The people of Longqing County in Lingzhou were once the most self-assured in the entire Northern Liang region. Whether it was the border soldiers who hailed from here, the scholars, or the merchants, they all carried themselves with an unshakable pride. This was the hometown of the former Huaihua Grand General, Zhong Hongwu, who had commanded the Northern Liang cavalry for over a decade, his authority deeply entrenched, his disciples and old subordinates spread throughout Northern Liang. Zhong Hongwu was also notorious for his favoritism, openly promoting officers from his hometown, which made the people of Longqing County feel inherently superior.
Before the Xiangfu era, Longqing County was undoubtedly a coveted place. Among the noble families of Lingzhou, marrying someone from Longqing was the first choice. But after Zhong Hongwu’s death, the county’s fortunes plummeted. Especially after Zhong Chengxin, the former magistrate of Longqing and Zhong Hongwu’s eldest son, was promoted to serve in the provincial capital, he repeatedly and openly expressed disdain for officials from his hometown in government offices, stripping Longqing of its backbone.
Thus, of the three most illustrious counties in Northern Liang—Longqing for marriage, Yanzhi for hidden beauties, and Huangnan for scholarly pursuits—only the latter two remained prominent. For instance, during the recent large-scale construction of Jubei City, commoners outside the military and artisan registries were offered substantial wages to participate in the project. While impoverished families from all over Lingzhou flocked to the border, Longqing County saw few volunteers. This was partly due to the relative affluence of its residents, but more crucially, it stemmed from a well-known grievance against the Northern Liang authorities.
Northern Liang had always been known for its martial and rugged culture. Though Lingzhou was prosperous, its military families were as numerous as the hairs on an ox, no less formidable than those in Liang and You Provinces. Back then, the young heir of Northern Liang, regardless of his intentions, had uprooted the towering Zhong family tree that had sheltered the entire county. The people of Longqing feared and resented him, their emotions too complex to articulate in mere words.
So when an ordinary middle-aged man from Longqing County decided to seek work in Jubei City, his neighbors began to scorn and despise him. When they heard he planned to move his wife and children out of Northern Liang, the gossip turned into outright hostility. Some even cursed him to his face, disregarding years of neighborly bonds. Soon, old grievances resurfaced—Lu Dayuan wasn’t even originally from Northern Liang. He had married a local woman and only then registered as a resident. For years, he had worked as a butcher, fair in his dealings, never earning ill-gotten gains. But his decision to go to Jubei City had enraged the community, turning his family of four into pariahs. Some busybody even recalled Lu once drunkenly claiming that Northern Liang stood little chance in the second war against the Northern Barbarians. This ignited a firestorm. For three days straight, not a single pound of pork from Lu’s shop was sold, forcing his family to feast on meat at home like it was New Year’s. During this time, Lu brought a prime cut of tenderloin to a lonely old man at the end of the street, only for the man to throw it out the door. The simple-hearted Lu silently picked it up and took it home.
One day, as a pot of fragrant stew simmered at home, Lu squatted on the doorstep, gazing at the gate, waiting for his younger son to return from school.
His elder son, now sixteen, was studying in Huangnan County under a well-read scholar and often sent letters home. Neither Lu nor his wife could read, so they would take the letters to their younger son’s school, where the stern teacher would read them aloud. Lu would then relay the gist to his wife. These trips were Lu’s happiest moments. He still remembered how his elder son, as a child, often complained about his father not being a Northern Liang border soldier, which made him feel inferior among his peers. But as the boy grew older and excelled in his studies, becoming a local prodigy, the family’s laughter grew more frequent. The younger son, though occasionally echoing his brother’s complaints, was generally cheerful, thanks to his elder brother’s support. Only when classmates boasted of relatives’ military achievements would he sulk in the yard or brandish a wooden sword his father had made, running until exhaustion dispelled his frustration. Overall, the family’s life had been improving. The first Liang-Mang war, the bloody battles at Hutou City, the nameless steles on Qingliang Mountain, the young prince regaining the title of Grand Pillar of the State—none of these seemed relevant to their humble lives.
His wife approached hesitantly. “Did Teacher Liu refuse to read the letter for us?”
Lu scratched his head and nodded guiltily.
The plain but gentle woman smiled without a word.
Suddenly, their younger son burst into the yard, crying. Seeing his parents, he stopped, wiping his tears. “I don’t want a father like you! No backbone, no pride! I won’t leave Northern Liang with Mother!”
Lu was stunned.
His wife snapped, “Xiangzhu! Don’t speak to your father like that!”
The boy, never having seen his mother angry, froze in shock.
Lu tugged his wife’s sleeve. “Xiuer, don’t scold him.”
She glared. “No manners! Did Teacher Liu teach you to read just so you could curse?”
The boy, now even more aggrieved, crouched and sobbed pitifully.
Lu stood, gently lifting the boy and carrying him inside. Seated on a bench, he ruffled the boy’s hair. “Xiangzhu, I’m not angry. In fact, I’m glad you spoke your mind.”
The boy wiped his face and glanced at his mother, who still looked stern. He stayed silent, mimicking his father’s notorious reticence.
Lu turned to his wife. She said softly, “Dayuan, you’re the head of the household. Your word is law. But when you’re beyond the border, dress warmly. The winters are harsh, and you won’t always have shelter. I’ve packed three extra pairs of cotton shoes—don’t complain they’re too thick…”
Lu listened patiently, occasionally feeding the boy in his lap.
Children forget grudges quickly, especially against their parents.
Soon, the boy looked up indignantly. “Father, Teacher Liu told us the Northern Liang military code says deserters are executed! Lucky for you, you’re not a border soldier, or else—hmph!”
Lu chuckled. His wife leaned forward, adding meat to the boy’s bowl. “Eat! You’re so lively now, but at night you can’t stay awake for your studies!”
The boy stuck out his tongue, chewing happily. “Father, do you know how many offenses are punishable by execution in the Northern Liang military code?”
Lu asked, “Do you?”
The clever boy grinned. “A whole lot!”
The Xu family’s military discipline was famously severe. The Butcher of Beiliang once joked in court that as an illiterate brute, he only knew one method—killing. Kill enemies without hesitation, kill disobedient soldiers without mercy. That was how he built his formidable army.
Deserters? Execute!
Those who kill civilians for merit? Execute!
Those who break formation early? Execute!
Those who abandon weapons or horses without cause? Execute!
If a squad leader dies and the squad survives? Execute the squad!
If a captain dies and his unit remains intact? Execute the unit!
But alongside these brutal laws were equally strict rewards. Officers who failed to commend deserving subordinates were executed on the spot. Those who embezzled pay or pensions, regardless of amount, were executed immediately.
Lu laughed heartily at his son’s words.
The boy suddenly asked, “Father, after Mother and I go to that Songbai County in the Central Plains, will we have enough money for a bigger house?”
Lu smiled. “That’s tough. I haven’t saved much, and the Central Plains are even richer than Lingzhou.”
The boy sighed in disappointment.
Lu added, “But don’t worry. Once I’m in Jubei City, I’ll send money home.”
The boy recited pompously, “The Master said, ‘The great man does not waver in wealth, does not bend in poverty, does not yield to force!’”
Lu asked curiously, “What’s this ‘Master said’ business?”
The boy giggled. “It means ‘Teacher Liu said the Sage Zhang said.’ Don’t you know anything, Father?”
Lu said contentedly, “It’s fine if I’m ignorant, as long as you and your brother are learned.”
At the mention of his brother, the boy beamed. “I’m nowhere near as good as him! Even Teacher Liu says he’s amazing!”
Lu laughed. “Well, you’re both my sons, aren’t you?”
His wife watched them fondly. She knew nothing of war or scholarship, but years of life had taught her one simple truth: Some men reserve their harshest words for their loved ones. Others save their best temper for family.
Her husband was the latter.
So whether in years of quiet routine or current neighborhood gossip, she never regretted marrying him.
The boy asked, “Father, where’s your hometown? Is it Songbai County?”
Lu nodded. “Yes. But when I was your age, life was hard. I had no family left and was starving, so I left.”
The boy teased, “No wonder the neighbors say Mother was blind to marry you.”
This time, his wife didn’t scold him, only covering her mouth to laugh.
Lu wasn’t offended either. He glanced at his wife. “True enough!”
The boy then asked worriedly, “Father, is Brother really going to study in Jiangnan? When will he join us in Songbai?”
Lu said softly, “I don’t know. When I was young, I vowed my sons would get an education. To me, only scholars amount to anything. No matter how much money you make otherwise, it’s not the same. I lost my parents early. All I know is my ancestors were farmers for generations. Coming to Northern Liang and meeting your mother was my luck. Otherwise, if you and your brother took after me, you’d never be scholars!”
The boy muttered, “Then you should treat Mother better!”
Lu sighed. “I’ve only got so much to give.”
His wife’s eyes crinkled with joy. He called himself lucky, but she felt blessed.
※※※
On the day his wife and son left Longqing, Lu slowly walked back into the city, returning to their humble alley. He carried the last two legs of pork from home, leaving one at the old man’s doorstep and the other at Teacher Liu’s house.
Along the way, he endured countless glares and curses.
Finally, back home, he dragged a dusty wooden box from under the bed—one he never opened, and his wife had wisely never asked about.
The man who had lived silently on this street for over a decade carried the heavy box to the yard, squatting to wipe off the dust.
He murmured, “Old friends, when we first came to Northern Liang, that battle we fought under the Great General in the Northern Wastes was such a farce. We won, yet retreated. Furious, many of us, including me, quit the border army. Only later did we learn it was the old emperor’s scheme—he feared we’d crush the Northern Barbarians and threaten his throne… All these years, I couldn’t face you… But as for fighting? I, Lu Dayuan, enlisted at fourteen, became a squad leader at fifteen, a captain at sixteen, and at eighteen, as a deputy battalion commander, followed the Great General to Liang. When have I ever been afraid? I just left the army too early. Otherwise, pups like Wang Lingbao and Li Mofan would’ve had to kowtow to me!”
The street’s residents were puzzled when the sound of hooves brought seven or eight armored cavalrymen to a halt outside Lu’s house.
They grew concerned. Though they’d cursed Lu as an outsider and coward, he was still their neighbor of over a decade—a good man at heart. Their anger came from deep affection; otherwise, why curse him to his face?
Please don’t let the mute Lu have offended the garrison!
The leader of the riders, a burly man in his forties, was the current garrison commander of Longqing, a cavalry captain of over a decade’s standing!
Though the locals might not recognize him, they knew he was favored by Lingzhou’s General Han Laoshan and even fraternized with Hong Shuwen, a rising star from the elite Phoenix Battalion. A promotion to battalion commander or deputy general was surely imminent!
One of his subordinates whispered, “Captain, who are we seeing off that requires your personal escort? Usually, you can’t even be bothered to glance at those military brats cozy with the Zhong family. Is there someone in Longqing that impressive?”
The captain scoffed. “Those pretty boys aren’t fit to feed the horses of the man inside!”
Then he boasted, “Back in the day, I fed his horses!”
His men exchanged bewildered looks.
Had their captain lost his mind? He was usually so aloof!
When the riders finally saw the man with a travel pack step out, they were underwhelmed—just a sturdy, tall fellow, hardly a legendary figure.
The captain dismounted swiftly, leading a riderless horse forward. He saluted solemnly. “Ma Yunqing, Captain of Longqing Cavalry, reporting to the Deputy Commander!”
Lu, holding a long cloth-wrapped object, eyed the man he’d avoided for over a decade. “Calling someone ‘Deputy’ is an insult, you know. Think you’re the Great General, greeting second-stringers in the capital?”
Ma Yunqing shrank back, silent.
Lu straightened, saluting the street. “I, Lu Dayuan, thank you all for your kindness over the years!”
The bewildered neighbors stood frozen.
Lu hung his armor bag on the saddle and mounted with practiced ease.
Whether the coming battle was won or lost, he had no intention of returning alive.
After over a decade without armor or blade, he’d make sure to kill his fill.
Ma Yunqing reminded softly, “By law, Northern Liang veterans may bear arms in public.”
Lu raised an eyebrow, unwrapping the cloth to reveal an aged battle sword. Carefully, he fastened it at his waist.
Turning to Ma, who couldn’t join him beyond the border, Lu said, “If we lose, it’s over. If we win, tell my sons their father was a butcher—but first and foremost, a rider of the Xu family!”
Ma nodded fiercely. All his words condensed into two: “Stay safe.”
Lu smirked. “Kid, I always knew you’d amount to nothing. Still just a lousy captain after all these years.”
Ma flushed.
Suddenly, Lu unsheathed his sword and tossed it to Ma. “Ah, forget it. I’ll use a new Liang blade anyway. For old times’ sake—this one’s yours.”
Ma clutched the treasure, tears welling.
This was a first-generation Xu family sword—a symbol of their rise to dominance in the Central Plains, the foundation of Northern Liang’s peerless cavalry.
And this man had ridden with one of the Xu family’s original battalions—the Full Armor Battalion.
First-class rider, Lu Dayuan.
The street’s residents would never know that in his later years, the Great General Xu Xiao often reminisced in Qingliang Mountain’s council hall about a certain Lu Dayuan—how fiercely he fought, rivaling even Chu Lushan, truly remarkable.
Chu Lushan would protest, “But that Lu fellow just charged ahead recklessly, no tactics at all! Can’t compare to me!”
Yuan Zuozong would retort, “Yet he never lost a single battle.”
The Butcher would nod. “Exactly. Like me.”
And the young heir would inevitably mock them all.
That autumn, many veterans like Lu Dayuan began marching beyond the border.
They were the backbone of Northern Liang’s cavalry.
As Lu and Ma rode out of the city together, Lu murmured under his breath.
The young riders caught only fragments.
After seeing Lu off at the post road, Ma watched him disappear into the distance, speechless.
Finally turning back, Ma whispered, “Our Xu family’s Full Armor Battalion—when scouts ride out, they spread like nets; when camped, they stand like beams…”
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