075. Perhaps It's Better to Part Ways

On the training ground, Zhu Kerong barked out commands, whip in hand, his voice echoing sharply. The Twelve Riders of Yan and Zhao, along with the twenty-three remnants of the Shaozhou Regiment, drilled with meticulous discipline. Should anyone falter, a lash would snap through the air, leaving a fresh, bloody mark—Zhu Kerong showed no mercy.

The Shaozhou remnants were one thing, but the Twelve Riders of Yan and Zhao were all battle-hardened officers. Even the least among them had served as squad leaders, commanding fifty or sixty men; Zhou Wan, the most distinguished, had been a battalion commander, leading over a thousand troops. Yet now, in Zhu Kerong’s eyes, they were nothing but raw recruits—he cursed and struck at will, with no regard for their former status.

Veterans whispered of Zhu Kerong’s strictness, how the Shaozhou locals had suffered under his hand. Not only the troops, but even the officers, the Twelve Riders themselves, were tormented by his relentless drills. Before the local soldiers, Zhu Kerong would berate them mercilessly, and if he wished to strike, he’d have them strip and take the lash, showing no favoritism.

Li Xi thought, "In the army, there are no fathers and sons; orders are absolute. Who dares defy them? Only with Zhu Kerong’s severity can true soldiers be forged. Bring the bureaucratic ways into military training, and you’ll end up with soldiers as soft as tofu—useless."

He watched from afar until a break in the drills allowed him to approach. “The local troops have all gone home to farm,” Li Xi said to Zhu Kerong. “Why wear yourself out tormenting these men? Zhou is a great general—ought you not show him some respect? Watching you whip him, I can hardly bear it.”

Zhu Kerong chuckled, “Brother, you’ve served in the army, but have you ever considered what a soldier truly is?”

Li Xi blinked, feigning thought, and smiled, “I haven’t, Zhu, what’s your opinion?”

Zhu Kerong smiled, “I wouldn’t call it insight, but I’ve spent more time in the military than you, so I’ve learned a thing or two. Soldiers are like weapons—meant to defend, to kill the enemy. They must be sharp, reliable, ready for use at any moment. Take a sword: even if you keep it sheathed forever, you wouldn’t want it to be mere iron. It must be ground, oiled, polished. Soldiers are the same. You raise troops for a thousand days, use them in an instant—both are equally important, and you must never let your guard down.”

“Zhou Wan is a battalion commander, though his experience is lacking; his skill is enough to lead ten thousand! In Youzhou, he commanded several battalions against the Khitans, never once defeated. Now, here in Shaozhou, he has no troops, no battles—he’s like a sword left to rust in a damp cellar. If I don’t take him out and polish him, he’ll corrode and be useless.”

“You feel sorry for him, think his high rank should spare him the whip. But that’s bringing bureaucratic notions into the army. No matter how high his rank, a soldier is a soldier. Soldiers must endure the lash, just as a sword must be ground and polished. Otherwise, they’ll forget themselves—they’ll rust.”

Li Xi agreed with most of what Zhu Kerong said: soldiers are weapons, organized instruments of force; an army must always stay vigilant. Officers and troops differ only in duty, not in essence. If an officer grows lazy or complacent, he must be reminded, even chastised.

Yet Li Xi’s interest lay not in the sharpening or maintenance of weapons, but in their control and use. However sharp and well-kept a sword, it is but a mindless tool of violence; its true value lies in being wielded by oneself or a trusted hand. The edge cuts both ways—it can harm friend as well as foe. One must find the hilt, grip it, to control the blade.

Where was the hilt of this sword before him? Li Xi resolved to seek it out.

He approached the Twelve Riders, who sat on the sandy ground chatting and drinking. “Brothers, you’ve worked hard. By order of the Training Commissioner, I’ve come to offer my thanks. Tonight, I’ll host a feast—please honor me with your presence. I thank you in advance!”

He bowed deeply. The twenty-three new recruits leapt up to return the gesture, faces alight with joy. The Twelve Riders, however, ignored him completely. An awkward silence hung.

Zhu Kerong strode over and barked, “At my command—stand! Go tidy yourselves, and come tonight for the feast.” The men responded with a cheer, springing up like children and dusting the dirt from their pants. Clouds of dust billowed as Li Xi covered his mouth and retreated.

The hilt was found—the hilt of the sword that was the Twelve Riders of Yan and Zhao was Zhu Kerong himself. If he could win Zhu Kerong’s favor, he would grasp the sword. But how to win him over?

After sending off the twelve sworn brothers, Zhu Kerong addressed the twenty-three new recruits who still stood at attention, “You go as well.” They glanced at Li Xi, who nodded to them, and then departed with cheers.

Zhu Kerong said proudly to Li Xi, “The best soldiers must retain a bit of childishness—simple minds, absolute obedience! I never recruit older men; aside from lacking strength, their minds are too complicated, too many schemes. In battle, they can’t be decisive.”

After the dust settled, Li Xi coughed and, hearing Zhu Kerong’s views, quickly agreed, then asked, “These twenty-odd men—what do you intend to do with them? Are you planning to raise a navy?”

Zhu Kerong laughed heartily, “The Twelve Riders are northern stallions; one day, they’ll leave this damp place and return north. These recruits, I’ve trained for you.”

Li Xi’s heart skipped. “Are you leaving, Zhu?”

Zhu Kerong smiled, “My father wrote recently that Liu has appointed him Prefect of Yingzhou, commander of the Whale Sea Army, to defend against the Khitans and Bohai. He’s old and frail; as his eldest son, I can’t let him bear the burden alone. I plan to resign and return to Youzhou in autumn. These twenty-three men are seasoned veterans, unencumbered by family, trained by me and able to command. Make them officers, and they can quickly raise three or four hundred troops—enough to defend Shaozhou. I’ll leave Zhou Wan to assist you against bandits.”

Li Xi replied awkwardly, “That would be good, but Zhou…”

Zhu Kerong asked, “Is there some bad blood between you?”

Li Xi said, “No, we get along well. But if you return to Yingzhou to assist your father, you’ll need someone capable at your side. Zhou is a great general—wouldn’t staying in Shaozhou be a waste? Better leave me the brother with the eagle tattoo on his chest; let Zhou return north with you.”

Among Zhu Kerong’s twelve sworn brothers, Li Xi was most impressed by Zhou Wan and this man. Zhou had been a battalion commander, capable of managing affairs alone; with him present, Li Xi feared becoming a mere puppet, which he did not desire. Moreover, after the Han affair, Zhou Wan held him in contempt—if Zhou stayed in Shaozhou, Li Xi would never be able to lift his head.

The bald, eagle-tattooed fellow, though he too had once looked down on Li Xi, was young and low in rank. Once Zhu Kerong left, Li Xi could easily deal with him.

Zhu Kerong furrowed his brow in thought, then nodded, “Zhu He is fierce and valiant, served as regiment captain, can lead troops and fight—but his temper is hot, and when roused, you may not be able to control him.”

Li Xi immediately lost enthusiasm at these words, and was about to ask for someone else, but Zhu Kerong had already decided, “I’ll leave Li Zaifeng with you as well. Aside from Zhou Wan, only he among my brothers can keep that stubborn mule in check.”

Though Li Xi did not know who Li Zaifeng was, he trusted Zhu Kerong’s judgment. Their relationship had been amicable so far. The Han affair had brought him humiliation from Zhou Wan and the others, but Zhu Kerong seemed unaware. If Han remained in Shaozhou, Li Xi might fall into old habits and become entangled with her; but since Zhu Kerong would return north, she would follow, leaving no chance for further involvement—thus, his friendship with Zhu Kerong could continue, and there would be no more disputes over who commanded Shaozhou’s militia.

Watching the twenty-three recruits depart joyfully, Li Xi felt a pang of shame. Zhu Kerong had considered his interests so carefully, while he himself had been coveting the man’s wife—how could he call himself a decent person?

He said with emotion, “Brother Zhu, you have shown me such care—I hardly know how to thank you. If you would not disdain me, let us seal brotherhood, slaying a chicken and burning yellow paper as the rite. What do you think?”

Zhu Kerong’s brow creased, as if reluctant. Li Xi was suddenly embarrassed—having blurted out his proposal, he was about to be refused, and his face burned with shame. Flustered, he stammered, “I know I’m reaching above my station, Zhu, please think nothing of it—just take it as idle chatter.”

Zhu Kerong smiled, “Don’t misunderstand—I was only wondering why in Shaozhou the ritual is to slay a chicken and burn yellow paper. In Youzhou, we burn three measures of yellow millet to the heavens.”

Li Xi breathed a sigh of relief, “Then let’s follow the Youzhou custom.”

Zhu Kerong laughed, “Let’s follow local custom. You’re from Jingzhao, I’m from Youzhou, and now we meet in Shaozhou—let’s do as Shaozhou does.”

The two, knowing each other well, did not need to exchange names or ages. Li Xi called Zhu Kerong ‘elder brother’; Zhu Kerong called Li Xi ‘younger brother’. That night, Li Xi held a banquet at the Spring Court in town, performed the brotherhood rite. The chicken was brought out, but an accident occurred—Li Xi swung the blade too hard and nicked the hand of the Spring Court steward, who dropped the chicken with a shout. The chicken, not quite dead, fluttered frantically before the altar, knocking it over and scattering feathers everywhere.

With chicken slain and paper burned, their brotherhood was officially sealed. Though the Twelve Riders were unimpressed by their elder brother’s new sibling, Zhu Kerong had declared it before all, and so they had no choice but to accept.

Spring Court was a government-run brothel, similar in its rituals to the Yichun District of Linzhou. Li Xi, though he had never visited since arriving in Shaozhou, found everything familiar. To celebrate his brotherhood with Zhu Kerong, Li Xi spent generously—not only did he order several rounds of singing and dancing, but provided each guest with a drinking companion. As the night wore on and the wine flowed, those companions became bedmates, and Spring Court was busier than ever.

The head instructors, seeing Li Xi’s lavishness and knowing him as Shaozhou’s new military officer, were delighted; together, they prepared a “grand gift” for him, and promised that from then on, Officer Yang would enjoy a thirty percent discount whenever he visited.

Drunk and elated, Li Xi declined Zhu Kerong’s offer of an escort, and staggered home clutching the brothel’s “grand gift.” He had gone alone to the music house, then on to Spring Court; Cui Yingying and Mu Yaxin had no idea where he was, and when he did not return for dinner, they guessed he was drinking with Zhu Kerong. Though both were somewhat resentful, they gave it little thought.

Because their husband was late, the two women passed the evening chatting idly, until Li Xi returned, clutching the “grand gift” from Spring Court.

The gift was a pillow—not wood, bamboo, stone, or jade, but something called the “Thousand Fragrances Pillow,” a commemorative gift for the most honored guests. The girls of Spring Court each cut a small piece from their undergarments, embroidered their names, and stitched them together to make the pillowcase. The filling was made from hair taken from their bodies—exactly which part, who could say.

Li Xi, too drunk to notice anything amiss, handed the brightly colored, perfume-laden “Thousand Fragrances Pillow” to Cui Yingying. “Keep it, keep it—it may be a gift, but it’s well made. Save it for when the weather cools.”

With that, he staggered off to bathe.

Mu Yaxin, trembling with rage, grabbed scissors to destroy the pillow, but was stopped by Cui Yingying, the lawful wife. “Keep it as evidence, so we can shame him later.” Mu Yaxin relented, suddenly admiring the wife’s cunning and patience, forgetting her anger toward Li Xi and turning it toward Cui instead.

Li Xi bathed, then crawled onto the cool couch, stomach swirling with wine, unable to sleep or wake, feeling miserable. Mu Yaxin, without lighting a lamp, sat nearby in the dark, dabbing at her tears. After a while, she realized that no matter how much she wept, the heartless would remain so. She suppressed her sobs, found a pair of scissors, and neatly snipped all the hair from Li Xi’s hidden places.