Chapter Thirty: The Lone Stone Front

Kaiping Garrison, Gentleman’s Fort, fourth day of imprisonment.

Guo the Eunuch, crouched atop the prison wagon, counted on his fingers and told Lu Qing today was the twenty-third of July. If nothing unexpected happened, the Imperial entourage should have reached Xuanfu by now.

Lu Qing didn’t respond. He cared more about preserving his own life than worrying about the Tumubao Incident, which would unfold in a few weeks. The annihilation of a hundred thousand troops was tragic enough, the emperor’s capture a national humiliation—but he himself was like a clay idol crossing the river, unable to save even himself, let alone the country. He couldn’t even move freely; what could he possibly do? The desire to kill the enemy was there, but his ability to change fate was not. For now, survival was his only priority.

Unable to rescue the nation, he could only protect himself.

Such drastic shifts in mindset were not Lu Qing’s fault. He’d realized that, in the coming upheaval, he was utterly insignificant—even deprived of any chance to intervene. Yang Jun had neither sent them to Xuanhua City, the seat of Xuanfu, nor detained them in Wanquan, the inevitable route to Datong, nor escorted them to the emperor’s presence. Instead, for reasons unknown, Yang Jun had ordered them taken to Kaiping Garrison, to Gentleman’s Fort at the mouth of Malian Mountain along the Great Wall.

And from the talk among the border soldiers escorting them, Gentleman’s Fort wasn’t even their final destination. The end point was Dushe Fort, more than thirty li beyond, currently under attack from the forces led by Aral, the chief of the Oirat, and lying on the front lines.

On the twenty-first, Yang Jun had already led three thousand troops urgently conscripted from Wanquan Left Garrison to Dushe Fort. From the chatter of the escorting soldiers and the constant stream of messages brought by couriers, Lu Qing had gleaned some news of the front.

...

Aral’s army launched a sudden attack on the nineteenth, splitting into three columns against Dushe, Chicheng, and Longmen Forts. His eldest son Zhanna attacked Chicheng; his brother Hubari assaulted Longmen; Aral himself led his main force against Dushe.

Aral’s forces had lingered outside the walls, showing no signs of aggression. Aral himself, though he had served the Yexian father and son for decades and earned merit in unifying the Oirat, held the opposite view on relations with the Ming, advocating friendship rather than hostility.

Such a Ming-friendly leader had arrived outside the walls and made it clear he would not attack. Thus, the Ming commanders did not believe Aral would truly invade, thinking his presence was merely to appease Yexian. Once Yexian withdrew, Aral would follow suit. Their vigilance was lacking, so when Aral struck, each garrison was caught off guard and suffered heavy losses. Fortunately, Aral’s army lacked siege equipment; despite losses, the forts held out, for he didn’t have the resources to break through with sheer manpower. If he tried, Ming would suffer, but the winner wouldn’t be Aral—it would be Yexian, who had long resented Aral.

When Yexian resolved to attack Ming, Oirat’s internal opposition was fierce. Khan Tuo Tuo Buhua opposed war, and Aral, always Ming-friendly, naturally resisted a conflict with the vast empire.

Oirat was not the Yuan dynasty, nor the old Tatar horde. To challenge Ming’s million-strong armies with less than a hundred thousand Oirat warriors was madness.

Yet Yexian was precisely that madman—the most powerful, respected, and skilled among the Oirat.

Yexian was used to absolute authority. He summoned the chieftains not to seek their counsel, but to demand their obedience.

Whoever refused to send troops, he would attack first.

Under Yexian’s threats, Khan Tuo Tuo Buhua yielded first—he was merely a puppet controlled by Yexian and his son, and had it not been for the golden Genghisid pedigree that gave him some sway among the Mongols, Yexian would have disposed of him long ago.

The Khan yielded, and Aral, knowing Yexian’s strength, dared not challenge his authority. Powerless, he had to agree to invade Ming.

Once the armies moved, Aral and Tuo Tuo Buhua launched attacks from Liaodong and Xuanfu respectively. Yet, after more than a month of “attacking,” Ming’s forces in Liaodong and Xuanfu had not sent any urgent pleas to the court. Yexian, meanwhile, received no news of successful breaches of the Great Wall, not even reports of skirmishes or minor cavalry fights.

Roaming but not striking—Oirat’s two armies truly embodied those four words on the borders of Xuanfu and Liaodong in the fourteenth year of the Zhengtong reign.

Yexian knew full well what Tuo Tuo Buhua and Aral were up to, but he wasn’t angry—couldn’t afford to be. Whatever tricks the Khan played, he remained Oirat’s nominal leader and was far away in Liaodong, beyond Yexian’s reach. Yexian had no intention yet of replacing him, so let him play his games. Though there were no real victories, the Liaodong Ming troops were still tied up. As for Aral, if he wouldn’t fight, Yexian would fight. Once Yexian defeated the Ming army, Aral would have no choice but to fight as well.

At Yanghekou, Yexian’s twenty thousand cavalry shattered forty thousand elite Ming troops. When the news arrived, Aral was stunned, trembling before the messenger; he couldn’t believe the mighty Ming army he’d always feared could be so easily routed.

After the messenger departed, Aral convened a crisis meeting, and immediately following, his army launched a direct attack on Xuanfu, without hesitation or complaint.

Being Ming-friendly was merely fear of Ming’s strength. If Ming was not as formidable as imagined, then friendship was obsolete—he’d long coveted Ming’s wealth.

Plunder!

Since Yexian had opened the door to Ming’s heartland, they must hurry after him. If Yexian feasted on meat, they would gnaw the bones.

Attack, warriors! Break Ming’s fortresses—take their gold, their grain, their women!

...

After repelling Aral’s initial assault, the Ming commanders at each fort immediately dispatched riders to Xuanfu to request aid. With the emperor himself leading the campaign against Yexian and soon to enter Xuanfu’s jurisdiction, the loss of the border forts would threaten the army’s flank. Thus, Grand Marshal Yang Hong urgently mobilized reinforcements: Zhao Mei, commander of Kaiping Garrison, was ordered to reinforce Dushe; Xia Zhong, commander of Longmen Garrison, to strengthen Longmen; Lu Xuan, acting commander of Ba’an, to support Chicheng; Yang Hong’s eldest son, Yang Jun, drew troops from Wanquan Left Garrison to bolster the weakest defenses at Dushe.

Yang Hong issued a strict order: no matter the losses, any commander who allowed a fort to fall and let Oirat enter would be executed under military law, from commander down to company captain.

Yang Hong’s discipline was always rigorous, and his prestige in Xuanfu immense. With the death order given, none dared slacken. For a time, all of Xuanfu was mobilized; fires blazed across the northern front.

...

Dushe Fort was a thousand-house stronghold. Though less robust than Chicheng and Longmen, it was still a tough nut for Oirat, lacking siege equipment. With Zhao Mei’s timely arrival of four thousand elite troops, and Yang Jun’s three thousand from Wanquan, the defenders numbered nearly ten thousand. According to scouts and Mongol prisoners, Aral’s incursion brought only his main force and a dozen small tribes, totaling fewer than twenty thousand.

Having blocked Aral’s first attack, optimism spread throughout Xuanfu. Even Lu Qing, hearing reports, didn’t believe Xuanfu would suffer a defeat like Datong at Yanghekou, nor worried about any sudden change. Later histories never mentioned Oirat breaking through Xuanfu’s defenses.

His only concern now was his own survival. Yang Jun wouldn’t have sent him and Guo the Eunuch to the front for no reason.

The front was no safe place. Blades and arrows knew no mercy—who could predict what might happen?

If a “missing” palace eunuch and an obscure soldier died mysteriously on the Dushe front, perhaps no one would ever know.

Lu Qing feared Yang Jun had such intentions, but then again, if Yang Jun wanted them dead, he could have had them quietly disposed of anywhere, with no need to send them to the embattled front—no one knew their whereabouts anyway.

Something was strange.

...

Their escort was Shi Dayong, a forty-something officer, his face broad and rough, reminiscent of the butcher Zheng Tu from the classic Water Margin.

Along the way, Lu Qing tried to get information from Shi Dayong, hoping to learn Yang Jun’s real purpose for sending them to Dushe. But no matter what he did, Shi Dayong ignored them, leaving Lu Qing with the powerless feeling of punching cotton.

Fortunately, though Shi Dayong looked fierce, he treated them decently—never beat or cursed them, and aside from ignoring their questions, took care of them in other ways. Yang Jun must have given some instructions beforehand.

Malian Mountain Pass was the only route between Ma Ying Fort and Gentleman’s Fort in Kaiping Garrison out to the open country. Gentleman’s Fort was newly built during the Xuande era, set in a gorge, with rammed earth walls unbricked and manned by a hundred-house garrison. As for the origin of its name, Lu Qing didn’t know. Guo the Eunuch shook his head in ignorance as well.

Perhaps the builder was a gentleman, Lu Qing mused. Along the Great Wall, many place names were odd; earlier at Jin Family Fort, a nearby spot outside the wall was called Prince’s Town—who knew which dynasty’s prince once camped there?

After replenishing food and water at Gentleman’s Fort, Shi Dayong and a dozen men continued escorting Lu Qing and Guo the Eunuch toward Dushe. By nightfall, they reached Dushe Fort.

Before even stepping off the prison wagon, Lu Qing saw familiar faces holding horses outside a barrack—they were Zhou Yunyi and other scouts from Xi Ma Lin Fort, who had once saved his life.