“Army, march!”
Zhu Ping’an mounted his horse, waved his hand, and gave the order to move out, leading the way as the Zhejiang army followed in orderly formation. The commoners who had come with food and drink to see them off couldn’t help but marvel at the disciplined, neatly aligned troops.
“Look at how orderly the Zhejiang army marches, all in perfect rows and columns, like a single line. They move like a tidal wave—it’s clear they’re battle-ready. To train such an army, our Lord Governor is truly remarkable.”
“And that’s not all. Look closely—every soldier in the Lord’s Zhejiang army is armored. They’re truly formidable.”
The onlookers stood by the roadside, praising the majestic Zhejiang army as it passed.
“It’s just a pity our Zhejiang army is so small in number, while the pirates are so many. If we had ten thousand—no, five thousand more troops—we wouldn’t need to worry. We’d just wait for the Lord Governor’s victory report. But now, with only eight thousand, I’m really worried for him.”
“Exactly. If only the Zhejiang army had more men.”
“And though every soldier is armored, I heard their armor is made of cotton—called cotton armor. How can cotton armor compare to iron?”
“The pirates deal in ruthless business—burning, killing, looting. They value their lives, and once they have silver, besides eating, drinking, and gambling, they outfit themselves with armor—soft hedgehog armor, heart-protecting mirrors, and the like.”
Many among the crowd, counting the Zhejiang troops, worried about their limited numbers, especially since Wang Zhi’s pirates were rumored to have tens of thousands. They also felt uneasy about the cotton armor, doubting its effectiveness.
“Thank you, dear folks, for seeing us off,” Zhu Ping’an said, waving to the crowd from horseback.
As he passed a carriage, a delicate hand lifted the curtain, revealing Li Shu and Hua’er inside, each holding a chubby baby, gently waving the babies’ hands at Zhu Ping’an.
“Brother Zhu, go quickly and return soon. We’ll be waiting. You must come back safely. Your son and daughter are in my hands—if you dare return with a single hair missing, see how I deal with them…”
“Master, no, my Lord, we’ll wait for your safe return.”
They waved and spoke.
With the crowd’s noise, Zhu Ping’an couldn’t hear what Li Shu and Hua’er were saying, but he knew they were urging him to stay safe. Smiling, he waved back and said loudly, “Don’t worry, I’ll return safely.”
Taking one last look at Li Shu, Hua’er, and his two adorable children, Zhu Ping’an firmly turned his head, pulled the reins, and spurred his horse forward.
The Zhejiang soldiers marched in unison, gradually disappearing from the onlookers’ view.
By noon, the army set up camp in the open field. The cooks started fires, chopping up slaughtered sheep—bones, offal, and meat—all thrown into large pots. Washed green onions were cut into chunks and tossed in, followed by sliced ginger, a handful of fennel, some dried tangerine peel, and a generous pinch of coarse salt. Locally chopped firewood fueled the flames licking the pots’ bottoms.
Soon, the pots were simmering, bubbles rising. The cooks skimmed off the foam, and the mutton broth turned milky white. White radishes were cut into chunks and added, along with winter melon, tofu, cabbage, mushrooms, and other ingredients, all boiling together. The aroma wafted far, making mouths water.
The scent was irresistible.
“Mmm, it smells so good! Grandma, Mama, come smell this—it’s so, so fragrant!”
“What’s that smell?”
In one tent, little Wang Qiong swallowed hard, hugging her grandmother’s arm and asking.
“My poor, silly grandson, that’s the smell of mutton soup the Lord told you about yesterday,” Wang Zhi’s mother said, fondly patting her head with both love and pity.
What a hard life my dear grandson has had—grown so big and never tasted mutton or mutton soup.
Wang Zhi’s wife couldn’t help but tear up.
“So this is the smell of mutton soup? It’s so fragrant! The Lord was right—today they’re really making it,” little Wang Qiong said, eyes wide with amazement.
Wang Zhi’s mother and wife couldn’t help but smile and shake their heads. The Lord was the commander of the Zhejiang army. If he said they’d make mutton soup today, how could the cooks dare make anything else? If he’d said spinach tofu soup yesterday, that’s what they’d be eating today.
Just then, footsteps approached, and Zhu Ping’an’s voice rang out, “Haha, little Wang Qiong, come help me lift the tent flap. The steaming mutton soup is here!”
“Coming, coming, I’m here, my Lord!” Wang Qiong jumped from her grandmother’s arms and scampered out.
Outside, Zhu Ping’an and Liu Dadao carried a large board with five big bowls of mutton soup, a basket of baked flatbread, and two small dishes of scallion-mixed radish strips.
“My Lord, you’re amazing! You said yesterday we’d have mutton soup, and here it is!” Wang Qiong said, lifting the tent flap and chattering like a little sparrow.
“Hahaha…” Zhu Ping’an couldn’t help but laugh.
“Thank you, my Lord, thank you,” Wang Zhi’s mother and wife said repeatedly as Zhu Ping’an and Liu Dadao brought the soup inside.
“No need for thanks, Madam,” Zhu Ping’an smiled, waving it off as he set the bowls on the table. “Come eat.”
“My Lord, how can we womenfolk dine at the same table as you? We’ll eat to the side,” Wang Zhi’s mother and wife insisted.
This reflected feudal etiquette—or rather, the patriarchal customs of the time. When guests came, men sat at the table while women served in the kitchen, cooking and bringing dishes, then eating casually there. A woman dining at the table was seen as improper, associated with courtesans, and disrespectful to male guests.
Given the deeply rooted customs of the era, Zhu Ping’an didn’t insist. He’d brought a small table for this reason, ensuring they had a place to eat. To avoid gossip, he also brought Liu Dadao as a companion and kept the tent flap open to show transparency.
