Chapter 7: I Was Born a General

For the caravan to be transporting so many horses was indeed a boon for Zhang Chi—it gave him the perfect opportunity to learn how to ride. Naturally, Zhang Chi was not about to let such a chance slip by; so, from the moment they set out the following day, he spent the journey pestering Santong to teach him horsemanship.

If, in modern times, computer skills, English, and driving are the three essential abilities one must master, then in this era, there are also three skills indispensable to any man of distinction: drinking, refined conversation, and, of course, riding. Without these, one could hardly be called a true gentleman.

Drinking was no challenge at all for Zhang Chi, and as for engaging in witty banter—he had been the most eloquent talker at any drinking table before he found himself in this world. Horse riding, however, was another matter entirely. Having grown up in the city, he had never had the chance to even approach a horse, let alone ride one.

Santong held the reins, stroking the horse’s mane gently as he instructed Zhang Chi, “Remember to relax when you ride. Don’t hold the reins too tightly. Let your body rise and fall with the rhythm of the horse, and the animal will behave itself.”

Zhang Chi watched the care with which Santong caressed the horse, so gentle he might have been stroking a woman’s body, full of affection and tenderness. In truth, Santong had spent his life as an outlaw along the border between the Qin and Jin states, and had been lucky just to survive—he’d had little opportunity to know women. Had Zhang Chi not known this, he might have assumed Santong was quite the connoisseur.

“I understand—I need to be gentle, just as one would with a woman, isn’t that right?” Zhang Chi quipped.

Santong grinned, but his face flushed a deep red—on his dark skin, the flush looked almost like liver soaked in blood.

“It seems, young master, you must be quite the ladies’ man,” came a voice from behind. Zhang Chi turned to see Du Ximing, the captain of the guards.

“Indeed, handling a horse is much like handling a woman,” Du Ximing continued with a knowing look. “A skilled rider can campaign for days on end without tiring himself or his steed. By moving in harmony with the horse’s motion, he and his mount can travel a hundred miles without breaking a sweat. But if you don’t understand this art, if you grip too tight and tense up, you’ll be exhausted after only a few miles—both man and horse will be spent, unfit for battle.”

Zhang Chi was genuinely impressed. So this is the real ladies’ man, he thought to himself. “Captain Du, you are absolutely right. As the saying goes, ‘Rigidity cannot endure.’ If one is too forceful, it’s impossible to last.”

Du Ximing cupped his hands to Zhang Chi, an expression of mutual understanding passing between them.

Only Santong stood there dumbfounded, as if he were hearing a foreign language. How could he have imagined the two would manage to make a conversation about horses so indecent?

Zhang Chi found Santong’s bewildered look amusing. In this era, there was no such thing as sex education, nor were there any indecent films to watch. Santong had never even touched a woman, so his ignorance was only natural. Zhang Chi clapped him on the shoulder and said, “When you meet the woman you truly like one day, you’ll understand. The more nervous and forceful you are, the worse things go. Only when you relax and let things flow naturally will you find success.”

Praying the horse wouldn’t kick him, Zhang Chi took the reins and mounted decisively. He grasped the reins with a relaxed air, bearing himself like a seasoned rider. Du Ximing remarked, “Young master, you are truly remarkable—to be so at ease on your first ride.”

Zhang Chi was delighted at how easily he’d mounted. He thought, just like with a woman, the hardest part is getting on; after that, the rest should come easily.

Sitting upright, he let the horse walk at a slow pace, feeling the gentle rise and fall of its gait. It was a pleasant, leisurely sensation. He recalled the image of generals spurring their horses and, in a fit of inspiration, snapped the whip with a crisp “crack” across the horse’s haunches.

But a horse is not a woman. As soon as it began to gallop, Zhang Chi was startled; the wind roared past his ears, and the jolting of the saddle intensified, making his backside ache. Terrified, all his earlier advice about relaxing vanished from his mind. He clamped his legs tightly around the horse’s belly, desperate not to fall off.

Fortunately, Santong had chosen a docile horse for him, one that wasn’t too fast. Even so, Zhang Chi was barely managing to keep his balance, and now faced the problem of how to stop. Just then, a carriage appeared from the side. Zhang Chi didn’t know how to halt or steer, and in his panic, he yanked the reins back hard. The horse, instead of stopping, threw its head down sharply. Zhang Chi lost his balance and tumbled straight off the saddle.

Luckily, the horse hadn’t been running fast, but even so, Zhang Chi ended up with a mouthful of dust.

The curtain of the carriage was drawn aside. Seated inside were Huan Heng and Madam Chen.

“So it’s this penniless scholar again—how laughable, he can’t even ride a horse,” Madam Chen sneered.

Having delivered her scorn, she let the curtain fall before Zhang Chi had a chance to retort. The driver wheeled the carriage away, leaving him in the dust.

“Are you hurt, brother?” Santong and Du Ximing hurried over to help Zhang Chi up. Santong asked with concern.

Zhang Chi had no intention of stooping to argue with such a woman. Brushing the dust from his clothes, he smiled reassuringly at Santong. Watching Huan Heng and Madam Chen’s carriage roll away, he asked Du Ximing, “Why isn’t Young Master Huan transporting any goods on this trip?”

Trade between north and south brought enormous profits, mostly monopolized by the great clans. The Wang family’s Dachang Trading Company had been operating for several years, and with Wang Guobao, the Left Deputy Director in the imperial court, pulling the strings, they were able to transport thousands of warhorses at a time. Other great families had their own agents for the north-south trade, too. Huan Heng, representing the Huan clan of Jingzhou, was not moving any northern goods and was instead traveling empty-handed with the caravan back to Jiankang—an odd thing indeed.

“It’s a long story,” Du Ximing replied. “Huan Heng is no ordinary merchant. The Huan clan’s power is far greater than you might imagine. I hear you inadvertently offended him at the banquet the other day. With those sharp eyes and narrow brows, you can tell he’s a petty, vengeful man. You’d best be careful when dealing with him in future.”

“Thank you for the warning, Captain Du. I’m new to the south and know little of the great families here. Would you mind explaining things more fully?”

“The aristocracy in the south is a tangled web,” Du Ximing sighed. “Each clan commands its own armies—the waters run deep. That Huan Heng is a cousin of Huan Xuan. Huan Xuan inherited the dukedom of Nan County at the age of five, and for years has been building his strength, harboring ambitions beyond that of a mere subject. These days, it’s not just the barbarians we fight—clan wars are frequent, and every great house holds its own troops. How could they do without horses? I suspect Huan Heng’s real purpose on this trip is to get his hands on our thousands of warhorses.”

Ever since encountering the wandering priest outside Huainan’s southern gate, Santong had been worried about danger on the road. Hearing Du Ximing’s words now, he exclaimed, “Shouldn’t we warn Miss Wang so she can prepare?”

Du Ximing shook his head with a smile. “If I can see it, you can be sure Miss Wang already knows.”

“But if the Huan clan is so powerful, why doesn’t he just buy horses from the barbarians himself? Why covet the Wang family’s shipment?” Zhang Chi was puzzled.

“They’ve been buying, of course. But some things can’t be bought with money alone. Why would the barbarians sell us so many warhorses, knowing we’d use them against them in battle? Every year, they strictly limit the numbers—at most, perhaps a thousand change hands annually.”

“Then how did Miss Wang manage to buy several thousand at once?”

“She is no ordinary woman,” Du Ximing said, his voice full of admiration. “Years ago, she established her own north-south horse trading route. I have always been proud and untamed, a veteran of many battles, never one to submit to others. But after meeting Miss Wang, I saw her foresight is unmatched—her predictions are always accurate, her talent fit to aid a nation. If only she were not born a woman. Still, even so, I am willing to serve her.”

“From what you say, Captain Du, you must have been a military man before. Why agree to serve as a mere caravan guard?”

Du Ximing smiled faintly. “It’s a long story—I was once a General of the Gate Guards.”

“There’s more to it than I can explain now,” he added with a shake of his head.

“Miss Wang holds you in high regard, young master. May I ask—are you a northern noble who crossed south?” Du Ximing seemed unwilling to linger on his own past, and changed the subject.

When the barbarian hordes ravaged the north, most of the nobility fled south in what history called the ‘Migration of Robes and Caps.’ A few clans, however, remained behind, suffering as conquered subjects, their numbers and status diminished. After the Battle of Feishui, many northern nobles escaped eastward, hence Du Ximing’s question.

“I am no noble, merely a poor scholar. Captain Du, you give me too much credit,” Zhang Chi replied honestly.

“Better not to be one—I despise the nobility,” Du Ximing said with feeling, sensing a kindred spirit. “With Miss Wang’s favor, your rise is only a matter of time.”

“But even if we commoners rise to high rank, we still have to endure their oppression,” he added bitterly.

Zhang Chi knew the truth of it. In this era, there was no imperial examination—officials were chosen through the Nine-Rank System, a politics of noble families. For someone of humble origin to succeed, one had to rely on the aristocracy. Zhang Chi smiled wryly, guessing Du Ximing had probably suffered oppression by the noble families in the army, which had stifled his ambitions.

But to be honest, politics had never appealed to Zhang Chi. Throughout history, politics was the deepest pit, swallowing up heroes and beauties alike, leaving not even their bones behind. What he longed for was to roam the mountains and rivers, to drink and converse with friends, to meet distinguished men. No other era in Chinese history had men of such transcendent spirit as those of Wei and Jin—their legendary elegance was no idle boast.

“Many of the horses have collapsed from exhaustion!” Manager Li came running over, shouting from a distance. “Captain Du, please come quickly—what should we do?”

“We haven’t traveled far today. How could the horses suddenly collapse?” Du Ximing was puzzled. “A healthy horse can hardly be run to death so easily. Take me to see them.”

Manager Li led them through the ranks to where the fallen horses had been gathered—over a hundred in all. Santong, who knew a thing or two about horses, walked up to one, examined it carefully, then crouched to feel its belly before declaring, “It’s diarrhea. They’ve been weakened by it, that’s why they collapsed.”

Everyone looked closely at the horses’ droppings—it was just as Santong said. For over a hundred warhorses to suffer diarrhea at the same time was highly unusual. Manager Li was already in a panic. He looked at Du Ximing and said, “Captain Du, could this be a plague among the horses? What should we do?”

These horses had come from the north, where wars were frequent and the dead often left unburied, their corpses rotting in the fields, making plague common. That was why Manager Li was so alarmed.

“In my opinion, there’s no sign of illness—this isn’t a disease,” Santong said.

“If it’s not disease, then someone must have tampered with their feed,” Du Ximing said suddenly. “If someone has done this, I fear…”

He broke off abruptly.

“Fear what?” Manager Li pressed.

“If there are thieves planning to steal the horses, they will strike within days.”

“Perhaps you’re overthinking it,” Manager Li protested. “These horses are being taken to Jiankang for the army. Every county along the way has been notified. We have five hundred guards. We travel the official roads. If there’s trouble, we only need to send someone with Miss Wang’s token to the nearest county for reinforcements. Dachang Trading Company has traveled this route hundreds of times this year alone. Under the bright sky, who would dare rob us?”

Only now did Zhang Chi realize just how powerful Miss Wang was—she could even mobilize troops from the counties. Truly, the Wang family’s influence at court was immense.