Chapter Fifty-Six: When False, Make It Real; When Real, Make It Seem False

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Gao Shi could never have imagined that his unexpected encounter with Yang Xi atop the city walls, just before dawn, would lead to his own promotion. Although Yang Xi’s promise of advancement gave him pause—after all, Yang Xi was the son of Yang Guozhong—Gao Shi couldn’t help but be impressed by the young man’s innate charisma and the decisive arrangements he had made upon arriving at Tong Pass. To serve under a commander so resolute, one who acted without a trace of hesitation, promised a fulfilling experience, and Gao Shi sensed his talents might finally be put to their fullest use.

His hesitation lasted only a moment before he accepted Yang Xi’s impromptu appointment and pledged his loyalty. Gao Shi’s ready acceptance, without the slightest protest, told Yang Xi that this famous figure from history was already beginning to heed his command. In any era, to accomplish great things, one must have a cadre of capable subordinates—ones who are both competent and fiercely loyal. Yang Xi was keenly aware that, though he now held the title of Marshal, there were scarcely any who were truly devoted to him personally.

Whether it was Geshu Han, Pang Zhong, Li Fude, or others, they obeyed him only because he bore the imperial mandate or because they were trusted followers of his father, Yang Guozhong. Should those reasons vanish, so too would their deference. In the days to come, he would not only have to lead this battered, diminished force in the defense of Tong Pass, but also steadily gather more loyal men around him.

With a band of devoted followers, one could begin to act—and to achieve great things. He hoped Gao Shi would be the first of his “brothers,” a man who would listen to him, work for him, and offer wise counsel. He believed that, regardless of age or stature, he could win over anyone with his abilities and leadership, forging them into allies for his grand designs.

Having only recently arrived in this world, and finding himself in such an exalted position through a series of extraordinary circumstances, Yang Xi was determined not to let the opportunity slip away. He would seize every advantage to make his mark.

This was no idle fancy, but a conviction that grew naturally as he gradually took command of the situation at Tong Pass. He quickly signaled Gao Shi to dispense with formalities, standing tall and proud as he addressed him with grave sincerity: “General Gao, I have had the honor of reading your poetry. ‘The Han Empire’s smoke and dust rise in the northeast; Han generals, their homes destroyed, bid farewell to the rebel foe. A true man walks the world with pride; the Son of Heaven’s favor is rare indeed.’ What spirit these verses contain! They are worthy of being called an immortal lament. I hope that in battle, your courage and bearing will match the grandeur of your poetry.”

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Yang Xi’s unexpected recitation of his poem, “Ballad of Yan,” and the lavish praise that followed, left Gao Shi both astonished and delighted. In truth, the poem was laden with grievances—blaming Zhang Shougui’s arrogance and carelessness for the defeat, and lamenting the heavy sacrifices of the soldiers. He had never imagined Yang Xi would single out the poem as praise for his heroism and spirit; it made him feel somewhat abashed.

For Yang Xi to remember and extol his poem, and in doing so commend his talent and boldness, gave Gao Shi a rare sense of being truly understood. He could not know that Yang Xi only recalled the opening lines of his famed verse, the rest having escaped his memory. Sensing Gao Shi’s emotion, Yang Xi quickly pressed his advantage: “General Gao, the arrangements General Li and General Pang made before withdrawing from Han-Tong Pass were most astute. The rebels have been utterly deceived, and are unlikely to realize we have abandoned Han-Tong Pass until after dawn. Even then, it will take them considerable time to enter the city. Once they reach us here at Tong Pass, it will be several hours before they can mount an attack. I believe we have at least a few hours’ respite. I rose early, wishing to offer encouragement to the garrison, so I brought my guards to patrol the walls. I pray the rebels delay their assault on Tong Pass as long as possible.”

Yang Xi knew full well that the fire Pang Zhong set before retreating from Han-Tong Pass, along with the subsequent destruction, had crippled the city’s defenses. The feints and traps left behind would only sow confusion among the rebels and inflict further harm. If the enemy did not discover the city’s abandonment until daylight, they would waste precious time confirming whether it was a true withdrawal, a ruse, or a lure—this might take hours.

Time was precious for both sides. The rebels were desperate to seize Tong Pass before more Tang forces arrived, lest their efforts come to nothing. The defenders, meanwhile, hoped only to delay the enemy’s attack and buy themselves a few more hours of rest and recovery. For the Tang soldiers at Sui-Tong Pass, every hour of reprieve meant more strength regained.

Gao Shi listened, his face betraying some confusion, but he did not question Yang Xi further. Yang Xi gave no further explanation, but instead instructed Gao Shi: “General, accompany me on this patrol. When we have finished, you may return to rest.”

“Yes, Marshal,” Gao Shi replied, saluting. He in turn ordered his men to join them as they made their rounds.

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There were few soldiers standing guard atop the walls at this hour; most had been sent to rest. Yang Xi took care not to disturb the sleeping men, instead inspecting the defenses atop each gatehouse with Gao Shi, quietly reminding the sentries to remain vigilant and keep a sharp lookout for any sign of danger.

After completing the circuit, Yang Xi realized his earlier fear—that the rebels might steal up to the walls under cover of darkness—had been unfounded. Though the night was clear, the waning moon had already set and the darkest hour before dawn had arrived, a light mist rising to shroud the world in gloom. The roads outside Tong Pass were nearly impassable; without torches or moonlight, no one could move through the night, not even locals familiar with the terrain.

Thus, the sentries atop the walls were not especially concerned about a surprise attack. The commanders of each section had posted only a few guards, rotating patrols so most could sleep. Even atop the massive beacon towers of the Twelve-Lined City, only a handful of soldiers wandered the parapets.

“Marshal, it seems the rebels truly believed we would defend Han-Tong Pass to the death. After their defeat before dark, they gave up on a night attack,” Gao Shi remarked as they completed their patrol.

Yang Xi smiled quietly, a touch of satisfaction in his voice. “To feign disorder is to hide strength; to show strength is to mask weakness. Our desperate resistance convinced the rebels—whether Cui Qianyou, Tian Sizhen, or An Qingxu—that we would never abandon Han-Tong Pass. They will be utterly shocked tomorrow when they enter the deserted city.”

“Let us hope so,” Gao Shi replied, still uncertain, though a trace of hope colored his words.

As it turned out, Yang Xi’s prediction proved entirely correct.