“What’s taking so long up there? Verifying a single token shouldn’t take this much time!” Liu Dadao grumbled, pacing in circles, his patience wearing thin.
Just as he was about to shout up at the guards, he saw a basket being lowered from the city wall. Then, a figure in official robes deftly climbed into it, steadying himself against the bricks.
The basket descended slowly.
Upon reaching the ground, the official stepped out, leisurely adjusting his robes and straightening his hat. In his hand, he held Zhu Ping’an’s token.
It was none other than Jiaxing Prefect Zhao Chong.
“Who are you? You’ve seen Lord Zhu’s token—why are you dawdling and still not opening the gate?” Liu Dadao demanded, stepping forward.
“I’m acting responsibly for the Governor-General and the people. Out of caution, I haven’t opened the gate yet. But why bother explaining to a crude warrior like you? Step aside and don’t block my way,” Zhao Chong said dismissively, waving Liu Dadao off.
He then turned, bowing from a distance to Zhu Ping’an. “This humble official, Jiaxing Prefect Zhao Chong, pays his respects to Lord Zhu.”
Seeing Zhao Chong salute Zhu Ping’an, Liu Dadao snorted but stepped aside, clearing the path.
“No need for formalities, Prefect Zhao,” Zhu Ping’an said, dismounting and gesturing for Zhao to rise.
Inwardly, Zhu Ping’an held deep contempt for Zhao Chong, a man suspected of surrendering to the Japanese pirates. But for the sake of the bigger picture, he kept his expression neutral.
“This is your token, Lord Zhu. I return it to you intact,” Zhao Chong said, presenting the token with both hands respectfully. He continued, “Entrusted by Governor-General Zhang to oversee the southern gate, I act with caution for the Governor-General and the people. Until verification is complete, I’ve held off opening the gate. I beg your forgiveness, my lord.”
Zhu Ping’an took the token, nodding with a faint smile. “Caution is a virtue, Prefect Zhao. How else do you wish to verify? I’ll cooperate fully. We’re already at the gate—a little more time won’t hurt.”
When Zhao Chong mentioned being appointed by Zhang Jing to oversee the southern gate, Zhu Ping’an couldn’t help but smirk inwardly.
He had already reported Zhao Chong’s suspected collusion with the pirates to Zhang Jing. Knowing this, Zhang Jing’s decision to place Zhao in charge of the southern gate could only mean one thing.
A trap.
Zhang Jing was using Zhao Chong as bait, deliberately appointing a suspected traitor to lure the pirates into attacking Jiaxing.
Zhao Chong was the bait Zhang Jing had cast.
And this shipment of grain and salt Zhu Ping’an was escorting? Likely bait as well.
Zhu Ping’an suspected Zhang Jing had also ordered other governors and local officials to deliver provisions and military supplies to Jiaxing.
With Jiaxing city brimming with grain, salt, and weapons—ripe for the taking—the pirates would have yet another reason to attack.
With riches and provisions inside the city, and a gate overseen by their supposed ally Zhao Chong, could the pirates resist such temptation?
The Battle of Wangjiangjing was drawing closer. Zhu Ping’an watched Zhao Chong’s performance with calm anticipation, suppressing his inner excitement.
“Thank you for your understanding, my lord. I’ll randomly inspect the grain and salt and question a few soldiers,” Zhao Chong said, saluting.
“By all means, Prefect Zhao,” Zhu Ping’an replied, gesturing toward the convoy. He then addressed the Zhejiang troops: “Brothers, Prefect Zhao will inspect and question you. Cooperate fully!”
“As you command!” the Zhejiang soldiers replied in unison, their voices booming like thunder.
The resounding response startled Zhao Chong, causing him to step back instinctively. His foot caught on a pebble, and he stumbled, nearly falling.
“Prefect Zhao, let’s get this done quickly so we can enter the city. The men are eager for a hot meal,” Liu Dadao said, steadying Zhao Chong with a hand, his tone neither warm nor cold.
Realizing he’d lost his composure, Zhao Chong coughed, brushed off Liu Dadao, and strode forward.
He approached a cart and ordered a soldier to open a sack. Grabbing a handful of grain and salt, he inspected them, nodding in confirmation.
He then randomly checked four more carts, opening several sacks to verify their contents.
After inspecting the carts, Zhao Chong questioned a few soldiers at random.
“What’s your name? Where’s your hometown? When did you join the Zhejiang army? How much is your monthly pay? What’s your squad leader’s name? Your company commander’s name? Name three Zhejiang army officers…”
Zhao Chong fired off a string of questions, each grounded in the realities of the Zhejiang army, designed to root out impostors.
Every soldier he questioned answered fluently, their responses consistent and verifiable, leaving no room for doubt.
“Lord Zhu, I’ve completed the verification. The convoy carries grain and salt, and the men are indeed Zhejiang soldiers. I was overly cautious—please forgive me. I’ll order the gate opened to welcome you into the city,” Zhao Chong said, saluting and apologizing.
“You’re too harsh on yourself, Prefect Zhao. You acted responsibly for the Governor-General and the people. There’s no fault in that,” Zhu Ping’an said, smiling and shaking his head.
“Thank you for your understanding, my lord,” Zhao Chong said, saluting again.
“Not only do I understand, but I’ll commend your diligence to Governor-General Zhang. His choice to appoint you to oversee the southern gate was wise, and you’ve proven worthy of his trust,” Zhu Ping’an said, praising Zhao Chong effusively.
“Thank you, Lord Zhu. This is merely my duty. I’ll redouble my efforts to live up to the Governor-General’s expectations and your understanding,” Zhao Chong said, visibly moved.
“Keep up the good work, Prefect Zhao. I have high hopes for you,” Zhu Ping’an said, reinforcing his praise.
Zhao Chong thanked him repeatedly, vowing to continue earning Zhu Ping’an’s trust.
He then waved to the wall, signaling to open the gate, and shouted, “Open the gate!”
“The Prefect commands: open the gate!” The guards, receiving Zhao Chong’s gesture and order, relayed the command.
With a creaking groan, the gate swung open.
“Enter the city!” Zhu Ping’an mounted his horse, waved his hand, and led the Zhejiang troops and their convoy of grain and salt through the gate.
“This humble official bids farewell to Lord Zhu,” Zhao Chong said, standing behind the gate, bowing respectfully.
“Zhu Ping’an… nothing special,” Zhao Chong muttered under his breath, a faint smirk tugging at his lips as he watched Zhu Ping’an enter the city.
