As the steward had said, Zhao Wenhua never mentioned the victory banquet again. A victory banquet, indeed. He was now worried whether Songjiang Prefecture city could hold. If Songjiang fell, it would be an utter farce.
Zhao Wenhua urgently summoned several generals to his residence and ordered them to lead troops at once to reinforce Songjiang Prefecture city. The city must not fall to the wokou. He had started this campaign himself. If Songjiang were lost, it would be total defeat, and any hope of the governorship would vanish.
“Ahem, Lord Zhao, it is not that I refuse, but my elderly mother is ill. I am the only man in the family and must attend her bedside with medicine. In her old age she is like a child. She will take her broth only from my hand…”
“Lord Zhao, you know me. In such circumstances I must step forward. No one else will do. I train daily at home, spearing at dawn, wielding the blade before bed. But, ahem, last night while practising with the blade I carelessly twisted my back. Alas, this old waist of mine fails me. I cannot take the field…”
“No problem from me. I accept without hesitation. Only, my lord, I need three days to assemble my troops and prepare arms and supplies…”
The moment the generals heard they were to relieve Songjiang Prefecture city, now heavily besieged by wokou after Hu Zongxian and Li Tao had both been defeated, they either found polite excuses to decline or employed the art of delay.
Delay three days first. After three days, reassess. If Songjiang still held, delay further. If Songjiang had already fallen, then it had fallen. What point in rescue then?
Promotion and wealth were fine, but life was dearer.
They wished to attach themselves to Zhao Wenhua and the Yan faction, yet their own lives mattered more. They knew their own worth perfectly well, and the quality of the troops under them even better.
Holding a city they could manage. Fighting the wokou in open country was suicide.
Hu Zongxian and Li Tao had received Zhao Wenhua’s special favour. Their men were hand-picked elites from various armies, supplied lavishly with armour, weapons, and materiel. Even with such support they had lost to the wokou. The rest stood no chance.
With Songjiang Prefecture city now ringed by wokou, any relief force would have to fight them in the field outside the walls.
In open battle they were no match for the wokou.
To attempt rescue was to court death, or rather, death was almost certain.
If Zhao Wenhua were already governor, one word from him would compel obedience. But he was not yet governor, and that gave them room to refuse politely or procrastinate. Life came first.
Thus the generals displayed every trick in the book, delay tactics, courteous refusals. Zhao Wenhua summoned many, yet not one accepted the rescue mission outright.
“Useless. A pack of useless fools. All talk in ordinary times, yet when needed each hides better than the last.”
“Mud that will not stick to the wall. Not one worth relying on. These useless creatures, I shall remember you. Wait and see how I deal with you. If I do not squeeze your family fortunes dry, I am no Zhao Wenhua.”
As the generals left, Zhao Wenhua in a rage smashed teapots and overturned tables, cursing viciously.
The maids outside the study trembled. Without Zhao Wenhua’s command they dared not enter to clear up.
“Who is out there? Get in here and clean this mess.” After venting, Zhao Wenhua shouted for someone to tidy the room.
The maids entered nervously, gathered the shattered tea things and scattered fruits and pastries, righted the overturned table, and replaced the refreshments and tea set.
When all was restored they curtsied and withdrew. Once outside the study they all showed the relief of survivors.
Zhao Wenhua paced the room. After several circuits he gritted his teeth and called out, “Summon Steward Zhang.”
Soon Steward Zhang came running, bowing and scraping. “Master, what are your orders?”
“Which generals who sent me calling cards and gifts have not yet been summoned?” Zhao Wenhua asked.
“Master, apart from those out of town, all have been seen,” Steward Zhang replied softly.
“A bunch of wine-sacks and rice-bags. Not one worth anything,” Zhao Wenhua cursed in disappointment.
Steward Zhang kept his head low.
Zhao Wenhua frowned and paced further, his expression hesitant and conflicted. After two more circuits he clenched his teeth. “It seems I have no choice but to send Zhu Ping’an to relieve Songjiang Prefecture city.” He turned to Steward Zhang. “Prepare brush, ink, paper, and inkstone.”
“At once.” Steward Zhang scurried off to fetch them.
Zhao Wenhua took up the brush to draft the order.
“Report. Urgent frontline dispatch…”
Just as Zhao Wenhua began writing, a servant came running with a dispatch held high in both hands.
At the words “urgent frontline dispatch” Zhao Wenhua’s heart sank. The brush slipped from his fingers and fell with a clatter onto the table, blotting the half-written order.
Surely Songjiang had not fallen already.
That was more than he could bear.
In great apprehension Zhao Wenhua dared not take the dispatch himself, fearing the worst.
“Read the urgent report for me,” he told Steward Zhang.
Steward Zhang took the dispatch from the servant with trembling hands and unfolded it.
He too feared bad news, lest he become the bearer of ill tidings and fall from favour.
Nervous and afraid, he glanced at the contents. One look and his eyes widened.
Seeing Steward Zhang’s eyes bulge, Zhao Wenhua’s heart sank again. So Songjiang had fallen. Why else would the fellow stare like that? Damn it, how could Songjiang have fallen so quickly.
“Master, Songjiang Prefecture city has held. The wokou have withdrawn,” Steward Zhang announced in an excited voice that cut through Zhao Wenhua’s spiralling thoughts.
“What? The wokou have retreated? Songjiang is safe?” Zhao Wenhua’s face lit with delighted surprise.
“Quick, give it here.” Zhao Wenhua reached out.
Steward Zhang hastily presented the dispatch with both hands. Zhao Wenhua seized it and scanned eagerly through the report.
“Good. Worthy of Hu Zongxian. Quick wits in a crisis,” Zhao Wenhua nodded in approval.
When Songjiang Prefecture city was on the verge of collapse, Hu Zongxian had remembered the five hundred sets of cotton armour Zhu Ping’an had presented before departing. He ordered men to don the Zhejiang army cotton armour and parade along the walls, creating the impression of endless Zhejiang troops ascending to defend. The wokou, seeing the cotton armour on the battlements, assumed the Zhejiang army had arrived. Fear of Zhejiang firearms overwhelmed them. Why linger? They fled at once.
Thus the siege of Songjiang Prefecture city was lifted.
