LFHYB -Chapter 97 Bizarre Moves in the Campaign Against Goguryeo

Wei Zheng came, and Wei Zheng left again.

Because Li Xuanba’s guards were all elite soldiers who had already shown their faces in the army, he couldn’t assign them to Wei Zheng. He could only let Wei Zheng take more money to hire sturdy retainers for protection.

Wei Zheng performed a sword dance for Li Xuanba, showing that his martial prowess was quite decent.

Li Xuanba waved him off perfunctorily, telling him to hurry up and get lost.

Of course he knew Wei Zheng’s martial ability was decent—otherwise how could he survive in these chaotic times?

Wei Zheng left with a hearty laugh. The gloom that had accumulated on his face, in his heart, and in his eyes over so many years dispersed, leaving him dashing and free.

Watching Wei Zheng’s departing figure, Li Xuanba finally relaxed his tightly knit brows and smiled helplessly.

“Let’s go,” he said. “Time to head back.”

Li Xuanba wheeled his horse around, the golden eagle circling above his head.

Three days later, just as Li Xuanba entered Qinghe Commandery, he saw Li Shimin waiting for him, sitting on horseback with his arms crossed.

Li Shimin’s expression was extremely dark. Li Xuanba, however, was not the least bit afraid.

“How did you know I’d come back this way?” Li Xuanba asked curiously.

“Hanguo told me,” Li Shimin replied.

“Then he probably ran into me when Wu Di was flying around shooting arrows everywhere,” Li Xuanba said. “Let’s go back first. I’m tired.”

Li Shimin really wanted to scold his brother, but seeing how exhausted he looked, he could only swallow it down for now.

Li Shimin shot Chen Tieniu and the others a glare. He wanted to scold them for failing to stop Li Xuanba, but at the same time worried that if he scolded them too harshly, they might not listen to Li Xuanba next time. He was painfully conflicted.

“This time I ran into a lot of interesting things. I’ll tell you slowly once we get back,” Li Xuanba saw right through him and said. “Don’t lecture them. They followed my orders—if anything, they should be rewarded.”

Li Shimin sighed. “You have the final say.”

“Oh, right—congratulations, Tiger Guard General,” Li Xuanba said.

Li Shimin replied helplessly, “Fine, congratulations to you too, Tiger Fang General. You know, the official who brought the imperial edict arrived even before you did.”

[Can’t be helped. I ran into Wei Zheng,] Li Xuanba said.

Li Shimin whipped his head around. “Huh? Who?!”

Li Xuanba grinned widely: [Wei Zheng. Your Wei Zheng of the Bronze Mirror.]

Li Shimin clutched his chest.

Li Xuanba burst out laughing.

Li Shimin wiped his face and laughed as well.

In truth, he wasn’t afraid of nagging remonstrating officials at all. He just knew that his brother enjoyed seeing him “suffer,” so he played along.

What could he do? He was the older brother.

Even though Li Xuanba said “we’ll talk after we get back,” his inner thoughts never stopped along the way.

Li Shimin’s expression kept changing. He raised his riding crop again and again, then lowered it, desperately wanting to give Li Xuanba a few whacks but unable to bring himself to do it.

Taking just one or two hundred men into a bandits’ nest? His brother was far too bold! Even if you wanted to go, you should have taken me with you!

Li Shimin suspected that Li Xuanba had made up a bunch of excuses to leave him behind precisely so he could go stir up trouble on his own.

His brother’s frail body really dragged down his wildly unrestrained soul. If Li Xuanba were as healthy as a normal person, Li Shimin would probably be spending every day in sheer terror, running around trying to find where his brother had gone off to.

Terrifying.

“Let me see those poems,” Li Shimin said.

Li Xuanba: [Huh? Why are you so calm? I went to secretly meet rebel bandits! I even taught them how to grow bigger and stronger!]

Li Shimin: “Yes, yes, right, right. Didn’t we already agree on this? I’m just unhappy that you went alone. But you came back safely—what more is there to be shocked about? So, are there any backup copies of the poems? Damn it, why didn’t you show me first?”

Li Xuanba: [Tch. No backups, but I can recite them for you. Are you sure you want to hear them?]

Li Shimin: “Why not? The previous dynasty had plenty of poems like that too.”

Li Xuanba: [You mean like how Cao Cao, a few years after massacring Xuzhou, passed through it again and lamented that ‘white bones lay exposed in the fields, for a thousand li not a single cock crows’?]

Li Shimin: “That’s way too dark—pure gallows humor.”

Li Xuanba: [You’ve completely learned my meme culture now.]

Li Shimin: “Because it’s interesting.”

The two brothers’ conversation drifted further and further off topic as they rode.

To outsiders, it looked like Li Shimin was just muttering to himself.

But they all knew that these twin brothers shared a mysterious mental connection.

As for why Third Young Master didn’t speak aloud while Second Young Master did, it was probably just because Second Young Master liked talking.

…

After becoming Tiger Guard General and Tiger Fang General, Li Shimin and Li Xuanba gained the right to choose official residences in the commandery capital.

Neither of them was the type to mistreat himself. Their living quarters weren’t extravagant, but they were certainly comfortable, and they immediately started arranging their move.

These two posts were mid-to-high level military ranks, so county officials and local elites all came to curry favor. Mansions, servants, furnishings—everything was sent as gifts.

Li Xuanba had always accepted suitable gifts without hesitation.

Before Li Xuanba returned, Li Shimin had already handled everything in perfect order. When Li Xuanba checked the account books, not only were the finances spotless, Li Shimin had even proposed improvements.

Once his brother came back, Li Shimin dumped all the logistics, supplies, and social dealings onto him and focused solely on training the troops.

A person’s energy was limited. Even though Li Shimin could do everything—and do it well—if someone else could share the load, he certainly wasn’t going to exhaust himself.

After Li Xuanba told him about Wang Bo and Wei Zheng, Li Shimin wasn’t particularly concerned.

“If Wang Bo can live up to your guidance, I’ll do my best to save his life in the future,” Li Shimin said. “As for Wei Zheng, he’s proud and ambitious—but who knows how capable he really is.”

Li Xuanba smiled slyly. “If Wei Zheng really succeeds, then Fang and Du’s chances at the chancellorship will be a bit shaky.”

Li Shimin laughed along. “If Xue Shao keeps himself healthy and lives longer, their chances were shaky anyway. But the chancellorship can rotate every year—just take turns. Everyone can get a shot.”

Li Xuanba nodded. “Makes sense.”

“Besides,” Li Shimin added, “maybe you’ll be chancellor yourself.”

Li Xuanba waved his hands repeatedly. “No way. In the future I want to be a carefree, idle dandy.”

Li Shimin sighed. “We’ll see when the time comes. If it’s really too exhausting, I wouldn’t dare let you do it either.”

After the two young generals of the Great Sui finished their wildly treasonous talk, the roast lamb was finally ready.

“A-Xuan, congratulations on growing another year older.”

“Second Brother, same to you—happy birthday.”

The two young men clinked their cups of grape wine.

“Let’s get drunk tonight!”

“A-Xuan, then don’t drink. You get drunk after three cups—you won’t even be able to eat the lamb.”

“Let me have one cup first!”

“…Sigh.”

The servants couldn’t help laughing when they saw how, today, Second Young Master and Third Young Master had completely switched roles—this time it was Third Young Master who wanted to drink, and Second Young Master who was stopping him.

The sound of firecrackers burst out at the gate.

Children in brand-new clothes tossed bamboo joints into the bonfire. Crackling pops rang out from the flames.

They clapped their hands and laughed, chanting the songs their elders had taught them to ward off evil and pray for good fortune.

Li Shimin gently swirled his wine cup. Listening to the firecrackers and laughter outside, he pressed his lips together in a smile that looked almost drunken.

Li Xuanba stood up.

Li Shimin asked in confusion, “A-Xuan, what are you doing?”

With a blank face, Li Xuanba said, “Firecrackers without gunpowder have no soul. Watch me make them blow up big!”

Li Shimin’s eyes fell on the empty wine jar beside him. His face changed in shock. “I told you not to drink anymore! A-Xuan, come back!”

He hurriedly set down his cup and grabbed Li Xuanba.

Li Xuanba shouted, “Make it blow up big! This is art!”

Li Shimin blocked him. “No blowing up! No art! Bring the hangover soup, quickly!”

Inside his heart, Li Xuanba was yelling: [Blow up that bastard Sui Yangdi and all his ancestors!]

Li Shimin slung his brother over his shoulder and wiped away a cold sweat. Even when drunk, his brother still remembered to switch to inner thoughts when saying something treasonous—thank goodness, thank goodness.

Thus, Li Shimin and Li Xuanba’s thirteenth birthday passed in the middle of Li Xuanba’s drunken rampage.

That same year and month, the Sui emperor Yang Guang led 1.13 million Sui troops—boasting that it was two million—by land and water to attack Goguryeo.

Last time, when they attacked Tuyuhun, Yang Guang had arrived too late. By the time he led the Sui army through Doudouba Valley, the war was basically over. His accompanying troops suffered heavy losses from wind and snow in the valley, and although the Sui army won, Yang Guang returned without any real credit. He was extremely dissatisfied with that.

So this time he went together with the vanguard and issued the order: “All advances and retreats in military affairs must be reported and await my reply.” Commanders were forbidden to decide anything on their own.

Yu Zhi, the commandant of Heshui, tried to dissuade him. “In warfare, speed is everything. Slow movement brings no benefit. Please, Your Majesty, remain in the rear and allow the Sui generals to strike swiftly and catch the enemy unprepared.”

Yang Guang flew into a rage.

The Right Directorate of Imperial Manufactories supervisor, Geng Xun, submitted another memorial pleading the same. Yang Guang wanted to have him executed, and only after great effort was he talked out of it.

After that, no one dared to remonstrate with Yang Guang again.

Yang Guang set rigid ceremonial order for the Sui army. The massive force marched like a parade, beating war drums and blowing horns all the way. Their banners stretched continuously for nine hundred and sixty li, and it took a full forty days before the last Sui troops finally departed from Zhuo Commandery.

As soon as the fighting began, Yang Guang’s order—“All advances and retreats must be reported and await approval”—caused chaos.

Liaodong was full of rivers. Every time the Sui army needed to cross one, they had to first report to Yang Guang. He would then send people to survey it and issue orders to build bridges or boats.

By the time all this back-and-forth was done, the Goguryeo troops were already waiting on the opposite bank.

Yang Guang made a decision: build pontoon bridges!

But he didn’t have anyone measure the river’s width. On a whim, he ordered three pontoon bridges built. Once the bridges were extended, he commanded the Sui troops to charge forward—only for them to find the bridges were too short to reach the far shore.

Yet even retreat required the emperor’s command, and the pontoon bridges were one-way, making it nearly impossible to pass messages. So the Sui troops ended up jammed on the bridges.

The Goguryeo army saw this and realized it was a heaven-sent opportunity. They launched long-range attacks, turning the Sui soldiers into living targets.

The Sui army was extremely powerful, its soldiers brave and fierce. Faced with such adversity, they did not retreat. They jumped into the river, waded across, and fought Goguryeo hand to hand. General Mai Tiezhi of the Left Garrison Guard and Huben Commandant Qian Shixiong, among others, were all killed in battle.

Fortunately, the Sui army had sheer numbers. After this setback, they rebuilt the bridges and still managed to drive the Goguryeo troops away, bringing the Sui forces to the walls of Liaodong City.

Yang Guang was extremely pleased with his “brilliant strategy” and felt the victory was secure.

During the march, the old Sui general Duan Wenzhen—Right Guanglu Grand Master, who had once crushed the Turks—fell gravely ill.

Knowing he was about to die and no longer fearing punishment for speaking frankly, the old general seized Yang Guang and poured out his heart: “Your Majesty, the barbarians are treacherous. You must not accept their surrenders! Please order the Sui armies on land and water to advance at full speed straight toward Pyongyang. Once Pyongyang falls, the other Goguryeo cities will collapse on their own! The campaign must be finished before the autumn rains arrive, or supplies will become impossible to transport and the Sui army will be in grave danger!”

Yang Guang wiped his tears. “What you say is excellent. Rest in peace.” He posthumously granted Duan Wenzhen the titles of Guanglu Grand Master, Right Vice-Director of State Affairs, and Duke of Beiping, with the posthumous name “Xiang.” Duan Wenzhen closed his eyes in contentment.

No sooner had Duan Wenzhen died than Yang Guang issued the order: “If Goguryeo surrenders, it shall be pacified and accepted. Troops are not to be allowed to plunder.”

The colleagues who had been mourning Duan Wenzhen choked on their cries—and then cried even louder.

Just as Duan Wenzhen had predicted, once the Goguryeo garrison in Liaodong learned of Yang Guang’s edict, every time the city was on the verge of falling, they would announce their surrender.

The Sui army had to stop the assault and send fast riders to report to Yang Guang. He would gather his ministers to discuss how to accept the surrender.

By the time Yang Guang sent out his envoys to receive it, Liaodong City had caught its breath and received reinforcements—so it continued defending itself.

This happened again and again. The Sui army suffered countless casualties, and by June they still hadn’t taken Liaodong City. Yet Yang Guang stubbornly continued to fall for the same trick.

The generals begged the emperor not to listen to Goguryeo’s lies anymore. Yang Guang instead went to the front lines himself, scolding them for being afraid of death and, relying on their noble family backgrounds, deliberately neglecting his orders—that was why Liaodong had not been captured.

What could the generals do? They could only keep grinding on, using the lives of Sui soldiers to accompany Yang Guang in playing this game with the Goguryeo—“I surrender; no, I don’t surrender.”

Meanwhile, on another front, Yuwen Shu, He Ruobi, Xue Shixiong, and other great generals led nine columns, a total of 350,000 men, attacking Goguryeo from the Liao River.

These 350,000 troops had a fatal problem: they had soldiers, but no logistical laborers. The soldiers themselves had to carry grain and supplies weighing up to three shi.

Who could carry that?

The troops had no choice but to secretly bury their provisions as they marched. By the time they were halfway, the Sui army was already out of food.

However, among the army there was one troublemaker who did not obey orders.

That man was Duke He Ruobi of Song.

He Ruobi had been a famous general under Emperor Wen of Sui. Relying on his great achievements, he was arrogant and unrestrained—and Yang Guang had always disliked him…

He had originally been doomed to die for “slandering the court” together with Yuwen Bi and Gao Jiong. Yuwen Bi and Gao Jiong had fled early. He Zhuobi was not stupid either—he sensed something was wrong. On top of that, he was solitary by nature and had few friends; he only complained a little at home, with no one hearing him, and thus managed to survive to this day.

He Zhuobi had believed that whether it was the campaign against Tuyuhun or against Goguryeo, the emperor should have appointed him as commander-in-chief.

But Yang Guang favored Yuwen Shu and always let Yuwen Shu lead the army.

He Zhuobi was deeply dissatisfied. In private he complained: Yang Su was a fierce general, Han Qinhu a dueling general, Shi Wansui a cavalry general—none of them were as good as he was, but at least they were generals. Yuwen Shu had no ability as a commander at all; he led troops only because he pleased the emperor. Sooner or later, something would go wrong.

This time, when attacking Goguryeo, He Zhuobi again requested to be commander-in-chief. But Yang Guang used his age—sixty-eight—as an excuse and only gave him a subsidiary army, still letting Yuwen Shu take overall command.

After Yuwen Shu issued his orders, He Zhuobi sneered: In the end, who knows how to fight—you or this old man? Why should I listen to you?

So He Zhuobi cut his baggage train in half. With no civilian laborers, he reduced his soldiers, converting two-thirds of them into porters to handle logistics, while he personally led the elite troops toward Pyongyang.

He traveled fast and light, leaving Yuwen Shu’s main force far behind. When he reached Pyongyang, the naval army led by Right Yiwei General Lai Huer had just arrived.

Lai Huer and He Zhuobi were old acquaintances. After their forces joined, Lai Huer originally wanted to seize the credit by attacking Pyongyang alone, but He Zhuobi scolded him so badly that he backed off in embarrassment and instead led his troops to go support Yuwen Shu’s main army.

History quietly shifted.

…

“But not by much,” Li Xuanba sighed deeply after receiving the Liaodong front-line reports.

The Sui army led by Yang Guang still suffered heavy losses, but because Lai Huer and He Zhuobi had gone to support Yuwen Shu, the 350,000-strong Sui subsidiary force that would have almost been annihilated in history did not suffer catastrophic losses this time.

Yuwen Shu, though incompetent at war, at least had self-awareness. When he realized he truly could not fight, he pretended to be ill and handed over command to He Zhuobi, and also sent word to Yang Guang about it.

Old generals really were the best—He Zhuobi captured Pyongyang in one battle, and the Goguryeo king Gao Yuan fled.

Although Liaodong City was still not taken, Pyongyang had fallen.

So—you think the Goguryeo campaign was a victory?

Hahahaha—no.

Because King Gao Yuan sent envoys to Yang Guang to surrender, Yang Guang issued an edict to withdraw the troops and accept the surrender.

He Zhuobi refused to obey and wanted to pursue and kill Gao Yuan, but was seized by the imperial envoy sent by Yang Guang. The Sui army withdrew to Liaodong; Gao Yuan returned to Pyongyang and, after resting, declared he would no longer surrender. Yang Guang flew into a rage—but with autumn rains making logistics impossible, he withdrew the army in the eighth month and returned…

Reading these reports one after another made Li Xuanba laugh so hard his stomach hurt and tears streamed down his face.

Li Shimin clenched his fists, eyes blazing with fury. “Absurd!”

Li Xuanba wiped away his tears of laughter. “This Goguryeo campaign ended up mixing together with the ending of the Third Goguryeo Campaign in the history books. In the third one, Lai Huer smashed Goguryeo, Gao Yuan begged for surrender, and Yang Guang still forced Lai Huer to withdraw, ignoring his request to continue the offensive. Hahaha—so the ‘great emperor’ only wanted a letter of submission. You people really thought he wanted to conquer land and expand the empire?”

Li Shimin took a deep breath and pressed down on his brother’s head. “Stop laughing. You look worse than if you were crying.”

Li Xuanba stopped laughing.

He cursed, “Damn Yang Guang.”

Li Shimin said softly, “Yeah.”

That year, east of Mount Xiao—already devastated by last year’s great floods—suffered an unprecedented drought.

One flood, one drought. Countless people starved; epidemics ran rampant.

At that time, a poem called “Lament of the Vegetable People” quietly spread through the Central Plains, and all who heard it changed color.

The poem also reached Qinghe Commandery.

Li Xuanba tossed the paper with the Goguryeo war report into the brazier. The fragile paper quickly turned to ash.

Li Shimin stood by the brazier, looking down at the ashes.

“A-Xuan, chaos across the realm has come early.”

“That’s a good thing.”