Volume One: Flames at the Border Chapter Twenty-Eight: The Great Defeat of Sky Hero Fortress

He Yu gazed at the slaughterhouse-like carnage before him, yet his heart was not as unburdened as Deng’er’s. “To be precise, these deaths were brought about by their own schemes; it was their own hands that opened the gates to hell.”

The cries of battle gradually faded. After a night of fierce struggle, Tianxiong Fortress, the grandest stronghold of Yanmen, had been reduced to ashes.

He Yu spurred his horse forward and saw that the inner fort had also been breached. The family and clansmen of Diao Bao were roped together in a line, filing out through the main gate.

Counting their numbers, Chen’s stronghold had lost only a dozen men—a victory far beyond their expectations.

With a wave of his hand, Chen Jing ordered his men forward. They pulled out Diao Bao’s closest kin and the women among the captives and drove them aside. Another wave, and archers stepped forth, bows drawn. With the twang of bowstrings, wails erupted and blood flowed; the remaining Diao clansmen were shot dead in the blink of an eye.

Such slaughter of prisoners was unforgivable in later ages, an inexcusable crime. He Yu was deeply unsettled and was about to protest.

Deng’er, knowing his thoughts, quickly tugged at his sleeve and whispered, “Husband, leaving the Diao men alive would only bring future trouble. The lord had no other choice.”

She spoke lightly, as if it meant nothing. He Yu understood too: when a stronghold fell, wiping out its inhabitants was common practice. Chen Jing, in only killing the male clansmen, was already showing unusual mercy.

Riding up, Chen Jing said to He Yu, “Without your clever strategy, we could not have removed this deadly threat. But Diao Bao is still out with his troops—how should we deal with him next?”

He Yu thought for a moment and replied, “After such a catastrophe at Tianxiong Fortress, Diao Bao is sure to rush back with all his forces. He’s probably already on the road. Cavalry travels swiftly, infantry lags behind—we should withdraw from the fortress now, circle around, let his cavalry pass, then ambush the infantry and wipe them out.”

“With the fortress razed, and his infantry destroyed, Diao Bao will have two thousand cavalry but nothing to eat or drink. His force will fall apart without a fight.”

“Haha! Well said, just as I hoped!” Chen Jing laughed loudly.

As He Yu predicted.

That evening, Diao Bao had gone out in person to persuade Chen Jing to surrender. The results seemed promising, so he returned to camp in high spirits, drank, and retired with a concubine.

But in the middle of the night, a panicked soldier burst in with news: “Tianxiong Fortress has fallen to the Begging-for-Life Army!”

The message sent a chill through Diao Bao, who immediately suspected a trick by Chen’s stronghold. He reasoned, “After years of fighting, the Begging-for-Life Army in Yanmen has long been fractured, little better than bandits. Even if they had ten times the courage, they’d never dare attack Tianxiong. And even at its peak, all the Yanmen bands together numbered less than three thousand—this talk of thirty thousand is certainly a lie.”

He was full of doubts, debating whether to send reinforcements and how many.

To wipe out Chen’s stronghold and dominate Yanmen had always been his ambition. With the stronghold surrounded, its fall was just a matter of time. If he withdrew rashly, the opportunity would be lost, and capturing it later would be much more difficult.

Diao Bao grilled the messenger again and again: were they truly the Begging-for-Life Army? If this was false, the penalty would be death.

The messenger, frightened, stammered, “All I know is the enemy shouted, ‘Thirty thousand Begging-for-Life troops are here! Any who defy us will be killed!’ But I can’t say how many there really were. All the attackers were masked, without armor—it didn’t seem like Chen’s men.”

Diao Bao relaxed a little. If the enemy lacked armor, they must be rabble; the guards inside the fortress could handle them. He had staked everything on this assault, leaving only three hundred men to hold the fortress—a risky move, and he was afraid.

As he hesitated over how many to send back, chaos erupted in the camp. “It’s bad, the fortress is on fire!” someone shouted.

Diao Bao, enraged, kicked the messenger aside and rushed outside. The southern sky was aglow; Tianxiong Fortress was ablaze.

“Aaah! Damn it!” Diao Bao stamped his feet in fury, cursing bitterly. No longer caring who was attacking, he issued urgent orders: all troops to march at once—cavalry in front, infantry behind—race back to save his base.

Meanwhile, at Tianxiong Fortress, Chen Jing commanded all his men to mount and head west, making a wide circle before halting to await orders.

Soon scouts returned: the fortress’s infantry were nearby, the cavalry had already passed. At Chen Jing’s order, his troops mounted again and charged the infantry.

The marching foot soldiers, unprotected and exposed, were utterly helpless before the cavalry’s onslaught. In one furious charge, the infantry scattered like birds and beasts, fleeing in all directions, cursing their parents for not giving them more legs.

Thus, the once-invincible Tianxiong Fortress was utterly destroyed. Diao Bao had committed too many crimes; even without Chen’s hand, someone would surely take his life soon.

After a night of slaughter, the soldiers were exhausted but wore broad smiles—their lives and homes were safe; what greater reward could there be?

Chen Jing led his men back to the stronghold. When they arrived, the forces of Tianxiong Fortress had vanished, leaving only a hundred tents. The formidable siege engines were gone without a trace.

As He Yu had predicted: strike hard once and you won’t have to fend off a hundred blows. Now that Tianxiong had been bloodied, Murong Kai would not dare take such risks.

Compared to Chen’s stronghold, Tianxiong’s power had been far greater. Its destruction was also a boon to Murong Kai’s rear lines, since Diao Bao was treacherous and could turn at any moment.

He Yu pondered, “To boast early is nothing; to boast last is to be king. Diao Bao was arrogant all his life, leaving only three hundred men to guard the fortress, discipline slack—Chen’s stronghold seized the chance and wiped him out in one stroke. It was human wit, but perhaps also Heaven’s will. Heaven let him destroy himself; no one could have saved him.”

Word of the great victory had already reached the stronghold. At the gate, musicians and banners welcomed the heroes home.

The great stone that had hung over Chen’s stronghold for years had finally been lifted. Chen Jing ordered three days of feasting in celebration.

Of course, Chen Jing was a different man from Diao Bao; even in celebration, sentries patrolled diligently, vigilance never wavering, if anything becoming stricter. Though Tianxiong was gone, Murong Kai’s army was still near—one mistake, and they could suffer the same fate.

He Yu’s merits were outstanding in this campaign; Chen Jing rewarded him handsomely with wealth and servants. He Yu cared little for such things, but could not refuse. The rest of the soldiers were also rewarded.

After three days of celebration, peace gradually returned. Without Tianxiong’s oppression, the future of Chen’s stronghold was boundless.

On the fourth night, He Yu was dining with Deng’er under the lamp when the side door opened and someone entered—it was naturally Chen Qingyun.

The Plum Pavilion now bustled with six maids and servants, a lively change. He Yu had not wanted attendants, but could not refuse the lord and lady’s hospitality, and had grown accustomed to a life where food and clothing appeared at a word—good days are always easy to get used to.

Chen Qingyun entered, her hair in a tall coiffure, long skirt trailing, graceful and unhurried, not even bringing her maid Xue Nu’er, so familiar with the place she dispensed with announcements.

Women of the Eastern Jin wore a jacket, overcoat, or tunic on top, long skirt below, with a sash at the waist—simple above, flowing below, much like today’s hanbok.

Deng’er saw her and lazily greeted her, “Greetings, Madam Chen.”

Chen Qingyun waved her hand slightly at He Yu. “Yu Zhi, it’s been a while; do you have some time tonight? There are matters I wish to ask you about.”

Tonight, she was lavishly dressed, radiant, her moist eyes brimming with feeling, as if she had endless words to say.

He Yu was taken aback. “What do you mean? From the surprise attack on Tianxiong, through three days of feasting, we’ve seen each other every day.”

Chen Qingyun blushed prettily, a bit embarrassed. “Yu Zhi, you’re a busy man now, and I’ve had much to do too. During the three days of celebration, everyone gathered around you to toast you, and I couldn’t get a word in.”

He Yu suddenly understood. “So that’s it. But if you put it that way, Deng’er is sure to be upset… What am I to do?”

As expected, Deng’er’s brows arched in displeasure. “Madam Chen, please have some self-respect. My husband has official business all day, and in the evening must attend to me. It’s only natural if he hasn’t time for you. What’s so strange about that? Husband, isn’t that so?”

He Yu opened his mouth, stammered a few words, but did not know what to say. The great battle outside had just ended, and now a domestic skirmish was brewing—truly difficult to handle. Offending Chen Qingyun would not do, nor could he hurt Deng’er. For all his resourcefulness, He Yu was at a loss.

Yet Chen Qingyun was in good spirits tonight and ignored Deng’er’s barbs, continuing, “Yu Zhi, I truly do have something to ask. Would you come to the Orchid Lodge for a talk? If you find it awkward, Deng’er may come as well.”

Her bright eyes turned to Deng’er, awaiting her answer. But Deng’er now felt nothing but annoyance at Chen Qingyun, all sense of old friendship gone. She snapped, “It’s late at night; men and women should keep their distance. If my husband goes, I’ll pack my things and leave, making room for your virtue.”

With such a firm stance, He Yu was cornered and had to make his position clear. He knew that unless he spoke plainly tonight, trying to smooth things over would only hurt Deng’er and delay Chen Qingyun.

He steeled himself and said, “Madam Chen, I am deeply grateful for your regard. But I have already taken Deng’er as my wife, and will never take another. Please forgive me. It’s late, and I’d rather not give others cause for gossip, so I won’t go.”

Hearing this, Deng’er was softened, and gently said, “Madam Chen, I’m glad that you think so highly of my husband. With your beauty and family, you’ll have no trouble finding a good match. Please don’t make things difficult for me.” With that, she rose and bowed deeply to Chen Qingyun.

Chen Qingyun lifted her head, tears streaming down her face as she sobbed, “I don’t know what devil has possessed me, to act so shamelessly. There are many men in the world, but there is only one Lord He…”

Earlier that evening, she had been reading by lamplight and came upon Zhang Han’s “Song of Longing for Wu River”: “The autumn wind rises, it is a time of beauty; the waters of Wu River, the perch are fat. Three thousand miles away, still not home; grief is hard to bear, I look to the sky and weep.”

She was moved, recalling a story she had once heard: “When Zhang Jiying (Zhang Han) was an official in Luoyang, the autumn wind began to blow, and he longed for his hometown’s wild rice soup and perch sashimi. He said, ‘The greatest thing in life is to follow one’s heart. Why should I stay as an official thousands of miles away for the sake of fame and titles?’ So he set off for home. Soon after, the Prince of Qi was defeated, and people said Zhang had foreseen the omens.”

(From “A New Account of the Tales of the World: Discernment”: “Zhang Jiying was summoned to serve as an assistant to the Prince of Qi. In Luoyang, when the autumn wind began, he longed for the wild rice soup and perch sashimi of Wu, and said, ‘The greatest thing in life is to do as one wishes. Why be bound as an official thousands of miles away for fame and rank?’ So he ordered his carriage and returned. Soon after, the Prince of Qi was defeated, and people said he saw the signs.”)

Suddenly, Chen Qingyun remembered that He Yu was also from Jiangzuo, and the flavors of his family’s table were unlike anything she had ever known. Her heart grew chaotic. She put down her book, crossed the mansion, and used the pretense of asking about cookery to pour out her feelings to He Yu.

Old friends may seem like strangers; new acquaintances, like confidants. Chen Qingyun could not understand, nor did she wish to, how she had fallen so swiftly and deeply for He Yu.

Unlike her brother Chen Jing, Chen Qingyun was forthright and unguarded, passionate and bold. Seeing He Yu’s resolute refusal, she covered her face with her hand, turned away, and left in bitter tears.