Chapter Six: A Dangerous Profession

There are certain people in this world who always manage to find a favorable side even in adversity. Such people are generally called clever, and clearly, Guo Jing was one of them. Otherwise, he would never have risen to the high position of Overseer Eunuch of Datong.

One must understand, the Overseer Eunuch is equivalent to the highest-ranking provincial officials among civil servants. Ask yourself, how many ordinary people could attain such office? Even among the scholarly civil servants who succeed in the imperial examinations and are well-versed in the classics, how many can become regional governors? Among the countless eunuchs in the inner court, how many are admitted to the Directorate of Ceremonial and sent out as provincial overseers? To hold such high office requires extraordinary wisdom!

Leaving aside the physical limitations of eunuchs, in terms of ability alone, Eunuch Guo could truly be counted among the elite of the Ming Dynasty. As for experience, there were few in the realm who could surpass him. After all, Eunuch Guo was a veteran official who had served through four reigns without falling from grace. Combining inner court and outer service, there were indeed few whose seniority exceeded his. It is often said that each new emperor brings his own ministers, yet Eunuch Guo had weathered the courts of four emperors, standing firm like a tumbler doll. Could his methods, skills, and foresight be compared to those of ordinary men?

At first, the unusual calm along the post road had filled Eunuch Guo with worry. He greatly feared that after the defeat at Yanghekou, Datong, the strategic stronghold, was in jeopardy. However, once he disembarked from his carriage, his worry soon vanished and he began to see this as a potential boon—a great opportunity that might change his destiny. The slower the response from Datong, the more his own decisiveness and loyalty would shine by contrast!

As for whether Datong was currently besieged by the Tartars, Eunuch Guo was no longer so concerned. Compared to his own future, his heart inevitably leaned toward his personal interests. His attempt at suicide with his sword the previous day had been merely because he was cornered with no way out, not from any other intent. Death then would have repaid imperial grace and perhaps protected his descendants. But now, his mind teemed with calculations.

In this world, the order of things matters in everything. If Datong were to report the defeat at Yanghekou to the imperial court before he did, his own report would be worth far less. Even if Wang Zhen spoke on his behalf before the emperor, in the eyes of some, Eunuch Guo would not be seen as the loyal old servant concerned for the emperor’s safety, rushing to report after escaping danger, but rather as a coward fleeing from battle, ignoring the laws of the land. If such people slandered him before the emperor, Eunuch Guo was certain that even with Wang's support, he would likely end up tending the gardens—such is the difference between arriving sooner or later. Having spent decades in the inner court, Eunuch Guo knew well the importance of timing.

There was not a moment to lose; the sooner he reached the emperor’s camp, the better. The carter had not yet gone far, and Eunuch Guo was already impatient to make for the post station. He was anxious, but Lu Qing was even more so. Seeing Eunuch Guo still walking unsteadily, Lu Qing hurried forward to support him. Eunuch Guo nodded slightly in acknowledgment.

...

Though the place was named Tianzhen, meaning “Heavenly Town,” it was not truly a town, but a garrison settlement under the jurisdiction of the Right Guard of Wanquan. Because it lay on the only road from Xuanfu to Datong, over the decades it had evolved from a military outpost into a market village.

Though small, it was well-equipped: wine shops, inns, stables, cloth and grain stores—all the essentials were present. There was even a money exchange for traveling merchants. But now, with the influx of refugees, every shop had its doors tightly shut. If any were open, it was only to hastily load goods onto carts as the owners prepared to flee.

Most of the refugees were not greatly afraid of the Oirat incursion. Like Eunuch Guo, they thought the Oirat were but a remnant of the Yuan, incapable of conquering Ming territory. This invasion was seen as little more than a bandit raid—though the army had been defeated at Yanghe, the invaders lacked the strength for a deeper incursion and would withdraw once they had plundered their fill. Thus, while everyone prepared to take refuge, few truly treated it as a life-or-death flight. Unable to take all their possessions, many simply stored their goods together and carefully locked their doors and windows—less as a defense against the Tartars than against common thieves. Some elderly folk flatly refused to flee with their families, insisting the Tartars would never reach here and that there was no need to run.

Lu Qing could only shake his head in silence. He could not blame these elders for their shortsightedness; they could not foresee the coming upheaval and were merely judging the crisis with the experience of a lifetime, unlike him, who had knowledge of the future.

He knew that whatever he said to the common folk now, they would not listen. So, wisely, he kept his mouth shut, lowered his head, and silently supported Eunuch Guo toward the post station, asking nothing, saying nothing, his only thought to reach the post, get horses, and find the imperial encampment.

After asking a passerby for directions, Lu Qing led Eunuch Guo through the crowd straight to the eastern post station.

The Tianzhen post was overseen by a low-ranking stationmaster, called a “yicheng.” The term “low-ranking” meant he held no official rank, comparable perhaps to a postmaster in modern times—a government functionary. The Ming posts mainly served the comings and goings of officials, but also handled urgent military and governmental dispatches. There was even the famous “hundred-li express relay.” Occasionally, they delivered civilian letters, for a fee not insignificant; ordinary families usually entrusted their messages to travelers rather than pay the official post.

All the functions found in other posts were present in Tianzhen. It was equipped with more than ten fine Mongolian horses, a stationmaster, over ten post riders drawn from the army, and several laborers conscripted from the village.

When Lu Qing supported Eunuch Guo to the post station, the first thing he saw were two post riders leaning outside the gate. These two looked utterly ordinary, neither tall nor sturdy—clearly not elite troops, but common soldiers. Yet Lu Qing dared not underestimate them, for he knew that postmen and librarians were hazardous occupations—handled poorly, and such people might well usher in a change of dynasty!

...

The new book urgently needs your support through favorites and recommendations. Dear readers, if you enjoy this work, please add it to your collection and give it a recommendation vote—your support is invaluable, and my deepest thanks!