On the day of the exchange, snow was falling. Ding Wu led Ados to a valley. The Central Plains merchant, stroking his fox-fur hat, remarked, "Your pelts are of the finest quality—so warm that my head sweats even in this bitter cold. Let's trade again next year. It's a pity this year's delivery came too late. By the time they reach the wealthy markets of the capital, people will have already prepared their winter clothes, so fewer will buy them."
Hmph, these cunning Central Plains folk were clearly trying to drive down the price.
Just as Ados had given up hope, the merchant whistled, and a grain transport convoy emerged from hiding—stretching so far it seemed endless!
Ados’s men randomly inspected the cargo: the grains were of average quality but edible, with no rotten or moldy fillers. This exceeded Ados’s expectations. The tribe would survive the year, and with careful rationing, there might even be leftovers to feed the livestock.
As Ados ordered his men to load the grain, the merchant clacked his abacus and said, "...I conduct business with integrity, aiming for long-term partnerships. Otherwise, Master Ding wouldn’t have chosen me. These are this autumn’s grain prices. If you sell us your pelts earlier next year, ideally in early autumn when harvests are fresh, prices will be lower. With the same pelts, you could earn at least a quarter more grain. Let’s all profit together."
Ados remained wary of the merchant and had no interest in long-term plans, treating this as a one-time deal. "You Central Plains people sell us grain for money—aren’t you afraid of being accused of colluding with the enemy?"
The merchant was actually Hundred-Household Commander Wu in disguise. He took out a silver ingot, bit it gently, and exclaimed, "How sweet! Is Great Ming’s silver sweet and Mongol’s silver foul? To me, it’s all damned sweet! Silver is my father, gold my mother. If there’s profit to be made, I’d even buy you an imperial robe, let alone grain."
"We haven’t always been enemies," Ding Wu said, pointing to the empty land ahead. "About two hundred years ago, this was a trading market where Ming and Mongol merchants conducted legitimate business, exchanging goods and prospering together. But frequent wars led to its decline, and now it’s just wasteland. In those days, intermediaries like me wouldn’t have existed—you wouldn’t need to trade in secret."
Ados replied, "Anda Khan has repeatedly demanded the reopening of cattle and horse markets, but your emperor refused. In the Gengxu year, Anda Khan marched to the capital and forced your old emperor to agree to reopen the markets. He withdrew only after the promise was made, but your emperor went back on his word. It was your court that destroyed the markets. We all want them reopened—the blame for constant war lies with your incompetent court."
Hundred-Household Commander Wu, being a Ming soldier, couldn’t hold back: "Two hundred years ago, you captured our emperor at Tumu Fort—a profound humiliation. That was when the markets ended. In the Gengxu year, Anda Khan looted the capital’s outskirts for a month, holding a blade to our old emperor’s throat to force the markets’ reopening.""We have a saying: 'A melon forced from the vine is not sweet.' The old emperor is a man who values face above all. Forced by the siege pressure, he agreed to reopen the border market, but once your troops withdraw, he'll surely go back on his word. Even if it were reopened, the market would constantly remind him of this humiliation—where would that leave the old emperor's dignity?" "Moreover, while border trade is crucial for you to exchange for grain, salt, iron, and other necessities, for the Ming Dynasty, its tax revenue is less than that of a small southern city. Reopening would also require strengthening border defenses—it's a losing proposition. Not just the old emperor, even I wouldn't reopen it. There's no profit to be had."
Ados, standing with the Mongol tribe, grew indignant. "You call it the Tumu Crisis; we call it the Tumu Victory. That battle two hundred years ago was started by your court. Your young emperor, deceived by a eunuch named Wang Zhen, was impulsive and arrogant, thinking himself invincible. He insisted on leading a personal expedition against us. When you come killing at our doorstep, how could we not fight back? We defeated you and captured the young emperor."
"You Central Plains people are cunning with silver tongues. Even as a captive, the young emperor never ceased his scheming. With glib words, he persuaded our prince to release him. After returning to reclaim his throne, he never mentioned reopening the border market. Instead, he immediately sent troops to attack us again. Thus, we've been fighting back and forth for over two hundred years—we didn't start this war. If we could live well-fed and clothed, who would choose to fight?"
Hundred-Household Commander Wu retorted, "Even if you're starving and cold, that doesn't justify robbing us. Are we just supposed to accept being plundered?"
Ados replied, "Doesn't your Ming Dynasty also burn our pastures, cut off our water sources, and drive away our herders whenever you get the chance? You call it 'scorched earth.' We've lost many lives too."
Hundred-Household Commander Wu argued, "You raid us, so we can't fight back?"
Ados countered, "Your court leaves us no means to survive. The court is too far to reach, so we have no choice but to target you."
Seeing the two about to escalate their argument, Ding Wu intervened: "We're here for business. Harmony brings wealth—let's avoid state affairs. We'll continue cooperating next year. The goods are nearly unloaded; best to depart quickly."
Ados mounted his horse and said to Ding Wu, "Come back to our tribe with me. You're our great savior—we'll feast you with the fattest sheep."
Ding Wu declined, "You go ahead first. I still need to pay the remaining half to the Ming border troops. To allow such a large grain convoy through the pass, they must be satisfied first."
"Another time, then," Ados said, leading the grain convoy into the vanishing snowstorm.
After Ados left, Ding Wu remarked to Hundred-Household Commander Wu, "You acted well at first, but nearly slipped up later. As a merchant focused on profit, why meddle in state matters?"
Hundred-Household Commander Wu scratched his head, "I just couldn't help it... How have you managed to remain so detached all these years?"
Ding Wu replied, "This mask on my face hasn't been removed for seven years. I fear it's now fused to my soul."
Hundred-Household Commander Wu asked, "Having lived on both sides, who do you think is more justified—Ados or me?"Ding Wu pondered for a moment and said, "If someone can overpower you, why bother reasoning with you? Fists are the only logic that matters. Life on the grasslands is brutal—the strong prey on the weak. When a tribe declines, it’s only natural for the stronger to swallow it up, and its people become slaves. Almost everyone here agrees with this idea. Among the tribal leaders, Ados is relatively mild-tempered. The fact that he spoke to you properly instead of fighting you on the spot is already quite remarkable."
Hundred-Household Commander Wu sneered, "Hmph, barbaric lands."
As soon as he finished speaking, Ding Wu felt the snow beneath his feet tremble. He quickly climbed to higher ground and opened his Western telescope to look into the distance. Sure enough, the Mongol cavalry led by Li Zixin of the White Lotus Sect had encountered Ados’ Ordos tribe on a narrow path, and the two sides were already fighting!
Ding Wu’s strategy of "using barbarians to control barbarians" was particularly cunning. Li Zixin, a member of the White Lotus Sect, was a native of Shanyin in Datong, Shanxi. He was most familiar with the local terrain and had led Mongol cavalry to attack Datong before. Ding Wu had arranged to trade grain with Ados precisely in this location.
In the snowstorm, visibility was poor, making it impossible to see the other side clearly. From afar, the cavalry spotted oxen, horses, and camels pulling carts and rejoiced wildly, assuming it was a merchant caravan heading to the Western Regions. They thought they had stumbled upon a fat prize even before laying siege to the city and immediately rushed to plunder it.
Ados, who was escorting the grain, heard the sound of hoofbeats from all directions and assumed it was an ambush by another tribe trying to steal the grain. He flew into a rage: "Anda Khan took my wife, and I had to endure it because he’s the Great Khan. Now the whole grassland knows I wear a green hat. But even other tribes dare to come for my grain? Do they really think I, Ados, am an easy target? That anyone can step on me?"
Fired up, Ados drew his blade and shouted, "This grain is our tribe’s lifeblood! Today, we’d rather shed blood than lose a single grain!"
Morale soared, and his men followed their leader, charging into battle. The two sides clashed in the snowstorm, cavalry against cavalry.
Li Zixin, as the guide, had a relationship with the Mongol cavalry like that of a crocodile and an Egyptian plover—he only fed on the scraps left in the crocodile’s mouth. The fighting was none of his concern, so he had long retreated to the rear.
In the past, the sounds of battle would quickly subside, replaced by pleas for mercy and screams. Only then would he emerge to scavenge some spoils.
But this time was different. Li Zixin waited and waited in the rear, but the clashing of weapons continued like the ringing of a blacksmith’s hammer, refusing to die down.
Eventually, the noise faded, but he heard no familiar cries for mercy or laughter from those gathering loot. Only the howling wind and the crunch of carts and horses trampling the snow remained. Li Zixin found it eerie but dared not move. Only when the sounds of battle completely vanished, leaving only the wind and snow, did he ride his camel to the battlefield.
Corpses littered the ground, half-buried in the snow. Everyone was dead, even the warhorses had been taken, and the merchant caravan they had seen earlier had disappeared as if it had never existed.
A merchant caravan couldn’t possibly have such formidable combat prowess—it must have been a trap set by the Ming!
Li Zixin hurriedly fled on his camel and returned to the White Lotus Sect Main Altar in Fengcheng. The sect leader, Zhao Quan, was puzzled. "Why are you back so soon? How much did you plunder this time?"
Li Zixin, nearly frozen stiff on his camel’s back and wishing he could hug a brazier for warmth, replied, "Nothing. They’re all dead. That newly appointed General Qi Jiguang lives up to his reputation. They set an ambush beyond the frontier, using a merchant caravan as bait. Our men were completely wiped out.""You—" Zhao Quan kicked Li Zixin flying in a rage, "Worthless fool! The sect's ten thousand dan of grain is nearly exhausted! We've been counting on your plunder to feed everyone. If they starve to death, who would believe in 'Join the sect to avoid disaster'? What would become of my authority?"
"Moreover, you led troops to pillage your own hometown this time, yet the entire army perished while you returned alone. How am I to explain this to Anda Khan?"
"With trust broken on both sides, thirty-plus years of foundation I've built in Fengcheng will be utterly destroyed by your incompetence!"
Author's Note: A strategist's words are blades that kill. Special thanks to the little angels who voted for me or irrigated with nutrient solutions between 2020-10-16 02:28:44 and 2020-10-16 17:59:44~
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