Volume One: Flames of War at the Border Chapter Thirty-Five: Three Strategies—Superior, Middle, and Inferior

Chen Jing raised his cup in a toast. “Yu has only been in the fortress for a short time, yet has repeatedly performed great feats. Today, with some leisure, I have prepared a modest banquet to express my gratitude.”

He Yu lifted his cup and rose, replying with humility, “I have drifted north, fortunate to be taken in by Elder Lin Su, and even more blessed by the trust of you and your lady. I dare not claim merit; this cup should be in honor of you and Lady Chen.”

Chen Jing laughed heartily, gesturing for him to proceed. The three drained their cups in one motion, and a servant stepped forward to refill them.

With kindred spirits, they enjoyed the music and dance while discussing matters of the fortress, the atmosphere harmonious and congenial.

Three rounds of wine, five courses of food. Chen Jing waved his hand, and the dancers and singers bowed deeply and withdrew. He Yu, unfamiliar with music or dance, felt a welcome quiet settle in their absence.

Chen Qingyun, unable to hold her liquor, wore a flush on her cheeks, glowing like a newly blossomed begonia in the candlelight, exquisite beyond compare.

After the meal, a child presented fragrant tea. He Yu thought to himself, “This banquet is more than mere gratitude; there must be deeper intentions. Wine first, tea later—now comes the serious matter.”

Chen Jing signaled with his eyes.

Chen Qingyun rose, bowed to her brother and to He Yu. “Elder brother, Master He, the wine has overcome me; I shall retire to the inner chamber to chat with my sister-in-law. Please excuse me.”

He Yu returned her courtesy. “Please, Lady Chen.” Chen Qingyun departed gracefully, leaving only Chen Jing and He Yu.

Chen Jing sipped his tea, then asked slowly, “Yu’s talents are rare in this world. The Chen Fortress stands amid chaos; what are your plans for the future? Have you considered?”

Receiving the lord’s bounty, one must serve loyally. He Yu had indeed pondered this question, and replied, “Thank you for asking, my lord. I have three strategies—lower, middle, and upper—for your consideration.”

Chen Jing was delighted to find that He Yu had already thought deeply on the matter. He laughed. “Very well, let me hear the lowest first.”

He Yu answered solemnly, “With your abilities and the strength of the Chen Fortress, you could pledge allegiance to a wise ruler—be it Murong or Tuoba. In time, you would gain land and titles, and earn the reward of a marquis.”

A hint of disappointment flickered across Chen Jing’s face, and he shook his head. “This plan is unsuitable. There is a saying: better to be a chicken’s head than an ox’s tail. Though I lack great talent, I cannot hand over our century-old legacy to others. Besides, whether Murong or Tuoba, they are not of our kind. How could the Chen clan of Yingchuan bow to the barbarians?”

He Yu had offered this as a test, and thought to himself, “Chen Jing has built his career in the north for years, never losing his national pride; truly a scion of a noble house.”

He Yu continued, “Stockpile grain, train your troops, neither submit to others nor rashly start conflict. Ride the tide of chaos, defend your stronghold, live free and easy—be a regional lord. This is the middle strategy.”

Chen Jing pondered for a moment. “That is a fine plan, and I am drawn to it. But have you considered, Yu, that in turbulent times, holding steady is like rowing upstream—if you do not advance, you fall behind. To seek peace and defend one’s own, how difficult it is!”

He Yu had offered this as another test. Hearing Chen Jing’s analysis, he nodded inwardly. “As a leader, Chen Jing is indeed aware of the risks. Given the current situation, if Later Yan defeats Northern Wei, they will target the Chen Fortress; if Northern Wei triumphs, they will not allow us to grow strong. Chen Jing’s concerns are quite realistic.”

He Yu swept aside his robe, stood up, and made a decisive gesture. “Then why not seize the moment, recruit soldiers and heroes, rally under the banner of restoring the Han dynasty, break through provinces, advance east beyond Taihang, campaign north in Youyan, and south towards Qingyang? If you succeed, my lord will be the equal of Qin Shi Huang or Han Gaozu; if not, you will still be as Liu Bei or Sun Quan. This is the highest strategy.”

He Yu spoke with passion, his words brimming with the spirit of one who would traverse the land, gaze down upon the world.

Chen Jing’s eyes sparkled as he listened, and he laughed. “This, I believe, is your truest intention. Alas, even if you have Zhuge Liang’s talent, I lack Liu Xuande’s ambition!” He sighed and shook his head.

He Yu had expected Chen Jing to applaud, but his reaction was unexpectedly subdued, and He Yu’s enthusiasm waned.

Being praised as Zhuge Liang, even He Yu—thick-skinned as he was—could not help but feel embarrassed. Then he thought, “Zhuge Liang was a scholar, not a warrior; I can defeat ten Zhuge Liangs on my own, so perhaps I need not be overly modest.”

As he indulged in these thoughts, He Yu asked, “Then, my lord, what is your opinion?”

Chen Jing’s gaze grew distant, as he responded, “After the Yongjia turmoil, the nobility fled south. Our Chen clan of Yingchuan remained in the north, contending with sand and barbarians for over a century. To tell the truth, from myself down, not a day passes without yearning to cross the river and return south. If in this life I could see our homeland’s nobility again, I would die without regret. Yu, can you understand my sorrow?”

Chen Jing spoke with such gravity that He Yu felt a surge of sympathy. Coming from the modern world, He Yu had no concept of ethnic boundaries or class distinctions. His current life was quite comfortable, and he had never considered moving south.

He Yu mused, “The Eastern Jin is ruled by aristocratic politics, where lineage is everything—even used to judge character and assign official positions. Though Chen Jing’s family has lingered in the north for generations, they have never forgotten their noble status. Amusing, yet touching.”

“His manner and dress today now make sense: he dreams of returning south to live the refined life of an aristocrat.”

He Yu thought further, “Chen Jing’s attitude is much like modern academic snobbery: 985 looks down on 211, 211 on ordinary universities, ordinary on private colleges. In truth, Chen Jing is already a regional lord, equivalent to a modern company chairman, yet he cannot forget that old diploma—quite unexpected.”

“Better a single bed in a first-tier city than a mansion in a third-tier one. For Chen Jing to abandon his home and venture south seems wasteful and foolish to me.”

He Yu then considered, “The Chen and Li clans often contend in the fortress. Beyond the struggle for power, there may be a clash of ideals.”

“The fortress is ruled by the Chen clan of Yingchuan, true nobility. The Li clan are merely local landlords, with ancestors who intermarried with outsiders; the Li father and son even bear distinct foreign features, so they have little interest in moving south.”

“So, though Chen Jing is lord, he cannot act alone, and his wish to move south must be set aside.”

Chen Jing’s family could relocate with ease, but the fortress housed tens of thousands whose fate rested with him. To have such thoughts was not truly in the fortress’s best interest.

He Yu advised gently, “My lord, as a nobleman, it is only natural to wish for a return south.”

“But the Sima clan now rules the south, beset by political darkness and aristocratic infighting. If you move there, you may not find the same satisfaction. And you are renowned across the land; if the court suspects you, it may bring trouble.”

“Moreover, you bear the responsibility for the entire fortress. The fate of thousands depends on you; any move will affect all. Please consider carefully.”

Chen Jing’s face showed disappointment, and he countered, “Yu, your home is Jinling; you have been in the north for over half a year. Do you not wish to return?”

He Yu, a traveler from another world, had no true homeland; every place was both home and foreign. He cared little for returning south, but could not bluntly refuse, lest he seem heartless. So he replied ambiguously, “I have drifted north, and am grateful for the Chen Fortress’s hospitality. These months have been carefree, but in quiet moments, I do miss my homeland.”

Chen Jing nodded. “You speak truly. Liangyuan is pleasant, but not a place to linger forever. Moving south has been the dream of my ancestors for generations. My mind is made up; I will not delay further. Difficult as it is, with your help, I believe it can be done.”

He paused, then added, “This matter is of utmost importance. Heaven knows, earth knows, you know, I know. Please keep it secret.”

Seeing Chen Jing determined, He Yu knew he could not dissuade him and nodded. “I accept your command.”

Leaving behind comfort for an uncertain future in the south required immense resolve and courage—a new challenge for both He Yu and Chen Jing.

According to Chen Jing’s plan, many branches of the Chen clan had already relocated to the south, mostly around Qiantang. He wished to send He Yu to make contact, purchase estates, and then arrange for the migration in stages. The management of the fortress would be entrusted entirely to the Li father and son.

He Yu thought, “With war looming between Later Yan and Northern Wei, the south remains tranquil. Taking Deng’er with me to see the scenery and culture of Jiangnan would make the most of this fine springtime.” He agreed readily.

With the plan settled, Chen Jing’s face was bright with joy, then he suddenly asked, “Qingyun admires you deeply. Have you noticed?”

Having resolved to move south, and with his sister showing little interest in Li Jun, Chen Jing was less enthusiastic about their marriage. He had discovered his sister’s secret affection for He Yu; in every aspect, He Yu surpassed Li Jun. Thus, he wished to match them, for both the sake of his sister and the benefit of the fortress.

Just as they were discussing the move south, Chen Jing abruptly brought up the subject, startling He Yu, who quickly replied, “I am aware, but I have already married Deng’er. I must disappoint Lady Chen’s kindness.”

Chen Jing shook his head slowly. “Your talents far exceed mine. With a worthy companion, your prospects would be limitless. Why cling to a mere concubine, upholding minor loyalty at the expense of greater ambition? This is not what a true gentleman would do. Please reconsider.”

He had thought that Qingyun’s feelings were resolved after their last conversation, but now her brother had become her advocate. With Chen Jing’s noble status, He Yu could not refuse outright, and replied vaguely, “Thank you, my lord, for your wise counsel. A hundred deaths would not redeem my guilt.”

Hearing this, Chen Jing could not discern his true meaning. It seemed He Yu was still attached to Deng’er, the maid, and so he shook his head and said no more.

After a little more idle conversation, He Yu took his leave. Just as he reached the foot of the stairs, he heard the sound of a zither from above—Chen Jing had begun to play again.

At some point, rain had begun to fall. The gentle spring rain pattered in the courtyard, the sound mingling with the shadows of bamboo, and the cry of a crane echoed as two white cranes strolled out.

Playing the zither and raising cranes—Chen Jing was refined to the extreme, every bit the southern gentleman. One could only wonder whether he powdered his face or indulged in the Five Stone Powder.

He Yu had not brought an umbrella; he stood under the eaves, watching the rain. The streaks were clearly visible in the lamplight. He hesitated—should he brave the rain or wait until it eased?

A pink oil-paper umbrella appeared over He Yu’s head. Beneath it was Chen Qingyun, her smile coy and charming. “Master He, let me walk you home.”

So she had not yet left—was she waiting for him?

He Yu smiled warmly, took the handle, and replied softly, “Thank you, my lady. Allow me to hold the umbrella.”

The spring rain murmured, the night was gentle. The two walked side by side, silent yet speaking volumes, close yet somehow distant.