Volume One: Flames at the Border Chapter Four: The Military Household

In the very center of the fortress stood a small lake, with a pavilion and towers built upon an islet, all encircled by walls. Within the fortress was another inner fortress, and within the stronghold, yet further enclosures. He Yu surmised that the buildings at the heart of the lake must be the residence of the fortress lord or some other notable figure.

Yesterday, Lin Su had already warned him not to wander outside before receiving a permit token for passage; should he encounter a patrol, there would be trouble explaining himself.

He Yu dared not act rashly. He took a few turns around the courtyard, memorizing the general layout, then returned to his room to rest and soon drifted off to sleep once more. When he awoke, the sun had already dipped westward and dusk was falling.

He Yu felt a surge of shame. Ever since joining the army, he had never indulged in laziness, yet on his very first day after traveling through time, he had slept away nearly the entire day, even skipping lunch.

He rose, dressed, and just as he was about to find something to busy himself with, he heard the voices of Lin Su and his granddaughter Lin Deng’er coming from the kitchen.

“Grandfather, there’s still porridge left. Young Master Yu didn’t eat much, nor did he touch the eggs,” Lin Deng’er said.

“He may not have much appetite after being so ill,” replied Lin Su. “I bought some horse meat today. We’ll have him get up and eat a bit later.”

With their return, life seemed to fill the courtyard once more. Hearing this exchange warmed He Yu’s heart, and he went to the kitchen to greet them.

Seeing that He Yu’s complexion had improved since the previous day, and that he could now move about with little difficulty, the grandfather and granddaughter were both delighted.

Lin Deng’er chided him gently, “Young Master Yu, why didn’t you eat the eggs we saved for you? They’re very nourishing!”

She spoke as if eggs were the greatest delicacy in the world. For He Yu, who came from the twenty-first century and had lived as a special forces soldier, eggs had never been a rarity. But here and now, in the chaotic world of Eastern Jin, eggs were precious among ordinary people. Lin Deng’er’s genuine care moved him deeply. His own family back home had been a tangled, loveless mess; yet, through this strange twist of fate, he had met this beautiful and kind-hearted young woman.

“Um, I ate eggs just yesterday, so I don’t particularly want any more today. You and Grandfather should have them,” he offered as an excuse.

Lin Deng’er shook her head, clearly unconvinced. In her eyes, there simply couldn’t be anyone in the world who disliked eggs.

As the dinner hour approached, Lin Deng’er deftly kindled the fire and began to cook. He Yu seized the chance to help and tended the flames by her side.

For a special forces soldier, tending fires and cooking in the wild was nothing at all.

At first, Lin Deng’er worried about him tiring himself, but seeing how adeptly he managed, she relaxed.

Lin Su took a package from his breast—a fist-sized bundle wrapped in dried lotus leaf. Unwrapping it, he revealed cooked horse meat, which he sliced into small pieces and placed in a large bowl, sprinkling a bit of fine salt on top.

In the Eastern Jin, beef was considered the best meat, but slaughtering cattle was illegal and thus rare. Lamb and dog meat came next, while horse meat was the least desirable—though also the cheapest. He Yu mused, “Boiled horse meat with salt—such rough fare. I wonder how it will taste.”

After more than half an hour, dinner was ready: stir-fried napa cabbage (then called white song, a common staple in the Central Plains), horse meat, wheat bread, millet porridge, pickled vegetables, and sauce. By modern standards, this meal was meager, but for the Lin family, it was a special allowance for the ailing.

Though He Yu had only been here a day and was still recovering from his injuries, he was not at all tempted by the food. After eating just one bowl, he set down his chopsticks. Lin Deng’er insisted he finish the egg from lunch, and he felt somewhat embarrassed.

He had never tasted horse meat before. One bite revealed it to be gamy and coarse, hard to swallow. No wonder people said donkey meat was fragrant, while horse meat was foul. Seeing his lack of enthusiasm, Lin Su and his granddaughter did not press him further. They, used to plain fare and rarely having meat, found the horse meat delicious.

In the blink of an eye, ten days passed with He Yu residing in the Lin household. He had received his passage token within the fortress and, thanks to the meticulous care of Lin Su and Deng’er, had made a full recovery.

As they spent more time together, the three settled into their forms of address. He Yu, following Lin Deng’er’s lead, called Lin Su “Grandfather,” and Lin Su called him “Yu’er.” Lin Deng’er, fifteen, called the twenty-year-old He Yu “Brother Yu,” while he simply called her “Deng’er.”

Over time, He Yu gradually learned the state of the world. It was the nineteenth year of Taiyuan under the Eastern Jin. The court, with Emperor Sima Yao on the throne, clung to power in the southeast.

To the north, Murong Chui of Later Yan and Tuoba Gui of Northern Wei stood poised for war, the conflict imminent.

He Yu had read many history books. He’d hoped to use his modern knowledge, his foresight and “god’s-eye view” of history, to carve out a place for himself in this war-torn era. Yet he soon realized that the history of the Eastern Jin and the Sixteen Kingdoms was bewilderingly complex. In the south, the great aristocratic clans of Eastern Jin held real power, the emperor little more than a puppet. North of the river, the Five Barbarians—Xiongnu, Xianbei, Jie, Di, and Qiang—vied for supremacy, kingdoms rising and falling with dizzying speed. Even among the Xianbei Murong clan, there were Former Yan, Later Yan, Western Yan, Southern Yan, and Northern Yan. Untangling the details of this era was a challenge even for professional historians.

He Yu himself had only studied history for a year at university before joining the army. He knew the general outlines but not the specifics of the period. The dream of using foreknowledge to guide his survival and rise in this era seemed increasingly out of reach.

He Yu sighed inwardly. “I’m much more familiar with the Ming and Qing—read ‘Stories of the Ming Dynasty,’ ‘History of the Ming,’ ‘Ming Veritable Records,’ even ‘Draft History of Qing’ and ‘The Twelve Qing Emperors: Cases of Doubt.’ If I’d crossed into the Ming or Qing, perhaps I could use my knowledge, follow the right people, make the right choices, perhaps even become a general or prime minister. But now, in this damnable Eastern Jin and Sixteen Kingdoms, I can only leave things to fate.”

“Well, so be it. Since I’m here, I’ll adapt. With my skills, I’ll make something of myself—not just for me, but to ensure Deng’er can live well, too.”

“They say circumstances create heroes, and heroes shape their times. I’ll see for myself whether that’s true or not.” With this, he secretly encouraged himself.

He Yu even fantasized, “If I ever cross back, I’ll find a history book on this era and see whether my own experiences match what’s recorded—whether the so-called official histories are truly accurate.”

At this thought, He Yu felt a surge of heroic energy—a wellspring of optimism and resolve.

Chen Family Stronghold was established the year the Yongjia Rebellion erupted and had now stood for seven generations and over eighty years, its roots deep and strong. The current fortress lord, Chen Jing—styled Zijing—was barely thirty, but shrewd and capable, accomplished in both civil and military matters. He had a sister, Qingyun, just sixteen, renowned for her beauty and talent, no less gifted than her brother.

Ten years prior, the Di people had invaded the stronghold. The old lord fell to an arrow, and the fortress nearly fell. The aftermath left the Chen clan greatly weakened. Only after Chen Jing took charge and devoted himself to rebuilding did the family’s fortunes gradually recover.

Lin Su had once been a military landholder under Former Qin—professional soldiers who farmed their own land tax-free and provided their own arms in wartime. Three sons and seven grandsons had all perished in battle, their bones lost to the wild, remembered only by the ancestral tablets on the altar. Only his granddaughter, Deng’er, remained—a fate as tragic as any.

With the defeat and death of Fu Jian, emperor of Former Qin, at the Battle of Fei River, the north was plunged into chaos. The Lin family’s status as military landholders vanished. Through recommendation by fellow villagers, they found refuge in Chen Family Stronghold, securing a meager livelihood.

Lin Su made charcoal for the fortress and received a monthly stipend of grain, money, and cloth—just enough for the two of them to scrape by. As Deng’er grew, her nimble hands and clever mind found her work as a maid in the lord’s household, where she could earn some rations. Having once attended Lady Qingyun in her studies, she’d learned to read and write a little by ear and eye.

“No wonder Deng’er’s often not around—she’s on duty,” He Yu mused.

All told, the Lin family received two and a half catties of grain per day. By modern standards, this was generous, but in those times, it was barely enough to get by. The grain had to be husked, further reducing its weight, and with little meat or supplementary food, appetites were large, and the rations never seemed to suffice.

At first, He Yu hadn’t noticed, but after a few days, with the last reserves of fat gone, his appetite soared—he was always half-full, half-hungry, yet felt ashamed to eat his fill. In truth, Lin Su and Deng’er always gave him the thickest porridge and the best portions, afraid he might not eat enough.

The charcoal Lin Su made was first allocated for the fortress’s use, and any surplus was taken by ox cart to the market for sale, with the proceeds split evenly with the fortress. It was thanks to this occasional income that their lives could just be patched together.

Once He Yu recovered, he found himself with little to do and wandered the fortress. All sorts of trades and crafts could be found within—nearly every line of work. Nearly ten thousand people lived there—truly a small society.

He Yu, with his quick tongue and willingness to help, soon made himself useful and got to know many of the fortress folk. The Lin family came to treat him as their own.

At this time, the Eastern Jin controlled only the lands south of the Yangtze; the north was dominated by the nomadic peoples. In this process of ethnic blending, the fortress used both Han and Xianbei languages.

He Yu, gifted with languages, soon became fluent in both the northern Han tongue and Xianbei speech.

Time flew by, and in two months, it was already the end of the year; the cold had grown even more intense.

During this time, Deng’er received cotton and silk wadding from her employers and, using He Yu as a model, sewed him three winter robes and underclothes.

His hair had not yet grown back, so he could not yet tie it into a proper topknot. (Contrary to what movies suggest, ancient Han men did not wear their hair loose, but bound it tightly into a knot, as surviving portraits show.)

But Deng’er, ever clever, made him a square leather cap to wear.

He Yu, already handsome, looked even more dashing and heroic in this attire. The neighbors, seeing him, gave him a thumbs-up, praising, “A man of the South, dressed in the garb of the old country—truly extraordinary.”

Life in the Lin household had always been tight, and with another mouth to feed, the threat of an empty pot loomed ever nearer.