Chapter Six: Must Not Let the Supervisor Know

Inside the military tent, Zhang Yan, the Deputy General of Xuanfu Town, gazed intently at his nephew, Zhang Cheng, and spoke in a grave tone: "What you said just now is not without reason. However, matters concerning negotiations with the invaders are of great consequence, beyond our capacity to judge. Cheng’er, you must refrain from speaking of this again."

Zhang Cheng quickly responded, "Uncle, please rest assured. Those words were spoken only to you; I would never mention them to others."

Zhang Yan nodded and returned his attention to his meal.

He sensed a profound change in his nephew recently—not only had he grown more composed, but his thoughts had become clearer and sharper. Though still somewhat inexperienced in worldly affairs, with a few more years of guidance by his side, this young man might surpass him in achievements. The future of the Zhang family could very well depend on this nephew.

Yet within Zhang Cheng’s heart, a heavy sigh escaped. The situation was unmistakably dire, known clearly by many, yet no one dared to speak plainly about it. Was the Ming dynasty truly beyond salvation? Was the Han dynasty’s realm doomed to be lost, with its people destined to live as slaves?

“No!” Zhang Cheng cried silently, a fierce flame of anger burning within. Yet for now, he was powerless to act.

After finishing lunch, Zhang Cheng rose and said to Zhang Yan, “Uncle, I have eaten. I will return to the camp to check on the troops and will be back before the Shen hour.”

“Good. Go back and inspect the troops, but remember to return before the Shen hour. We will report together to General Yang’s camp,” Zhang Yan instructed.

“Understood, General,” Zhang Cheng replied, kneeling on one knee and clasping his fists in salute.

Zhang Yan smiled fondly at him.

Zhang Cheng mounted his horse, which Zhang Yan’s personal guards had brought, and rode swiftly toward his own thousand-strong headquarters camp.

In theory, Zhang Yan now commanded just over twelve hundred cavalrymen who had arrived at Changping, so a large camp wasn’t strictly necessary.

But cavalry camps differed from infantry; horses required rest, so the camp had to include tents, latrines, stables, and open grassy areas for exercising the horses. Thus, Zhang Yan’s camp covered a vast area.

Moreover, space had to be reserved for the twelve hundred infantrymen expected to arrive later.

Zhang Cheng’s thousand-strong headquarters camp lay east of Zhang Yan’s tent, filled with nearly a hundred tents large and small. Each squad of ten cavalrymen shared one tent, and three squads formed a team with four tents grouped together.

The warhorses were managed collectively, about forty horses enclosed within wooden fences draped with rainproof tarps to shield them from sun and rain. Each squad took turns sending two cavalrymen to tend the horses, while those skilled as farriers inspected and maintained the horseshoes.

The somewhat larger central tent was Zhang Cheng’s command post.

Returning to camp, Zhang Cheng found the soldiers had already eaten. Some were tending their horses—their first lifeline—while others socialized in groups, sharing camaraderie and exchanging battlefield tactics.

Most were busy cleaning and maintaining their weapons and armor, especially bows and arrows, which required meticulous care to maintain power and reliability. Poorly kept bows could lose tension or become unusable.

Knowing they were here to fight the Tatars, everyone understood fierce battles lay ahead. Weapons and armor were their second lifeline after their horses. Thus, it was customary to keep them in impeccable condition.

Zhang Cheng dismounted at his tent. A personal guard immediately took his horse to the newly built temporary stables behind the tent, where his twenty-strong escort’s horses also rested.

Two of his guards doubled as farriers, responsible for the horses’ upkeep. During rest periods, two soldiers from the escort took turns assisting them.

On either side of his tent were the quarters for his personal guards, ten per tent, all carefully selected young men skilled in archery, horsemanship, and close combat, loyal to Zhang Yan and Zhang Cheng alike.

Zhang Cheng entered his tent, followed by Chen Zhong, captain of the guards, who softly asked, “Master, any orders?”

Sitting down, Zhang Cheng said, “Send for the three sentry captains to come here, and also Wu, the right sentry captain stationed near the General’s camp.”

“Yes, Master,” Chen Zhong replied promptly and left to arrange it.

Chen Zhong, also from a military family in Xuanfu Town, was just twenty, two years younger than Zhang Cheng. His father had served under Zhang Yan’s personal guard, and Chen Zhong had been trained since childhood, excelling in mounted archery and combat. He had been one of the best since enlisting at seventeen and had served under Zhang Cheng since he was eighteen, now his loyal guard captain.

Zhang Cheng’s tent was simple. The front held several freshly cut wooden stools and a makeshift wooden table serving as a desk; behind was his resting area, containing his bedding and personal effects.

With nothing pressing, Zhang Cheng retrieved a book from the back of the tent—Qi Shaobao’s *Practical Records of Military Training*—and sat on a stool behind the desk, engrossed in reading.

He had taken this book from Zhang Yan’s bookshelf while his uncle was recuperating. Though Zhang Yan was not highly literate, he loved reading and had a modest collection of historical and military classics.

Having recently arrived in this world, Zhang Cheng retained some knowledge from his previous life and the faint memories of the former Zhang Cheng, but many details remained vague.

Thus, he treasured this book, carrying it with him and studying it whenever he had time, always gaining new insights.

Soon, Chen Zheng, the forward sentry captain, entered first. Seeing Zhang Cheng reading, he pulled up a stool beside the desk and whispered, “Master, my men have scoured the surrounding forty li. Through purchase and borrowing, we managed to gather ten shi of grain and two shi of beans.”

Zhang Cheng closed the book and looked up. “The Tatars’ incursion has scattered the people; it’s only natural that grain is scarce. What do you mean by borrowing grain?”

Chen Zheng, in his twenties, was short but sharp and capable, always cautious. Zhang Cheng had sent him early to scout the terrain and seek provisions.

He smiled wryly. “Master, rest assured. We found several large villages in easily defensible locations. They should have supported us, but their stores were low, so they gave the grain freely, no silver asked. The men explained it was a loan, to be repaid after the war.”

Zhang Cheng nodded. “Keep this strictly confidential to maintain morale. Under no circumstances must this be disclosed. As for borrowing grain, it must not happen again, and the supervising commissioner must not learn of it.”

Chen Zheng’s smile faded as he said solemnly, “Master, I’ve ordered the men to keep this secret; it will be buried in our hearts. But, will the situation truly unfold as we hope?”