to raiding. And we won’t lose out either—we can use this to buy warhorses.”

“But… isn’t this aiding the enemy?” Zhou Peigong smiled wryly.

“It is!” Wang Shirong admitted without hesitation, leaving Lin and Zhou exchanging glances. “There’s no way around it. If we don’t sell, others will—right now, the borders of Shanxi and Shaanxi are in chaos and undefended. If the Mongols wish to trade with Central Plains merchants, it’s all too easy. So why not take the initiative? But our trade must have ulterior motives. An internal Mongol war is about to break out, and I predict the Dzungars will make a major eastward push this year. We must favor some and not others—sell large quantities of weapons, armor, even cannons to weaker tribes like the Tüsheet and Khalkha, arming them to resist the Dzungars. At the same time, we use the Datong and Shaanxi routes to supply the Dzungars with grain, tea bricks, and so on, supporting their prolonged campaigns. The goal is to keep the Mongol tribes in ceaseless war, the steppe littered with corpses! Only then can we, the Han, manipulate events and defeat them piecemeal. This is the strategy of Bian Zhuang slaying the tiger!”

“This is no easy matter…” Zhou Peigong, ever the practical man, immediately considered the implementation. “First, I fear our Han finances may not support it. Second, to carry out this strategy, our trade caravans must include not just merchants but also agents skilled in sowing discord and spreading rumors…”

“Heh… no worries,” Lin Feng tapped his middle finger on the table, grinning with confidence. “That’s my specialty—spreading rumors and doing business!”

“If the Mongols are thus occupied, what of the war in Liaodong?” Zhou Peigong looked at Wang Shirong with a meaningful smile.

“My lord, have you forgotten? You are now the imperial son-in-law of the Great Zhou Emperor, a relative of the Wu royal house…” Wang Shirong said with a sly grin. “With my official seal as imperial envoy, who would dare doubt it?”

“Brilliant!” Zhou Peigong clapped in praise and turned to Lin Feng. “My lord, if we can win them over, once they enter our camps, they’ll be Han troops—should anyone suspect, it’ll be too late for them to object!”

“Damn…” The thought of suddenly gaining so many elite cavalry for free left Lin Feng nearly babbling with excitement. “This is bloody fantastic!”

“My lord, don’t get ahead of yourself,” Wang Shirong frowned in caution. “It may sound simple, but to succeed, Lord Chen Zezhen will need to put in real effort—money, women, titles, salaries, all will be needed. The Wu Sangui name is but one leverage.”

“No problem—whatever it takes, I’ll provide it!” Lin Feng waved his hand expansively, then, recalling something, smiled broadly at Wang Shirong. “Jiyun, you shouldn’t return to Jiangnan. That crafty State Chancellor Xia won’t let you go. In my opinion, it’s safer for you to stay in Beijing. Oh—and I’ll order Zezhen to get your family brought here as soon as possible!”

“My lord, you mustn’t!” Wang Shirong exclaimed. “If I don’t return, the Han and Great Zhou will become enemies—this is the worst outcome. The marriage alliance is a grave matter; I must handle affairs in Jiangnan myself!”

“But that Xia fellow is vicious—how can I rest easy knowing you’ll be back in the thick of it?” Lin Feng looked at him with concern.

“I am deeply grateful for your care, my lord. But loyalty to one’s sovereign is a subject’s duty!” Wang Shirong sighed. “There are still many obstacles to the Great Zhou–Han alliance. Even the betrothal will be fraught. The overland route is all under False Qing control; if Princess Anping is to come, she’ll have to travel by sea.”

“Oh… but doesn’t the Great Zhou lack seaports?” Lin Feng realized this was a serious issue.

“My lord, there are still ports. At present, Shang Zhixin has submitted to the Great Zhou. If the princess is to sail north, she’ll depart from Huangpu Port in Guangzhou!” Wang Shirong gave a wry smile. “What worries me isn’t the port, but the Zheng family navy of Taiwan!”

“Well…” Lin Feng pondered briefly, then replied cheerfully, “You may not know, but I have an agreement with the Zhengs of Taiwan—they won’t cause trouble.”

“Alas, my lord,” Wang Shirong shook his head. “A hasty agreement cannot settle great affairs. The Zhengs of Taiwan serve the Ming Prince Tang and loathe Wu Sangui. They’re currently at war with Shang Zhixin in Fujian—how could they stand idly by and see Great Zhou and Han allied by marriage? Even if Zheng Jing, out of respect for you, refrains from overt action, the vast sea provides cover. Should he send pirates in disguise, who could stop him?”

“True enough…” Lin Feng frowned. Politics was indeed a filthy game—no one could guarantee anything.

“So, I wish to make the journey myself and ensure the lady’s safe arrival!” Wang Shirong declared solemnly. “Moreover, I am still an official of the Great Zhou. A true man comes and goes openly. This is also the perfect opportunity to resign and sever all ties with Zhou, leaving my name clear.”

“If that’s the case—very well!” Lin Feng finally nodded. “This time, you’ll return on one of our Han navy ships—I must also send a reliable subordinate to escort the bride.”

“Oh? Whom will you send, my lord?” Wang Shirong considered and advised, “Everyone in the Great Zhou court regards you as a mere soldier. In that case, why not play to their expectations and send a coarse general to lull them into complacency?”

“In that case, I’ll send a red-haired foreigner!” Lin Feng chuckled. “He’s one of my household retainers, a Swede, serving as a colonel in my guard. He’s first-rate both on land and sea—how’s that for coarse?”

Wang Shirong’s eyes widened in shock. “A red-haired foreigner?!”

“Oh yes, loyal and skilled in both land and naval warfare…” Lin Feng paused, looking intently at Wang Shirong. “Or is it that you can’t stand foreigners?”

“Not at all!” Wang Shirong sighed with admiration. “Your Excellency truly embraces the world—even foreign barbarians can rise to great responsibility. Such was the spirit of Han and Tang!”

Lin Feng laughed. “You jest! If someone’s capable, of course I’ll use them. Who still cares about such nonsense as birth or origin these days?”

“That, precisely, is why I abandon Great Zhou for Han,” Wang Shirong said earnestly, pointing south. “Great Zhou commands a million troops and vast lands, but it is stagnant, lacking all vigor. In the court, those crowned in sable and feathered hats are all connected by blood or marriage—the state is like a tree already hollowed by rot. The Han, though weak in arms and small in territory, is vibrant and full of hope. Look at Your Excellency’s chief ministers: Li Guangdi, Chen Menglei, Tang Bin, Zhou Peigong—once mere minor officials; Shi Lang, Sun Sike, Zhao Liangdong—once surrendered generals; Yang Haisheng, Zhao Guangyuan, Liu Laosi—once even bandits. Yet you value talent above all, promoting and protecting them regardless of their origins, never looking down on the humble, envying the gifted, or fearing those who have achieved much. You put people first and are inclusive in all things. All are grateful for your recognition and willing to give their lives for you. Thus, the Han is like a young tree, sprouting and thriving. Not to boast, but surveying all the heroes of the world, I dare say this: Given time, the Han will surely rise, and he who will sweep across the land and unite the realm—none but you, my lord!”