The Council Hall was crowded, and during meals, people nearly came to blows fighting over dishes.
Zhu Yuanzhang massaged his forehead. After eating, he waved his hand to dismiss everyone else, keeping only Old Li with him. While shooing them away, he reminded them to keep their mouths shut.
Li Shanchang stroked his beard hesitantly. “What about Commander Guo…”
Old Zhu glanced at him lightly. “Do you really think Commander Guo doesn’t know you come here every day?”
Guo Zixing kept a close watch on them, especially after Zhu Yuanzhang repelled the Goryeo Army attacking Luhe. He refused to let his guard down for even a moment. On the surface, Old Li had been transferred to the Grand Commander’s Mansion, but in reality, he found excuses to slip away every few days. Only a blind man wouldn’t notice.
Commander Guo knew better than to push people too far. He originally had several scholars around him, but after the others were transferred away, they never reappeared before him. Only Old Li stubbornly insisted on following Zhu Yuanzhang. Commander Guo had no choice but to turn a blind eye.
Li Shanchang turned away awkwardly. He just wanted to confirm.
Xu Da patted Old Li’s shoulder, straightened his back, and strode out. The others followed suit, each giving Old Li a couple of pats on the shoulder before leaving.
Li Shanchang: ???
Are you all out of your minds?
Xu Da and the others returned to the Military Camp to handle military affairs. Being well-fed made all the difference—when hungry, they grew more anxious the more they thought, but now, not only were they calm, they even looked forward to their big brother leading them to the peak of life.
Liu Futong came from a wealthy family, while their big brother was born a tenant farmer. Comparing their achievements in capturing imperial cities, their big brother was clearly more capable.
Having a small territory was no big deal—everyone started small. They weren’t insecure, and they hoped their big brother wouldn’t be either.
Losing your head just leaves a bowl-sized scar—there’s no hurdle in this world that can’t be overcome. With brothers like them, if the worst came to pass, they’d reunite as brothers eighteen years later.
Zhu Yuanzhang had no idea his brothers were already contemplating such matters. If he knew, he’d have kicked them all to the ground.
Only Old Zhu and Old Li remained in the Council Hall. Two clever minds together had no reservations, and in a short while, they had already considered using Liu Futong as a shield to develop covertly.
They were in the south, Liu Futong in the north. The imperial court, though weakened, was still formidable. With Liu Futong tying down the main imperial forces in the north, their own pressure would lessen.
Liu Futong would drive the Mongols out of the Central Plains over a decade later—they had ample time to build their strength.
Of course, this was contingent on overcoming their immediate challenges.
Li Shanchang stayed at Zhu Yuanzhang’s residence until the sun dipped westward before leaving. Both men were ambitious, and after a full day of discussion, the initial panic from seeing the light screen faded, replaced by the thrill of foresight.
They weren’t yet sure about other regions, but they had confirmed the situation in Chuzhou: the light screen had only appeared before them—even Commander Guo hadn’t been privileged to see it.
Old Li suppressed his excitement, pretending he had spent the day helping Old Zhu with miscellaneous military tasks. After finishing, he left empty-handed.
Nothing had happened today. He knew nothing.
Monks—ah, no—scholars don’t lie. He was a proper scholar, so he must be telling the truth.
Li Shanchang strolled leisurely back to his quarters, while Zhu Yuanzhang brushed off his robes and returned to the rear courtyard.
Zhu Wenzheng and Tang He went to Luhe to deal with the Goryeo Army, leaving three of the four children at home waiting for their father to return before having their meal.
Mu Qing held his self-made writing board to communicate with his two older brothers, determined to play the mute—even his own brother couldn’t make him speak.
Since brushes were inconvenient to carry, he initially rummaged in the kitchen for suitable pieces of charcoal to make a simple charcoal pencil. Ma Xiuying shook her head at the sight of the child’s blackened hands and soon found him a “pencil” for casual writing.
The little fool was stunned when he saw the “pencil” his mother brought. He had thought brushes were the only writing tools in this era—what an eye-opener.
This “pencil” was not the same as the modern pencil, but it worked similarly.
Thrilled with his new tool, Mu Qing learned from his mother’s explanation that “pencils” had been used for hundreds or even thousands of years.
There was a phrase called “holding lead and wooden tablets”—the “tablets” were similar to wooden slips, shaved from plain wood and used like paper, while the “lead” referred to the writing instrument.
When ancient people ventured into deep mountains and forests where ink, brushes, and paper were impractical, they used “lead” and “tablets.” Now, with his wooden board and paper, writing with a pencil felt quite classical and cultured.
Mu Ying, unaware of what had happened that morning, saw his younger brother refusing to speak and instead scribbling clumsily on paper to communicate. He looked helplessly at their mother for help.
He was fine yesterday—why won’t he talk today?
And these characters… Did the little one have no self-awareness at all?
Young and only recently beginning his education, he hadn’t learned many characters yet. His unsteady hand produced crooked, incomplete strokes, and for unfamiliar words, he drew circles and crosses. Even a deity wouldn’t be able to decipher it.
Mu Qing: ???
Brother, my own brother, care to repeat that?
Both brothers had previously been refugees, along with Zhu Wenzheng and Zhu Wenzhong. They had spent most of their lives fleeing hardship and only began formal studies after settling in Chuzhou. Despite his youth, all four started their literacy education at roughly the same level.
If his memories from his previous life were counted, his knowledge base was actually the largest among the four brothers.
The circled and crossed-out characters were ones they hadn’t learned yet. Since he hadn’t learned them, it was likely his two older brothers hadn’t either. Circles and crosses were perfectly normal—couldn’t they figure it out from context?
Infuriating!
By the time Zhu Yuanzhang returned home, the little one was angrily chasing his two older brothers. Short-legged and small, he couldn’t catch up to his much older siblings, but that didn’t stop him from scrambling after them with flailing limbs.
Old Zhu scooped up the cannonball-like child into his arms. “What’s going on? Wenzhong, Wenying, what did you do to Wenqing?”
Before Zhu Wenzhong and Mu Ying could respond, Ma Xiuying shot him a reproachful glare. “It’s all because you told Wenqing not to speak.”
Zhu Yuanzhang: ???
“When did I ever tell Wenqing not to speak?”
Ma Xiuying called the children over for dinner, planning to discuss it with him properly after the meal when the kids had left.
Old Zhu glanced at the child in his arms, set him down on a nearby stool, and scolded with a laugh, “Did Dad tell you not to speak? Dad told you not to speak recklessly!”
Mu Qing swung his short legs that couldn’t reach the floor, looking everywhere except at the “culprit.”
I won’t listen, won’t listen to this turtle chanting scriptures. Heaven and earth may be vast, but my little life matters most. From today onward, I’ll practice Mouth-Shut Zen anyway.
Zhu Yuanzhang could do nothing about him. After arranging his small bowl and spoon properly, he picked up his own chopsticks. “My dear, Wenzheng isn’t in the city these days. I’ve sent Old Tang to take him to Luhe to gather information.”
They would discuss the matter of the light screen and heavenly voice behind closed doors after the children went to rest. Letting the kids hear about the situation in Luhe wouldn’t hurt.
Sending Tang He to probe the Goryeo Army for court movements wasn’t a spur-of-the-moment decision. They had dealt with the Goryeo Army before and were ninety percent confident they could extract information from the Goryeo soldiers.
The Goryeo troops were fuming after having their merits stolen. Tuotuo, as commander, knew continuing like this would destabilize military morale, so he dispatched the Goryeo Army to attack Luhe separately.
Luhe served as the gateway to the Jianghuai region. Though capturing Luhe wouldn’t bring as much merit as taking Gaoyou City, it still counted as a significant achievement.
Tuotuo’s move clearly aimed to placate the Goryeo Army, but it also indicated he would never relinquish the credit for capturing Gaoyou City.
After all, the Great Yuan was the Mongols’ domain – Goryeo people always stood a head shorter before the Mongols.
Luhe had few defending troops. Upon learning government forces were attacking, they immediately sought reinforcements from Chuzhou. Zhu Yuanzhang wore out his lips persuading Guo Zixing to send troops. The moment Old Guo relented, Zhu rushed his forces to Luhe.
Just as Zhang Shicheng mobilized all Gaoyou City’s residents to build walls against government troops, Zhu employed the same method in Luhe.
The Goryeo soldiers attacked from dawn till dusk. They fought the Goryeo forces by day and worked through the night restoring daytime damage to city defenses, then resumed fighting the next morning.
The Goryeo Army excelled in favorable battles. Luhe’s situation differed from Gaoyou’s – the winds here weren’t as favorable, making their attacks increasingly ineffective.
City residents would fight desperately to survive, while the attacking Goryeo soldiers still needed rest when due. They came for military merits, not to exhaust themselves to death on the battlefield.
The result: this small Luhe city held out for over half a month against the Goryeo Army’s assaults.
Old Zhu realized this couldn’t continue. The Goryeo Army had court support, but Luhe lacked sufficient manpower and provisions for prolonged resistance.
Tuotuo’s orders were to take Luhe, with no mention yet of attacking Chuzhou. The Goryeo Army’s numerical superiority meant Luhe was inevitably lost – they could only retreat to preserve Chuzhou.
Zhu Yuanzhang abandoned direct confrontation with the Goryeo Army. He had his troops hide temporarily, recruiting only some bold and careful women from the city to go outside the walls.
At daybreak, when the Goryeo Army returned to attack, they found not roaring defenders awaiting them, but a group of women hurling vicious insults.
This Goryeo Army under Tuotuo numbered over twenty thousand. Besides two thousand elite troops sent from Goryeo, the rest were Goryeo people recruited from Dadu.
They understood Goryeo language, Mongolian, and possibly Chinese – but only conversational Chinese.
Jianghuai Mandarin differed from Central Plains Mandarin. The women daring to face the Goryeo army directly were all fierce-tempered, cursing at lightning speed that even non-local Han Chinese couldn’t follow, let alone the Goryeo soldiers.
The Goryeo army stood baffled behind the fortifications, completely incomprehensing the women’s torrent of words, gaping dumbly at their moving mouths until they genuinely forgot to attack.
Taking advantage of the Goryeo Army’s stunned hesitation outside the city walls, Old Zhu urgently arranged for the elderly, weak, women, and children of Luhe to evacuate to Chuzhou with their household grain reserves, striving to leave the Goryeo forces an empty city.
Mu Qing felt this was a variation of the “Empty Fort Strategy.” The people Zhu Yuanzhang sent to casually sprinkle water and sweep the streets under the city walls were the calm townsfolk, while the Goryeo Army outside resembled the Wei troops intimidated by Zhuge Liang, too afraid to advance.
No wonder Luo Guanzhong’s Romance of the Three Kingdoms simultaneously depicted both the Three Kingdoms period and the late Yuan–early Ming era—many iconic scenes from the book could find their reflections in this very moment.
Old Zhu, “repairing the gallery roads while secretly crossing at Chencang,” relocated the people of Luhe to Chuzhou. By the time the Goryeo Army realized what was happening, the evacuation was nearly complete.
The Goryeo troops, having toiled for so many days only to capture an empty city, were understandably furious. They immediately mobilized their entire force and gave chase eastward.
Zhu Yuanzhang, daring to execute this “Empty Fort Strategy,” had naturally prepared a countermeasure in advance. Knowing the Goryeo Army would pursue, he first dispatched Geng Zaicheng to lure the enemy deep into a trap, then set an ambush in the mountain valley. Caught off guard, the Goryeo forces were utterly routed, with many soldiers and horses captured.
Just as the Goryeo troops were about to erupt in humiliated rage, Old Zhu swiftly changed tactics.
With limited troops at his disposal, ambushes and surprise attacks were feasible, but a direct confrontation with government forces would be suicidal. Thus, he resorted to a conciliatory approach.
Zhu Yuanzhang summoned respected elders from Luhe, first returning the captured Goryeo soldiers and horses, then leading the local folk with wine and meat to the Goryeo camp to reason with them.
They were all upstanding commoners, he explained. In these turbulent times, they had forged weapons and trained militias only to defend against bandits and rebels, never intending to oppose the imperial court.
The earlier conflict was a case of “the flood rushing into the Dragon King’s temple”—family failing to recognize family. They had been blind and ignorant, but now that the misunderstanding was resolved, why should the officials insist on further bloodshed?
The court’s true enemy was Zhang Shicheng in Gaoyou. With Zhang Shicheng still undefeated, the government forces should focus their efforts there. The people of Chuzhou were loyal, simple folk who supported the court and required no further trouble from the officials—they would remain obedient.
The elders of Chuzhou, deeply remorseful for the grave misunderstanding, not only returned all spoils of war but also offered to cover part of the army’s provisions, hoping to aid the court in swiftly eliminating the rebel Zhang Shicheng.
The sudden shift from fierce fighting to bringing wine and meat to sue for peace seemed highly suspicious.
But the Goryeo commander believed it.
Or perhaps he didn’t truly believe it but pretended to in order to cause trouble for Tuotuo. Not only did he accept the explanation, but he even supplied more convincing justifications for the locals.
Rebels wouldn’t deliver supplies to them, he reasoned. The elders arriving at their camp unguarded with wine, meat, and provisions proved they couldn’t be rebels—these were undoubtedly fine, law-abiding subjects!
Mu Qing rubbed his face. He knew it sounded absurd, but it was indeed true.
As the saying goes, reality is often stranger than fiction. Fiction has to make sense—reality doesn’t.
In short, Old Zhu’s defense of Chuzhou had succeeded.