Madam Ying shook her head. "Just send it to the Eldest Young Master's courtyard, and remember to make it a full set, or the Master will be displeased again."
Her eldest son had vanished at the Han River the previous summer. When she and He Yue received the grim news, it had felt like a bolt from the blue, impossible to accept at the time.
In the blink of an eye, seven or eight months had passed.
The dead were gone, yet the living had to go on. Madam Ying had already looked ahead, but He Chunhua still insisted that their new home in Shihuan must keep a proper residence reserved for his eldest son.
"Chuan'er isn't dead."
He had been resolute. Madam Ying did not know where his confidence came from.
Still, she raised no objection.
It was fine to keep a memento of hope.
Madam Ying sighed and brushed aside that wisp of emotion. Regardless, her husband's promotion was a tremendously good thing.
Not long after they arrived in Shihuan City, their new residence had become a bustling hub, with nobles and dignitaries from the capital coming to offer congratulations.
Everyone knew the monarch of Yuan's purpose in recalling He Chunhua.
In such precarious times, as long as Marquis Wu'an won a few more battles or reclaimed a bit of lost territory, he would become a rising military star of Great Yuan, watched by all!
Two promotions in two years, leaping so high each time—who wouldn't want to befriend such an up-and-coming figure?
If you snubbed him today, tomorrow he might be far beyond your reach.
Yet He Chunhua was consumed with military and political affairs, leaving all the hosting and socializing to his capable wife. Madam Ying complained aloud of being "exhausted to death," but her spirits were thoroughly gratified.
She had transformed from the wife of an impoverished prefect in a border town into the mistress of Marquis Wu'an's residence!
Housekeeper Wu added, "By the way, Ding Zuodong just arrived in Shihuan City. He will bring the account books over tomorrow morning."
Madam Ying asked in surprise, "He finished liquidating the properties in Dunyu already?"
Ding Zuodong was originally a steward under her eldest son, helping him manage finances. After He Lingchuan fell into the river, He Chunhua, recognizing Ding Zuodong's talent, took him into the household's service.
Of course, Ding was not the He family's only steward. Before moving away from Dunyu, the family specifically left Ding Zuodong behind to sell off their estates. As a native of Dunyu, he knew the ins and outs well.
Madam Ying had not expected Ding Zuodong to act so quickly.
"He didn't sell off the mansion for a song, did he?" That mansion had been decorated with great care by her, only for the family to move south less than three months after its completion.
All that effort and time had gone down the drain. Madam Ying genuinely hoped they could settle down in Shihuan City for good and not move again anytime soon.
Housekeeper Wu put in a fair word: "He handles matters quite reliably."
Early May still brought a late spring chill—warm during the day, turning cold at night. A maid came over to present a hand-warmer. Gazing at the ice-crack pattern on the Spring Sight hand-warmer, Madam Ying let out another sigh.
The warmer was as beautiful as ever, but the one who had given it was gone.
Dinnertime was the reunion Madam Ying looked forward to most. He Chunhua and He Yue finally rushed back.
Madam Ying hurried over to help them take off their outer coats and had servants dish out the rice. "Why so late?"
"Matters to attend to." He Chunhua pressed a hot towel to his face and let out a long breath.
Madam Ying saw her husband's weariness. "Is His Majesty still pressing you to deploy?"
"Need you ask?" He Chunhua sat at the table. "National Preceptor Yan invited me for tea today, but in truth, he was relaying the imperial decree. He said the troops of the Hebei Garrison Command and Yi'an Garrison Command are fully equipped and will also be placed under my command."
Having washed his hands, He Yue walked over as well. "Father still intends to hold back the troops?"
"I can't move." He Chunhua picked up some food with his chopsticks. "Not enough grain or horses."
"But National Preceptor Yan..."
"National Preceptor Yan helped a great deal in getting us back to the capital, so I should give him face," He Chunhua said calmly. "However, the situation is grim. You saw what happened to Wu Di, and how Zhao Pan was transferred from the eastern front to plug holes in the northwest, how wretched his journey was. I cannot follow in their footsteps."
No servants remained in the dining room, as father and son often discussed state affairs at the table.
He Yue remembered it clearly as well. "When General Zhao fought Nian Zanli on the northern front, his army frequently ran out of rations, and logistics were strained to the limit. I recall General Zhao had no choice but to retreat to the banks of the Hanshui River, relying on natural barriers to defend himself."
"Rations and fodder must precede the army," He Chunhua shook his head. "Now they demand I march before provisions are even gathered. Hah, fifteen hundred cavalrymen have only seven hundred horses—are two men supposed to ride one horse into battle?"
He Yue said in a low voice, "The south had a bumper harvest last autumn, but taxes were too heavy. For every ten jin of grain harvested, farmers were only allowed to keep two, while the rest had to be handed over."
"In wartime, money and grain are funneled to the northwestern front. Even so, the northwest lacks warm clothes and food. I heard Ke Jihai's army had dozens more men freeze to death last month."
Madam Ying felt an ache in her heart hearing this. "When will this war ever end?"
"It won't end," He Yue explained to his mother, dropping his voice for the next sentence. "Grand Marshal Dong Haoming has committed treason, his eyes set on the throne. Until he marches into the Yuan capital, he will never cease his assault."
Madam Ying murmured, "If he really breaches the city, what will we do?"
"Dong Haoming won't find it so easy to fight his way here. Do not speak so dismally, my dear," He Chunhua said, shaking his head. "Sooner or later, I will head south, but not now. I must choose the right moment."
The year before last, he had slain Sun Fuping and Nian Songyu; last year, he intercepted Nian Zanli's southward drive and then recaptured Haozhou. With one victory after another, his official career was at its zenith.
At such a time, he needed to protect his reputation and guard his prestige, avoiding battles he was not confident of winning.
He Chunhua knew very well that the victories won last year were largely due to holding geographical advantage and popular support. Xiazhou was his domain; he had whatever men he needed, and all the money and grain came from the Four Great Clans.
With troops, money, and provisions, he had confidence going into battle and a high margin for error.
If he led troops to fight in the south, however, that would not be his territory, and supply lines would rely entirely on allocations from the royal court.
He Chunhua knew firsthand just how pathetic the Yuan court's logistics were.
When serving as Chief Administrator of Xiazhou, the royal court had saddled him with the quota of supplying grain to Zhao Pan's front-line army.
Back when Ke Jihai was fighting tooth and nail on the northwestern front, he had personally rushed back to the Yuan capital solely to beg for grain.
And when Zhao Pan marched his troops to reinforce the northwest, they ran out of food on the march, leading to a mutiny...
He Chunhua did not believe for a second that he would receive much aid from the rear if he led troops south. When he sent messengers back to the Yuan capital to press for rations, the monarch would only send intermittent messages:
"Hold on... Hold on... Persevere... Persevere..."
As for how to hold on and how to persevere, that would depend entirely on He Chunhua's own capabilities.
He was no local hegemon there; what capability could he have? Should he copy Zhao Pan and let his soldiers plunder the common folk?
Warfare was waged on logistics. Without food, medicine, or morale, what could he possibly suppress a rebellion with?
Furthermore, compared to the southern rebellion, the monarch of Great Yuan feared the Grand Marshal in the northwest far more, and the distribution of logistical resources would naturally favor the armies of Ke Jihai and Zhao Pan.
There were only a couple sips of porridge to go around; the more others drank, the less remained for He Chunhua.
Chapter 768