Chapter Three: On the Way

Upon hearing these words, Yang Zixu abruptly straightened his back, the last traces of fatigue vanishing in an instant. The mention of “the Old Master” roused him more thoroughly than anything he’d heard below. The languor in his eyes was swept away, and he exhaled a long, heavy breath.

“I am Yang Zixu, a scholar from the Yang family of the Eastern Capital,” he said, tidying his disheveled robes.

Li Fu was taken aback. Although not a native of the Eastern Capital, he had certainly heard of the Yang family Yang Zixu spoke of.

There was only one Yang family in the Eastern Capital—the household of the Celestial Plumed General, Yang Tianlang.

Since the night, eight centuries ago, when Emperor Taizong ascended the throne, the Great Tang had always revered the Four Marquises and Eight Generals. The Four Marquises were renowned military lords, and the Eight Generals those who aided Taizong’s rise. After eight centuries of lineage, only three of the current Eight Generals’ families trace directly to the original titles; the rest had been granted their ranks in later generations.

Yang Zixu’s family was one of those original three houses to endure through the centuries.

“I am Li Fu, from Liangzhou,” Li Fu replied, clearly surprised by Yang Zixu’s identity.

“Liangzhou? The south... the scenery there is truly beautiful,” Yang Zixu remarked with a smile.

“It is indeed,” Li Fu agreed, reflecting that the winters of the Eastern Capital were far colder than those in the south.

“Why did you say just now that the Rong and Di tribes could not have succumbed to this harsh winter?” Yang Zixu’s eyes narrowed as he tried to adjust to the midday sun, not yet fully awake.

“The Rong and Di dwell in the north, where the climate differs greatly from that of the Tang. The winters in the northern frontier are far harsher than within our borders. Their warriors are adept at fighting in such conditions. No matter how dire their straits, the Rong and Di would not be so swiftly defeated in winter. I recall last winter, the Divine Strategy Command fared the same; after autumn, they failed to make any headway against the Rong and Di,” Li Fu answered thoughtfully, voicing his reasoning.

Yang Zixu pondered this and realized it was true. The previous year, when the Divine Strategy Command fought the Rong and Di on the northern frontier, they maintained an upper hand until the heavy snows came. Then, several counterattacks by the Rong and Di left the Command reeling, suffering losses and forced to retreat to rest at Linguan.

But this year, the Celestial Strategy Command had received the court’s orders only in the tenth month, by which time the north was already in the grip of winter. In just three short months, they had repelled the Rong and Di—wasn’t this all rather unusual?

“How did you determine that the Rong and Di should not have been defeated this winter?” Yang Zixu leaned out from the window to look at Li Fu. Suddenly, he sensed something amiss and said, “Wait a moment.”

Yang Zixu swiftly shut the window. Li Fu heard a commotion from the next room, punctuated by a couple of sneezes.

Soon, there came a knock at Li Fu’s door. Standing outside was a handsome youth, draped in a white brocade robe, hair neatly combed, and a piece of fine jade hanging at his waist. His features were refined and gentle.

“What’s this? Am I not welcome to come in and have a seat?” Yang Zixu teased as Li Fu stood blocking the doorway, unsure how to respond.

“No, no, I just…” Li Fu hurriedly ushered Yang Zixu inside, embarrassed.

“You simply didn’t recognize me at first, did you?” Yang Zixu continued with a smile, rescuing Li Fu from his awkwardness.

Indeed, moments before, Yang Zixu’s robe had been askew, his face groggy with sleep, and his hair tousled from burrowing beneath the bedding—not at all as presentable as now.

Fully aware of his earlier dishevelment, Yang Zixu carried on, sparing Li Fu further discomfort.

He glanced around Li Fu’s room, noting its tidiness. Several ancient books on the table caught his eye—their pages yellowed, the corners worn, evidence of frequent use. The binding thread was a rare silver filament from Annan County in the south, typically reserved for the great academies of the Eastern Capital—a rarity in ordinary households, indicating the book’s importance to its owner.

Yet, water stains marred the cover, fresh enough to be noticeable.

“Would you care for some tea?” Li Fu carefully lifted the freshly boiled water from the stove and took out the wild tea leaves he had brought, brewing a pot.

“An exquisite tea—there’s a subtle, ethereal quality that lingers on the palate. Where is it from?” Yang Zixu took a sip, nodding appreciatively.

“Just wild mountain tea, nothing special,” Li Fu replied with a smile. The leaves had been picked by his teacher from the cliffs behind Rice Fragrance Village—just seven taels a year. In truth, wild as it was, the tea was rare.

“I’d never have thought the wilderness could yield such a superb brew. In my opinion, it’s no less than the treasured ‘Dewdrop’ kept in Daming Palace,” Yang Zixu said, savoring the tea.

“You flatter me. How could humble mountain tea compare to the royal collection?” Li Fu refilled his cup, shaking his head with a smile.

“The imperial stores are, of course, unmatched, but not all the wonders of the Great Tang are kept within the palace walls,” Yang Zixu replied, bowing slightly in thanks before settling into a comfortable position on the floor cushion.

“About the Rong and Di’s defeat—what is your view?” he asked.

Li Fu stirred the coals in the brazier, and after a moment of silence, replied, “The Rong and Di are far more accustomed to the northern cold than our own troops—both their warriors and their steeds. Recently, on my way to the capital, I heard that thirty thousand Celestial Strategy soldiers at Yongguan were attacked by the Rong and Di, resulting in the loss of the pass. Yongguan is a key stronghold in the northwest—easy to defend, hard to take. The Rong and Di captured it even without complete siege equipment. Yet, why does Hanwu Pass, under similar circumstances, remain unbroken despite a lengthy siege? This indicates that the Rong and Di’s campaign wasn’t truly aimed at occupying cities or land. The recent victory announced today only strengthens my suspicion.”

Seeing Yang Zixu’s confusion, Li Fu realized he hadn’t explained clearly and, somewhat embarrassed, continued:

“Three winters ago, when the Rong and Di first launched their campaign, the Feathered Spirit Army was guarding the frontier. Though not as formidable as in days past, they could hold out for a month with little trouble. Behind them were the Divine Strategy’s right wing in Wan City. Even if the Feathered Spirit Army was defeated, the Rong and Di were no match for Divine Strategy’s forces. Yet, after the first defeat, the Divine Strategy army didn’t immediately reinforce—they lingered just within a hundred li, waiting until the Feathered Spirit Army suffered a second defeat before entering the frontier. By then, it was already winter. That first winter, the Rong and Di easily seized much of the northern line, holding three key strongholds. The Divine Strategy army suffered heavy losses—a third of the right wing perished on the northern fields. When spring finally came, the opportunity to strike back was ripe, yet Divine Strategy took no action. Only after His Majesty, in a fury, issued three imperial decrees did they begin to reclaim the line. Oddly, the Rong and Di offered little resistance, and the Divine Strategy Command quickly recovered some unimportant places, bypassing others without much conflict.”

Li Fu drained his cup. As he spoke, details once overlooked in the chronicles of the northwest campaign came to life in Yang Zixu’s mind.

As the only son of the Celestial Plumed General, Yang Zixu knew far more about the war than Li Fu.

Supporting his head with one hand, Yang Zixu slowly turned his teacup with the other, pondering. “You are right. The second year, the Divine Strategy Command’s campaign routes were indeed puzzling. Take the battle for Tianliang County—even though the Rong and Di were surrounded, eighty thousand of their troops broke through. Most curiously, their losses were not severe; though twenty thousand were reported dead, later news indicated most were wounded or disabled, with few elite casualties. The focus at the time was on the recapture of Tianliang, so few paid attention to these details. In hindsight, it is strange indeed.”

Li Fu said calmly, “Think back to the situation at the northern front in the tenth month, when the Celestial Strategy Command was dispatched.”

The tenth month—at that time, the northern front… Yang Zixu’s face showed his shock as he regarded Li Fu, having guessed his meaning. He exclaimed in disbelief,

“Was Divine Strategy fighting to sustain itself with war?”