Chapter Thirty-One: Night Curfew in the Barracks

When Lu Qing and Eunuch Guo stepped down from the prison cart, Zhou Yunyi and his men were taken aback. The last time they had seen these two at Yongjia, both had been detained by Inspector Yang, and everyone assumed they would be sent before the Emperor to answer for their crimes. No one expected them to arrive instead at Dushi Fort.

Why would the Inspector bring them here?

Their surprise quickly turned to confusion. After all, one was the senior eunuch in charge of Datong, the other a trusted imperial guardsman—both held special positions. Though they stood accused of the grave crime of abandoning their posts, only the Emperor had the authority to judge them. Even though Inspector Yang held the high rank of Commissioner, he had no right to deal with eunuchs or imperial guards without imperial decree. Why, then, had he not sent them to the capital but brought them to Dushi Fort? It was a mystery.

Yet while they found it odd, there was no sympathy among Zhou Yunyi and his men. Unlike their first encounter with Eunuch Guo, when they had shown deference, now their faces betrayed only scorn and contempt for both him and Lu Qing.

These were rough men, barely literate, living from day to day with little but drink, women, and the tales recounted in the teahouses for amusement. Ever since “Romance of the Three Kingdoms” and “Water Margin” had become staples of storytelling in the Ming, the image of the eunuch in popular imagination had been utterly blackened—whether it was the Ten Attendants of the former or the bearded Tong Guan of the latter, all were portrayed as villains of the worst order.

Storytellers were always quick to add that in any dynasty, no eunuch in the palace was ever good—every last one was a traitor who deceived the Emperor and brought ruin to the realm. To kill them all might be unjust, but to kill every other one would surely not be amiss.

After years of such tales and the instinctive prejudice against those who lacked manhood, men like Zhou Yunyi had little fondness for palace eunuchs.

Nevertheless, ever since the founding of the dynasty, eunuchs had frequently been trusted with regional authority. Military eunuchs were common, and the Secretariat of Ceremonial Attendants held great sway at court. Thus, even as their reputation among the people remained poor, eunuchs wielded genuine power in government and the military, often exceeding that of nobles. A common soldier still had to look up to a senior eunuch.

So, despite his distaste, Zhou Yunyi had treated Eunuch Guo with habitual respect that first night, obeying his commands even without knowing his background. Even had he known then that Eunuch Guo had secretly fled from Datong and was guilty of desertion, he wouldn’t have dared tie him up. He lacked the courage and, more importantly, the authority.

In Wanquan’s jurisdiction, only Yang Jun himself dared lay hands on Eunuch Guo.

There was a world of difference between a Commissioner of the second rank and a common border soldier.

Now, seeing Eunuch Guo in rags, shifting uneasily, Zhou Yunyi and the others felt only relief. Thank heavens the Inspector caught this villain in time, or he would surely have reached the Emperor and sown discord, falsely accusing countless loyal soldiers who had given their lives for the country.

He deserves his fate—no injustice if he loses his head one day.

...

Shi Dayong paid no heed to Zhou Yunyi and his men, nor could he, with over ten thousand troops encamped at Dushi Fort and people coming and going. As a mere squad leader, how could he recognize anyone?

Intent on reporting in and handing over his charges, he instructed his men, “Keep a close eye on them while I complete the handover. If there’s time later, drinks are on me.”

Though Dushi Fort was a military stronghold, several taverns and shops operated on this side of the border wall, mostly owned by officers who catered not only to the garrison but also to caravans passing through—sometimes even daring Mongols from beyond the border, if they came with money. These days, however, no Mongol would risk entering the fort, and the merchants had vanished, but with the recent influx of men from Kaiping and Wanquan, business was better than ever, leaving the officers grinning from ear to ear.

After four days on the road, the escorting soldiers were parched and weary. At the promise of free drinks from their leader, their faces lit up in delight, praising him for his thoughtfulness and vowing to drink their fill in his honor.

After a few good-natured scoldings, Shi Dayong went off in search of someone to hand over the prisoners to, while his men led Lu Qing and Eunuch Guo to stand near Zhou Yunyi’s group, away from the main gate to avoid blocking traffic.

It was no happy reunion to encounter old acquaintances under such circumstances. The contempt on the faces of the scouts made Lu Qing painfully self-conscious, and he greeted Zhou Yunyi awkwardly, “Brother Zhou, I hope you have been well.”

Zhou Yunyi ignored him, busy polishing his waist-sword, while the others glared with open hostility. The round-faced Jiang Tong spat loudly at Eunuch Guo, provoking his anger but leaving him no way to respond; he could only turn away in silent fury.

Lu Qing understood their mood. He and Eunuch Guo were now criminals, no longer a trusted eunuch and an imperial guard officer, but men accused of cowardice and desertion—crimes despised even by common folk, let alone these grizzled veterans who had spent their lives fighting the Tartars.

Still, his curiosity outweighed his shame, and he asked, “Brother Zhou, what brings you to Dushi Fort?”

Zhou Yunyi did not look up, continuing to clean his blade. Only when he replaced it in its sheath did he answer, “The Tartars are raiding the border. The Inspector ordered sixty scouts from Wanquan Right Guard to reinforce Dushi Fort, and Captain Song chose me.”

“I see,” Lu Qing replied, nodding as he pieced together Yang Jun’s intentions. Scouts like the Night Raiders, akin to elite reconnaissance cavalry, might not turn the tide in pitched battle, but for raids and ambushes they were invaluable. Since Ara couldn’t take Dushi Fort but hadn’t withdrawn, the fighting would likely drag on. In such a stalemate, large-scale raids by the Night Raiders were the obvious tactic; if Ara’s men found the harassment unbearable and gained nothing, they would have to retreat, and with their retreat, Xuanfu would be safe and the credit for victory secured.

Noticing the bandages and fresh bloodstains on the bearded man behind Jiang Tong, Lu Qing deduced they had already engaged the enemy outside the walls and asked, “Brother Zhou, do you know the current state of the battle? When do you think the Oirat will withdraw?”

Because Lu Qing kept company with the despised Eunuch Guo, Zhou Yunyi had little desire to converse, but he was young and not thick-skinned, and they had once been friendly, so he replied briefly, “The Tartars attacked twice and lost many men. There’s been no assault today—they must realize Dushi Fort is too tough. I reckon they’ll give up in a few days and retreat.”

Just then Shi Dayong hurried back from the camp and, seeing Lu Qing and the others, waved for his men. “Take them into the camp,” he ordered.

The escorting soldiers stepped forward to usher Lu Qing and Eunuch Guo inside, leaving him no chance to ask further questions. Supporting Eunuch Guo, he entered the camp.

This encampment was built adjacent to Dushi Fort, about two miles from the border wall, and manned by troops Yang Jun had brought from Wanquan Left Guard. Smoke curled through the air as meals were being prepared.

At the camp gate, Lu Qing noticed a group of Mongols heading out toward the taverns, laughing and shouting. Oddly, they wore Ming military uniforms and exchanged greetings in fluent Chinese with Ming soldiers they passed.

Lu Qing was neither surprised nor perplexed. There were many Mongols in the Ming army, especially in the “Three Thousand Battalion” of the capital, which had entire units of Mongol cavalry. Many border officers and soldiers were of Mongol descent, the offspring of those who had surrendered during the Yongle era, or refugees from small Mongol tribes who had joined the Ming to escape starvation. After all, life beyond the border meant constant hunger and fear of being killed by the Ming; by serving the empire, they were well fed, received generous pay, and could rise through the ranks—far better than freezing and starving on the steppe.

Glancing indifferently at the scene, Lu Qing supported Eunuch Guo into the camp. The tents filled the grounds, and cooking fires were kept at a distance to avoid burning down the whole camp—a real danger in July.

By now it was late, and there were no drills, only the occasional patrol passing by.

Shi Dayong led them to a tent, where a middle-aged clerk approached, handed him an official document with the seal, and spoke a few words that made Shi Dayong break into a broad grin—likely relaying praise from his superiors.

The clerk, with a scholar’s beard and robes, looked out of place among the soldiers. After accepting the paperwork, Shi Dayong and his men departed—their duty done, they could lodge at the station outside and return to Wanquan Left Guard the next day.

The clerk eyed Lu Qing and Eunuch Guo, evidently aware of their identities, nodded, and ordered four soldiers to escort them into the tent.

At the entrance, Eunuch Guo suddenly addressed the clerk, “May I see Inspector Yang? Could you please announce me?” His tone was humble, all trace of high office gone, his face full of entreaty.

The clerk shook his head. “The Inspector is busy with military affairs—how could he spare time for you?” After a pause, he added, “Since you’re here, you may as well settle in. You won’t be leaving anyway. In a few days, my lord will have words for you.” With that, he turned away, instructed the guards, and went to report to Yang Jun.

Eunuch Guo, disappointed, sighed and entered the tent in silence.

There was little inside—just some dry straw on the ground, a few reed mats, and in the northeast corner, freshly dug earth with the faint stench of urine, left by previous occupants.

To prevent nighttime disturbances, the army forbade soldiers from leaving their tents after dark. Those who needed relief at night had to dig a hole in the ground inside and cover it afterward. If conditions permitted, chamber pots were used. This was the practice for armies on campaign; local garrisons had proper barracks and privies and no such restrictions.

Eunuch Guo, pinching his nose in distaste, sat down on a mat. Lu Qing also found it unpleasant but had no choice—these barracks were newly erected, the men recently arrived from Wanquan Left Guard, and it was wartime. At least the tent had only been used for a few days; after weeks, the stench would be unbearable.

The old and the young sat in silence.

About half an hour later, a meal was brought in—a pot of vegetable broth, a bucket of rice, and a bowl of pickles, but no meat.

The broth was oily enough and salted, not particularly tasty, but after days on the road in a prison cart, to Lu Qing and Eunuch Guo it was a feast.

After eating, they lay down and quickly drifted into exhausted sleep.

It was unclear how much time had passed when suddenly a scream tore through Lu Qing’s dreams. Then came shouts from outside, filled with panic: “Fire! Fire!”