Liu Cheng had no idea that associating closely with Liu Jili had led others to peg him as belonging to a specific branch of the Pengcheng Liu clan. But as the saying went, even if he had known, he would not have cared... So long as no one suspected he was an impostor, it made no difference to him!
Besides, Liu Cheng was running into a bit of trouble at the moment—not real trouble, strictly speaking, just that infuriating sort of nuisance where you arrive somewhere to get something done, only to find you cannot do it and have to wait around for a while longer.
It turned out that in this commercial quarter of Jingkouli along the canal, while the other shops were one thing, the few establishments daring enough to deal in gold, silver, and bronze wares were all run by the families of local military officers. And because these officers were tied together by marriage, kinship, and common clan bonds, a recurring pattern had played out over recent days: every time troops withdrew from the north, many shops would shutter their doors. The precious-metal shops, in particular, closed almost without exception, because they had to rush to the ferry in front of the military residential quarters on the eastern side of Mount Beigu to welcome their people back.
Or rather, to see whether their people would return at all.
And today, with Xun Xian, Chief Clerk of the Grand Commander's headquarters who had remained in Pengcheng to wrap up affairs, returning from the north, the final detachment of troops had withdrawn from the front line. How could the shopkeepers not close up business and go wait for them?
"Is Chief Clerk Xun really a direct descendant of Xun Wenruo, the famed minister of the late Han?" Liu Cheng asked out of routine curiosity. "And he is only twenty-seven this year?"
"Indeed he is," replied the cloth vendor whose stall was outside the silversmith. He was naturally well-informed, though his patience came as a pleasant surprise. "Who beneath Iron Urn Fortress doesn't know that everything in the Grand Commander's headquarters is run by Chief Clerk Xun?"
"If you want to hear about Xun Lingze, I'll tell you all about him tonight at our leisure, A'cheng," Liu Jili said, sounding rather impatient. "It's not that he isn't worth talking about, but rather that between his heritage and his marriage, from his childhood to his youth and up to the present day, there's just too much to tell... This man truly was the sharpest, most brilliant young master in all of Jiangzuo over the past twenty years—not even the sons of the Wang, Xie, Yuan, or Xi clans could match him."
Liu Cheng's interest was piqued at last. Nodding repeatedly, he quickly steered the conversation back to the matter at hand: "Brother, since these people shut their shops to meet the arrivals, they must be worried sick over whether their kin are alive or dead. Earlier, folks said the three-thousand-man detachment was defeated at Daibei. Were the casualties heavy?"
"Actually, not so bad," the cloth vendor outside the shop replied with continuing patience. "This is the final boatload. They've already returned in seven or eight separate groups before this, and very few households had casualties!"
Hearing this, Liu Cheng found it strange. *Very few casualties... How could casualties be so light?*
One had to realize that Daibei was far off in Qingzhou, after all, and a relief force of three thousand had run straight into an assault by Li Nong's twenty thousand men. For an isolated force thrust deep into enemy territory and hit by nearly ten times their number, annihilation would have been par for the course. What was more, the Jingkou garrison—the field troops of the Northern Garrison—was obviously an intricately interconnected web. If a single soldier died, four or five households ought to be in mourning together. Their sense of the toll should have felt magnified, shouldn't it?
Yet on second thought, everyone throughout Jingkou claimed it was three thousand against twenty thousand, but who knew if it had really been three thousand against two thousand? Besides, with so many Northern Expedition troops returning in so many separate groups, it was also possible that someone clever in the military headquarters had deliberately diluted the casualties to keep panic from spreading.
Seeing the two of them fall silent, the stallholder finally could not help speaking up: "If you're in no rush, someone is bound to be back before dark. The flotilla all arrived before noon and is just being inspected and counted. You're welcome to sit here and wait. But if you're in a hurry, head straight to Tupuli due east of Mount Beigu, just across the river inlet from Iron Urn Fortress. Ask around for Xianshui Lane, and inquire after the home of Team Commander Zhao... Just mention my name, Sun Yunu, and Sister-in-Law Zhao will certainly exchange it for you at home."
Evidently, the profit from exchanging gold and silver was immense; even a middleman who referred a customer got a cut, which explained his great patience. Nor would the shopkeeper deliberately turn away business. It was simply the two men's bad luck.
After a brief discussion, the two Lius decided to head to the military quarter to find Team Commander Zhao. It was not that they cared so deeply about Liu Sheng and his brother—Liu Huzi might be relied upon if he became a garrison commander, and Liu Ren Gong could be leaned on if he secured an office, but Liu Sheng and Liu Pei offered little to hope for... It was simply Liu Cheng's nature never to pass up a chance to broaden his horizons. They had seen the bustle of Jingkouli, but they had not yet seen the living conditions of the garrison by Iron Urn Fortress. Even Liu Jili was somewhat curious.
Since they were already here, why not?
Their minds made up, the two Lius led their mule and skirted the eastern streets toward Tupuli along the Yangtze.
Truth be told, as far as being in good spirits and taking in the scenery went, there had been none of that earlier... It was not just that Liu Cheng had been in a foul mood; primarily, he had been exhausted, with no energy left for casual sightseeing. Only now, having eaten and drunk their fill, with their spirits revived and the realization that things were not so terrible after all, could they settle their minds to appreciate the famed Mount Beigu.
After all, this place—surrounded on three sides by the river with a canal estuary to boot—was celebrated in history and verse. Looking back, there was "Sun and Liu forged their bond at Ganlu Ferry, and the realm split three ways from that day forth"; looking forward, there would be "Where may one gaze toward the Central Plains? A sweep of fine scenery from Beigu Tower"; and in the present era, it was "Golden spears and armored steeds, winning only a panicked northward glance."
It was packed to the brim with political, military, economic, and cultural significance.
Yet at this very moment, as Liu Cheng and Liu Jili approached the mountain from the southeast across the river inlet, no matter how they looked at it, it seemed like nothing more than an ordinary low hill. There were no remarkably towering pavilions—at least none visible from afar—nor much scenery to speak of. Iron Urn Fortress nestled at its southern base was heavily guarded, a pure military citadel... It felt as though the mountain had simply lucked into a blessed destiny, born as it was at the Golden Horn of China's Constantinople.
Of course, if one could stand atop the peak and gaze in all four directions—the Central Plains to the north, the Three Wu region to the south, the sweeping rivers and mountains on either flank—the view would surely be magnificent. But it was not as if someone like them could just stroll up there, could they?
Not only could they not go up, but even great clan leaders of the Pengcheng Liu clan like Liu Ren Gong and Liu Ying Gong, whose fathers had served as commandery governors, had to queue up with all their might and still might not make it up there.
Amid these wandering thoughts, whether it was an illusion or not, the closer they drew to the garrison quarters across the ferry on the Yangtze at the eastern foot of Mount Beigu, the more distinctly they seemed to hear people weeping. Yet it also felt as if the river wind was simply blowing hard, creating a false alarm of panicked dread decades before the Battle of Fei River... Of course, as they reached the edge of the river inlet where the military ferry was situated, they immediately realized it was no illusion at all.
For at the ferry, people truly were weeping—and many of them!
It had merely been drowned out by the racket of the commercial quarter behind them, which made it seem faint and elusive.
Still, knowing the news they did, it was easy to guess: this final returning flotilla must have brought grievous tidings of heavy casualties among the Northern Expedition troops.
Seeing this, the two Lius dared not linger along the ferry. Instead, they veered early into the military residential quarters to the east and continued inward... Yet as they walked deeper inside, whether because they had left the commercial quarter behind or because that very commercial quarter had grown hushed and fearful in the wake of the wailing, the sound of weeping only grew louder and louder.
In the end, it gradually drowned out the streets and alleys, rising from every quarter, bearing down as if pressing in from all sides.
It even drowned out the roar of the river surges.
The two Lius exchanged glances, sensing impending disaster. Halting in the lane, they dared not take another step forward.
Hesitating for a moment, Liu Cheng suddenly asked, "Brother Jili, that descendant of Xun Yu you mentioned earlier—what was his name again? The sharpest, most brilliant man in all of Jiangzuo?"
Liu Jili's face was deathly pale, and he looked ready to collapse.
Chapter 20