Chapter 18: Happy Troubles

At that moment, the entire city of Bogulü was filled with the joyful faces of the Tang soldiers. To them, victory had come far too easily. They had barely needed to do anything before the Turks fled like sheep. Yet easy though the victory had been, their military merits would not be reduced in the slightest.

The busiest man in the Right Guard was Registrar Du Shanguo, who was considering how to report the victory to the imperial court. Chen Ying had led more than two thousand eight hundred soldiers from the Right Guard’s First and Second Merit Battalions, First and Second Auxiliary Battalions, and the Personal Guards Regiment—a total of nine battalions—and defeated a vastly superior enemy. In less than half an hour, they had annihilated more than twenty thousand Turks, taken over a thousand heads, and captured more than thirteen thousand men alive. Not a single soldier of the Right Guard had fallen in the battle; only a few dozen had suffered minor wounds while clearing the battlefield, injured by Turks making a final, desperate struggle.

Du Shanguo remained silent for a long while before sighing. “How am I supposed to write this victory report? Even if I tell the truth, the court will probably think we’re exaggerating our accomplishments!”

Left Deputy Commander Gao Yunquan curled his lips. “Stop pretending, Registrar Du.”

He Yuejing sighed. “General Chen truly is a genius. Who would have thought of such a marvelous plan? Otherwise, this battle would have been a hard one indeed.”

“A hard one? We wouldn’t have been able to fight it properly at all!” Gao Yunquan said. “If you had been ordered to lead two thousand infantrymen against nearly twenty thousand Turks, would you have dared imagine victory beforehand?”

He Yuejing shook his head. “Absolutely not!”

At that moment, Du Shanguo began to write in sweeping strokes:

“Your servant Du Shanguo, Registrar of the Right Guard, respectfully reports: The Turkic and Liang rebel coalition, numbering more than fifty thousand, surrounded Lingzhou. Governor Guo Zihe of Lingzhou fought desperately, but being hopelessly outnumbered, found the city in imminent peril. Ying, General of the Right Guard, Loyal and Martial General, and Acting Army Commander, could not stand by and watch. He led his troops to reinforce Lingzhou.

“On the twenty-seventh day of the twelfth month, Ying encountered the enemy more than twenty li southeast of Bogulü. The Turks fielded more than twenty thousand troops, yet Ying remained calm and unafraid. He called out to the assembled officers and soldiers: ‘We receive our stipends from the sovereign; we must serve the sovereign. This is the moment to slay the enemy and repay the nation!’ Having spoken, Ying led the charge himself, with ten thousand men at the forefront. The soldiers, all of them determined to serve the nation, surged forward fearlessly, ready to die without retreat. After a full day and night of bloody slaughter, the riverbeds ran red and corpses rose like mountains. Unable to withstand the assault, the Turks fled in defeat. Ying led his troops in hot pursuit, stormed into Bogulü, and captured more than thirteen thousand Turks…”

Chen Ying now held Bogulü, having seized Qilifu She’s old lair. The positions of host and guest had been reversed, and Chen Ying’s circumstances were far better than before.

“The Turks have suffered grievous losses, while our army has just won a great victory. Qilifu She has fewer than ten thousand horsemen left at his side. Why don’t we press the attack and break the siege of Lingzhou?” Wei Wenzhong said excitedly inside the central command tent.

As the discussion unfolded, the generals began arguing. Some urged them to strike while the iron was hot; others advocated advancing cautiously, step by step. They argued for roughly fifteen minutes.

At last, Chen Ying could bear it no longer. “We can continue debating whether we should fight or not. But suppose we launch an all-out attack and lose the battle that follows—what then? And if we capture Qilifu She, what then? What exactly was the purpose of our expedition?”

As commander of the entire army, Chen Ying was concerned with the larger picture, not the gains and losses of a single battle. The Turks had just suffered a crushing defeat, and it was true that they might be able to exploit the moment. But if their actions triggered an all-out war between the Turks and the Tang, then even if Chen Ying annihilated Qilifu She’s entire army, he would gain no merit. He would instead be punished for his transgression.

If he did not disrupt the overall strategic balance between the Turks and the Tang, then even a temporary advantage would bring him merit without blame. That was the difference. As the saying went, one’s position determined one’s perspective; those outside a position of authority could not be expected to concern themselves with its responsibilities.

Chen Ying did not issue a definite order either to advance or to remain where they were. Instead, he instructed Lu Decao to distribute the captured sheepskins to the soldiers according to the number of heads they had taken. The army adjutant had no objection to that. But when he heard that Chen Ying intended to reward the camp laborers as well, Lu Decao found it almost unbelievable.

The laborers who accompanied the army were merely serving their compulsory duties. This was a form of corvée labor: they received no wages and even had to provide their own provisions.

“Our laborers have suffered greatly since the army set out,” Chen Ying said. “Now that we have won such a great victory, how can we erase their contribution?”

In truth, Chen Ying knew perfectly well that the laborers deserved the greatest share of the credit for this victory.

A man ought to have principles. Chen Ying could not bring himself to seize all the credit from the laborers.

“But there is no precedent for this!”

“No more objections. Just carry it out.” Chen Ying waved his hand. “Give every laborer three sheepskins, ten pounds of mutton, and twenty pounds of horse meat.”

Lu Decao could only bow and accept the order.

When Chen Ying distributed the captured sheepskins among the laborers, the men held the soft, carefully cured skins in their hands and felt as though they were dreaming.

Those who performed corvée service were poor people from the lowest levels of society. No one had ever cared whether they lived or died. Once the provisions they carried ran out, whether they would eat depended entirely on the army commander’s mood. Chen Ying had never allowed their rations to run short along the way, but sheepskins were hardly cheap.

A single sheepskin was worth roughly three hundred coins, and in the depths of winter its price was even higher. Skins of this quality could sell for five hundred coins or more in Chang’an. The combined value of three sheepskins, the mutton, and the horse meat exceeded a thousand coins—more than an ordinary farmer might be able to save after an entire year of hard labor.

The laborers, having received Chen Ying’s generosity, prostrated themselves before him one after another. In their eyes, Chen Ying had become a living Buddha, a benefactor to every household.

A Tang soldier led over a yellow-brown warhorse and personally placed the reins in Lin Chuanfu’s hands. “This horse is yours from now on!”

Lin Chuanfu stared at him in astonishment. “Mine?”

Although warhorses in the Tang were not as extravagantly priced as they would be in the Song, they were still far from cheap. A strong ox could fetch between eight and ten thousand coins in Chang’an, while a warhorse ranged from nine thousand to thirty thousand, depending on its quality. Ordinary people could not possibly afford one—and even if they could, they could not afford to keep it.

“General Chen specifically ordered that a fine horse be awarded to Supervisor Lin. Please sign for it. I must return and report that the order has been carried out.”

…

While Chen Ying was generously rewarding the entire army in Bogulü, Qilifu She stood beneath the walls of Lingzhou, staring at the southern tower with the eyes of a hawk. Tall shields concealed the entrance to the tower, preventing those outside the city from seeing what was happening within.

Qilifu She knew without question that Guo Zihe’s command post was located there. After nearly an hour of fierce fighting, Lingzhou had reached the end of its strength. Its reserves were almost exhausted. At the final moment, even frail women and children had taken up weapons and joined the battle.

If only he had another hour—no, even half an hour—he could have captured Lingzhou. Yet at that very moment, Bogulü had fallen.

Large numbers of routed soldiers poured toward Lingzhou. The Turkic troops who had already reached the walls heard the news that Bogulü had been lost, and their morale collapsed like an avalanche. Qilifu She personally killed dozens of Turks, but he still could not halt the rout. With hatred in his heart, he could only order a retreat.

If Yugu Ni had been there, Qilifu She would have cut off his head without hesitation.

Unfortunately, Yugu Ni had already surrendered to the Tang.

What was he to do now?

Qilifu She sighed. With the loss of Bogulü, he had also lost all his supplies. His entire army had brought no provisions, nor had they even carried tents. In such bitter weather, camping outdoors without tents would mean freezing solid.

With no other choice, Qilifu She ordered the army to withdraw.

It was not that Qilifu She had never considered recapturing Bogulü. But the Tang were skilled at defense. Though the city was damaged, in such freezing weather they needed only hot water to transform it into an impregnable fortress within half an hour. Even if he had three times as many men—not merely fewer than ten thousand horsemen—he still would have had no hope of taking Bogulü back.

Having reached this conclusion, Qilifu She dug his heels into his horse’s flanks and galloped toward Wild Boar Ridge.