Chapter 45: Long Smoke and Setting Sun, The Lonely Fortress Closes (Part IV)

Li Xiao lay flat on his back on the bed. Outside, the sound of artillery had ceased, leaving behind an even deeper silence.

The wind poured in through a gap in the ridge of the roof. He opened his eyes, and what emerged in the dark was not mere blackness, but countless concrete and sharp images, rushing one after another into his mind.

These images were not scattered; they were like grasshoppers strung on a single thread—and that thread was "suffering," tied to a person from birth. In these troubled times, the thread was pulled taut, snapping at the slightest tug. Those whose threads broke became meat in others' mouths and mud beneath their feet.

"Morality? The law? In chaotic times, all order shatters."

Troubled times tore human nature in two: one half turned into wolves, baring their teeth to snatch food; the other half turned into sheep, kneeling to await slaughter.

Hunger strips away human nature, and fear twists morality. Those who survive to the very end often forget what it means to be "human."

How light historical records are! A few breezy characters represent endless, unburying blood and tears. Behind them lie the blood, tears, and despair of countless common people, the crushed residue of human nature, and the despair of civilization struggling in the darkness yet unable to break free.

Future generations might occasionally frown upon lines like "thousands of miles without smoke, white bones covering the field," but for those living through these chaotic times, every day was an endless, unendurable dark night, where they dared not even cry out loud for fear of summoning worse horrors.

"In troubled times, kindness is a luxury, and cruelty is merely an instinct."

Whenever these moments struck, religion and the deities filling the heavens became the final piece of driftwood that human nature desperately tried to clutch in a hopeless situation.

As long as one lives in this world, endless suffering devours people's reason and dignity. When mere survival becomes an extravagant hope, morality and the law become like paper barriers, shattered at a single poke. Facing this cruel reality, people felt incomparable despair, plunging into a bottomless dark abyss with no exit and no way out.

Confucianism taught the cultivation of the self, the regulation of the family, the governance of the state, and the pacification of the world—this was the Confucian pursuit and ideal of life.

Yet beneath iron hooves and flying blades, Confucian moral and ethical concepts were thoroughly destroyed. To survive, people had no choice but to discard those so-called morals and ethics.

The benevolence, righteousness, propriety, loyalty, and trustworthiness advocated by Confucianism appeared so pale and impotent in these chaotic times.

What people witnessed was only the ugliness and selfishness of human nature, the cutthroat competition and slaughter of survival. Confucian ideals, in such turbulent times, were like pavilions in the air, completely out of reach.

Meanwhile, Buddhism's "karmic reincarnation" and Taoism's "accumulated retribution and kalpas" were like faint, flickering lights in the dark, offering people an explanation. It made them believe that this disorderly suffering was not without cause, but rather the result of past karmic debts or the cycling of the heavenly Dao.

Though this explanation could not change the cruelty of reality, it provided a sliver of psychological comfort, making it easier for people to accept their tragic fate.

Religion offered hope beyond the present world: Buddhism's "Western Pure Land" and Taoism's "ascending to immortality as feather-clad immortals" allowed people to hold onto the expectation of spiritual salvation even before their physical bodies were destroyed.

And because religion was willing to grant people an "afterlife," to explain "suffering" as a "kalpa," "death" as a "crossing," and "cannibalism" as the "eradication of karma," the living could close their eyes. They could turn a blind eye to the bloody carnage and tell themselves, "This is not the end; ahead lie lotuses, the heavenly court, and ascension to immortality."

Closing his eyes, the darkness was full of light—the light of cremation pyres, the light of exploding artillery stones, and that final glint of ferocity in human eyes. He thought that a person's life perhaps consisted of nothing more than waiting for a day when one could have a good, thorough cry.

...

Before dawn had fully broken, snowflakes mixed with a cold wind drilled into people's collars.

Shivering from the bitter cold, the unfortunate wretches opened their eyes to see Lu the Mad Tiger squatting in the snow, cursing toward the direction of the military camp's outer gate.

Batch after batch of people walked in and out of the tents, spinning past like a revolving lantern.

"What's the big rush! Are you in a hurry to reincarnate or something?"

He rubbed his hands against the cold and continued ranting, "Dragging me out of bed at the crack of dawn to stand watch until now, without even letting my eyelids stick together for a second."

"Hush!" Ma Xiaowu hurriedly pulled his arm, nodding toward the camp, "Are you blind? Didn't you see that everyone going in and out is carrying a saber?"

Following his gaze, one could see the interior of the camp's outer gate bustling like an overturned wok.

Junior clerks clutching documents ran with their necks shrunken into their collars, the bundles of case files in their arms tied like bricks, rustling loudly in the wind. Armored soldiers carrying long spears shuttled back and forth, the crisp clatter of armor plates mixing with shouts to echo across the snow.

The most conspicuous figure was a civil official in a green robe, holding a red-lacquered wooden box and running about in a panic. He slipped in the snow, causing the wooden box to fly open with a clang and spilling several rolls of yellow paper. Scrambling to his feet, he didn't even bother to brush the snow off himself; he clutched the box and bolted toward a distant hitching post, too flustered to utter a single curse about losing his scholarly dignity.

"What on earth are they arguing about in there?" Ma Xiaowu stood on tiptoe to peer into the camp. "Sounds like someone's getting murdered."

Sure enough, an angry roar suddenly erupted from a tent inside: "Scoundrel! Lawless ruffian! This official will have your head!"

"Fool! If you can't muster the troops properly, I'll behead you first to serve as a sacrifice to the banner!" Followed by the crisp crash of objects smashing onto the ground. Outside the outer gate, two sentries stood straight, looking entirely unfazed.

Shivering with their necks tucked in, the group waited for nearly half an hour until their feet went numb. Finally, they saw a troop of cavalry treading through the snow. The commander reined in his mount, and the steed let out a long neigh, lifting its front hooves high before coming to a steady halt.

The leader was clad in armor, with a tiger-head saber hanging from his saddle. Who else could it be but Shi Di?

"Hey! We've finally been longing for you lot to arrive!" Shi Di swung down from his saddle, the specks of snow rattling off his armor. He opened his arms and strode toward the group, looking as though he intended to embrace them one by one.

Lu the Mad Tiger didn't hesitate either, opening his arms to meet him. The two men collided with a hearty thump, slapping each other's backs and laughing loudly.

"Commander Shi, you've been rather ungracious!" Lu the Mad Tiger rubbed his bruised shoulder. "You've been hiding out for so days—are you finally willing to show your face?"

"Wasn't I busy petitioning for merits for you brothers?" Shi Di swept his gaze over the crowd, finally letting it land on Li Xiao. He clicked his tongue and shook his head repeatedly, "Brother, we took a massive loss! That day, we truly let a big fish slip away!"

He pointed toward the camp. "That Jin vanguard officer—if we could have captured him, even if we had to stab him to death on the spot, our Lao Shi would have been promoted by at least six ranks! What a pity, what a pity..."

"Petitioning for merits?" Yuan Zhenhai's eyes lit up, rubbing his hands together with a smile, "Does that mean it's time to carve up some benefits for us brothers?"

"After holing up for all these days, we're due for some tangible rewards! The merits we established aren't small."

...

"Ain't that the truth!" Ma Xiaowu chimed in quickly, patting his chest. "I reckon the position of squad leader suits me just fine. From now on, Ma Xiaowu is a man who leads troops too!"

The crowd burst into laughter. Someone mimicked his shrill voice shouting, "All of you, stand up straight for me!" while others egged him on to start drilling his own wife first.

"Pui!" Lu the Mad Tiger gave the back of his head a slap. "Good-for-nothing wretch!"

"What's wrong with being a squad leader?" Ma Xiaowu snapped, his face flushing red. "Still better than a rough brute like you who only knows how to hack people! Once I'm a squad leader, you'll be polishing my armor every single day!"

"I reckon the two of you ought to patch up your wind-chapped lips first!"

Li Quanwu squatted in the snow, puffing on his dry tobacco pipe. The snow on the stem melted into water, dripping down the side. "You're a commoner with no proper background to speak of. What kind of official post are they gonna give you?"

"Old man Li, stop worrying about it!"

Lao Lu sidled up to him, grinning cheekily as he handed him a piece of dried flatbread. "You're seventy or eighty years old, what kind of official do you expect to be? Better off handing all your merits over to me. From now on, I'll support you in your old age, act like your own biological son, and make sure you have meat with every single meal!"

"You black-hearted scoundrel!" Li Quanwu raised his hand and rapped him on the head. "Nothing good ever comes out of a dog's mouth! Your whole family is seventy or eighty!"

The crowd roared with laughter, rocking back and forth, and even Shi Di joined in the merriment.

The shouting and cursing inside the outer gate continued, and the rustling of documents and the clinking of armor never stopped. Yet, huddled together in the snow, this group of men bantered back and forth, counting up the potential benefits coming their way, which diluted much of the tense atmosphere of the military camp.

Even if this anticipation was wrapped up in jokes about gaining promotions and getting rich, whether it was promotion or wealth, for now, they were willing to let their sweet dreams drift a while longer in the snow.

Before long, it was finally their turn. When the guiding soldier lifted the tent curtain, the oil-lamp-lit tent was permeated with the smell of sweat and an inescapable, dense air of exhaustion.

Li Xiao and the others beheld that official clad in scarlet robes whose exhaustion was nonetheless unmistakable—Zhang Xiaochun.

His eye sockets were deeply sunken, and thick dark circles looked as though they had been stained with ink. His complexion appeared even more sallow under the dim light, and even his official robe, symbolizing power, hung loosely on his abruptly emaciated frame.

Seeing them enter, he took a deep breath, trying to suppress his fatigue. He forced a smile onto his face, took a step forward, and executed a standard martial world salute. His voice was hoarse yet tinged with boldness: "Heroes of the martial world! Apologies for keeping you all waiting. Forgive me, and Zhang is endlessly grateful! Taiyuan is a beleaguered city, yet thanks to your righteous intervention, you lifted us from our urgent plight. This grace and virtue, the soldiers and people of Taiyuan will engrave in our hearts!"

Though the polite formalities were rattled off quickly, every word was clear, evidently forced out through sheer willpower.

Lu the Mad Tiger was most susceptible to this sort of treatment. He burst into laughter, shaking the tent with his voice: "Prefect Zhang is too polite! We people who practice martial arts live by a single word: 'righteousness'! Those ferocious Jin dogs slaughter the common people, burn our houses, and plunder our wealth. Anyone with a shred of backbone could hardly stand by with folded arms! Seeing injustice on the road and drawing a sword to help—that's only our bounden duty!"

He brazenly accepted the salute, then changed his tune, his bell-like eyes staring straight at Zhang Xiaochun: "Lao Lu here is a rough man, so I won't beat around the bush. This time, us brothers risked our heads on our belts, hacked down countless Jin dog skulls, and established such massive merits. What kind of official post should the imperial court reward us with?"

He gave a grand wave of his hand and added with utter disdain, "Let's make this clear first: those word-splitting, pedantic civil officials are nothing we care for! It's too stifling!"

His bluntness nearly caused Sun Shitou and Ma Xiaowu to burst out laughing, but they frantically clamped their mouths shut, their faces turning beet red.

The bold smile on Zhang Xiaochun's face didn't flicker in the least: "Hero Lu speaks straight from the heart! For rewarding merits, the imperial court naturally has its own statutes!"

With a wave of his hand, another clerk with similarly sunken eye sockets immediately stepped forward holding a stack of documents stamped in red, while another clerk laboriously carried in a modest wooden box. When set upon the ground, it emitted a dull, heavy clinking of coins, its weight evidently quite substantial.

Pointing at the documents and the money chest, Zhang Xiaochun wore an expression of undisguised embarrassment: "My lords, please look. These are the merit documents for your brave battle against the enemy. They have been recorded in detail according to the facts, bearing the official seal of the Pacification Commissioner's Office as well as the signatures and countersignatures of myself, Deputy Commander-in-Chief Wang, and other military and civil officials as proof.

This chest of meager wealth is also the heartfelt sentiment gathered by the soldiers and people of the city through tightening their belts.

The nation is in peril, Taiyuan is under siege, and the government treasuries are empty. According to the law, we ought to grant generous rewards... to speak the truth, at present this can only express a tiny fraction of our sincerity.

Another day, when the siege is lifted, if you take these merit documents and personally proceed to the government offices in Bianjing, the imperial court will surely grant generous rewards to make up the difference!"

His speech quickened, clearly burdened by an overwhelming mountain of official duties. He once more cupped his hands in a martial-world salute: "Military intelligence is urgent, and Zhang must excuse himself. Take care, gentlemen!" The farewell gesture carried the flavor of the martial world, yet it could not conceal his physically unsteady and swaying frame. The group hurriedly returned the salute and exited the tent.

Once outside the military camp, the tense atmosphere abruptly relaxed.

Ma Xiaowu smacked his lips: "Hey, I gotta say, this big official Zhang looks like he's about to fall apart from exhaustion, but he speaks quite magnanimously and doesn't put on airs."

Sun Shitou immediately chimed in with a sudden realization: "Yeah! Look at those dark circles under his eyes, he was swaying when he walked! Earlier we were muttering about him slighting us, but it seems he really is so busy he can't touch the ground, barely having time to catch his breath."

This remark caused everyone to nod in agreement.

Sun Shitou had already impatiently unfolded his document, examining it closely by the morning light. He fetched the literate Li Quanwu to help read through it, and the old man obliged, reading it out to him from start to finish.

Dense rows of text detailed the battles he had participated in: on such-and-such a day at such-and-such a place, slaying the enemy, beheading Jin soldiers here and there, the number of heads taken, injuries sustained... Time, location, personnel, and battle results were recorded in meticulous detail. At the end impressively sat the bright red seal of the Hedong Pacification Commissioner's Office alongside several scribbled yet forceful signatures, among which Zhang Xiaochun and Wang Bing were prominent.

"Look! Look right here!"

Sun Shitou pointed at the end of the document, crying out in excitement, "Baoyi Lang! And a Taiyuan cavalry squad leader? Squad leader! Haha, I'm a squad leader!"

The others nearby also unfolded their documents in turn, seeking out the old man to read them aloud, and cries of pleasant surprise rose one after another:

"I'm a Chengzhong Lang! And an advance guard leader?"

"Zhongyi Lang!"

"I'm a Zhongxun Lang! Pretty much the same as yours."

"Advance guard leader! Also known as a squad commander! I've got twenty or thirty brothers under my command now too!"

Their actual duties were written down clearly as well: squad leader (Rank 9 Senior), advance guard leader (Rank 9 Junior).

...

Although these were all the lowest-tier martial official ranks, they finally constituted a recognized identity, barely entering the official stream, which instantly ignited the enthusiasm of these low-ranking foot soldiers. Zhou Tie, Ma Xiaowu, and the others flushed red with excitement, pounding each other on the shoulders:

"Did you see that! I'm a squad leader! I manage people!"

"You brat's gonna have to take orders from me from now on!" The crowd traded punches and slaps, laughing and romping around, completely delighted. It was as if all the fatigue and pain on their bodies had been swept away, leaving only an immense sense of satisfaction regarding their new "official status."

Li Xiao also unfolded his document.

Unlike the excited clamor of the others, his gaze landed on the description of his official title, and his pupils shrank slightly—Martial Officer Rank: Xiuwu Lang, temporarily dispatching the duties of a Taiyuan Cavalry Battalion Commander.

"Battalion Commander?" Li Xiao felt bewildered.

He was hazy on the Song dynasty's military system, knowing only old terms like "centurion" or "thousand-man commander." The poetic line, "Better to be a centurion than a mere scholar," flashed through his mind. Just how big of an official was this "Battalion Commander"?

Maintaining his composure while he pondered, Yuan Zhenhai next to him leaned over to take a peek.

With just a single glance, Lao Yuan's weather-beaten face instantly contorted, his eyes widening like copper bells. He fiercely slapped his thigh with a resounding smack, his voice shifting octaves: "Good heavens! Xiuwu Lang? Battalion Commander?!"

He looked as though he had been dealt a vicious stab wound, beating his chest in heartbroken anguish. "Lao Yuan here... I've fought bitterly for ten whole years just to scrape together a battalion commander position! And you, you just show up and land it right off the bat! Where is the justice in heaven?!" Wailing and beating his chest, he looked at his own record in the document—"official rank promoted by two grades, substantive duties unchanged"—and found it utterly tasteless, an overwhelming sense of despair nearly drowning him.

Yuan Zhenhai's outburst acted like cold water hitting a pan of hot oil, instantly setting off a frenzy. Ma Xiaowu, Sun Shitou, and the others swarmed over in a pack. Catching sight of the characters on Li Xiao's document, they all drew in sharp breaths of cold air and gasped repeatedly:

"Xiuwu Lang?"

"Cavalry... Cavalry Battalion Commander?!"

"Mother of God! Brother Li, no—Commander Li! Big Brother Li!" Ma Xiaowu reacted the fastest, throwing his arms around Li Xiao's sleeve, spitting flying in his excitement. "From now on, you're our big brother! Through water and fire, just give the word, us brothers are following you all the way!"

Zhou Tie and Sun Shitou joined the commotion as well, loudly demanding to hold his horse's stirrups.

Thoughts raced through Li Xiao's mind, but he forced a smile and played along to fish for information: "Hold on, hold on! What are you all shouting about? I'm a 'Battalion Commander' now after all; surely my subordinates aren't just going to be a bunch of scrawny wretches like you lot? All of you, go out and round people up! Recruits and horses, do you understand?"

Yet the moment he said this, the crowd, which had been brimming with excitement, froze for a split second before erupting into an even louder roar of laughter.

"Pfft,哈哈哈!" Sun Shitou laughed so hard he couldn't straighten his back.

"Oh, our great Battalion Commander Li!" Ma Xiaowu wiped away a tear of mirth. "Recruit soldiers? No problem! However many brothers you want, we'll go out and shout for 'em! But... but what about the horses? At least five hundred battle-horses? Even if we turn Taiyuan City upside down and count every single mule and donkey, we still won't gather the number you need!"

Zhou Tie chimed in from the side: "Exactly! Commander Li, why don't you try charging into battle riding a black donkey? If you can hack down a Jin armored cavalryman while riding a donkey, we brothers will foot the bill for all your brothel visits from now on!"

"Right! We'll cover it!" Everyone chimed in all at once, giggling and bantering, trading absurd jokes about substituting donkeys for horses and fighting wars from donkeyback.

Amidst this laughter and banter, Li Xiao finally managed to piece together a rough understanding of this complex Song military system through their half-serious explanations and mutual supplements.

It turned out the Song army operated with two parallel systems:

One was the old "Garrison—Army—Camp—Du" system (Du Commander, Assistant Commander, Camp Commander, Deputy Camp Commander, Army Envoy, Du Tou, Deputy Du Tou);

The other was the new "Jiangbing" (Troop-Command) system implemented after the Xining Reforms, structured into three tiers: "Jiang—Bu—Dui" (Commander, Primary General, Secondary General, Reserve General, Battalion Commander, Squad Leader, Advance Guard Leader).

In frontline combat zones like Hedong and Shaanxi, the "Troop-Command Law" was primarily enforced.

His position as a Battalion Commander made him a mid-to-low-ranking military commander beneath the generals, commanding roughly five hundred men—roughly equivalent to a Camp Commander in the old system! He could call it whatever he pleased; it was a legitimate position that was just beginning to touch the fringes of mid-level military officers.

Xiuwu Lang (a Rank 8 Senior substantive office) ranked forty-fourth among the fifty-three rungs, entering the bracket of major envoys, while ranks like Zhongxun Lang and Chengzhong Lang were minor envoys, sitting at levels 47 and 49 respectively.

Furthermore, Song martial official ranks had a full fifty-three rungs, established during the martial rank system reform in the second year of Zhenghe (1112). This was more than double the twenty-tier merit-and-peerage system of the ancient Qin dynasty—which had rewarded fields, houses, and slave allocations that could even be passed down to one's sons at a reduced grade.

In contrast, the Song dynasty's 53 martial grades were mere "empty titles," completely incapable of providing equivalent material incentives. There was simply no comparison; the court had been so terrified of military generals rising to the very top that they had artificially manufactured fifty-three rungs.

As for Yuan Zhenhai's disappointment over his "rank promoted, duties unchanged," it finally made sense: without substantive duties holding real power, no matter how high the official grade, it remained empty, amounting to little more than a slightly larger salary stipend.

"Donkey balls and horse eggs! What bloody use is this empty title to an old man like me?!" The old man had it even worse, possessing only a minor envoy rank without any substantive duties, infuriating him to the point where he beat his chest repeatedly, crying that he was an aging Lian Po.

Li Xiao pinched that thin sheet of documentation, his fingertips feeling the slight coolness of the Pacification Commissioner's official seal.

Cavalry Battalion Commander, leader of five hundred men?

Inside this city besieged like an iron barrel, perched on the verge of collapse at any second, this sudden "official status" carried an inescapable absurdity.

He looked at the fellows around him who were still ecstatic over their "squad leader" and "advance guard leader" statuses while cracking jokes at his expense, then glanced toward the distant Taiyuan city walls where sparse lights flickered amidst a suffocating despair. Once again, the contours of these chaotic times pressed down upon him with such clarity and weight.

Wartime promotions in rank—could they ever be a good thing?

They were bloody well fraught with extreme peril!