The commotion in the Council Hall couldn’t disturb the rear courtyard. After seeing off the hurried Zhu Wenzheng, Ma Xiuying set up a small table with brush, ink, paper, and inkstone to begin teaching their little child how to read.
After Zhu Yuanzhang captured Chuzhou, many soldiers, like him, brought their families to live with them. Old Zhu felt Haozhou wasn’t safe—Zhao Junyong was no good man, and Commander Guo couldn’t defeat him. He couldn’t bear to leave his wife in Haozhou to suffer mistreatment.
Since their leader brought his family along, his trusted followers naturally followed suit. Their leader possessed extraordinary abilities, so learning from him could only bring benefits.
The outside world was chaotic, and common people asked for little. Having enough to eat and wear, plus a place to live, was already the best life one could hope for.
Soldiers were ordinary people too. With their families by their side, coming home at night to see their wives and children brought them greater joy than anything else.
With the whole household in Chuzhou, their sense of belonging here grew stronger.
Zhu Wenzheng stayed by Old Zhu’s side running errands. Zhu Wenzhong and Mu Ying were still too young to dash about in the army. After training, they had to dutifully attend cultural lessons with other children their age.
Their father had never received a proper education himself, but that didn’t stop him from valuing his children’s schooling. After arriving in Chuzhou, he immediately gathered local scholars around him.
Those willing to serve as officials under him could do so. If they weren’t interested in offering counsel, that was fine too—they could open schools and become teachers.
But if they refused to do this or that, there was nothing to be done.
Zhu Yuanzhang now considered himself a cultured and reasonable gentleman. If scholars were unwilling to work for him, he couldn’t force them. After all, only voluntary work yielded good results. Forcing people to do what they didn’t want might leave them physically present but mentally elsewhere.
In short, Mu Ying and Zhu Wenzhong wouldn’t return until both their military training and cultural lessons were finished.
In a few more years, Mu Qing would also join his brothers swimming in the sea of learning, but not yet. He was still too young and had to stay home for his mother’s personal enlightenment education.
He felt like he was attending an ancient version of early childhood kindergarten at home, though his age was slightly beyond the typical early education range.
The timing happened to work out. Not long ago, Ma Xiuying discovered she was pregnant and could no longer run around helping Zhu Yuanzhang with various tasks. This being her first pregnancy and only recently confirmed, Old Zhu was extremely nervous, terrified something might go wrong.
It wasn’t just Zhu Yuanzhang who was anxious—Ma Xiuying felt nervous too.
She originally thought her health was fine—she wasn’t some delicate lady who’d pant after walking a few steps. Give her a broadsword and she’d dare charge into battle. But everyone said the first few months of pregnancy were most dangerous for women, so she didn’t dare be too reckless, having to restrain herself and avoid exhaustion.
Ma Xiuying opened the Thousand Character Classic, which they’d already half completed. She first reviewed whether he remembered yesterday’s lesson before continuing with new material.
Their little child was very clever, perhaps because of his young age. With proper teaching, he could settle down to study, unlike those older boys who’d grown wild from running free normally. Making them pick up brushes to write was like torture—if they could find excuses to avoid it, they’d never come voluntarily.
She hoped the child she was carrying wouldn’t learn from those older ones, otherwise she’d truly have trouble managing them.
Ma Xiuying pointed to yesterday’s lesson lines, looking at the blinking, well-behaved child as she asked, “Wenqing, why aren’t you reciting? Have you forgotten everything?”
Mu Qing shook his head like a rattle-drum, solemnly picked up his brush to dip in ink, then wrote several large, crooked characters: “C-A-N-‘T T-A-L-K!”
Ma Xiuying had never seen an exclamation mark before, but the symbol was so expressive that even without prior exposure, she could grasp the child’s meaning.
Alright, alright. A child’s thoughts differ from an adult’s—he needs to come around on his own.
This Old Zhu, really. Who knows what he said to the child to frighten him so?
Torn between laughter and exasperation, Ma Xiuying watched the child earnestly practicing his “Mouth-Shut Zen” and didn’t force him to speak. “How about Mother recites a line, and Wenqing writes it down?”
Mu Qing’s eyes lit up, and he immediately straightened up to begin dictation.
As long as he didn’t have to speak, everything else was fine.
So what if his handwriting was messy? He was just a child who’d recently begun his education—being able to hold a brush was already quite an achievement. And he was writing complex characters where missing a stroke could easily ruin them—one couldn’t demand too much.
While the mother and son shared a warm moment in the rear courtyard, the atmosphere in the front hall was tense.
Li Shanchang’s abilities weren’t just empty boasts—scholars in these times typically had excellent memories, and rote memorization was a fundamental skill for them. The light screen hadn’t appeared for long, and the heavenly voice had spoken in a clear, organized manner. The content he’d compiled wasn’t word-for-word perfect, but it was nearly so.
While listening, he’d focused on recording and hadn’t had time to ponder much. Only after organizing the material did he realize how startling it was.
If what the heavenly voice said was true, this was truly heaven-sent assistance.
Once the scouts returned with confirmation that the heavenly voice appeared only to them, even if it had mentioned Liu Futong as the one who drove the Mongols out of the Central Plains, their General Zhu would dare to compete for that destiny.
The future remained uncertain—no one could predict how things would ultimately unfold.
Of course, this depended on the heavenly voice’s words being true and inaccessible elsewhere.
Old Li was already scheming how to seize Liu Futong’s imperial fortune, but Old Zhu remained cautious. He wasn’t as fanciful as Li Shanchang—his immediate concern was surviving the impending mortal crisis.
A mortal crisis indeed—no exaggeration whatsoever.
Tuotuo had already divided his forces to attack Liuhe, Yancheng, Xinghua, and other regions. Merely having the Goryeo troops halt their siege outside Liuhe didn’t guarantee safety. Once Tuotuo eliminated Zhang Shicheng and personally led his main forces southwest, the rebel army in Chuzhou would face certain annihilation.
Zhu Yuanzhang repeatedly reviewed the heavenly voice’s account of the Gaoyou battle in the fourteenth year of the Zhengzheng era. After considerable contemplation, he finally reached a decision. “Old Tang, you and Wenzheng visit the Goryeo army camp. Tell them the people of Chuzhou, seeing their hardships, wish to provide wine and meat to reward the troops.”
Tang He accepted the order gravely and left with Zhu Wenzheng—who appeared dazed and scarcely believed he was being included—to muster soldiers and prepare the provisions.
Xu Da watched Zhu Wenzheng’s practically floating gait with concern. “Brother, are you sure about sending Wenzheng along like this?”
He didn’t want to remain in the city daily, locked in mental battles with Commander Guo’s men—he wanted to go outside the walls too.
Old Xu’s thoughts were written plainly on his face, making his schemes obvious at a glance.
Zhu Yuanzhang patted his shoulder and spoke with earnest gravity. “Old Xu, matters concerning Commander Guo are crucial. Once we overcome this crisis, we’ll go capture another city.”
These past days had brought clarity: Commander Guo had indeed shown him kindness, and he couldn’t abandon him in trouble. Yet perhaps their birth signs were fundamentally incompatible—whenever they gathered, misfortune seemed to follow.
If the court had not dispatched Tuotuo to quell the rebellion, he would have already devised a plan to leave Chuzhou and seek opportunities elsewhere.
Commander Guo lacked grand ambitions. After arriving in Chuzhou, he found it exceptionally suitable—surrounded by mountains that made it easy to defend but difficult to attack. Ouyang Xiu of the Song Dynasty had even written, “Surrounding Chuzhou are all mountains,” making it an ideal place for them to reign as local despots. Compared to Chuzhou, Haozhou was nothing.
The natural defenses of Chuzhou brought both advantages and disadvantages to its inhabitants.
The advantage was that enemies would struggle to capture Chuzhou, while the disadvantage was that those inside the city would find it equally difficult to leave.
Zhu Yuanzhang was a shrewd man, and Li Shanchang, who accompanied him, was equally resourceful. When they captured Chuzhou, they knew they would not stay there for long—otherwise, they would not have so readily ceded the city to Guo Zixing.
Soldiers could be recruited again, and cities could be retaken. Though Commander Guo could strip Zhu Yuanzhang of his military authority, he could not take away his talent for leading troops.
His next target was Hezhou.
But now, the next target no longer mattered. What mattered was overcoming the immediate crisis.
Tuotuo embarked on this campaign with unwavering determination to win. The court had assembled a million-strong army, and in the face of such a force, the rebel armies were mere trivialities. Tuotuo moved with the leisurely confidence of a cat toying with a mouse, even taking a detour to Shandong to pay homage to Confucius along the way.
The court was resolute in suppressing the rebellion, and the Goryeo people contributed significantly, having been deployed as vanguards from the start.
The government troops held overwhelming advantages in quelling the unrest. Zhang Shicheng repeatedly attempted to break through the siege but failed each time. Moreover, Tuotuo had declared that after capturing Gaoyou, he would slaughter every living thing in the city, leaving not even a chicken or dog alive. With no other choice, Old Zhang gritted his teeth and defended the city to the death.
It was well-known that the Goryeo soldiers excelled in favorable battles. Close combat was not their forte; they were renowned for their archery skills, making them perfectly suited for tasks like launching surprise arrows and providing cover.
Some Goryeo soldiers had arrived reluctantly, but upon witnessing the government troops’ successive victories on the battlefield, they quickly changed their minds and fought fervently during the siege.
There were many Goryeo people living in Dadu. Even the King of Goryeo had to serve as a guard for the Great Yuan emperor in Dadu before ascending the throne. Only with the Great Yuan emperor’s permission could he return to Goryeo to claim the throne; otherwise, his reign would be considered illegitimate.
A stint in Dadu served as a golden credential for Goryeo people, paving the way for a promising future upon their return to Goryeo. Military achievements, in particular, could elevate their status tremendously.
All Goryeo troops were eager to claim the honor of being the first to breach the city walls, fighting with reckless abandon during the assault.
Tuotuo’s army was not composed solely of Mongols and Goryeo people; it also included troops from various other ethnic groups. Impressed by the Goryeo soldiers’ bravery, Tuotuo specifically placed a unit of the Mao Hulu Army under their command.
The Mao Hulu Army consisted of volunteer soldiers from the Wanhu garrisons in Nanyang and Dengzhou. They were known for crafting quivers from animal hides that resembled gourds, hence their name. These soldiers were Han Chinese.
Under the cover provided by the Goryeo troops, the Mao Hulu Army soldiers had already captured the outer city of Gaoyou. With the outer walls breached, the Goryeo soldiers in the rear eagerly rushed forward to join the assault on the inner city.
If the inner city fell, the credit for the first breakthrough would be theirs.
However, just as they scaled the city walls, the signal to retreat sounded from below.
The Goryeo and Mao Hulu troops were bewildered by the order to withdraw. They were on the verge of breaking into Gaoyou—why retreat now?
Yet military orders were absolute. Whether they wanted to or not, they had no choice but to withdraw.
The Goryeo army commander reluctantly withdrew from Gaoyou City, only to learn upon returning that the withdrawal order hadn’t come from Chancellor Tuotuo. Instead, someone in the army, jealous of their achievement in taking the lead, had deliberately issued the command.
The Mongolian who gave the withdrawal order even argued self-righteously, claiming that attacking the city without the Chancellor’s permission violated military orders. He said they were already fortunate not to be punished and that persisting would bring them no good.
The Goryeo commander was furious. Playing such petty tricks in front of Koreans was like showing off one’s skill with an axe in front of Lu Ban—didn’t they know how terrifying political struggles in Goryeo could be?
How could they tolerate this?
Ignoring the Mongolian general’s excuses, the Goryeo commander went straight to Tuotuo to complain.
In his foul mood, he had no patience for roundabout tactics and demanded the Chancellor judge right and wrong directly.
Tuotuo knew the Mongols were in the wrong but could only gloss over the matter, urging them to prioritize the bigger picture and not dwell on it.
With the Chancellor’s word given, the Goryeo commander had no choice but to swallow his discontent.
The next day, the Goryeo army and the Mao Hulu Army regrouped and resumed their attack on Gaoyou. However, by then, Zhang Shicheng had calmed down from the initial panic of the city being breached.
Old Zhang was quick-witted and knew that if government troops entered the city, everyone inside would die. So he mobilized all the citizens to urgently repair the city walls overnight—defending by day and repairing by night—managing to hold off subsequent assaults.
War is like this: the first assault is driven by full momentum, the second wanes, and the third exhausts itself. After repeated failed attacks, the government troops lost their determination to take the city at any cost and could only wait for the city to run out of supplies before continuing their offensive.
Old Zhu curled his lips. It wasn’t just the Goryeo troops who were seething—he’d feel just as frustrated in their place.
Keep fighting, keep fighting. The more chaotic the enemy, the better their chances of survival. It’d be best if the government troops ended up fighting each other bloody.