Chapter Thirty: Triumphant Return to the Capital

On the seventeenth day of the twelfth lunar month in the fourth year of the Chui Gong era, Cen Wenqian, Minister of the Summer Bureau, led the eastern expeditionary army back to the capital.

Lu Yuanfu, Attendant of the Phoenix Terrace, and Wu Chengsi, Minister of the Heavenly Bureau, rode out beyond the city gates to greet them, presenting the captured enemies at the Dragon’s Head Imperial Preserve.

The Empress issued edicts to reward the meritorious. Zhang Guangfu, gravely wounded, was granted a noble title and retired from office to enjoy his remaining years in honor. Cen Wenqian was promoted to Inner Historian of the Phoenix Terrace, joined the ranks of the prime ministers, and Ku Chongyu advanced one grade to become Grand General of the Right Gate Guard; Zhao Liu succeeded as Grand General of the Left Martial Guard.

The Eastern Capital Thousand Oxen Guard, for their exceptional merit, received particularly generous rewards. Zheng Zhong, promoted to General of the Thousand Oxen Guard, took command of the entire unit, filling its vacancies at his discretion. Lu Jiong, promoted to Lieutenant of the Right Guard Auxiliary, and Lai Chong, promoted to Lieutenant of the Left Leopard Tactic Guard. All fallen soldiers of the Thousand Oxen Guard were enshrined as Demon-Suppressing Deities, to be eternally venerated. The remaining guards received two-grade promotions, with their posts to be determined by the Summer Bureau based on merit.

There were rewards for merit and punishments for fault. Those leaders who had falsely claimed achievements, killing innocents for personal gain, were lightly punished—a single dismissal, while the rest had their merits offset by their faults, receiving only admonitions. The Imperial Guard captain who assaulted Zhang Guangfu was ordered to be executed as a warning to others. Di Renjie, the prefect of Bianzhou, absent from the scene, was demoted to prefect of Fuzhou for defying military orders and disparaging the pacification efforts.

A long list of rewards and punishments was read out by the imperial messenger, taking as long as it took for a stick of incense to burn. The assembly knelt and received their orders, causing some commotion. Notably, the edict made no mention of the controversial figure Quan Ce, whose merits and faults were in dispute.

“General, this judgment is unfair…” Zheng Zhong and others crowded around, indignant and somewhat ashamed, for truthfully, their achievements had all been carved from Quan Ce’s efforts.

“Silence, you disappoint me greatly!” Quan Ce frowned deeply, glaring at them with dissatisfaction. “The Thousand Oxen Guard of the Eastern Capital are soldiers who protect the realm and its people, not petty schemers or ruffians. Rain and thunder alike are the grace of our sovereign; our duty is unwavering obedience, nothing more. What decorum is this, bickering among yourselves?”

“Yes, sir,” Zheng Zhong and the others thumped their chests in salute, docile in appearance, but their eyes remained defiant. Lai Chong, less intimidated by Quan Ce, retorted, “All officials serve Her Majesty, and it is the martial officers’ duty to correct and advise. This injustice, I cannot accept.”

Internal disputes plagued the Thousand Oxen Guard, and the other commanders who had joined the suppression also lingered, voicing no public objection, yet all felt the unfairness—Quan Ce’s merits went unrecognized, his rank replaced by his own subordinates, without explanation. His armor still unfastened, the blood on his blade yet to dry, he was left to such a fate, chilling to the heart.

“This is the Imperial Preserve! What are you rabble doing, plotting rebellion?” A junior officer led a charge, none other than the long-unseen Wu Yanyi, Lieutenant of the Left Guard Auxiliary. He shouted as he ordered his men to drive them out.

Ku Chongyu was furious. “I am Grand General of the Left Gate Guard! How dare you behave so brazenly?”

Wu Yanyi crossed his arms and sneered, “Just a door-keeper, boasting shamelessly. Out of respect for your service in the suppression, I’ll give you a hint: if you want a more dignified post, visit my father, the Minister of the Heavenly Bureau, tonight. Otherwise… Tie them up, all four limbs, and toss them out… As for General Quan, he’s an old acquaintance of mine—make sure he gets an extra round of bindings.”

The soldiers swarmed in, subduing and binding the commanders before they could react, trussing them up like beasts and carrying them out of the palace, dumping them in the street outside the Danfeng Gate.

The waiting household guards rushed forward to rescue them. Freed, the commanders cursed loudly, but Quan Ce remained composed, waving them silent, mocking himself, “Gentlemen, we've grown accustomed to command, neglecting the field of battle—our thighs have grown soft. We must practice our martial skills more diligently. Next time, at the very least, we ought to struggle for several rounds before letting them prevail.”

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“Ha ha ha, well said! Tomorrow, I invite General Quan to play polo.”

“Polo is dull. Hunting is better. General Quan must come—and who else will join?”

The commanders gladly seized the opportunity to ease the tension, humming and hawing, inviting Quan Ce to relax—a gesture of goodwill.

“Thank you all. This matter is settled; I shall soon return to Luoyang…” Before he finished, a peal of silvery laughter rang out. Shangguan Wan’er appeared with two palace maids, dressed in official robes, black gauze hat, and a stone-blue cloak, radiant with heroic spirit. “You return without even greeting me, and now you leave? Heartless, truly heartless.”

“Greetings, Attendant.” The commanders saluted and withdrew, Zheng Zhong and a few others lingering, unwilling to depart. Shangguan Wan’er paid them no mind, laughing as she sized up Quan Ce. “You’ve been gone for months, and your heroic air has only grown. I heard you were wounded—where was it?”

Her tone was intimate; Quan Ce was embarrassed, Zheng Zhong and the others even more so, hurriedly saluting and claiming they had to visit Lu Jiong’s kin at Lai Chong’s home, retreating in disarray.

“Heh heh heh,” Shangguan Wan’er laughed all the more.

Quan Ce straightened and saluted, “May I ask, Attendant, what instructions do you have?”

“Heartless man, hmph, come with me,” Shangguan Wan’er glared at him playfully and led the way, wrapped in a cloud of grievance. “I may not match your talent, but I have some modest fame. I often mingle with scholars, and whenever they journey beyond the frontier, their works shine brilliantly—I envy them. You, having gone to battle yourself, have gifted me not a single word. Do you look down on me?”

Quan Ce lagged half a step behind, head bowed in utmost humility. He was not vain, nor did he believe much in the sincerity of those in court. His thoughts raced, trying to discern her intent, replying modestly, “I would not dare. You flatter me, Attendant. I am but a rough man, daily occupied with killing or burying, hardly comparable to you, whose words are as embroidered silk, flowing into beautiful verse.”

“Your essay on the ancient battlefield—I have read it. It is bold and expansive, steep and elegant, exquisitely crafted. It astonished me, lingering on my lips for days.” Shangguan Wan’er stopped, turned, her bright eyes scrutinizing him, making Quan Ce uneasy, head bowed to avoid her gaze.

Her expression shifted several times; she flicked her sleeves and strode ahead without another word.

In the Golden Phoenix Hall, Quan Ce was summoned before Empress Wu, flanked by two high ministers—Prime Minister Su Weidao and Wu Chengsi, Minister of the Heavenly Bureau.

“Your servant Quan Ce greets the Empress,” Quan Ce knelt in salute.

For a long moment, there was no call to rise. Footsteps approached, stopping at his brow. The Empress’s white cloud-topped shoes bespoke a casual attire.

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“You have accomplished something great,” the Empress spoke softly. Quan Ce felt two piercing gazes on his back and bowed lower, so much so that his head nearly touched the Empress’s shoes.

“So young, yet so bold. Tell me—what is most vital in the army?” The Empress’s feet did not move. Quan Ce felt stifled. “Your Majesty, it is discipline.”

“You mean military law? Not the spirit of the army?” The Empress was slightly surprised.

Quan Ce sensed this was the aftermath of his ancient battlefield essay. “Your Majesty, the spirit of the army is rare and must be cultivated with care, not easily acquired. Military law is the axe, punishing soldiers for what must not be done; discipline is the rule, ensuring what must be done. Without discipline, the effect of law wanes day by day, until it is lost altogether.”

“Heh,” the Empress chuckled, stepping away and pacing. “Your talent is fine, but your nature unruly. In this suppression, you have merit and you have fault. I offer you two choices—choose for yourself.”

Lady-in-waiting Xie Yaohuan brought a tray with two silk documents: one read “Grand General of the Eastern Capital Thousand Oxen Guard, Upper Third Rank,” the other, “Phoenix Pavilion Attendant, Upper Sixth Rank.”

Quan Ce hesitated. He was eager to return to the Eastern Capital to seek help from Xue Huaiyi and save his uncle, but to return as Grand General would be too conspicuous. As Attendant, the rank was low, but he would be in the Empress’s presence, able to use connections and act from within—perhaps easier for his purpose. He glanced at the gentle, smiling Shangguan Wan’er and felt a pang of regret.

He reached out and chose the silk document for Attendant.

“Heh heh heh,” the Empress laughed again. “Prime Minister Su, Chengsi, what do you think?”

“Your Majesty’s wisdom is unparalleled,” Su Weidao stroked his beard and smiled.

“Your nephew concedes, wholeheartedly,” Wu Chengsi, however, was puzzled. “General Quan, why forsake the prominent post for a lowly office? Have you forgotten your original intent to cultivate the army’s spirit?”

“Never, Your Majesty. The spirit of the army is but theory for me. Serving before Your Majesty, I may also boast a little outside,” Quan Ce blushed at the right moment, careful to please, though his heart surged with anxiety. If the Empress lost this wager, what would become of him?

“Childish nonsense,” the Empress scoffed.

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