Chapter Seven: The Generals of Xuanfu Gather at the Military Camp

East of Changping City, at the Xuan Town King-Serving Army Camp, in the tent of Cavalry Commander Zhang Cheng.

Zhang Cheng was speaking with forward sentinel commander Chen Zheng when footsteps sounded outside the tent. It was left sentinel commander Zhang Guangda and rear sentinel commander Hu Dake entering together.

They each found a wooden stool inside the tent and sat down beside the table in front of Zhang Cheng.

Zhang Guangda had a full beard, earning him the nickname “Bearded Zhang” among his comrades, though few dared to call him that to his face. He was tall and burly, with a fierce expression that commanded respect without needing to raise his voice.

Hu Dake was also tall and imposing but bore a kind face. Nearing his thirties, he was tactful and well-liked among the troops.

“Commander, you’ve been at it all day, aren’t you going to rest?” Zhang Guangda asked in a gruff voice, though with genuine concern.

“I wish I could rest, but there’s too much military business. Rest is a luxury,” Zhang Cheng said, rubbing his temples.

At that moment, Captain of the Bodyguards Chen Zhong accompanied right sentinel commander Wu Zhizhong into the tent. Wu Zhizhong brought his own wooden stool and sat beside the table, while Chen Zhong stood straight behind Zhang Cheng, hand on his waist knife.

Wu Zhizhong smiled and said to Chen Zhong, “Hey, Little Zhong, why don’t you find a stool and sit? Don’t stand there like a tree stump!”

Chen Zhong just smiled and remained standing, his posture even straighter.

Zhang Cheng laughed, “The boy prefers standing. Old Wu, don’t keep telling him to sit!”

Everyone laughed. Wu Zhizhong was in his thirties, the eldest among them, with extensive military experience and much respect.

“Old Wu, how’s the task I assigned you coming along?” Zhang Cheng asked.

Wu Zhizhong licked his lips and replied, “Everything’s settled. Following your orders, four hundred shi of rice and wheat, about one hundred shi of beans, along with plenty of dried meat and salt. Plus six hundred horses and mules from our cavalry headquarters are with Commander Liu at the rear, moving with the infantry to Changping.”

Zhang Cheng’s expression turned serious. “Did Commander Liu suspect anything?”

The others turned to Wu Zhizhong, who said, “No, that fool. I assigned a cavalry commander to guard him. Told Liu that our supplies were coming with the infantry. Besides, our grim-faced supply officer He Biao is escorting the convoy. I doubt Liu would dare cause trouble.”

Wu Zhizhong grinned, and the others shared a knowing smile.

He Biao, the stern supply officer of Zhang Cheng’s headquarters, was famously strict and principled, almost rigid and cold-hearted. His perpetually dark face looked as if everyone owed him a hundred taels of silver. Only Zhang Yan and Zhang Cheng—uncle and nephew—earned a bit of his respect, as Zhang Yan had once saved He Biao’s life.

“Hmph, with He Biao there, things should be fine,” Zhang Cheng said, smiling.

“Commander, how do you plan to repay that two thousand taels of high-interest silver you borrowed?” Hu Dake asked worriedly.

“Ha! Why worry? If I live to return, I’ll pay it back headfirst. Who’d dare refuse?” Zhang Cheng said carelessly.

After Zhang Cheng’s transmigration, once he understood the situation, he began preparing to enter the capital’s defense.

He knew this was unavoidable. After recovering, he stayed in the camp to familiarize himself with his subordinates and regain his military skills—riding, archery, and cavalry combat—essential for survival in the coming great battle.

Before the march, he had visited several pawnshops and loan sharks in town but was turned away for lack of collateral.

So, on the eve of departure, Zhang Cheng led his bodyguards to strong-arm a local loan shark into the camp, accusing him of treason to coerce him into lending two thousand taels of silver.

At dawn, Zhang Cheng and his troops set out, leaving the unfortunate lender a note promising repayment with interest upon the army’s triumphant return.

He secretly left a right sentinel behind, ostensibly to guard his uncle, Deputy Commander Zhang Yan, but in truth, Wu Zhizhong had another task: to use that coerced silver to quietly purchase rice, flour, and beans and escort them with the infantry to the capital.

The unlucky loan shark was probably burning incense, praying for Zhang Cheng’s safe return, but facing such desperate soldiers, what could he do?

...

After some more conversation, with time pressing, everyone took their leave to let Zhang Cheng rest.

Zhang Cheng read some military training manuals until Chen Zhong entered to remind him and help him don his armor.

Once armored, Chen Zhong asked, “Commander, the horses are ready. Shall we head to General’s tent now?”

Zhang Cheng hung his sword at his waist, “I’ll go alone. You need not follow.”

He rose, stepped out, took the reins from his bodyguard, vaulted onto his warhorse, and rode off.

When Zhang Cheng arrived at Zhang Yan’s central army tent, his uncle was waiting.

Seeing him, Zhang Yan stood and said, “Cheng’er, let’s go. Don’t keep General Yang waiting.”

Zhang Yan, Deputy Commander of Xuanfu, was nearly forty, handsome and imposing. He wore water-polished willow-leaf steel armor over thick red cotton, a golden phoenix winged helmet on his head, and a bright red cloak, exuding authority.

They left the tent together. Zhang Cheng helped his uncle mount, then followed closely on horseback toward the command tent of Xuanfu’s General Yang Guozhu.

Inside Yang Guozhu’s central tent were his personal guards and the cavalry commanders of the infantry battalion, led by Lieutenant Colonel Guo Yingxian.

Guo Yingxian was in his forties, stocky and robust, clad in thick vermilion iron armor with a bright red cloak. His square shoulders and numerous battle scars revealed a veteran hardened by countless battles.

At the head of the tent sat Yang Guozhu himself, Acting Commander of the Rear Army Headquarters, General of Zhenshuo, and Commander of Xuanfu’s garrison—a second-rank official.

He was nearing fifty, burly with a square face weathered by years of military service. Wearing heavy iron armor and a bright red cloak, he sat imposingly without speaking, a few large tea bowls arranged on the table before him.

Upon Zhang Yan’s arrival, Yang Guozhu glanced over Zhang Cheng with a commanding gaze and smiled, “Brother Zhang, please sit and have some tea. Once our two lieutenants arrive, we shall proceed together to the governor’s headquarters.”

Zhang Yan noticed Guo Yingxian seated at Yang Guozhu’s right-hand side near the front, a small table with tea in front of him, with the cavalry commanders standing behind.

He took the seat at a small table to Yang Guozhu’s left-front. Zhang Cheng stood rigidly behind his uncle.

After seating, Zhang Yan nodded slightly to the cavalry commanders behind Lieutenant Guo, a gesture of greeting. Zhang Cheng recalled feeling familiar with many of them from memory. After all, the cavalry commanders were elite officers, and his uncle was a deputy commander. Yet his knowledge of the Xuan Town officers was vague; he would need time to reacquaint himself.

“Hmm,” Zhang Cheng thought, “At Ju County, most of these men probably fled back to Xuan Town. From memory, I know that Xuan, Da, and Shanxi garrisons, at the last moment, obeyed Gao Qiqian’s orders, breaking away from Governor Lu Ducheng’s forces, handing over Xuan and Da to the Tartars. But how can we blame them entirely?”

As Zhang Yan settled, one of Yang Guozhu’s bodyguards brought a large kettle of hot tea from the central stove and poured a full bowl.

Guo Yingxian’s deep voice broke the silence, “Will Li Jianming and Wen Hui arrive only by Shen hour?”

Zhang Yan sipped tea and calmly replied, “Old Guo is impatient. Military business can wait a moment. Let’s wait for the two lieutenants.”

Yang Guozhu frowned slightly, displeased, casting a subtle disapproval toward Li Jianming and Wen Hui.

Just then, the tent’s flap lifted, and Xuan Town lieutenants Li Jianming and Wen Hui entered, each followed by their respective cavalry commanders.

Zhang Cheng stood behind his uncle, carefully observing the two.

Li Jianming was tall and upright, appearing near forty, while Wen Hui was slightly plump with an honest face, likely over forty. Both wore round-collared, large-buttoned iron armor, walking with military dignity.

Li Jianming entered the tent with a smile, “Ah, sorry for keeping General and Deputy Commander waiting. I, Li, beg pardon.”

Wen Hui quickly followed with apologies. They walked to the right-front and sat at the small empty table beside Guo Yingxian.

Thus, the Xuanfu garrison’s officers assembling to enter the capital’s defense gathered in the general’s tent, along with the cavalry commanders.