In the city of Tai’an, it is indeed said that late autumn brings cabbages and spring brings leeks. These two vegetables are enjoyed by all households, from high-ranking officials to commoners. The people of the capital particularly enjoy eating leeks to “bite into spring,” a custom that perfectly aligns with the season. Taking a bite of the pungent, fresh greens seems to purge the body of all the stale air accumulated over the long winter.
Within the largest official compound in the Zhaojiaweng district of the capital, many officials exude the scent of leeks with every belch. It’s even worse with the stifled farts from some unknown official’s backside—enough to make people wrinkle their noses before breaking into knowing smiles.
In this Zhaojiaweng district, there stands the traditionally refined and aloof Hanlin Academy, as well as the Zhongshu Menxia, which was once deserted but has recently become somewhat lively. However, the most bustling place is naturally the Six Ministries of the Shangshu Province, with the Ministry of War maintaining its status as the most prestigious and pivotal office among the six. Even after the promotion of Chuxiang Yin Maochun to replace Zhao Youling as Minister of Personnel, this balance could not be overturned. Unlike the other five ministries, where the leadership changes hands frequently, like flags changing on city walls, the Ministry of War has had only three ministers from the first year of Yonghui to the second year of Xiangfu, a span of over twenty years. These ministers were the Grand Commander Gu Jiantang, the Prince of Shu, Chen Zhibao, and the current one, Lu Baijie, the Sword Immortal of Tangxi. The latter two combined served for less than two years.
The Ministry of War has always been the most coveted posting for newly minted jinshi graduates. So much so that last year’s second-place graduate, Gao Tingshu, openly declared during a court discussion that he would rather serve as a minor official in the Bureau of Martial Appointments than take a more promising post in the Ministry of Rites. This was despite the fact that the Minister of Rites at the time, Bai Guo, was actually present in the hall. Bai, amused and angered, immediately kicked another minister, Lu Baijie, in response. Rumor has it that later, when Bai was transferred to the Ministry of Revenue, he once met Gao Tingshu early in the morning on the way to court and quipped, “Thankfully I didn’t take up a post in the Ministry of Personnel, otherwise you’d be stuck in the Ministry of War for twenty years, rotting away on a cold bench.”
Today, an unexpected visitor arrived at the unusually busy Ministry of War. Everyone, whether walking outside or working inside, stopped what they were doing upon seeing him—some halted mid-step to bow, others stood up respectfully. Their expressions were filled with excitement, rivaling the reverence shown when standing before the emperor himself. The reason was simple: this visitor was none other than Gu Jiantang! The youngest among the Four Great Generals of the Spring and Autumn period, and once the head of the Gu Lodge in the Ministry of War!
As a general, Xu Xiao, another of the Spring and Autumn great generals, had long since passed away, but Gu Jiantang was still far from old. As an official, the Zhang Lodge, which had stood in opposition to the Gu Lodge for over a decade, had long since collapsed, and Zhang Julu had died a most tragic death. Yet Gu Jiantang remained the sole Grand Commander of the highest rank in the Liyang court, holding absolute command over 300,000 troops along the northern border.
Gu Jiantang entered the large hall that had once belonged to the Zhang Lodge. Without needing to say a word, the officials, who usually held themselves in high esteem among the six ministries, rose to greet him and then quickly resumed their work. This was the kind of unspoken, stern atmosphere that Gu Jiantang left in his wake: you could be arrogant in your dealings, but your work had to be swift and decisive, with no room for hesitation.
Unlike the other five ministries, where the ministers and vice-ministers each had their own private rooms, the three senior officials of the Ministry of War all worked in the same room. The minister’s desk was on the far left, while the two vice-ministers’ desks were on the far right. Currently, the two vice-ministers of the Ministry of War were both absent—Lu Shengxiang, the Grand General of the Southern Campaign, was away from the capital, and the newly appointed vice-minister, General Xu Gong, had gone to patrol the border in the Two Liao regions according to the new Liyang protocol. Thus, only Minister Lu Baijie remained in the office. Upon seeing Gu Jiantang, he did not feign formality but immediately stood up from his desk, setting aside his brush to greet the former minister. Even after the others had resumed their seats, Lu remained standing.
This was not merely because Lu Baijie’s rank of second class, marked by the lion embroidered on his robe, was slightly inferior to Gu Jiantang’s first-class Kirin rank, but also because of Lu’s deep and unhidden respect for his predecessor.
Lu walked around his desk and approached Gu Jiantang, smiling as he said, “General, won’t you sit down and have a cup of tea?”
Gu Jiantang nodded. Lu led the way to the two empty desks on the far right of the room. Soon, the young official who had once written the “Eight Drunken Immortals” and had been personally “threatened” by Minister Bai Guo came with tea. He served Gu Jiantang first, then Lu Baijie. Gu Jiantang accepted the tea and asked, “So you’re the one who refused to go to the Ministry of Rites—Gao Tingshu?”
The young official, eager to leave without drawing further attention, stiffened involuntarily and replied, “Yes, that is me.”
Gu Jiantang’s face remained expressionless as he asked another pointed question: “Why did you serve me first instead of the Minister?”
Gao Tingshu was at a loss for words.
Lu Baijie laughed heartily and said, “General, General! You’re clearly delighted inside, so don’t pretend to be smug. Gao here risked a long and stagnant career to join our Ministry of War. You could even say he’s half your kin. You shouldn’t scare the young lad like that.”
With Lu’s playful remark, Gu Jiantang finally allowed a smile and said, “Just for the fact that you served me first, even if the Ministry of Personnel tries to hold you back, I’ll put in a good word with Minister Bai right now to ensure your promotion isn’t delayed. But you should also learn from Minister Bai—how he handled the situation with grace, saving face for himself while also showing you favor.”
Lu Baijie feigned exasperation and said, “Now, now, General, you’re really not playing fair. You’ve already had your tea, and now you’re undermining me. How will I maintain my authority in this room if you keep doing this?”
He turned to Gao Tingshu and pretended to scold him, “You brat, don’t you dare stay any longer! Do you want me to make your life difficult? Are you trying to anger every minister in the Six Ministries? Even if the General protects you, all he can do is send you to the borderlands to eat dust and endure the wind!”
Gao Tingshu quickly wiped the sweat from his brow, gave a foolish grin, and hurried off.
The officials of the Ministry of War, who had been secretly listening in, burst into laughter. Amid the cheerful atmosphere, everyone envied Gao Tingshu for his sudden stroke of luck, having left a strong impression on two successive ministers of war.
Gu Jiantang drank his tea in one go, set the cup down, and sighed, “Minister Lu, you’ve had it rough.”
Lu Baijie took a sip of his slightly bitter tea and nodded with a faint smile, “It’s been tough indeed.”
After a long silence, Gu Jiantang stood up and said, “I must leave the capital and return to western Liaodong. I won’t trouble you any further.”
Lu Baijie rose calmly and said, “I’ll see you off, General.”
As they stepped out of the room, Lu Baijie hesitated for a moment before whispering, “General, are you really leaving?”
Gu Jiantang gave a quiet “Hmm,” and, like Lu, no longer seemed as relaxed as he had inside. His expression was grave. “If I had decided to stay before reaching the capital, there might have been a chance. But now, even if I insist on staying, do you think it’s possible?”
Lu Baijie had no response.
The implication in General Gu Jiantang’s words was not difficult to grasp. During the late emperor’s reign, Gu Jiantang had once returned to the capital alongside him, but even then, he had failed to convince the emperor to let him, the Grand Commander overseeing northern military affairs, replace Lu Shengxiang as the commander of the southern campaign. Now that a new emperor had ascended the throne, how could Gu Jiantang possibly use his past merits to pressure the new ruler at such a sensitive time? It was clear that both Gu Jiantang and Lu Baijie agreed with the earlier assessment of a certain person: the suppression of the rebellion in the Guangling Circuit should be swift rather than delayed. The court’s decision to send Lu Shengxiang to campaign alongside Yang Shenxing and Yan Zhenshun, supported by several regional princes, was not a foolish move—though not a brilliant one either. But what everyone, except a few, had overlooked was that battlefield command and troop deployment are far more direct and immediate than the slow deliberations of the bureaucratic world. Lu Shengxiang, though exceptionally talented in leading troops, was denied the opportunity to command generals due to the political undercurrents at the time. In fact, the situation became so dire that even his ability to command troops was severely hampered. As a result, the court turned a favorable position into a disastrous mess. Had Gu Jiantang been in command, even with the interference of arrogant young nobles, Yang Shenxing would never have dared to act recklessly, and Yan Zhenshun’s three regiments of cavalry would not have been completely wiped out. Nor would the two regional princes, Zhao Ying and Zhao Xun, have suffered such a catastrophic defeat.
Gu Jiantang slowed his pace slightly and said, “Lu Shengxiang has received the title of Grand General of the Southern Campaign. Without any unexpected developments, he will vacate the position I once held. At that time, my subordinate, General Tang Tieshuang of western Liaodong, will come to the capital to take over. It’s neither good nor bad news—I just wanted to give you a heads-up. Tang Tieshuang is different from Lu Shengxiang and Xu Gong. He may not be skilled in bureaucratic affairs, but he is excellent at leading troops. When he joins the Ministry of War, Minister Lu, I suggest you let him take a few young officers with him and send them to Guangling Circuit… or perhaps to the southern part of the capital region.”
Gu Jiantang said calmly, “I’m not saying this out of personal interest for Tang Tieshuang’s career, but rather hoping that under your leadership, the Ministry of War can retain its martial spirit for a few more days. In the future, those sitting in the Ministry of War may not even know the smell of horse dung, and few will have calluses on their inner thighs from long hours in the saddle.”
Lu Baijie sighed and said, “That shouldn’t be too hard.”
Gu Jiantang suddenly turned to look back at the former Gu Lodge. In the evening light, the last rays of spring still lingered on the roof.
Then, turning to Lu Baijie, Gu Jiantang smiled and said, “No need to see me off any further. I have somewhere to go—a place I never had the chance to visit before.”
Lu Baijie stopped and watched the general walk away.
He knew exactly where Gu Jiantang was headed.
The former Zhang Lodge.
Originally, the Zhang Lodge had been the seat of the Ministry of Personnel. No matter how dominant the Ministry of War had been under Gu Jiantang’s leadership, the Ministry of Personnel had always been, in name at least, the most prestigious office in the outer court of Liyang. Later, when Zhao Youling parted ways with his mentor, the Ministry of Personnel relocated. At that time, Wang Xionggui, the only remaining prominent disciple who had steadfastly supported the Chief Minister, led the Ministry of Revenue but did not immediately move into the Zhang Lodge. However, at that time, the Ministry of Personnel, the Ministry of Works, the Ministry of Revenue, the Ministry of Rites, and the Ministry of Justice all stationed a vice-minister in the Zhang Lodge to ensure that the leader of the civil officials could convey his intentions to the five ministries as quickly as possible. Now that Zhao Youling had moved up to the Zhongshu Province and Yin Maochun had taken over the Ministry of Personnel, the latter surprisingly chose to occupy that very room.
Of course, the term “Zhang Lodge” would never again be spoken of in the empire. Compared to the frequently mentioned Gu Lodge, this place was now something that could not even be mentioned.
As if it had never existed in the history of the Liyang court.
Gu Jiantang arrived at that place and looked at it.
Under the cover of night, unlike the Gu Lodge, there was not even a trace of lingering sunlight left.
On this return to the capital, it was he, General Gu Jiantang, who had gone to see the emperor—the one who had not yet been called the late emperor—who stood in the imperial prison. That was the last time he had seen that man, and the last words he had conveyed on his behalf.
Separated by iron bars, the man had said not a single word of final instructions to the general. He had simply waved his hand at Gu Jiantang.
Gu Jiantang collected his thoughts and did not look at the hurried officials from the Ministry of Personnel who had rushed out to greet him. Nor did he spare a glance for the Crown Minister Yin Maochun, who stood at the entrance.
Gu Jiantang turned sharply and strode away.
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