Chapter 12: Returning Home

“Hahaha… He’s drunk himself stupid,” the long-faced man roared, pointing at Cai Gang, unable to contain his laughter. The more he looked, the funnier it became, until he burst out in unrestrained mirth.

Grief overwhelmed Cai Gang, and he couldn’t help but sob bitterly, his cries tearing through his heart and soul. Among those lost were his brothers, friends of many years, even Cai Cong—the hope of the Cai family!

Great laughter and bitter weeping, joy and sorrow—life’s twists and turns play out at a single table, with a hundred flavors arising. All who witnessed this scene shook their heads and drifted away.

Cai Gang had no idea how he left the restaurant. He didn’t dare go back. How could he bring himself to deliver such news? To look into so many hopeful faces, only to shatter their hopes—he simply couldn’t do it.

He hadn’t gone far from the tavern when all three of them were seized by the night patrol. Curfew had been declared—no one was allowed out at night, whether you were out to relieve yourself or too drunk to walk. All were locked up first, identities checked in the morning, and if you weren’t a spy, you’d get ten lashes and be sent on your way.

Meanwhile, in the rear offices of the Golden Guardian’s headquarters, Cai Cong watched Li Ji expectantly, while Li Ji leisurely sipped his wine and sampled the small dishes before him.

After a while, Li Ji noticed that Cai Cong had calmed down, quietly flipping through his book, the anxious look gone from his face. This irked Li Ji.

“Why are you reading? Aren’t you worried about your mother and your fellow villagers?”

“For someone who’s supposed to be a master tactician, you’re awfully slow,” Cai Cong replied without looking up, continuing to turn the pages.

“You little brat! Daring to insult me like this… If you don’t give me a satisfactory answer today, I don’t care how clever you are, I’ll tan your hide until you’re black and blue!”

Li Ji rose from his seat, grinning wickedly as he grabbed Cai Cong. Who was he? Even Li Shimin didn’t dare call him stupid, let alone this eight-year-old child!

Cai Cong was startled. These men from the army were no fragile scholars—even Fang Xuanling had drawn his blade in battle, let alone someone of Li Ji’s caliber!

He dropped his book and said solemnly, “A few days ago, when you saw me, you turned away, but you pounded your chest and swore you’d find my family if I had questions. Tonight, you’re not avoiding me; you’re acting all superior. Doesn’t that mean you’ve found my family?”

Li Ji’s face darkened. He hadn’t expected to make such a rookie mistake. Glancing at Cai Cong, he couldn’t help but wonder: was this really just an eight-year-old child? Or a spirit from the mountains in disguise?

Still, his hands didn’t stop; he plopped Cai Cong onto his knee and pulled down the boy’s trousers.

“What are you doing? Am I wrong? Damn it, you’re really going to hit me? Have you no conscience? I’m still a child! Ow, it hurts—stop!”

“Heh… You’re not wrong. But I’ll smack you anyway, just out of spite!” Li Ji chuckled wickedly, raining slaps on Cai Cong’s little bottom.

“Ah… That’s better.” After he finished, Li Ji felt refreshed. This boy’s mind was as sharp as a demon’s—in their recent contests of wit, Li Ji had lost more often than he’d won, and he’d been itching to give him a thrashing. “Now, let’s talk about what to do! The Turks have reached the Wei River and could cross to attack Chang’an at any moment. The situation is critical!”

Later generations would mention the Treaty of the Wei River with barely a word, as if Li Shimin’s negotiation with the Turks were a trivial matter. But how could the dangers involved be summed up so simply?

Cai Cong rolled his eyes, gritting his teeth at the pain. “I know nothing—don’t ask me. You’re the professionals here; I refuse to believe General Li Jing hasn’t made proper arrangements!”

He spoke irritably. He might have traveled through time, but that didn’t mean he knew everything. Who knew exactly how Li Shimin had convinced the Turks to retreat?

“I’m not asking you to decide—just share your thoughts,” Li Ji said, no longer treating Cai Cong as a mere child, especially after Cai Cong had advised taking the initiative to intimidate the Turks and had also suggested cutting off their supply lines—just as Li Jing had. From that moment on, Li Ji had regarded him as an equal.

Even Li Ji himself had feared that severing the Turks’ supplies would drive them to attack Chang’an in desperation, but this little imp had insisted otherwise, reasoning just like the God of War himself. What kind of mind was this—for an eight-year-old!

“Generals like Cheng Yaojin and Niu Jinda have surely led their troops to Chang’an by now. Other loyalist armies must be en route too. Now’s the time to flaunt our strength. The Turks are made up of many tribes, not a unified whole. If they see there’s no profit in attacking Chang’an, many chieftains will hesitate, and then Jieli will have no choice but to withdraw.”

“Well said. Anything else?” Li Ji closed his eyes in thought, then nodded in agreement.

“You’re an adult—can’t you think for yourself? My bottom hurts; my mind’s a blank,” Cai Cong grumbled, shifting uncomfortably.

“Hmm? Will you talk or not?” Li Ji sneered, raising his hand.

“Fine, fine! The Turks are after gold and grain, nothing more. First, we should send envoys to denounce Jieli for breaking faith and attacking the Great Tang without provocation—take a hard line. Then, privately, offer rich rewards to the major tribes to encourage them to withdraw. Once someone takes the lead, others will follow. If at that point His Majesty proposes a new non-aggression treaty and offers treasures from the national treasury, Jieli will surely retreat.”

“How hateful! If only the Great Tang had a few more years of peace and recovery, we wouldn’t have to endure this humiliation. I can’t accept it!” Li Ji exclaimed with anguish, drawing his sword and cleaving the desk in front of him in two.

“It’s a bitter humiliation, but it will unite the empire. After a few years of recuperation, when our strength returns, the entire nation will rise as one to crush the Turks and drive them to extinction.”

Cai Cong was equally indignant. As a connoisseur of Chinese culture, the more he learned, the more he understood how many disasters this nation had endured over the millennia, and how many times it had risen from the ashes.

“Exactly! This shame must be washed away with blood. I must go to court to discuss state affairs. Your villagers are safe within Chang’an—I’ve sent men to watch over them. But you cannot leave the Right Guard’s quarters for now; His Majesty may summon you at any moment.”

“There’s good food and drink here; I’m in no hurry to leave! But please, let my fellow villagers go home first. That way their families won’t worry, and my mother will know I’m safe.”

“That’s easily arranged. Your mother and the others are staying at the Temple of Compassion. At dawn, someone will take you to the prison to see your fellow villagers. Say what you need to say, but you are not to go back with them,” Li Ji said seriously.

Cai Cong rolled his eyes, inwardly scorning the man’s excessive suspicion. In such chaotic times, what place could be safer than the Right Guard’s quarters? If he could, he’d have brought his mother there himself.

Early the next morning, Cai Cong saw the detained villagers. They didn’t look mistreated, just a bit dispirited, probably from fright.

As soon as the villagers saw Cai Cong, they began to wail, “Cai lad, you’ve been arrested too? Heaven help us, what kind of world is this?”

“Quit your bawling! Young Master Cai is here to let you go home,” said Li Ji’s bodyguard, showing no special courtesy to these peasants.

“Huh?” The villagers’ cries stopped abruptly. Some, caught off guard, choked on their own spit, coughing uncontrollably.

“Uncle Da Tian, and all my uncles and brothers, you’ve suffered a fright these days. Now you can go home. The Turks have invaded, and the court has ordered the people to take refuge in the countryside. Our villagers are all staying at the Temple of Compassion. Someone will take you there shortly.”

Cai Cong spoke gently, his heart heavy with guilt. His assumptions had caused them to suffer wrongful imprisonment.

“What about you, Cai lad? Aren’t you coming with us? Officer, he’s just a child—take me instead! I bought the rice; if someone must be punished, punish me, but let the boy go,” Cai Da Tian declared without hesitation.

“Nonsense! Who said we’re arresting Young Master Cai? He’s an honored guest of the Duke and will be staying at the Duke’s residence for now,” the guard replied gruffly, though a glimmer of respect flickered in his eyes. A true man is respected everywhere.

“Don’t worry, Uncle Da Tian. I’ll be back in a few days. Please tell my mother I am well fed and looked after—she needn’t worry.”

Confused and dazed, Cai Da Tian and the others were escorted to the Temple of Compassion. What was going on? Locked up for so many days, only to be suddenly released—it all felt unreal.

Meanwhile, Cai Gang and his two companions were given a flogging and then kicked out by the watchmen. In truth, they’d have preferred to stay imprisoned. How were they supposed to break the news back home? Should they say they were sent to buy coffins to collect Da Tian’s corpse? Or that the villagers would soon be orphans and widows?

But fate could not be avoided. When they returned to the Temple of Compassion, someone spotted them right away.

“Uncle Gang! We’ve been waiting for you all day and night. What happened? Did you find anything out?”

“Heh, yes, we found out. Let’s talk inside,” Cai Gang replied with a forced smile, his head buzzing.

“Uncle Gang, did you find out? Did they say what it would take to get our people released?”

“Yes! Is Cai lad all right?”

As soon as they entered, a crowd swarmed around, peppering them with questions. Facing so many hopeful faces, Cai Gang felt as if something was stuck in his throat—he couldn’t speak for a long moment.

“What is it… Are they not releasing them?” The hopeful faces froze, tears springing to their eyes, threatening to overflow.

Cai Gang shut his eyes and clenched his teeth, then cried out, “The authorities told us to prepare coffins—to collect their bodies.”

At these words, Sister Cai felt the world spin and collapsed. The others fared little better; in no time, the Temple of Compassion was filled with wailing. The old patriarch was similarly devastated. With these young men gone, how much hope remained for Cai Village? He took to his bed, overwhelmed.

After repeated confirmation, the old man fell into despair and ordered coffins and burial clothes to be purchased. Sister Cai lay on her kang bed, staring blankly at the ceiling, all light gone from her eyes. After all she had sacrificed, was her family line to end after all?

“Sister, look on the bright side. If you want, my eldest son could be adopted into your house…” Cai Gang and his wife came to comfort her, but her soul was dead and nothing could reach her.

Just then, Cai Da Tian and his companions finally arrived at the temple. From afar, they saw more than a dozen coffins at the gate, with soul-summoning banners propped against the wall. What had happened? Had so many died at once?

“Er Wa, what happened in the village?” Da Tian asked nervously, gripping the shoulder of a laborer nearby.

“It’s a mess! Why ask when you know? Wait—Uncle Da Tian, didn’t the authorities say they were going to execute you?”

“Execute us? Not at all! The authorities let us go. Where is everyone?”

“They’re all inside. Uncle Gang came back this morning and said the authorities were going to execute you all. Many people nearly collapsed from grief. The place is in chaos—you’d better go see for yourselves.” Not long after, Cai Gang’s agonized screams echoed through the temple—a whole village beating up one man. Such a scene hadn’t been witnessed in all the years since the founding of the Tang.