Pots of thick rice porridge were cooked, paired with stacks of pickled vegetables, forming the dinner for the Jiaxing reclamation army.
Though just porridge and pickles, the portions were generous, and everyone slurped heartily, filling their bellies.
To show he shared the soldiers’ hardships—and for show—Zhao Chong dined outside his tent with them.
But the meal his old servant brought him made his display awkward.
While the soldiers had porridge and pickles, Zhao Chong’s spread was four dishes and a soup: stir-fried pork slices, hand-torn roasted chicken, braised lion’s head meatballs, vinegar-glazed mung bean sprouts, and a bowl of tofu-crucian carp soup, fragrant and tempting.
Everything hinges on comparison. Seeing Zhao Chong’s fragrant, colorful feast, the soldiers suddenly found their porridge tasteless and the pickles like wax, hard to swallow.
“Damn it, who told you to make me a special meal? Didn’t I say I’d eat what the soldiers eat?!” Zhao Chong stood, feigning fury, scolding the servant who brought the food.
“Chop these dishes into bits and mix them into the soldiers’ pots to reward the army.”
To salvage his image, Zhao Chong ordered his lavish meal diced and distributed into the camp’s cooking pots.
His effort had some effect. As the soldiers privately remarked, “At least he’s willing to put on a show…”
“Eat well, drink up, and get to your tents early to sleep. Tomorrow morning, I’ll lead you to retake Jiaxing!”
After the performative dinner, Zhao Chong urged everyone to sleep early, leading by example and turning to his tent.
What?!
Sleep already?! No nighttime sentries? No patrols? No camp entry passcodes?!
The Hangzhou Garrison centurion and others, hearing Zhao Chong’s words and seeing him head to bed, were stunned.
Skipping fences, towers, and barricades was bad enough, but now—no sentries, no patrols, no passcodes for sleep?!
Though the Hangzhou Garrison was lax and poorly trained, they knew these basics.
Night sentries, patrols, and camp passcodes were fundamental.
Without them, the camp was defenseless. Pirates could sneak in easily, and everyone’s lives would be at risk.
They couldn’t help but worry.
Seeing Zhao Chong about to enter his tent, they hurriedly called out, “Lord Zhao, are we not setting sentries, patrols, or passcodes?!”
“No need. Just sleep soundly,” Zhao Chong said, waving off their concerns.
Sleep soundly? How can we?!
The crowd was speechless.
“My lord, what if pirates sneak into camp at night?” the Hangzhou centurion asked, worried.
“Relax and sleep. The pirates won’t come tonight—it’s part of the empty city stratagem! Besides, I’m at the front. What’s there to fear? Go sleep, rest up. We retake Jiaxing at dawn!”
Zhao Chong waved again, chuckling, urging them to their tents to rest.
Uh…
True, Zhao Chong’s tent is at the front. If pirates raid, they’ll hit his tent first. With him and his guards as a buffer, we’d have time to flee.
Sleep lightly, keep an ear on Zhao Chong’s tent. If anything stirs there, we bolt.
With that thought, the crowd stopped arguing and trickled into their tents to “rest up.”
Some in the camp, uneasy about the pirates, took it upon themselves to watch Jiaxing’s walls for signs of a raid.
Hundreds of meters away, on Jiaxing’s walls, pirates moved with torches and bonfires, patrolling the gates.
But after watching most of the night, there was no hint of the pirates leaving the city to attack.
Could the pirates really be scared by our empty city stratagem?!
Does Zhao Chong actually know what he’s doing, saying the pirates would fear an ambush and not dare raid?
And they haven’t left the city since we arrived.
This gave Zhao Chong a slight boost of repute in the camp.
That night, Zhu Ping’an received another report about Zhao Chong and was stunned.
“What’s Zhao Chong’s game? Camping five to six hundred meters from Jiaxing?! That’s way too close—within range of crossbows and firearms.”
“And camping that close without fences, barricades, trenches, or towers?”
“Not even setting sentries or patrols?!”
“Is Zhao Chong that fearless?”
Zhu Ping’an sat in his study, frowning and pondering for another half hour, unable to decipher Zhao Chong’s plan.
As for Zhao Chong’s talk of an “empty city stratagem,” Zhu Ping’an just smirked, not believing a word.
In the end, he reached the same conclusion: Zhao Chong must have some hidden backing.
Perhaps Zhao Chong’s plan is to lure the pirates out, even using himself as bait.
There must be a Yan faction army hidden nearby, ready to retake Jiaxing if the pirates emerge.
Or maybe Zhao Chong’s three thousand rabble hide some Yan faction elites.
Otherwise, his bizarre actions make no sense.
Hm, reports say Zhao Chong’s hundred guards exude a fierce, murderous aura, highly skilled.
Before his imprisonment, Zhao Chong had no such guards; they appeared after his release.
This reinforced Zhu Ping’an’s conclusion: those guards were Yan faction reinforcements.
The Yan faction’s army aiding Zhao Chong is no ordinary force—his Zhejiang scouts hadn’t found a trace despite long surveillance. Partly because they avoided alarming either side, but also because this Yan faction army was exceptional.
“Keep scouting, report everything. Monitor both sides in Jiaxing closely, rotate scouts, don’t miss a moment.”
Zhu Ping’an ordered his Zhejiang scouts to keep a tight watch. Know yourself and your enemy, and you’ll never lose.
