Daughter-in-law of a Noble House

Troop Inspection 

"阅兵" (Yuè Biàn) is a military ceremony where troops are assembled and displayed for inspection, often by a high-ranking officer or a head of state. It serves various purposes, including showcasing the military's strength, evaluating readiness, and boosting morale.

After returning to the room not long after, the steward arrived, holding a set of mourning attire in his hands.

"Shao Furen," he said cautiously, "Furen instructed Xiaoren to bring the mourning attire."

I held Ah Mi and looked at the piece in my hands. It was freshly torn coarse hemp, with rough, prickly edges. Funeral garments. The last time I wore one was during the extermination of the Fu clan.

"Put it down," I said.

The steward nodded, bowed to me, and then withdrew.

"Furen," Ah Yuan approached, her eyes tinged with red, "Da Gongzi, Si Gongzi, and other Tang Gongzi have not been found yet. How can we proceed with the funeral rites? And Er Gongzi, he actually wants Furen to accompany him to the camp, this…"

I shook my head at her, signaling for her not to say more.

"Impart this letter to Li Zhangshi," I handed a piece of paper to Ah Yuan.

Ah Yuan took it, glanced at the paper, and her expression changed.

"Checking Lü Zheng's whereabouts?" she lowered her voice, "Furen's intention…"

I said, "The information that came back is all from this person's words. It's better to find out more."

"And... Ma Kui?" Ah Yuan's voice was barely a breath, "Furen intends to leave?"

"Always prepare a way out in advance," I whispered.

In the letter, I asked Li Shang to tally up the funds that can be taken and to summon Ma Kui and the gang to Yongdu.

This is something I have no choice but to do.

The news of Wei Tan's death raises many suspicions in my eyes.

Firstly, as described by Lü Zheng, the surprise attack on the water fort bears striking resemblance to the Battle of Qiling. Wei Tan, being the person he was, had already taken into account the shortcomings of the water fort during his time in Qiling. Why would he allow a repeat of the same mistake?

Secondly, when Wei An was overseeing the construction of the towered ships at Yongchi (Yong Lake), I overheard him discussing fire prevention with the craftsmen. He mentioned how Wei Tan placed great emphasis on fire safety.

Thirdly, even if the towered ships constructed by Wei An were vulnerable to fire, the several hundred thousand soldiers under Wei Tan's command were always well-organized and disciplined. It doesn't make sense for them to crumble so easily and lose morale under a single attack by Liang Wen. Doesn't it go against all reason?

Of course, I entertained these thoughts. Perhaps it's because the dreadful news came too suddenly for me to accept, or maybe I'm holding onto a glimmer of hope. Regardless of the truth, the situation in Yongdu is foreseeable.

In the mansion, with Wei Jue getting closer and closer to the coffin, and without Wei Tan, Guo Furen  Wei Zhao have become the de facto masters.

I don't hold much faith in Wei Zhao's military prowess. Once Liang Wen breaches Huaizhou, Yongzhou will be like an exposed egg. These past couple of days, I've already heard murmurs about Wei Zhao suggesting a northward capital relocation.

In this situation, Ah Mi and I remain in the mansion, a lone mother and daughter. Our future will be at the mercy of others' decisions.

Of course, there is another possibility, one that I find too foolish to even consider: that Wei Tan did not actually die…

Tears welled up in my eyes. I gazed blankly at Ah Mi, who was playing with the small cymbal, and once again, the urge to cry overcame me.

Perhaps sensing the somber atmosphere around her, Ah Mi had been quieter these past few days. When she saw me looking at her, she looked back and let out a soft "wu wu" sound.

I let out a long sigh, lowering my head to touch foreheads with her.

Wei Tan, are you alive or dead? Neither seen alive nor found the bodies, what does this amount to?

*****

It rained during the night, and the next day, the weather was overcast, but not overly muggy.

I put on the mourning attire. In the mirror, the person before me was draped in funeral garments, head wrapped in a hemp cloth. It was as if I was looking at the childish face carrying traces filled with anger and sorrow from many years ago.

Ah Mi is still young, so I tied a piece of linen around her waist, a gesture of mourning. Before long, servants came to invite us. I held Ah Mi and walked out the door.

Wei Zhao was already waiting at the door, draped in funeral attire over his dark robe. I noticed that his carriage was the same one used by Wei Jue to inspect the army camp before. Wei Tan had also ridden it once or twice. Now it was Wei Zhao's turn. His figure bore a resemblance, yet lacked some of the fierce martial aura.

"Zhangsao" he bowed to me.

I returned the gesture, "Er Shu."

"Today, One has trouble Zhangsao."

"What is Er Shu saying," I said, modestly.

Wei Zhao glanced at Ah Mi, said nothing more, and had the servants assist us into the carriage.

Xiliu Camp is only fifteen miles from Yongdu, not far at all. After Wei Tan led the army to Xin'an, there were still 30,000 troops left here for the defense of Yongdu.

I've never been here before. But it was different for Wei Tan. In the past, he would leave early and return late, often staying overnight in this camp. The road is wide and smooth, with a forest of green trees planted in recent years, mostly pines and cypresses. This place, where Wei Tan had been countless times, was now where Ah Mi and I came for the first time, but he was nowhere to be found…

My eyes began to sting again. I didn't want to think about him anymore. I turned my head away, refusing to look outside.

As the carriage entered the outer gate and arrived at the command platform, to my surprise, the area was filled with people. Banners fluttered in the wind, soldiers stood in order according to their ranks, from generals to footmen. Their expressions were solemn, heads held high, and chests puffed out. The formation was so impeccably arranged, it resembled a chessboard, extending almost endlessly into the distance.

I was taken aback, glancing at Wei Zhao. His face displayed a hint of surprise as well, but he quickly regained his composure.

"Reporting to Da Jiangjun!" A general, wearing a bronze seal and inked sash, stepped forward with an air of confidence, saluting crisply. He announced loudly, "Cheng Mao of Xiliu Camp! Leading the thirty-one thousand five hundred soldiers of Xiliu Camp, all are assembled here! Requesting Da Jiangjun's inspection!"

I held Ah Mi more securely, ensuring she wouldn't fidget, and kept my eyes on Cheng Mao. Before Wei Tan left for Xin'an, in consideration of the defense of Yongdu, he appointed Cheng Mao as the commander of Xiliu Camp, giving him authority over the entire camp.

Wei Zhao seemed somewhat unaccustomed to such a scene. He nodded and said, "Fall in."

"Yes!" Cheng Mao saluted again. As he turned, I caught his gaze sweeping over in our direction.

The drums and horns resonated with a deep and robust sound. I followed behind Wei Zhao, ascending the command platform.

Xiliu Camp, modeled after Chang'an, had a grand parade ground. It spanned about two miles in circumference, and the command platform was constructed with earth and stone, standing at a height of ten zhang.

With one hand resting on the hilt of his sword at his waist, Wei Zhao nodded to the Army Sergeant. The sergeant acknowledged and then presented a longbow and a quiver of arrows. Others brought forward a brazier.

"What is the meaning of this?" Wei Zhao frowned.

"Replying to Da Jiangjun!" The Army Sergeant explained, "In the formation of Xiliu Camp, the commanding general shoots an arrow as a signal for the inspection."

A sense of unease settled in my heart.

The tradition of shooting an arrow as a signal for the inspection, known as "火箭射侯" (Huǒ Jiàn Shè Hóu), has its origins in an anecdote from the previous dynasty, when the renowned General Geng Long established the Shenwu Camp. This practice was intended to showcase the commanding general's might and boost morale. There's no need to ask—it's a rule that is both challenging and seemingly indifferent, undoubtedly left behind by Wei Tan.

But Wei Zhao is not Wei Tan. I glanced at the painted tiger figure below the platform. Wei Tan could shoot an arrow through a hundred paces, but Wei Zhao might struggle to hit even ten paces away.

As expected, Wei Zhao's complexion turned a bit grim.

"Today's inspection will be conducted with banners and drums as signals," he said.

The Army Sergeant looked somewhat surprised, but quickly saluted, "Understood!" He stepped forward and took a command flag from his waist, expertly waving it with precise movements.

The drums resounded with a deep rumble. On the parade ground, the well-organized soldiers suddenly split apart to both sides, like pieces on a chessboard shifting, maintaining their order in a precise yet unchaotic manner.

Once everyone was in position, the Army Sergeant changed the motion of his flag-waving. The formation shifted again, causing dust to rise on the field. The synchronized footsteps of the soldiers seemed to beat like a drum, resonating in unison. Countless spears and halberds caught the gleam of the sun, sparkling and dazzling.

"Kill!" Cheng Mao shouted from horseback, raising his sword.

"Kill! Kill! Kill!" The response from the multitude was thunderous, a roar that could move mountains and shake the heavens.

I glanced around. Among those who came with Wei Zhao, there were several high-ranking officials from the court. It seemed that they were all taken aback by this display of military might, their expressions tense and apprehensive.

Many of these court officials had followed the Emperor from Chang'an. They had experienced the chaos of war firsthand. During times of court weakness, even a small band of a thousand armed ruffians could strike fear into fleeing high-ranking officials. It was precisely because of this that they harbored a natural fear of those with military backgrounds. Among the sons of Wei Jue, Wei Zhao was closer to them than Wei Tan, and it was for this reason.

"Oh..." Ah Mi wasn't at all frightened by the noise; in fact, she seemed quite excited. Her little hands tugged at my clothes, and her two eyes gazed curiously ahead. A droplet of drool hung precariously from the corner of her mouth.

"Shh..." I whispered softly in her ear.

The soldiers' formation and drills continued for a full half-hour. When the signal to end the exercise sounded, it was as if a thousand horses were galloping across the parade ground. In no time, the soldiers' ranks returned to their original positions.

Cheng Mao stepped forward again to request further orders. Wei Zhao delivered some words of encouragement, his phrases well-structured and delivered with precision.

As I listened to his steady words, I gazed at the generals and soldiers below, their figures ruggedly defined by dust and sweat. I couldn't help but feel that everything in front of me was indescribably weird.

After descending from the command platform, I saw Cheng Mao standing just a couple of steps away. Sweat dripped from his helmet and fell onto his armor. Behind him stood a row of generals, all equally drenched, yet as still as statues.

"Furen," Cheng Mao stepped forward, bowing to me.

"Furen!" the generals behind him echoed, in perfect unison.

"You generals have worked hard," I bowed deeply to them.

Few words were exchanged, and there was no need for many. Some sentiments seemed to be understood without needing to be spoken. These were the people Wei Tan had brought up. I sighed deeply in my heart, yet it wasn't just sorrow that filled me.

Wei Zhao's expression remained calm, but in the presence of these people, I could sense a subtle discomfort in his demeanor.

The soldiers stood in solemn formation along the road as we left. I couldn't help but look back once more. The elevated platform, the barracks, the soldiers, the outer gate—this was the place where Wei Tan had poured his heart and soul. Perhaps here, in Xiliu Camp, were the people in Yongdu who held the deepest memories of him.

On the way, Ah Mi grew tired. After feeding, she wanted to sleep.

"Furen, this is..." Ah Yuan pulled out a thin mat from the corner of the carriage to cushion Ah Mi, and a crumpled piece of paper fell out.

I was taken aback, and I picked it up and unfolded it. 

On the paper, freshly torn, were only a few bold and rough strokes of handwriting, but they sent a shock through me: Da Gongzi is not dead.

He, he's still alive...

A voice echoed in my heart, repeating over and over. I looked at that piece of paper countless times, but those few words remained unchanged. He's not dead, but where is he? Why hasn't he returned? What's the story with Lü Zheng? Does the Emperor, Wei Zhao, or Guo Furen know? And who placed this paper in the carriage... Every thought carried with it a multitude of questions, but the answers seemed buried in a deep fog, elusive to scrutiny.

The journey back became increasingly laden with heavy thoughts. Yet, upon returning to the estate, the sight of the white mourning attire and somber fabrics instantly brought me back to reality.

After Wei Zhao bid farewell and left the city, I entered the residence. The hall was filled with mournful cries, and the servants wept earnestly. Condolences came in an unending stream. When they saw me, they greeted me with condolences, their words filled with sorrow.

Although the words on the note were not confirmed, I had a strong sense that what was written was true. And suddenly, everything in this residence seemed like a play to me. Who were the actors, who were the spectators, and who were the ones behind the scenes, observing coldly, perhaps having received money... It all became clear in an instant.

"Ah Jin..." At that moment, a voice reached me. I turned to see Jiumu.

Her eyes were red, she wiped away her tears, and she took my hand. "My poor niece, how did you end up in such adversity!"