Chapter Seventeen: A Fortunate Misstep

“You are mine!” When Chen Ying heard these words, his mind immediately wandered into a thousand fantasies.

Li Xiuning had never spoken idly; had this been the Sui Dynasty, Chen Ying’s situation would have been far more precarious. After all, Su Hu’s father, Su Wei, was a chancellor of the Sui and a scion of the old Guanzhong aristocracy. As the saying goes, “A seventh-rank official at the chancellor’s gate”—even Li Xiuning’s own father, Li Yuan, would have thought twice before crossing Su Wei, let alone Li Xiuning herself.

But things were different now.

It is said that the older a man grows, the more cautious he becomes. As the years passed, Su Wei had discarded all pretense of integrity. When Yuwen Huaji murdered Yang Guang and appointed Su Wei as Grand Master of Splendid Happiness, Su Wei complied. When Yuwen Huaji was defeated, Su Wei surrendered to Li Mi; when Li Mi fell, he submitted to Wang Shichong, who made him Grand Preceptor. Su Wei had become the nemesis of his masters—whoever he followed met their end. By now, he was a turncoat thrice over, let alone his son, Su Hu. If Su Hu knew his place, all would be well; if he dared cause trouble, Li Xiuning would have no qualms about seeing the magistrate of Wannian County replaced.

After all, such a token of regard was something Li Yuan would certainly grant.

Li Xiuning said, “In these three days, only seven of the wounded soldiers who underwent surgery have died.”

Chen Ying was startled: “Seven dead? If only we had penicillin!”

“What is penicillin?” Li Xiuning asked, curiosity bright in her gaze.

“It’s a miraculous drug, extremely effective in treating infections from wounds. I read about it in an ancient prescription, but I have no idea how to make it,” Chen Ying replied.

A trace of disappointment flickered across Li Xiuning’s face. After a long moment, she said softly, “If only this surgical method had been invented earlier and promoted throughout the army—how many lives could have been spared?”

“It’s not too late to start now,” Chen Ying said.

“My father is far too stingy. How could he only reward you with a fifth-rank military officer’s title and give you an actual post as a sixth-rank captain?” Li Xiuning frowned. “He ought at least to grant you a noble title.”

Chen Ying was overjoyed at this. A fifth-rank officer and a sixth-rank actual post—by modern standards, this would be the equivalent of a high-level official. To hold such a position before the age of twenty was rare indeed in all the land.

“It’s not so little, not at all!” Chen Ying replied. “I am still young. A man’s sword carves out his own destiny—one day, I too will be marquis and general, leading armies and shaping the fate of the state.”

“That’s quite the ambition!”

“Of course!”

“There’s one matter I hope you won’t mind,” Li Xiuning said. “The Jinyang Village Volunteer Battalion is to be reorganized as the Jinzhou Zhechong Military Command.”

“Reorganized? Let it be so,” Chen Ying said indifferently. “To be accepted by the court gives my brothers a place and a name—far better than wandering without status or recognition.”

Seeing Li Xiuning hesitate, Chen Ying asked, “Is it that all the officers of the Jinzhou Zhechong Command are to be replaced?”

“Not all,” Li Xiuning replied. “According to the Ministry of War, the Jinzhou Zhechong Command is to be an elite command with four regiments and an additional company, each regiment with three battalions, for a full strength of 1,250 men.”

“But the numbers aren’t enough—even with the lightly and heavily wounded, the command doesn’t reach a thousand,” Chen Ying noted.

“Two hundred men from Xue Wan Che’s Right Guard under the Crown Prince’s command, plus fifty from the Personal Guard of Prince Zhao’s residence, will all be reassigned to the Jinzhou Zhechong Command,” Li Xiuning explained. “Xue Wan Che will serve as Zhechong Captain, Bi Lei and Shen Yanjing as Deputy Commanders, Yu Wenbao will be promoted from the Prince Zhao’s Personal Guard, and Zhang Da, Meng Changze, Shang Yu, and Li Liangheng of the Crown Prince’s Cavalry will each serve as Regimental Captains.”

“What about Zhang Huaiwei and You Ziying?” Chen Ying asked.

“They have other important tasks,” Li Xiuning replied.

Suddenly, Chen Ying understood—Li Jiancheng had made his move. Li Jiancheng was skilled at seizing the moment; Jinyang was only eighty li from Chang’an, close enough for a forced march to reach the city in a day. The Eastern Palace now effectively commanded a loyal unit right under Chang’an’s nose. Zhang Huaiwei and You Ziying, like Chen Ying, were founders of the Jinyang Village Volunteers and highly respected by the men. If they could not be wooed, it would be hard to fully control the new command. The safest course was to transfer them out, leaving all the key military posts—Zhechong Captain, Deputy Commanders, special officers, adjutants, and regimental captains—to seasoned men from the Eastern Palace. At this point, even an imperial edict would not carry as much weight in the command as Li Jiancheng’s order.

Chen Ying was calm—after all, Li Jiancheng had not gone to extremes. At least he kept the battalion and company-level posts for the original volunteers, fulfilling his promise. Of Qin Gu’s four sons, three were now seventh-rank battalion commanders, the fourth having been killed in battle.

On the third day of the eighth month of the first year of Wude, Chen Ying, Zhang Huaiwei, You Ziying, and Princess Pingyang Li Xiuning led the guards of the Prince of Qin’s and Princess Pingyang’s residences—over 260 men—back to Chang’an.

Unable to ride, Chen Ying reclined in a carriage, gazing out at the passing scenery. The carriage was loaded with gifts from the local gentry, presents that would not have been given had it not been for Chen Ying; otherwise, Jinyang might have met its historical fate—slaughtered by Zong Luohou, leaving only seven hundred survivors out of more than twenty thousand people.

Though Qin Gu had lost one son, three remained, all now seventh-rank military officers—making the Qin family a prominent clan in Jinyang. Qin Gu was generous in his gratitude to Chen Ying, gifting him one hundred bolts of Sichuan brocade and two hundred silver ingots, amounting to roughly a thousand taels.

In Tang times, gold and silver were not used as currency, but as precious metals they could be exchanged for bulk goods. This silver was meant for Chen Ying to purchase a residence in Chang’an—a thousand taels, equivalent to a thousand strings of cash, enough to buy a standard three-courtyard home in the city.

Chen Ying looked back at Jinyang, his face clouded with doubt.

“Reluctant to leave?” Ma Sanbao spurred his horse up to the carriage, teasing, “Or is there some sweetheart of yours still in the city?”

At this, Li Xiuning smiled, a barely perceptible worry in her eyes.

“Sweetheart? Hardly,” Chen Ying said with a laugh. “I was just wondering why Xue Renguo suddenly withdrew his army. I still can’t figure it out.”

“That’s not so hard to guess,” Ma Sanbao replied. “Maybe Xue Renguo’s wife ran off with someone and he hurried home—”

Suddenly, Chen Ying sat up with a shout, “I’ve got it! Something major must have happened in Western Qin, forcing the crown prince to rush back to their capital!”

“What could it be?”

“Unless—unless the King of Western Qin, Xue Ju, has fallen ill or died, and Xue Renguo has to hurry home to claim the throne…”

“Heaven truly favors the Great Tang!” Li Xiuning exclaimed. “It must be that Xue Ju is gravely ill, and Xue Renguo feared his brother Xue Renyue would seize power, so he rushed back to Jincheng—present-day Lanzhou! The time to defeat Western Qin has come. Hurry, back to Chang’an!”

With a snap of her whip, Li Xiuning’s horse shot forward like the wind, Ma Sanbao and the other cavalry close behind. The two hundred infantrymen and Chen Ying were left in a cloud of dust, coughing and disheveled.

“Wait for me!” Chen Ying cried.