IDWBE -Chapter 200 Changing the Name

Sun Yi plopped down on the millstone at the doorway, reached up to pluck a starfruit from a tree, and munched on it while saying, “Old man, you’re being unfair—deliberately causing me trouble, only telling me now.”

He had always been just a groom. The few characters he had barely learned in the private school were far from enough to understand all the complicated rules!

Xie Zan smiled and said, “Originally, you didn’t need to avoid it.”

Sun Yi asked, “Then why now?”

Xie Zan replied, “It’s not urgent yet, but I suppose it’s only a matter of time. Better to change it now and avoid trouble later.”

Sun Yi thought about this for a long while.

The more he thought, the more he agreed with what Consort Wen had said in private: someone had to be emperor someday—why couldn’t it be Prince He?

A ruler’s name must not be violated.

It was better to change his name early.

Finally, he cupped his hands and said, “Please, Master Xie, help me choose a name.”

Xie Zan shook his head, “Your father is still alive; how could I overstep and take the lead?”

Sun Yi rolled his eyes at him. “My father is just a groom, can’t even read a single large character.”

Even his current name had been given by his maternal grandfather.

Xie Zan thought for a moment, stroked his beard, and said, “How about Chongde? ‘Courtesy values virtue, music harmonizes the tones.’”

“Sun Chongde?”

Sun Yi repeated it a few times, and it sounded smoother with each repetition. He slapped his thigh and said, “From now on, I’ll be Sun Chongde!”

Xie Zan smiled, “Congratulations, well done.”

Sun Yi—no, Sun Chongde—cupped his hands in thanks to Xie Zan once more, then turned and left.

Back at home, he immediately informed his father of the name change.

His father, riding a bench and planing a board, froze for a moment. Confirming he hadn’t misheard, he threw the plane in anger.

“Change your name? Why not change your surname too?”

Being fifth rank, Sun Chongde merely shifted slightly to dodge the flying plane. The victim turned out to be the condiment dish on his mother’s table, which crashed to the ground, spilling pickled cabbage and beans everywhere.

Luckily, his mother wasn’t home—otherwise, his father would have surely scolded her too.

He clasped his hands behind his back, walked slowly toward his father, and smiled, “Changing the surname isn’t impossible. What if Prince He grants us a surname in the future?”

Changing the name—sure. But without changing it, the prince would never grant a surname!

Would he then be called Lin Yi?

“Grant a surname?”

Sun Du, uneasy about the broken condiment dish, hadn’t wanted to respond, but his son’s wild imagination angered him further. He blurted out, “What nonsense! Grant a surname? Only if Prince He becomes emperor!”

After saying this, even he paused in shock. How could he say such a thing? In Ankang City, even ten heads wouldn’t suffice for the punishment!

“Why not?”

Sun Chongde laughed. “Fine, it’s settled. If he really grants a surname one day, it’ll be a national surname!”

After laughing heartily, he went inside.

“This one’s crazy,” Sun Du sighed.

Night fell.

The rain poured continuously; after yesterday’s pause, it had been raining all day.

“Better a cup in hand than anything else; how often does one see the moon overhead?”

He Jixiang shivered from cold and wet, taking a sip of wine to warm himself.

He stood at the tent entrance, gazing at the darkened camp, frowning. On such a rainy day, not only could they not light torches, even cooking was difficult.

The limited tents were only makeshift shelters built with branches for soldiers and laborers. They were reluctant to use oiled paper, saving it to keep the food dry, stretching over more than ten miles.

The shelters couldn’t withstand the heavy rain—at best, they could eat, drink, and sleep under it.

Suddenly, balls of fire appeared, one after another.

“Not good!”

He dashed outside, standing in the mud, letting the rain drench him, shouting in frustration, “Who threw fire oil?!”

“Sir!”

Wang Tuozi darted out from the darkness, shouting, “Some laborers couldn’t bear the hardship. They went nearby to see if there were houses to take shelter from the rain, and unknowingly ran into an ambush by the rebel forces ahead!”

He Jixiang gritted his teeth, “Hadn’t I already ordered them to be restrained?”

He had already detected this rebel ambush but hadn’t wanted to alarm anyone. Unexpectedly, the laborers ran straight into it.

The fire burned fiercely, still alight in the rain, forming patches of flame in the dense forest.

“Form up!”

At He Jixiang’s command, the bugle sounded.

Soldiers and warhorses splashed through the mud, racing north under the dim light of their bronze lamps.

He Jixiang rode behind. After half an hour, the fire grew closer, but the roaring noise in his ears gradually diminished.

After a while, he noticed the soldiers had stopped.

He saw Zhang Mian carrying a bronze lamp approaching.

“What’s happening?” he demanded sharply.

Zhang Mian smiled wryly. “Sir, the laborers already crushed the rebels; the rest fled.”

He was helpless—after a month in the field, he still hadn’t gotten a chance to kill an enemy himself.

“What!”

He Jixiang’s teeth ground together. “Who led the laborers?”

“No one, sir,” said Zhu Ruorong, his right arm hanging limply, blood soaking the sleeve. The rain washed it intermittently, sometimes thick, sometimes faint, yet he still shouted, “The rebels didn’t surrender—they even dared to fight back! Lawless!”

“You bastards!”

He Jixiang’s face twitched uncontrollably.

Though a military general, he was also a literary man and rarely cursed anyone.

Dawn approached.

The rain gradually stopped.

Soldiers began cleaning the battlefield and counting prisoners.

Bodies lay scattered, stripped of all clothing and valuables by laborers and tribesmen.

Zhang Mian looked around: only a few injured laborers were resting at the side. After counting another two miles ahead, the total came to less than three thousand!

Last night, only a few dozen laborers died; most injuries were those in front of him.

Where were the remaining twenty thousand?

He glared at Bao Kui. “Where are the others?”

Bao Kui shrugged, “I didn’t notice.”

“Not good! Not good!”

Wang Tuozi dashed over, shouting, “The laborers are assaulting the city!”

“Who the hell gave them the courage!”

Zhang Mian cracked his whip and roared, “Form up! What are you standing there for? Quickly notify Sir He!”

Though furious at the laborers, he didn’t want them harmed—people were the most valuable asset in Sanhe!

Once the cavalry assembled, they surged ahead.

The muddy roads were slippery; even with whips cracking, the horses couldn’t move fast.

By sunrise, they finally reached Tan City.