35. Uncle Resumes Office in Chongqing Prefecture

Li Rang, having hurried back from the Prefectural School in a state of disarray, saw Zhang Xun and his mother standing there, utterly horrified, and knew at once that they too had heard the news: Xiangyang had fallen, and Lu Wenhuan had surrendered with his entire army.

"With Xiangyang lost, the Upper Yangtze is in grave danger," Li Rang said, sinking into a chair with a look of despondency.

"The nation is in turmoil; the world is in an uproar," Zhang Xun replied, also taking a seat. He was deeply shaken.

Who wouldn't want to live comfortably for twenty or thirty years, eating, drinking, and merrymaking, only to pass away peacefully in the end? If one could be a loyal subject of the Song for a lifetime, with the world at peace, then even a life of only thirty-eight years would not be a loss. But now, with Xiangyang gone, the defense of the Yangtze rested largely on the generals of the Lu clan. Once they surrendered in droves, Changzhou would surely be impossible to defend.

"I am going to the temporary capital. Brother, lend me two hundred soldiers," Li Rang declared, having made up his mind while Zhang Xun was still lamenting.

"Sigh, what good will going there do?"

Lu Xiufu and Zhang Cheng had already sent word: the imperial court had no strategy for resisting the enemy, nor were there any capable ministers left to turn the tide. Jia Sidao had spent over three months suppressing the latest challenge to his power. Though the court had not collapsed into chaos, there was no sign of revitalization; their primary effort remained the purging of political rivals.

Look at how the court handled the responsibility for the failure to relieve Xiangyang, and the subsequent remedial measures. They chose two decrepit old men who could barely ride a horse, let alone wield a blade, to lead the army. Was this the sign of a government trying to pull itself together? It was clearly a sign that they were content to muddle along.

So, what use was there in going to Hangzhou?

If one wanted news, there were already Zhang Cheng and Lu Xiufu—one a Palace Diarist, the other a Vice Minister of the Court of Agriculture—and even they had no good news. A mere student from the prefectural school going to Hangzhou would likely not even know which way the gates of the Xiangxi Palace faced.

"Then I shall go home and join my father in raising an army to serve the King!" Li Rang exclaimed, an outcome no one had anticipated.

"The court hasn't even issued a formal edict yet; what would you call that?" Zhang Xun pressed a hand on Li Rang’s shoulder, forcing him to sit back down and stop dwelling on such wild ideas.

"Indeed, perhaps the ministers will send envoys to negotiate a peace," Mother Zhang added in persuasion.

There was truth in that. If they offered Kublai a million taels of silver and a million bolts of silk, they might be able to restore peace, acknowledge him as their uncle-emperor, and reclaim Xiangyang; the Southern Song court would surely agree.

It wasn't as if it hadn't happened once or twice before. They had bowed to emperors as subjects before, so what was a "nephew-emperor"? As for the silver and silk, that was merely the revenue of three or four wealthy prefectures—a small price to pay.

Paying annual tributes of five hundred thousand or a million to Kublai thereafter had been the established practice of the Great Song for centuries. Not only did the Emperor accept it, but the ministers of the Great Song saw nothing improper in it.

After all, war cost far more than just a few hundred million; if peace could be secured for a few hundred thousand or a million a year, why bother fighting?

Sigh...

"Well then..." Li Rang couldn't say whether this was good or bad, but at least, for the moment, he had been held back.

"I will write to the temporary capital to inquire." Though he said the court would have no decisive plan, he still felt he had to ask. Writing a letter to Hangzhou might yield some information.

He had to act immediately; there was no time left. Even weeping was a waste of time.

The next day, Zhang Xun went into the city and had the fifty thousand catties of iron ore, procured by Prefect Shi the previous year, safely transported to the warehouse of the old family residence in Chungui Lane. He instructed the old steward to continue adding to the stockpile at a rate of one thousand catties a month, discreetly.

The city was already buzzing with discussion. The Song Dynasty was a period of cultural prosperity for the common people, and correspondingly, keeping up with national affairs and offering commentary had become a major form of "entertainment."

"Keyboard politics"—or its equivalent—had existed long before.

Zhang Xun did not sit down to listen to the crowd's chatter. No matter how heated the debate in the countryside, it was useless; those in power weren't listening. Would Zhao Qi listen? Would Jia Sidao listen? Would Empress Dowager Xie listen?

Clearly not. This wasn't the age of the ancients, where one could carve their grievances onto a stone pillar and the court would, at the very least, give an explanation.

In those ancient days, the Three Sovereigns and Five Emperors had to be supported by the leaders of the various tribes and the common people; if you were a citizen back then, you could even cast a vote when electing Great Yu.

But now, when choosing a crown prince or an emperor, could you cast a single vote?

Someone noticed Zhang Xun and asked loudly if there were any imperial edicts. "Brother Zhang, are you planning to raise an army to serve the King?"

"I serve at the pleasure of the Emperor. Whatever he commands, I shall do. For now, the priority is to protect our borders and keep the people safe. Xiangyang is over a thousand miles from Changzhou—it is very far away."

In the history of the Southern Song, Xiangyang had fallen before, only to be recaptured by Meng Gong. With such a precedent, many commoners felt the situation wasn't entirely hopeless. The empire was still half-intact; they just needed to select good generals to lead an army and retake Xiangyang.

That was why they could so brazenly ask Zhang Xun on the street if he was raising an army.

It was all quite calm, filled with a strange sense of "relaxation."

Caring about national affairs is good, and having a relaxed outlook on life is also good, but for both to be present in one person at such a time was likely not a good thing. Though the flames of war were still a thousand miles away, they were not so distant from Changzhou.

If nothing went wrong, the surrendered generals of the south, led by Liu Zheng, were likely already actively petitioning Kublai, urging him to seize this opportunity to quickly destroy the Song and achieve the great cause of national unification.

Even Lu Wenhuan, who had just surrendered, had sent a memorial to Dadu, outlining strategies for destroying the Song. He had even offered to personally lead the effort to pacify the towns along the Yangtze.

If Lu Wenhuan had simply surrendered, there would be little to say; with foreign aid cut off and strength exhausted, surrender was understandable. But to actively work for the Yuan court after surrendering—that would leave his name to be reviled for ten thousand years.

Even if he had taken Kublai's rewards and gone home to live as a wealthy man, the historical condemnation would not have been so severe.

Forget it, forget it. Zhang Xun himself was contemplating surrender; how could the pot call the kettle black? Better to redouble his efforts to stockpile supplies and plan for the future.

The atmosphere in the Zhang household was gloomier than it was outside. Mother Zhang sat sighing from time to time, and Li Rang, who had previously been busy socializing at the Prefectural School, no longer went into the city, spending his days at home practicing archery with Li Da.

If a day of reckoning came, they truly did not know what they would do.

As expected, the court issued an edict calling for the loyal subjects of the realm to serve the King. Its main content was to require local officials, gentry, and military commanders to recruit righteous volunteer armies; those who could hold their positions would be granted official status, and those with existing ranks would be promoted three grades. Local officers were to immediately lead their troops to the temporary capital and organize their forces.

Zhang Xun’s uncle, Li Zhu—Li Rang’s father—who had been living in retirement for over a decade, was recalled to service. He was appointed as the Commissioner for the Kui and Xia Regions and Prefect of Chongqing. Upon receiving the imperial decree, he immediately set off for Chongqing to select and deploy troops from the Sichuan and Xia regions to support the Jinghu area.