Chapter 42: The Hero (5)

Hundreds of veteran soldiers from Longyou who were left on Longju Island felt revived after putting on clean and dry clothes. It truly proved the old saying—people depend on their clothes, horses on their saddles; even the most divine Buddha needs polishing!
“Brother Lin, what are your plans next?” Li Kuo asked softly, following behind Lin Feng.
“Hmm, we should return to Longyou first. After all, that’s our home!” Lin Feng clenched his fists and sighed. It was hard to let go—after all, it was the place where he was born and raised. How could he just abandon it so easily?
“That’s good. If the brothers are willing, I’ll intercede with General Geshu Han to register them as soldiers again!” Li Kuo smiled slightly, broke off a stem of wild mugwort by the road, and began weaving it casually.
“Oh.” Lin Feng replied absentmindedly.
“Of course, if everyone doesn’t want to live another life of constant danger, I won’t force them either!” Lin Feng fell silent for a moment. From the first time he met this young man, he had felt a deep sense of warmth. Over these days, whether it was taking care of their needs or showing genuine concern for their well-being, it had earned him their respect.
Men from Longyou admired true men greatly—if you treat me with sincerity, I’ll return it triplefold. He understood these principles, but the idea of joining the army made him hesitate. Moreover, even if he risked his life to return to the army, how many of his comrades would follow? They must have given up hope by now.
“If everyone wants to retire from military service, I’ll ask the general to provide grain for you. Not for anything else, but so that you can draw your swords to protect your families when the barbarians attack!” Li Kuo spoke earnestly, word by word.
“General, please stop. If you keep talking, I really won’t know what to do!” Lin Feng lowered his head in shame and stopped moving.
Li Kuo shrugged. “Alright, then let’s talk about farming.” The young man changed the subject and said calmly, “Even if we plant the grain now, we can only harvest one season’s worth. The climate in Qinghai is cold, not as favorable as in Qinzhong, but it should suffice.” He frowned slightly. “The problem is fresh water. I wonder if Brother Lin knows where we can get river water?”
“There’s no river water, but General, I know there’s a spring right in the center of Longju Island!” Lin Feng raised his eyebrows and said loudly.
“If so, it’s truly heaven’s blessing for our Tang Dynasty!”

The young man clenched his fists, gazing absentmindedly at the layered green mountains in the distance.
At dusk, more than a dozen fast horses sped along the official road from Chang’an in Western Capital to Shanzhou in Longyou. Breezes swept across the riders’ cheeks, causing sharp pain. It was said that the gentle breezes of late spring warmed people’s hearts—birds flew, grass grew, and swallows fluttered, creating a pleasant atmosphere in the south of the Yangtze River. But in Longxi, even in late spring, the breezes still carried a hint of sharpness.
At the head of the group was a middle-aged man around forty years old. He wore a crimson round-collared robe, his long black hair flowing freely, and he had a slender, well-proportioned figure. His cheeks, as fair as sheep-fat jade, were adorned with a short three-inch beard, giving him an air of a refined scholar. The others were all dressed in light brown-yellow military robes, with bows and swords slung across their backs, their stern presence making passersby step aside quickly.
“Lord Song, we’re almost at the post station. How about we reach there and spend the night?”
A man who appeared to be a military officer bowed to the middle-aged man and spoke loudly.
“Hmm, that’s a good idea. We carry imperial orders and shouldn’t delay further on the road,” the middle-aged man replied with a slight smile after stroking his beard.
“Everyone, push harder! Let’s reach Jiming Post Station before resting!”
The military officer shouted loudly, then whipped his horse sharply as he rode after the official surnamed Song toward the west.
After about two hours of riding, the group finally arrived at Jiming Post Station before dark. Built on an earthen plain just a dozen steps away from the official road, the entire post station was constructed of bluestone, covering over ten acres and looking quite majestic from afar.
“Where’s the post master? Get out quickly! An imperial envoy is arriving—why don’t you come out to greet him right away?”
The military officer, with an irritable temper and a Beijing accent, shouted.
“Ah, ah, I’m coming, I’m coming!”
An official in a blue robe staggered out of the post station, responding hastily. Although he also wore a blue official robe, it failed to convey the dignified presence of the official surnamed Song. His face, twisted in worry, made even the most imposing clothes seem worthless.
“What, do you look down on us or think our rank is too low to stay in your post station? Let me tell you clearly—this is Lord Song Hun, an imperial envoy carrying sacred orders. If you don’t want to get kicked out, be smart!”
The military officer glared fiercely at the post master and warned him sternly.
“What are you saying? Haven’t I received the imperial orders? Even if I’ve neglected someone else, I wouldn’t dare neglect an imperial envoy!”
The post master was extremely cautious, afraid of saying anything wrong that might anger the other party.

“Ah, show mercy when you can. Yuan Huang, stop blaming him.” Song Hun waved his hand, acting as a peacemaker. “Thank you, sir! Thank you so much!” The postmaster nodded repeatedly, much to Song Hun’s amusement. Led by the postmaster, the group arrived at their assigned rooms. During the Kaiyuan and Tianbao periods, the functions of post stations were clearly defined. A complete post station consisted of three parts: the “yi,” the “zhan,” and the “pu.” The “zhan” was an organization responsible for transporting official materials and receiving guests for the government. The “pu” was dedicated to delivering important documents and military intelligence, under the control of local prefectural and county governments. It was used for sending official documents, with all such communications between prefectures and counties being handled through it. Based on their ranks, the postmaster assigned them the most luxurious “Tian” class rooms, while the other soldiers were placed in the lower “Ren” class rooms. In fact, this was already better than what ordinary soldiers usually got. But as the saying goes, when a scholar meets a soldier, reason cannot prevail. The postmaster didn’t want to stir up trouble or offend the soldiers, especially those from the arrogant imperial guards! Once inside, Chen Lihuang closed the door and walked slowly to the desk, saying in a serious tone, “Sir Song, I think that postmaster is up to no good! With so many of us arriving by horse, how can he claim he can’t hear us? With your status, you could easily charge him with disrespecting an imperial envoy!” “Why go to such lengths? The more friends you have, the more paths you have; the more enemies you have, the more obstacles you face. Circumstances change over time—who knows what will happen in the future? Don’t push people too hard; leaving room for them to think is also leaving a way out for yourself,” Song Hun said calmly, stroking his beard. “But…” Chen Lihuang was about to argue when he heard faint footsteps outside. “Who’s there? Come in!” When the person didn’t move, Chen Lihuang rushed to the door and pulled the eavesdropper into the room. To his surprise, it was a Taoist priest. Frowning inwardly, he saw that the priest was dressed in plain cotton clothes and seemed dazed. Upon seeing Chen Lihuang, the priest instinctively stepped back. Clearly impatient, Chen Lihuang placed his sword against the priest’s neck, his gaze filled with terrifying intensity. “I don’t know why you came to eavesdrop on our conversation, but I doubt you want to test the sharpness of my blade. Who sent you? Speak up!”

This Taoist priest was clearly also a minor figure hired by others, unwilling to lose his life for a little money. Under the threat of the military officer before him, he knelt on the ground and cried out loudly, “Please spare my life, sir! A few days ago, I was reading scriptures in a Taoist temple near Jinji Ridge. A distinguished donor came to ask for fortune-telling. After I told him his fortune, he gave me a silver ingot and asked me to eavesdrop on the conversation between two devout believers. I realize my mistake—please spare my life!”
Clearly lacking backbone, the Taoist priest confessed everything under Chen Lihuang’s threat. (Note 3) Chen Lihuang glanced at him disdainfully and snapped, “What is that donor’s name and where does he live?”
The Taoist priest had thought he could escape after answering, but to his surprise, this military officer was not someone to provoke. He burst into tears. “That devout believer doesn’t understand—how could someone in our line of work ask for the donor’s name? I just took his money and did his job. I really know nothing; please let me go.”
“Let him go!”
Chen Lihuang hesitated for a moment. Seeing Song Hun’s words, realizing he couldn’t get any useful information from the Taoist priest, he kicked him again and shouted, “Get out!” The Taoist priest fled the room, rolling and scrambling as if pardoned.
“Why did you let him go?”
Chen Lihuang was furious and puzzled. In his view, this imperial envoy, Lord Song, was far too merciful, while he himself had received a sacred order to escort him all the way to Longyou. Lord Song’s gentle nature really drove him crazy.
Song Hun, however, didn’t overthink it. He cleared his throat lightly and smiled, “I think Yuan Huang is overthinking it. We’ve been traveling lightly with few companions. People think I’m just an insignificant figure—who would pay attention to me? I think that Taoist priest picked the wrong person and just blabbed nonsense after being scared by you.”
He paused and added, “Besides, have you forgotten why we’re here? The situation in Longyou is critical—this battle cannot be delayed any longer.”

Note 1: Song Hun was a high-ranking official during the Tang Dynasty. He was from Nanhe, Xingzhou (now part of Hebei Province) and the fourth son of Song Jing, a famous chancellor of the Tang Dynasty. He was on good terms with Li Linfu, who recommended him as a Censor-in-Chief. Later, he was exiled to Lingnan due to corruption charges. After being pardoned, he committed further illegal acts and was exiled again. During the reign of Emperor Daizong, he was appointed as an advisor to the crown prince but never took up the position; he died in Jiangling.

Note 2: Post stations: In ancient times, post stations were places where messengers delivering imperial documents and military intelligence, as well as traveling officials, could stay, eat, sleep, and change horses. During the Sui and Tang dynasties, post stations developed to an unprecedented extent, and the system was largely perfected by then. They were mainly divided into water post stations and land post stations. There were 260 water post stations and 1,297 land post stations across the country. Land post stations were classified into six grades: the first-grade stations had 20 station workers, the second-grade stations had 15, with fewer workers for lower grades, down to two to three workers for the sixth-grade stations. Water post stations were also divided into three grades based on the volume of work: those with heavy workloads had 12 workers, those with moderate workloads had 9, and those with light workloads had 6.

Note 3: Shanxin: A term used in Taoism to refer to ordinary laypeople. Shizhu: Similar to the term used in Buddhism, it refers mainly to laypeople who have given donations.