Chapter Six: The Ninth Year of the Great Enterprise

2012. When Li Wenyuan heard these four numbers from Qiu Niang’s lips, he was nearly moved to tears. Alone in the Great Tang, he had already begun to forget all that came before he crossed over. Now, meeting Qiu Niang, who had also traversed time, all those years of loneliness, carefully tucked away, surged forth in a torrent. He stood there, dazed, for a long while before finally asking, “What year did you arrive?”

“I can't quite remember which year it was. I crossed over when the original owner of this body was suffering from a severe illness. At that time, I was already in the Xue residence in Longxi. A few days after I recovered from the illness—around the time you arrived—I had already absorbed all the memories of this body,” Qiu Niang said, seated gracefully with her hand stroking her dark hair.

“You knew all along that I had crossed over?” Li Wenyuan’s mind was blank.

“At the very least, there’s no one in the Sui dynasty who would be running around in cheap knockoff jeans,” Qiu Niang said with a mischievous smile.

“Then why didn’t you tell me sooner? If you had, I wouldn’t have...” Li Wenyuan blushed, recalling his earlier attempts at training her.

“Hm? Isn’t that your preference, master~” Qiu Niang rose, leaning close to his ear and speaking in a soft, flirtatious voice.

“Ahem.” Li Wenyuan hurriedly coughed, pushing Qiu Niang aside and taking a seat, trying to mask his embarrassment, yet at a loss for words.

Fortunately, Madam Liu’s voice came from outside the door. “Master, Master Xue has sent for you.”

It was as if he had been pardoned. Li Wenyuan answered quickly, donned his clothes, and fled, chased by the sound of Qiu Niang’s silvery laughter.

Upon arriving at the Xue residence, Li Wenyuan presented his card and, under the guidance of the servants, entered the council hall. He saw Xue Ju pacing with a troubled expression. Li Wenyuan approached swiftly and asked, “Brother Xue, what troubles you?”

At Li Wenyuan’s question, Xue Ju dismissed the servants, closed the door, and pulled Li Wenyuan to a seat, lowering his voice. “Brother, do you recall what we discussed in the tavern the other day?”

Li Wenyuan nodded. Back then, he had dropped a few historical hints, which earned him Xue Ju’s respect and helped him achieve his goals.

“The imperial edict has indeed arrived, summoning all the realm’s forces to Zhuo Commandery,” Xue Ju said.

Li Wenyuan suddenly realized: of course, this was already the ninth year of the Daye era. He caught the implication, “Brother, do you mean that we, too, are involved in this eastern campaign?”

Xue Ju nodded. “Last year, the commander of Jincheng answered the call to Liaodong and died in battle. Of the several thousand men who went with him, few returned. This time, as you predicted, the outcome will likely be grim.” Xue Ju swallowed, then continued, “Now that the edict has come, to refuse and not send troops is a capital offense. Jincheng is remote, beyond the emperor’s gaze, and I am surrounded by many capable men. Perhaps we should simply rise up against the Sui.”

“No!” Li Wenyuan gripped Xue Ju’s hand. “The time has not yet come for the Sui to lose its mandate, for the world to rise against it. Though the cracks are showing, the collapse is not yet evident. If you intend to rebel, do not be the first to stick your neck out like Chen Sheng and Wu Guang. You should follow the example of the Han founder—strike only when the enemy is at its weakest.”

“But if you are right and the emperor is determined to win this campaign, with so many desperate battles, neither of us may return from Goguryeo. Why not take our chances now?” Xue Ju’s tone was urgent.

“Rest assured, brother. Among the great clans, there will be those who cannot sit still. This campaign against Goguryeo is destined to be a farce, starting with a roar and ending with a whimper.” Li Wenyuan could only trust to the relentless inertia of history, betting everything he had on Xue Ju. He had placed his wager and there was no turning back.

“How many troops has the edict demanded from Jincheng?” Li Wenyuan pondered for a moment.

“Five thousand. Provisions are to be gathered locally. Once we reach Zhuo Commandery, supplies will be provided from the recently restored Liaodong city,” Xue Ju replied, handing him the edict.

The paper was fine, the seal just like those unearthed from antiquity—undeniably the official mark of the Sui Ministry of War. The edict declared: the barbarians of the Eastern Hu and Goguryeo have defied the emperor’s might and must be punished as a warning to all. All the realm’s armies are summoned to Zhuo Commandery. Jincheng, being near the frontier and responsible for defense, must send five thousand men.

After reading, Li Wenyuan asked how much time they had before departing. Xue Ju calculated, “The imperial roads were just repaired along with the irrigation works last winter. Weather permitting, we can set out after the first spring rains next month.” Last winter, Li Wenyuan had advised Xue Ju to use the famine-stricken to repair the roads and waterways, both helping the needy and avoiding the need to open government granaries—a clever solution.

Li Wenyuan considered, then said, “Brother, as I told you in the tavern, if you march to Liaodong, I must go with you.”

Xue Ju recalled Li Wenyuan’s archery skills and formidable strength, a gift of his mysterious illness, and nodded. “This campaign’s outcome is uncertain. Perhaps you should marry Qiu Niang before we depart—I will mediate. Though she was once a bondswoman, I have always treated her as a sister.”

Hearing this, Li Wenyuan realized his arrangement to free Qiu Niang had been discovered. Though it was of little consequence, Xue Ju was her former master, which could lead to resentment. Now that he knew Qiu Niang was also a time traveler, an arranged marriage was out of the question.

Three years living side by side had already made him fond of her, not to mention recent events that left his heart restless. “Thank you for your kindness, brother, but a man must first establish himself before marrying. Should I return from this campaign with rank or office, I will marry Qiu Niang then.”

No sooner had he spoken than he regretted it: had he just raised a death flag? Marry after the war? Shaking his head, he discussed the details of the expedition with Xue Ju, then took his leave.

Instead of returning home, Li Wenyuan went to the tailor’s shop where his wolfskin cloak had been made. He had inadvertently seen a crossbow mechanism from the previous dynasty in the workshop behind the counter. Pressing the shopkeeper, and using his minor official position as leverage, he learned that the man’s father had once been an armorer for the imperial arsenal, who, after the fall of the previous dynasty, had escaped and opened this tailor shop in Jincheng. His skill with machinery made him both a fine tailor and a successful businessman.

This time, Li Wenyuan did not come for clothes but handed the shopkeeper several sheets of paper—designs for a repeating crossbow, reconstructed from memory. The shopkeeper examined them with surprise. “Is this... the Marquis’s repeating crossbow?”

In later times, this weapon was called the Zhuge Repeating Crossbow, but as Zhuge Liang was posthumously titled Marquis of Loyalty and Martial Virtue, artisans in the Sui era referred to it as the Marquis’s Repeating Crossbow out of respect.

Li Wenyuan nodded. “One crossbow, with twenty bolts. If you can build it, I will pay you handsomely.”

“It can be done. In the previous dynasty, my father crafted improved Qin-style crossbows for the palace guards—those were far more complicated. My skills are not my father’s equal, but I can make this.” The shopkeeper hesitated. “But, sir, making crossbows privately is a capital crime. If the authorities find out, I cannot bear the consequences.”

Li Wenyuan clapped him on the shoulder with a smile. “If you can hide one, you can hide another.” He slipped a gold ingot into the shopkeeper’s hand—his savings from three years and the remainder of the wolf pelts he had sold. Though it hurt to part with so much, the crossbow was worth it. Having agreed on the delivery date, he left the shop.

Returning home, he found Qiu Niang teaching embroidery to Madam Liu’s two young girls. The three laughed and chatted, looking for all the world like mother and daughters. Li Wenyuan stood at the doorway, transfixed by the scene.

Only when Qiu Niang glanced over and saw him did she put down her embroidery, ask the girls to amuse themselves, and approach him with light, graceful steps. “Master, you’re back. Why do you stand here like a lovesick fool and not come in?”

Li Wenyuan returned to his senses, took her delicate hand, and smiled. “I was just marveling at how a fairy from the Ninth Heaven ended up in my humble abode.”

“Have you been drinking honey wine at Master Xue’s house? How sweet your words are today.”

He was used to such banter, but now it made his heart itch with longing. Steadying himself, he gazed into Qiu Niang’s limpid eyes. “Come with me, there’s something important to discuss.” Without waiting for a reply, he led her inside and closed the door behind them.

Within, Qiu Niang wondered what business required such privacy—her heart leapt at the possibilities. Then Li Wenyuan spoke quietly, “We are both travelers in time, so I’ll be blunt. I don’t know how much you know of history, but I must tell you: next month, after the spring rains, I will march with Xue Ju to Liaodong to campaign against Goguryeo.”

Qiu Niang nodded. “The ninth year of Daye. Emperor Yang of Sui summons all to campaign against Goguryeo.”

Li Wenyuan nodded. “I don’t know what fate awaits, but I must do my utmost to bring Xue Ju back alive. I don’t know if you can defend yourself, but with these mixed Han and nomadic populations around, I worry. Next month, send Madam Liu to the tailor’s shop at the corner. The shopkeeper is a former imperial armorer; I’ve asked him to make a repeating crossbow. You should be able to use it.”

Qiu Niang nodded again. The marvelous reputation of the repeating crossbow had reached even later generations—easy enough for her to use. The Marquis had made many improvements so that even women could draw and shoot, making it a suitable weapon for her defense.

The next day, Li Wenyuan went to the Jincheng military camp, armed with Xue Ju’s papers to collect his armor and uniform. As Xue Ju had said, the Sui dynasty was never short of weapons and armor, but it was best to choose early to avoid getting stuck with rusty, outdated gear—civil officials cared only for thrift.

After browsing the armory for a long time, Li Wenyuan selected a suit of fine steel armor, padded with black cloth, topped with a red plume. It was well-balanced, not hindering his movement. He sent it home and rode out to the training ground on the outskirts.

There, he spotted Wudedulu and rode up to greet him. Wudedulu was a nomad, but one who had pledged allegiance to the Sui. He had become friends with Li Wenyuan after being thrown from the wrestling ring during a bout of strength. Wudedulu was one of the top five horsemen in all Jincheng. For three years, Li Wenyuan had spent two hours daily learning horsemanship from him, but today his goal was to learn survival skills for battle.

“On the battlefield, horsemanship is for evading enemy attacks. Rely on your reflexes, use every technique I taught you, but above all—you need a good horse. At the very least, a Hexi horse of the Sui,” Wudedulu explained in fluent Chinese, a result of many years’ practice.

After the lesson, Li Wenyuan suddenly asked, “Do you ever wish to return to the steppe? To replace the Ashina clan?”

Wudedulu was silent for a long time, then replied, “An eagle should soar in the sky, not bow its head among chickens.”

Li Wenyuan patted him on the shoulder. “The eagle will return to the sky one day. It hides among chickens only to escape the hunter’s arrow.” With that, he mounted his horse and rode to the military camp.

Wudedulu watched Li Wenyuan’s departing figure, stroking his horse’s mane, lost in thought.

Arriving at the Jincheng camp, Li Wenyuan handed his horse to the grooms and straightened his attire before entering Xue Ju’s tent.

Xue Ju was bent over his accounts, but looked up as Li Wenyuan entered. Rising, he grasped Li Wenyuan’s hand. “Brother, thanks to this campaign, I’ve requisitioned over five thousand warhorses from the commandery. The stable master is a friend of mine and has gifted me two Ferghana stallions. Come, let’s go see them.”

He led Li Wenyuan to the stables. From afar, a clear, piercing neigh split the air. Thanks to Wudedulu’s lessons, Li Wenyuan could tell at a glance that this must be one of the famed Ferghana horses.

Up close, there were two tall horses, one red, one white, attended by a man in fine silk. He greeted Xue Ju with cupped hands. “General Xue, I am sent by Lord Liu to deliver two fine steeds.”

He pointed to the white horse. “This is a pureblood Ferghana, three years old—the prime of its life as a warhorse.” Then to the red one, “This is a Shandan horse with Ferghana blood, also three years old.”