005 The Lone General

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Wang Lanping arrived at the Huaining County Office accompanied by two guards. By this time, nearly everyone in the city recognized him, including the clerks, who bowed respectfully as soon as they saw him. After Wang Lanping explained his purpose, a clerk escorted him directly to the duty room where the county magistrate, Kong Rusong, was on duty.

Inside the duty room, the magistrate, well past forty, was engrossed in reviewing various files. Upon seeing the scholar-official, he quickly rose to greet him.

“Scholar-official, what brings you here? Please come, the hall is ready with tea.”

Wang Lanping had grown up in Huaining City and had heard much about Magistrate Kong’s reputation. Known as an upright and diligent official, although he had not achieved great feats, at least he was uncorrupted—a rare quality.

“No need, Magistrate Kong. It’s nothing major. Somehow, my home suddenly has a lot of extra belongings. I wanted to trouble you to investigate if someone mistakenly left them here so they can be reclaimed. My humble abode is too small to hold so many things. Magistrate, this shouldn’t be too difficult, right?”

Kong Rusong was well aware of the matter. When news of the martial scholar reached Huaining, local gentry had already approached him about repairing Wang’s home and collecting donations from the wealthy townsfolk to build a proper residence. It was customary to honor a local hero this way. However, Kong refused, believing that using public donations to build Wang’s house would tarnish the scholar’s honor and invite gossip. If anything were to be done, it should be handled by the county office. As long as the scholar lived humbly within his jurisdiction, residing in a modest thatched cottage, it maintained dignity not only for himself but also for the entire community. Unfortunately, with ongoing natural disasters and rampant banditry, the county’s finances were strained, still owing a large sum to the Ministry of Revenue.

After much thought, Kong devised a plan. He scrimped and saved several months of his own salary, finally gathering seven or eight taels of silver. On the day the scholar returned, this money was put to use.

He secretly hired dozens of workers. While the entire city was distracted by festivities at the city gate, they quietly renovated Wang’s house. Hearing it was for the scholar, the workers volunteered their labor without pay. Within two hours, the job was done seamlessly and anonymously.

Kong’s intent was to prevent anyone from exploiting the situation for personal gain. But as the workers moved in, some opportunists took notice. Soon, all the county officials were informed that the magistrate was already currying favor with the scholar, which was unacceptable. Consequently, Wang’s courtyard became a hub for gift deliveries.

Kong did not expect the scholar to come personally to have the gifts returned. Perhaps he was a clean official, at least less corrupt than General Liu Zeqing. But such blatant gift-giving—who would dare accept it?

“This matter will be handled by the county,” Kong said. “Such customs disgrace the scholar’s integrity.”

“Very well, thank you. Oh, by the way, I wanted to ask you about someone,” Wang Lanping said. He wished to inquire about Liu Zeqing since they would soon work together. He wanted to gauge the man’s character through others. Though Wang was familiar with the area, ordinary folk knew little about the Ming military.

Kong was taken aback. “The general? What do you want to know?”

Others might be ignorant, but Kong had served in Huaining for seven years. Because he refused to curry favor, he might die an obscure county magistrate. He knew Liu Zeqing’s affairs well but was unfamiliar with Wang’s background. In officialdom, one could remain uncorrupted but must not cause trouble; at least this way one could maintain personal integrity.

Wang spoke casually, “Just checking around. We’re new here, many things are unknown. It’s all a blur.”

Kong had long wanted to report Liu Zeqing but, as a minor official out of favor, he dared not act. Liu was also a future colleague of Wang’s in the Anqing garrison. It was better not to provoke trouble.

Liu Zeqing was a notorious general in the Ming army, famed for fleeing battles at the sight of rebel forces like Li Zicheng and Zhang Xianzhong. Yet he was adept at bullying civilians. Could he not defeat the legendary Guan Yu and Zhang Fei? This man almost attacked Ming cities for money. The Ministry of War had heard rumors but hesitated to act.

This largely stemmed from the Ming military system of Wei and Suo. A Wei consisted of five Suo, each with a thousand men. Soldiers served as both military and civilian workers. The unique hereditary military household system, however, was fatal: officers and soldiers were bound to military service for life. Each military household received land from the court, seemingly a benefit.

But over generations, greed prevailed. Officers seized lands from soldiers, and commanders became the largest landlords. Oppressed soldiers fled, leaving many garrisons with only a fraction of their original strength, sometimes just dozens instead of thousands. Such forces had little combat capability.

With the decline of the Wei units, the court tacitly allowed local militias, like Qi Jiguang’s army and the Liaodong Western Army, to form. They fought better but owed allegiance to whoever recruited them. Changing commanders caused chaos. Liu Zeqing rose through such means.

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At first, Liu performed well, winning several battles. But pride and indulgence soon surfaced. The Ming Dynasty had been at war for over a decade across all fronts. He decided it was better to conserve strength than keep fighting.

Later, the Anqing garrison was nominally thirty thousand strong but never reached twenty thousand. Yet the court still paid full salaries for thirty thousand soldiers for years. Still unsatisfied, Liu sold off three thousand warhorses and dismissed many troops. In recent years, the court had little time to manage Jiangnan; the north and southwest were in chaos.

Now Liu was puzzled. The emperor had appointed a martial scholar as deputy general of Anqing’s cavalry—a difficult position. The garrison had neither horses nor cattle. How could Liu reconcile this? Anqing had not fought in years; he lacked grounds to claim battle losses. Last year, he still received full pay for thirty thousand troops. It was a disaster. Thus, Liu eagerly sought a private talk with Wang Lanping. If necessary, he wished Wang to delay his assumption of command, buying time to cobble together a makeshift cavalry force.

Wang gave up trying to extract information from Kong but sensed something off in the magistrate’s furtive eyes. The old man clearly wanted to say more but held back.

As Wang turned to leave, he saw Liu Zeqing pacing the steps outside the county office, dressed in plain clothes.

“Well, scholar-official, what a coincidence,” Liu feigned surprise.

Wang, genuinely surprised, said, “General Liu, I heard you went to inspect military affairs. Why are you here? Do you have troops stationed at the county office?”

Liu laughed heartily. “I’m the Anqing general. Maintaining peace in Huaining is also my responsibility.”

Wang nodded politely. After all, they would soon serve on the same battlefield. “General, you work hard. Protecting the vast Anqing prefecture with your troops, you are truly its guardian. After I assume command, your burden will ease somewhat.”

Liu smiled. “Serving the nation isn’t hardship. Scholar-official, instead of formal invitations, this is a chance meeting. I’m hosting a banquet at a nearby tavern for some old comrades. Join us, get acquainted.”

Wang hesitated. Why did Liu repeatedly seek private talks? What did his old comrades have to do with him? The court was rife with factional strife, and even the army was divided into cliques. Nothing good came of such gatherings. He must not fall into their trap. Without troops or authority yet, he decided to wait until he officially took office.

“Apologies, I have urgent matters. We’ll have plenty of chances in the future. Not now,” Wang declined.

“Then, may I ask when you plan to take command? I’d like to arrange introductions.”

Wang planned to report in three days, though the garrison was over two hundred miles away. After considering, he said, “Five days later.”

Hearing this, Liu groaned. “Five days? I’m no Monkey King; where would I find thousands of cavalry in that time? I need at least half a month.”

“Why rush, scholar-official? You’ve just returned home. Stay a few days longer with your family. Once you’re in the camp, returning home won’t be easy.”

“Oh? General Liu, didn’t you just come to Huaining as well?”

“Ah, scholar-official, you have a sense of humor. How about this: after I finish inventorying the cavalry and supplies, you assume command. No rush. It’ll prevent confusion. How about a month from now?”

Wang, having traveled far, immediately grew suspicious. Liu’s suggestion seemed like a cover-up. Inventorying horses was the deputy general’s duty. Something was amiss in the camp.

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“General Liu, I recall the emperor ordered me to assume command of the Anqing cavalry camp the day after tomorrow. Moreover, I hear the deputy general position has been vacant for some time. The troops may be lax in training. Delaying risks the camp’s affairs. I would be at fault before the emperor. I shall report first thing the day after tomorrow and obey the imperial decree.”

Liu’s face changed instantly. “What? The day after tomorrow? Huaining is over two hundred miles from the garrison. Can you make it in time?”

“No need to worry, general. I’ll depart tonight,” Wang said, staring into Liu’s uneasy eyes. The more he looked, the more he sensed Liu was hiding something.

Liu cursed himself for speaking too much. He had just said five days, now it was suddenly the day after tomorrow. Things were about to unravel.

Seeing no alternative, Liu gave a strange smile, clasped his hands, and turned to leave. Wang said he would depart tonight; Liu had to beat him back to the camp. If persuasion failed, he would resort to force; cutting off resources was akin to killing one’s own.

Wang muttered, watching Liu’s retreating figure, “What’s going on here?”

“I know,” a voice said behind him.

Wang turned to see Magistrate Kong.

“What do you know?” Wang asked, hoping the magistrate held some insight.

“I know, general, you are heading for great danger.”

“What? What do you mean?” Wang was alarmed.

“Scholar-official, I overheard your conversation with General Liu. If you arrive at the garrison the day after tomorrow, the Ming Dynasty will lose a rare talent.”

Wang was increasingly confused. “What exactly are you saying?”

“Please follow me to the rear office for a talk.”

Kong, an old insider, read the signs well. Liu Zeqing was a menace who had to be removed. Since the two seemed strangers, Kong had no reservations. Wang was young and fearless; if anyone could revive the Anqing garrison’s decline, it was him.