Han Ji

Chapter 177 The Emperor's Personal Expedition

"How many people in the Jia clan can read and write?" Liu Bei asked.

"I have thirteen sons and more than twenty retainers," Jia Long replied. "No fewer than fifty of them are literate."

"Alright." Liu Bei picked up his pen and wrote it down. "Jianwei County is short of officials. I will transfer five people there, and Jia Gong will recommend five more to work together."

"Does the magistrate trust me?"

"If you doubt someone, don't use them." Liu Bei poured wine and pushed a bowl to Jia Long, "But if you use them, you won't doubt them."

Jia Long picked up the bowl but didn't drink it.

"My lord, of the nine commanderies of Yi Province, you currently only control Ba Commandery. Ma Xiang of Chengdu still has 20,000 troops, and the powerful clans of Shu Commandery, Guanghan, and Yuexi are still observing the situation. What's the next step?"

"Let's attack Chengdu first," Liu Bei said. "Ma Xiang's supplies are insufficient, and his army's morale is low. Wang Rao advocates war and will surely come out of the city to challenge us. We will annihilate his main force in open battle and then besiege the city."

"What if Wang Rui really sends troops?"

"He won't come," Liu Bei shook his head. "From Jingzhou to Yizhou, through the Three Gorges, it would take at least two months to cross. Besides, I am the royal army; how could Wang Rui dare to rebel?"

Jia Long hesitated for a moment: "Then... after we take Chengdu?"

"Pacify the people, soothe the land, establish military farms, and train the troops." Liu Bei took a sip of wine, wincing from the spiciness. "Yizhou is a land of plenty, but this chaos has severely damaged its vitality. It will take three years to recover."

"What about three years from now?"

Liu Bei looked up and saw Jia Long.

The candlelight illuminated his face, casting a dim glow.

"Master Jia," he said slowly, "tell me, how many more years can this world remain peaceful?"

Jia Long's hand trembled, and a few drops of wine spilled out.

He put down the bowl and took a deep breath.

"Although the Yellow Turban Rebellion has been quelled, the Qiang rebellion has broken out in Liangzhou, the Wuhuan people in Youzhou are restless, and the Xiongnu in Bingzhou are ready to make a move." He said in a low voice, "The court is in turmoil with factional strife, eunuchs, and imperial relatives. This world... will never be at peace."

"Therefore," Liu Bei said, "we must make preparations."

"What preparations?"

"In chaotic times, one must have soldiers, provisions, and territory." Liu Bei dipped his finger in wine and drew a circle on the table. "Yizhou is our territory."

Jia Long stared at the ring of wine stains, watching them slowly spread.

"Does Your Excellency aspire to rule the world?"

"My ambition is to survive," Liu Bei said. "To survive my own life, the lives of my brothers, the lives of the people of Yizhou, and the lives of all the people under heaven."

He paused for a moment: "But to survive, we need power. Where does power come from? Soldiers, provisions, and territory. Yizhou has given us this opportunity; we cannot waste it."

Jia Long remained silent for a long time.

Then he got up, walked to the baggage by the wall, took out a roll of thick silk, and spread it out on the table.

It's a map.

The nine prefectures of Yizhou were meticulously marked with their mountains, rivers, passes, and cities. Some places even had smaller notes indicating how many private soldiers a certain powerful family had, how much grain a certain manor had stored, and whether a certain prefectural official was corrupt or honest.

"This is what I've saved up over half my life," Jia Long said, "and I offer it to the magistrate."

Liu Bei looked down at the map. His finger traced Chengdu, Mianzhu, Luoxian, and finally stopped at Jianwei.

"Master Jia," he looked up, "has already sent me two gifts in just one day. This gift is far too much."

"It's not a big deal." Jia Long sat down, poured himself a bowl of wine, and drank it all in one gulp. "Because what you said, sir, is right. This world is going to be in chaos. In chaotic times, you need to find someone capable of accomplishing things to follow. I think you, sir, are capable of accomplishing things."

The two looked at each other.

The candlelight flickered.

"Alright." Liu Bei put away the map. "If I succeed in my endeavors in the future, I will certainly not let Jia down, since Jia Gong has helped me today."

"With the magistrate's words, that's enough."

Late at night.

The wine jug was empty. The two lay down, on a bed with two pillows. The wind howled outside the window, like weeping, like sighing.

"Lord Jia," Liu Bei suddenly spoke.

"Um?"

"So, what is Ma Xiang doing right now?"

Jia Long thought for a moment: "He must be having a nightmare."

Why?

"Because he also knew that he was doomed." Jia Long turned around, facing Liu Bei, and said nothing.

In the darkness, his eyes were open, staring at the roof beams.

"Go to sleep," Liu Bei said. "We still have a long journey ahead tomorrow."

"Where are you rushing off to?"

"Let's go to Chengdu." Liu Bei closed his eyes. "To end this farce."

The snoring soon began.

Jia Long wasn't asleep. He listened intently to Liu Bei's breathing—even and deep. He also listened to the wind outside the window, gusting one gust after another.

He quietly got up, walked to the window, and pushed it open a crack.

It was pitch black outside, with only the torches of the night patrol soldiers flickering and moving through the streets and alleys.

In the distance, the sound of the Yangtze River roared and thundered, like war drums.

Ma Xiang left Chengdu on March 28th.

He chose the date: the 28th, a homophone for "Erfa" (meaning "prosperity"), for good luck. Before dawn, the palace was in chaos. Eunuchs and maids ran around, moving boxes, binding luggage, and loading carts. Wang Rao stood before the Dacheng Hall, wearing newly made iron armor, the plates polished to a gleaming shine, reflecting a cold light in the torchlight.

"Hurry up, all of you!" he roared. "His Majesty sets off for the campaign at Chenshi (7-9 AM). If you're late, I'll chop off your heads!"

Nobody paid him any attention. The eunuchs and palace maids were all kidnapped and couldn't wait for Ma Xiang to leave so they could escape.

Ma Xiang was dressing in front of a bronze mirror in his bedchamber.

He was still wearing the same royal robes, but they had been starched, the wrinkles ironed out, and mended with gold thread. The seashells on the crown were polished to a shine, hanging down in strings that dazzled the eye. He stared at his face in the mirror; the scar looked even deeper in the candlelight, like a centipede crawling on his face.

"Your Majesty," the captain of the personal guards whispered outside the door, "the time has come."

Ma Xiang didn't respond. He reached out and touched the scar.

This time last year, he was still digging salt at the salt wells in Mianzhu. His hands were covered in calluses, and his face was covered in ash. Now the calluses on his hands are thinner, his face is whiter, but the scars are still there.

"Let's go," he said.

Pushing open the door, he found Wang Rao already waiting at the foot of the steps. Wu Si was also there, dressed in the official robes of the Commandant of the Guards, his back ramrod straight, but his eyes were sunken, as if he hadn't slept for days.

"Your Majesty!" Wang Rao clasped his hands in greeting, "The entire army is assembled! Twenty thousand elite troops are already arrayed outside the North Gate!"

Ma Xiang glanced at him: "Twenty thousand?"

"Uh... 18,000." Wang Rao lowered his voice, "For someone who's truly capable, 15,000."

Ma Xiang didn't expose him. He walked down the steps to the front courtyard of the palace. There, a group of people were kneeling, all newly promoted officials after Zhao Zhi's death, both civil and military. They were all wearing new official robes, their heads bowed low.

"While I am away on campaign," Prime Minister Ma began, his voice dry in the early morning air, "state affairs will be temporarily handled by the Prime Minister's office. Everyone must perform their duties diligently and not slack off."

"Your Majesty, we obey." The voices were sparse.

Ma Xiang stopped looking at them and walked straight out. The palace gates were wide open, leading to the main street of Chengdu. Soldiers lined both sides of the street, their swords and spears like a forest, their banners a jumbled mess. When they saw him come out, some shouted "Long live the Emperor!" and others echoed him, but most people looked at the sky, the ground, and the dry rations they had just been given.

The horse was mounted. It was a white horse with a golden saddle, but it was thin, and its ribs were clearly visible.

"Set off."

The drums sounded. The procession, like a sick dragon, slowly crawled out of the city.

Liu Bei's army arrived at the Chengdu Plain on the first day of April.

The vanguard consisted of Qian Zhao's 300 lightly armored cavalrymen on swift horses, who had already scouted the area twenty li ahead. The central army comprised 5,000 men, with Guan Yu leading the left flank, Zhang Wu the right flank, and Liu Bei himself commanding the central army. The rear guard consisted of supply wagons, auxiliary troops, and 3,000 private soldiers temporarily brought in by Jia Long, escorting the grain carts.

By this time, they had passed Jiange Pass, and the terrain gradually leveled out. It was April, and the wheat in the fields was just beginning to sprout ears, a lush green expanse stretching as far as the eye could see. But there was no one on the field ridges, no smoke rising from the villages, and not even the dogs barked.