During his free time from training new recruits, Shao Xun would occasionally visit the military headquarters.
Officially, he didn’t hold any position there, so he shouldn’t have been able to enter.
However, two-thirds of the staff had followed the emperor on campaign, and the remaining officials didn’t need to report daily.
The military overseer, Cao Fu, had simply moved the headquarters to his own home.
If there was business, people would come to report; if not, he would rest at home or go out to gather information.
Cao Fu had invited Shao Xun a few times before, but Shao had always politely declined.
This time, however, Shao Xun’s visit surprised Cao Fu, especially since Yu Liang had come along.
“Young master, do you have a courtesy name?” Cao Fu asked, sitting leisurely under a grapevine, fanning himself with a palm-leaf fan.
In ancient times, men usually received their courtesy names after their capping ceremony, which typically took place around the age of twenty.
However, depending on circumstances, it could happen earlier.
For example, Emperor Wu of Han had his ceremony at sixteen because his father’s health was failing.
Similarly, the Wanli Emperor had his at eight for the same reason.
Shao Xun, coming from a military family, might not have had such a ceremony.
Cao Fu’s question was more of a gesture of familiarity.
“No,” Shao Xun shook his head.
Cao Fu pondered for a moment, then asked, “What are your aspirations?”
“To remain loyal to the Grand Commandant, uphold the state, and restore peace to the world,” Shao Xun replied.
“A noble aspiration,” Cao Fu praised. “You are indeed a loyal and brave man. How about ‘Quanzhong’ (全忠, meaning ‘fully loyal’) as your courtesy name?”
Shao Xun felt as if struck by lightning and remained silent.
Shao Quanzhong? Are you joking?
“Haha, if you don’t like it, forget it,” Cao Fu said, not taking offense.
He wasn’t Shao Xun’s elder or teacher, so it was natural for Shao to reject the name.
Shao Xun forced a laugh, unsure how to respond.
“Actually, ‘Quanzhong’ isn’t bad,” Yu Liang chimed in.
Shao Xun shot him a fierce glare.
Yu Liang, realizing Shao was genuinely upset, quickly fell silent.
Shao Xun then turned his anger into a smile.
Youngsters like Yu Liang needed some discipline.
“Yesterday, I received news—” Cao Fu stopped fanning himself and suddenly said, “Meng Jiu is dead. Well, it happened about ten days ago.”
“Meng Jiu?” Shao Xun was momentarily stunned, then laughed. “He always wanted to kill me. I didn’t expect him to die so quickly.”
Previously, Shao Xun had been somewhat worried that Meng Jiu might send assassins after him, so he avoided going out unnecessarily.
When he did go out, he made sure to wear armor and bring a large group of people.
Who would have thought that Meng Jiu would kick the bucket before me? His wealth must be gone, his servants scattered, and his concubines taken by others.
Good riddance!
“With Meng Jiu dead, the morale in Ye has slightly improved,” Cao Fu continued. “But many are still uneasy. Prince Dong’an, Sima You, and General Qiao Zhiming have advised Sima Ying to welcome the emperor, but Sima Ying refused. The war will continue.”
Prince Dong’an, Sima You, was the uncle of Prince Langya, Sima Rui.
Since the beginning of the year, Sima Rui had clearly sided with Sima Yue.
The uncle and nephew were hedging their bets to preserve the wealth and status of their family line.
Currently, Sima Rui, like the other princes in the capital, had been dragged into the northern campaign.
Sima Yue wasn’t foolish enough to leave a prince behind in the capital while he was away on campaign.
Unreliable troops and potentially threatening princes were all taken along to keep an eye on them.
As for Qiao Zhiming, he was a Xianbei man known for his talent and virtue.
He had joined Sima Ying early on and brought a significant number of Xianbei cavalry with him.
He had been recommended as a general and served as a county magistrate with excellent results, earning the love of the people, who called him the “Divine Lord.”
When the war broke out, he strongly advised Sima Ying to welcome the emperor—essentially surrender—but Sima Ying retorted, “You claim to understand affairs, yet you serve me. Now the emperor is being pressured by petty men. How can you expect me to surrender and face execution?”
Qiao Zhiming, ashamed, took a military advisory position and led his Xianbei cavalry to serve under Shi Chao.
Yes, Shi Chao…
This man had fled back to Ye in disarray to plead for forgiveness.
Sima Ying didn’t punish him and instead entrusted him with fifty thousand infantry and cavalry to confront Sima Yue.
Shi Chao, weeping, poured all his resources into recruiting brave men and selecting troops, vowing to fight to the death.
Under the pressure of the approaching enemy, Sima Ying, who had once been extravagant and reckless, had surprisingly become more composed.
“When do you think the battle in Ye will be decided?” Shao Xun asked.
Cao Fu laughed but didn’t answer directly. “The longer you live, the more you know. Many things from the past are forgotten by the younger generation. I’ve seen battles that seemed certain to be won end in defeat, and I’ve witnessed miracles where the desperate turned the tide. War isn’t so simple. All we can do is our best, and the rest is up to fate.”
Shao Xun pondered this.
Cao Fu, being older, had a somewhat fatalistic view.
Many scholars of the time believed in fate, but Shao Xun rejected such thinking.
It felt weak and passive.
A real man should stay away from such ideas.
In truth, Shao Xun still didn’t fully fit into this world.
He believed in “man’s efforts shaping destiny,” “the strong ruling the weak,” and “defying authority.” These beliefs hadn’t formed overnight.
His rebellious nature had been tempered through countless trials.
This was perhaps one reason he so disliked the name “Quanzhong”—not just because of the historical figure Zhu Quanzhong.
“Enough of that,” Cao Fu, wise with age, noticed Shao Xun’s indifference but didn’t take offense.
He turned to Yu Liang and said, “Yuangui, when I was sixteen, I was still fooling around in the countryside, oblivious to the world. But you’ve already entered officialdom, honing your mind and learning the ropes. Shao Xun is a capable man. Learn from him; it won’t steer you wrong.”
“Understood,” Yu Liang replied promptly.
He had already observed that Shao Xun was not only brave but also seemed to have some administrative talent.
If Shao Xun were made a county magistrate or prefect, he would likely perform well and not be easily fooled by subordinates.
Moreover, many of Shao Xun’s views differed from those of the aristocratic families, offering new perspectives.
Following him was indeed a good path.
Cao Fu said no more.
He plucked a purple grape from the vine, peeled it, and popped it into his mouth, indifferent to the others’ gazes.
“By the way, you came today to hear about the western front, didn’t you?” Cao Fu wiped his mouth with his sleeve after eating the grape. “The western troops have mobilized. Twenty thousand men, led by Zhang Fang, aren’t heading directly to Luoyang. They might go to Hebei. Luoyang is safe for now. Focus on training your troops. I’ll do my best to supply what you need. Wang Yan, though erratic and arrogant, won’t cause trouble at this critical juncture.”
Shao Xun breathed a sigh of relief and stood to express his gratitude.
Without the backing of the Luoyang court, he didn’t know how long it would take to train a strong army.
Without enough food, soldiers couldn’t train effectively.
Without protein, they couldn’t train frequently.
The wear and tear on equipment during training was staggering.
The Donghai Kingdom’s army not only had complete equipment but even spare weapons.
After a battle, blades would often become dull, and spearheads would need repair.
Spare equipment was crucial.
Getting supplies from the Luoyang court was much easier than extracting money from the great families—provided the court had the resources.
Seeing that Cao Fu had nothing more to say, Shao Xun was about to take his leave when Yu Liang tugged at his sleeve and whispered, “You forgot about the Xiongnu.”
Ah, right! He had been so busy he nearly forgot.
Good thing his “little secretary” reminded him.
Shao Xun sat back down and earnestly asked, “Do you know anything about Liu Yuan?”
“Liu Yuanhai?” Cao Fu thought for a moment. “I’ve met him a few times. He’s an impressive man.”
After saying this, he fell into a long silence.
Finally, he sighed, “Actually, Liu Yuanhai almost became the commander of the southern campaign back in the day. Now he’s over fifty, but his time has passed.”
When opportunity came, his lifespan didn’t match.
How frustrating!
Of course, Liu Yuan might not see it that way.
He had spent most of his life studying and serving as an official in the Central Plains.
Beneath his Xiongnu exterior, he was a standard Han scholar-official, and a morally upright one at that.
In Cao Fu’s view, Liu Yuan’s character and abilities far surpassed Wang Yan’s.
His lack of achievement was mainly due to his family background.
The system of aristocratic families had been established in the Eastern Han, greatly strengthened during the Wei and Jin dynasties, peaked in the Eastern Jin, and then declined until its demise in the Sui and Tang.
During this period, when the system was near its peak, how could non-Han people not be excluded?
During the Northern Dynasties, there had been “barbarian surnames,” and even now, such surnames existed.
But their status was low, economically equivalent to that of poor landlords, with privileges like herdsmen, slaves, pastures, and livestock.
Politically, they couldn’t even compare to poor Han families and couldn’t enter the ranks of the scholar-officials.
Thus, Xiongnu, Xianbei, and Wuhuan chieftains had no family prestige and, in theory, couldn’t become officials.
But they had more value for the court in terms of unity.
The Jin court often granted official positions, even titles, to chieftains and prominent families among the subjugated barbarians.
In short, as long as you behaved and didn’t cause trouble, the court would reward you.
So, no matter the era, one must have value for unity…
Liu Yuan was one such person, but after decades, he hadn’t achieved much.
In his youth, the Jin dynasty was strong, so rebellion was impossible.
Now that the Central Plains were in chaos, he had the opportunity, but he was too old.
Such is fate.
“A chieftain named Huyan You has come to Ye, wanting to bring Liu Yuanhai back to Bingzhou to lead the Xiongnu’s five tribes and aid Chengdu. Prince Chengdu is hesitant and hasn’t agreed yet. Liu Yuanhai has told Huyan You to return first while he stays in Ye to assist with military affairs,” Cao Fu said. “That’s all I know. It seems he’ll leave sooner or later.”
Liu Yuan could leave whenever he wanted; Sima Ying hadn’t placed him under surveillance.
But Liu Yuan still had some loyalty.
Since Sima Ying didn’t want him to leave, he stayed, only sending Huyan You and others ahead.
However, as Cao Fu said, he would leave eventually.
If not now, then later.
The Xiongnu had come to fetch him for a reason.
The situation in the world had changed, and the ambitions of the Xiongnu’s five tribes were growing.
They wanted to take advantage of the chaos to claim a share.
“Thank you for the information,” Shao Xun said, bowing.
Yu Liang followed suit, remaining silent.
The princes had been fighting for so many years, and it seemed things were getting out of hand…
(End of Chapter)