Chapter 56: Not a Single Man Among Them

Before going to sleep, Lu Qing forced himself to make a final inspection of the camp. To avoid detection by the Oirats, lighting fires was strictly forbidden. It was early autumn, and the chill of night pressed in. Having fled in haste, no one had brought bedding, so the soldiers huddled together for warmth. Even so, their bodies were dampened by dew. Fortunately, the soldiers’ bodies had been hardened by years of training; otherwise, half of them would likely wake up with chills by morning.

Having resolved to abandon the people of Gentlemen’s Fort, Lu Qing felt no need to feign concern or comfort them. He had already played the villain; there was no point in pretending to be the noble man any longer.

After instructing the small banners in charge of patrols to be doubly vigilant, Lu Qing yawned, found himself a spot beside Eunuch Guo’s carriage, and lay down to rest. Half-asleep, he felt something draped over him. Upon waking, he discovered it was a cloak which Niu Qing had respectfully presented to Eunuch Guo.

Lu Qing felt a pang of gratitude. He looked up at the carriage but saw no sign of movement; after listening intently, he heard only Eunuch Guo’s snores.

Smiling faintly, Lu Qing closed his eyes and drifted back to sleep.

The night passed without incident; the Oirats did not disturb them. It seemed the enemy had either marched entirely south or simply disregarded these defeated Ming remnants. Otherwise, with so many people camping in the wild, the Oirat scouts could not have failed to notice. It would have taken no more than a hundred—perhaps even a few dozen—cavalry to rout the fleeing column completely.

At dawn, Lu Qing was startled awake by the sound of weeping. The cries came from the camp of the old, weak, women, and children from Gentlemen’s Fort—heart-rending wails from young and old alike. He did not know what had happened.

“Go see what’s the matter.”

Lu Qing summoned a provisional squad leader from the Night Patrol to investigate. Shortly after, the man returned to report: over a dozen elders, all past sixty, had learned they would be forced out of the borders to circle around. Fearing they would burden their children and grandchildren, they had gathered together and committed suicide. Now their families were weeping around the corpses.

Lu Qing was silent for a long time.

The defeated soldiers departed amid the curses of Gentlemen’s Fort’s people. The suicides of the elders brought a sense of shame to the soldiers. They, too, had parents and children. If there had been any other choice, how could they have abandoned these people? So, no matter how vicious the curses, none of the soldiers retorted—they kept their heads down, unable to look the women and children in the eye.

Lu Qing, too, could not bear to look at them. Passing a few women with freshly wrapped white cloths on their heads, he wished the earth would open and swallow him whole.

A hundred thousand soldiers lay down their arms, and not a single man among them.

In the past, whenever Lu Qing read this line of poetry, he could not help but curse the soldiers for their incompetence and cowardice. Now, recalling it, he could no longer utter a word of reproach, nor did he feel the old yearning to prove himself.

Reality was cruel: for a hundred thousand soldiers to surrender was shameful enough, but to abandon the weak and the helpless to save themselves was equally disgraceful. There was no distinction between the two—both were heartbreaking.

To be a man, a soldier, and yet unable to protect one’s people; to watch them driven to a dead end in order to survive—this pain left scars in Lu Qing’s soul.

“Mother, why won’t the uncles take us with them?”

A childish voice nearly made Lu Qing cover his face and flee. He spurred his horse and galloped a mile before tears spilled from his eyes.

A hundred thousand soldiers lay down their arms, and not a single man among them!

...

The shadow of abandoning the women and children did not linger for long among the defeated army. Those who lived by the sword had grown hardened; even if shame and pity pierced them for a moment, time soon washed it away. People were practical. Now, the soldiers thought no longer of those they had left behind, nor of the elders who had killed themselves to avoid burdening their families. They thought only of how to pass through Jin Family Fort, how to survive.

Those with weapons in hand felt some confidence. Those without worried more. The shrewder among them began plotting how they might seize a chance to survive the chaos when the time came.

On the road, several dozen more Ming soldiers fleeing from Dushi joined the southbound column. Among them was an old acquaintance of Lu Qing—the very Qin Laosi who had tried to kill him in a fit of rage at Dushi Fort the previous night.

Most of these men were wounded, but not by Oirat hands. The injuries came from fighting among themselves for horses outside Dushi Fort that night.

Lu Qing bore little resentment toward Qin Laosi. Seeing so many of them wounded and without even a single horse, he was puzzled and asked what had happened.

Knowing Lu Qing was now one of the column’s leaders, Qin Laosi dared not offend him further. He explained, somewhat sheepishly, that when everyone gathered to seize the horses, the barbarians suddenly charged. The men scattered in panic; most were cut down by the enemy. Only a dozen or so managed to escape with horses and fled into the night. The rest ran desperately toward Gentlemen’s Fort, only to find it deserted. Fearing pursuit, they had fled south, and, upon discovering Lu Qing’s group, hurried to join them.

After hearing this, Lu Qing said nothing more. He told Qin Laosi to move those with weapons to the front, the rest to follow behind and obey orders—anyone disobeying would be expelled from the group.

Qin Laosi did not dare object. He led his dozen or so armed men to the front with Lu Qing; the rest quietly followed behind.

Jin Family Fort was only forty li away. With haste, they could reach it by afternoon, but after discussion with the officers, Lu Qing decided they must not cross by day. They would have to slip past under cover of darkness and avoid any direct clash with the Oirat cavalry. If discovered, those able to resist would resist; the rest must fend for themselves. In short, everything was for survival—lose as few as possible, fight only if absolutely necessary.

Lu Qing had considered attacking Jin Family Fort directly. By his reckoning, the Oirat garrison left inside could not be many. The defeated army now numbered around eight hundred, with more than two hundred armed men. Attacking by day was impossible, but a night assault might just succeed.

However, this suggestion was immediately rejected by Song Bangde, Lin the squad leader, and even Eunuch Guo. Their reasons were simple: first, they had no idea how many Oirats were inside; second, the column was in no condition to fight.

The first issue could have been resolved by sending scouts, and if the garrison was small, Lu Qing might have insisted on an attack. The second, though, left him no argument.

Nearly eight hundred men, all seasoned border troops and survivors of desperate battle—by rights, they should have been able to fight. If they could not, how had they managed to break through the Oirat blades at Dushi Fort? That night, every man had fought with red eyes, willing to risk everything.

But that was then. Then, everyone fought because they did not want to die at Dushi Fort, because they wanted to escape the slaughter. They had no choice but to give their all.

Now, it was different. Jin Family Fort was not a key stronghold on the frontier wall; they could bypass it entirely. As long as they moved quietly, they stood a good chance of slipping past in the dark. Compared to that night at Dushi, when to hesitate was to die, no one wanted to risk everything now. Besides, after days of exhausting flight, few had any strength left for a desperate battle. It was hard enough just to keep moving.

Worse still, who would lead the charge? Any assault meant casualties. Weapons were scarce; everyone wanted to survive. With no pressing need to fight, no one was willing to be the first to risk the life they had only just managed to save.

Song Bangde and the others had no wish to fight, and Lu Qing alone could not overrule them.

They admired him, certainly, but Lu Qing lacked the authority to command men to die on his word alone. The only reason most still followed his arrangements was out of respect for Eunuch Guo. Without Guo’s presence, Lu Qing might only have rallied a few dozen to join him in a desperate stand—the rest would not have cared.

Rank and status are what command loyalty and respect. Lu Qing had neither. Even the post of battalion commander promised by Eunuch Guo was still a distant mirage.

With no one supporting his plan, Lu Qing could only suppress the thought and say no more.

Jiang Tong and the scouts sent ahead reported back: Jin Family Fort had indeed fallen to the Oirats, but they could not determine the number of enemy soldiers inside. The Oirat commander had dispatched a thirty-man cavalry patrol to circle the fort, making it impossible to approach.

Not knowing how many Oirats were inside, a direct assault was out of the question. The group decided to hide in a desolate spot fifteen li from the fort, waiting for nightfall to attempt a stealthy passage.