After the pirate wall-climbing raid, the guards atop the city walls took their patrols and night watches to a whole new level of diligence. Every few minutes, they’d toss a torch down, terrified the pirates might try the same trick again.
Though the patrols and watches intensified, not a single guard grumbled. Zhu Ping’an’s foresight, strategic brilliance, and uncanny ability to predict the enemy had already won them over. Tonight was hard proof.
If Zhu Ping’an hadn’t prepared ahead—ordering bells hung along the walls to catch a night raid—the pirates might’ve slipped up unnoticed. Once they breached the top, blood would’ve flowed like rivers.
Beyond that, Zhu Ping’an’s personal example sealed their loyalty.
While the guards rotated shifts, Zhu Ping’an stayed awake all night, pacing the walls, checking posts, and encouraging the men.
In contrast, Prefect Shang only showed up for the first half of the night, fading by the second. As for苏州’s other officials? They barely bothered. They’d make a token appearance when Shang was around, but once he left, not one set foot on the walls.
“Sir, it’s past midnight—ugly hour already. Go rest a bit. We’ve got the walls covered, no slip-ups guaranteed,” Liu Mu and Liu Dadao urged Zhu Ping’an as the night deepened.
“No need, no need. It’s just one sleepless night. Once the pirates retreat, I’ll have plenty of time to catch up,” Zhu Ping’an replied with a smile, waving off their concern.
They pressed him a while longer, but seeing his resolve, they gave up.
It was the dead of winter, well past midnight, with a biting north wind howling. The cold was no joke.
The guards couldn’t help but hunch over, blowing on their hands to warm them.
“My oversight. It’s midwinter, middle of the night, and the chill’s brutal—everyone’s freezing. Dadao, get the cooks to whip up ten pots of hot meat stew. I recall the locals sent pigs, sheep, chickens, and ducks this evening. Use them—load it with meat—and pair it with two buns each. Give the night watch a proper supper to warm them up and shake off the cold.”
Cheers erupted at Zhu Ping’an’s order for a midnight meal.
“Thank you, Lord Zhu! We’d die for you!”
“Thanks, sir!”
The walls buzzed with gratitude, morale soaring. Even the howling wind felt like a warm breeze.
Soon, Liu Dadao and the cooks delivered steaming pots of stew—chicken, duck, pork, and mutton tumbling together, the rich aroma wafting for miles.
Each night guard got a massive porcelain bowl brimming with hearty stew—half-filled with meat, rounded out with radish, tofu, and cabbage. The broth shimmered with oil, fragrant and thick. Paired with a bun in hand, they slurped the soup and bit into the bread, contentment washing over them. A big chunk of meat, chewed heartily, was pure bliss.
In the frigid winter night, with wind roaring, it felt like summer under a blazing sun.
Fed and warmed, the guards tackled their watch with fierce dedication, eyes sharp as bells. Not even an ant could sneak up without being spotted and flicked back down.
Without Zhu Ping’an’s say-so, nothing was getting in.
The rest of the night passed quietly.
After their failed raid, the pirates cowered like wolves with broken spines, hunkered in their camp without a twitch. They didn’t even approach within a hundred meters of the walls.
Dawn arrived on schedule, the first light and rising sun rousing the sleeping city.
“Ahem, apologies, Zihou. I’m getting old—meant to rest a moment and resume patrols, but I slept through. Those useless aides didn’t wake me either. I hear you stayed up all night, checking the walls and boosting the men, never slacking. I’m ashamed,” Prefect Shang said, approaching Zhu Ping’an at dawn, bowing with genuine regret.
“Lord Shang, you’re too hard on yourself. I’m just young enough to manage. At your age, I doubt I’d last past midnight. You’re still spry as ever,” Zhu Ping’an laughed, returning the bow and offering Shang a graceful out.
Shang was indeed old and frail—a scholar, not a soldier. Zhu Ping’an had noticed his drooping eyes during the early patrols, yet he’d pushed through.
Compared to the other officials, Shang had done his part.
“No, no, I’m ashamed. Can’t fight age,” Shang shook his head ruefully.
Bathed in dawn’s glow, they inspected the walls together. Shang pointed at the pirate camp beyond. “Zihou, you said last night that if their raid failed, they’d retreat today. But they don’t look like they’re leaving?”
“No worries, Lord Shang. Just watch,” Zhu Ping’an replied with a calm smile, brimming with confidence.
Seeing Zhu Ping’an’s assurance, Shang swallowed his doubts, though worry lingered as he followed along, occasionally glancing at the scattered pirate tents.
Breakfast was ready early—hot rice porridge, a boiled egg, two steaming rolls, a bowl of stir-fry, and a side of pickled greens for each soldier.
Zhu Ping’an had told Liu Dadao to start half an hour ahead of usual.
The troops ate heartily atop the walls.
“Look! The damn pirates are cooking too!” a soldier shouted mid-meal, pointing at the enemy camp.
Heads turned. Smoke curled up from the pirate tents—breakfast was on.
Figures stirred within their camp.
“Huh, they’re cooking early today—half an hour ahead of normal.”
“Seems like it.”
The troops murmured among themselves.
“They’re pulling out. After breakfast, they’ll break camp,” Zhu Ping’an said with a slight smile, his tone certain.
“Oh! Zihou, are you sure?” Shang asked, joy mixing with skepticism.
“Just watch, my lord,” Zhu Ping’an replied, smiling without explanation.
