Chapter Sixty-Six: Foolishness

Lu Qing had made a foolish choice.

Letting these women die would have best served the interests of both these defeated Ming soldiers and himself, for it was simply impossible to take them along on the journey south. In this world, there are rarely perfect solutions; the idea of saving both oneself and others exists only in the beautiful fantasies of books. Reality, cruel as ever, often presents just one grim option—do you wish to survive, or do you wish to die together?

Most, when confronted with such a choice, opt for the former. It is the rational path, for human nature is largely selfish; few would willingly sacrifice their own lives for a group of strangers. Those who choose otherwise are usually called heroes—tragic heroes, impractical heroes—whose praises are sung only after they have paid with their lives for defying reason.

Lu Qing had lost his reason. He made the wrong decision—he would take these women along, or rather, he would protect them.

Since coming to this era, Lu Qing had thought of little else but how to change the impending “Disaster at Tumu Fortress,” how to save the lives of hundreds of thousands of Ming soldiers and civilians, how to alter the fate of the captured Emperor Zhengtong. What a noble and grand ambition it was. For that, he was willing to protect Guo Jing at all costs, even prepared to side with Wang Zhen, all for the sake of what he had convinced himself must be done.

I am Han, he told himself time and again, and so I must do this. If I can change the outcome at Tumu Fortress, I will become a hero to the Han people, a hero of the Ming. Only by becoming a hero could he truly establish himself in this dynasty, command the winds and clouds, and enjoy a season of glory.

But to become a hero—must he, for the sake of future power, watch as hundreds of destitute women drown themselves before his eyes? Was it worth losing the chance to change the fate at Tumu Fortress, losing the gateway to power, for the sake of several hundred strangers?

In his heart, Lu Qing believed it was not worth it. The lives of a few hundred could not be weighed against those of hundreds of thousands. To choose the former and abandon the latter would, in later times, be scorned as the mark of a bleeding heart—a term used only in derision.

Yet these were living souls, women driven to suicide by helplessness and despair. If there was a chance to live, would they truly choose death? To be ravaged by the barbarians was not their reason for dying; the Ming’s codes of propriety held no sway over the women of the frontier. If they chose death merely for the sake of chastity or to remain faithful to dead husbands, there would be no women left on the border.

Remarriage after a husband’s death was perfectly normal in the borderlands. As military households, these women had long prepared for the day their husbands might die in battle. They would not cling to widowhood for the sake of reputation, for they needed to survive and raise the children left behind. To do so, they must remarry, so another man could take up the burden of their broken families.

Indeed, in the Xuanda region, two in ten women were remarried. These women did not seek death for the sake of violated chastity, but because they saw no hope for survival; it was despair, not shame, that drove them to such extremes.

Suicide was their only means of self-preservation, their last defense against further violation by the barbarians.

Many women heard Lu Qing’s voice, heard his promise. Instinctively, they halted, turning back in astonishment.

“You don’t need to die! We will protect you—we will never let the barbarians take you again!” Lu Qing shouted once more, fearing those farther away might not hear, repeating his words loudly.

“Will you really protect us?” a frail woman asked, voice quivering with emotion.

“Yes, I swear it!” Lu Qing met her gaze, nodding with unwavering resolve.

The woman believed him. She cried out, “Sisters, come back—he says they’ll protect us!”

With her tearful cry, the women began to stir. After a moment’s hesitation, some finally turned back toward the shore. After all, they did not truly wish to die. Since the Ming soldiers would not abandon them, they would not seek death.

Soon, more and more women returned to the shore. The rescuing soldiers rejoiced, but the faces of officers like Song Bangde remained dark and grim.

Far off atop the fortress wall, Eunuch Guo closed his eyes and let out a long sigh.

...

“Mother, that uncle told us to come back.”

“I know, child.”

“Then why are we still standing in the water, Mother? Aren’t you cold?”

“I am cold.”

“Then why not go ashore?”

“Mother...” The woman could not bring herself to turn back; she truly wished to follow her husband in death. But when she saw the hope on her daughter’s face, her heart could not bear it. At last, she bit her lip, gathered her daughter in her arms, and turned toward the shore. Though her clothes were soaked, for reasons she could not name, her heart felt much more at ease upon setting foot on dry land.

Qiao’er still did not understand what had happened. She only knew her mother was no longer cold.

Though most of the women returned because of Lu Qing’s promise, more than a dozen had already drowned in the river. Their bodies now lay who knows where—perhaps by morning, they would wash up somewhere downstream.

...

The women had been rescued, but the main hall of the garrison was in utter chaos.

“We simply cannot take them south with us, or we’ll all die!”

After half an hour of heated debate, Lu Qing still could not convince Song Bangde and the others to agree to take the women along. Apart from Zhou Yunyi, Jiang Tong, and a few others, most were opposed. Some of those who had moments before rushed to save lives now stood firmly with Song Bangde.

Saving someone did not mean saving them all the way. In the eyes of these men, keeping the women from drowning themselves and taking them along were two entirely different matters—the first was a matter of conscience, the second their very survival. One could not be confused for the other, lest disaster follow.

Eunuch Guo did not join in the quarrel; he merely sent Xiao Tianyin to tell Lu Qing that they would inform him of their decision once they had reached an agreement.

Lu Qing knew this was Guo’s tactful way of expressing his displeasure. But things had come to this—he could say nothing more. Since he had given those women a promise of survival, he would not go back on his word, nor would he ever abandon them.