Chapter 030: The Army Defeated

August fifteenth, the Mid-Autumn Festival.

Before the Tang and Song dynasties, the Mid-Autumn Festival was not yet an official holiday. In specialized books on seasonal customs from that era, there are few records of this celebration. It was not until the Tang and Song periods that the fixed term “Mid-Autumn Festival” began to appear. By the Ming dynasty, its status rose again, and it became a festival formally recognized by the imperial court.

Now, every year when the Mid-Autumn Festival arrives, every household in the capital holds rituals and prepares seasonal treats such as mooncakes and pastries.

The Liu household, both mistress and servants, cared deeply for the festival. Early in the morning, they were bustling in the kitchen, eager and delighted to make mooncakes.

This was Xue Rui’s first festival in the Ming dynasty. By rights, he ought to immerse himself in the festive atmosphere, yet he paid it little mind and did not even inquire about the customs.

It was not that he despised celebrations, but rather that his heart was too heavy.

This year’s Mid-Autumn Festival would likely bring little joy to anyone, whether high officials or common folk.

Early that morning, after checking in at the Imperial Observatory, Xue Rui went to the Autumn Office. As usual, he first brewed tea for Chief Gao Mian, then refreshed the water for the astronomy apprentices.

After he had prepared the necessary brushes, ink, paper, and reference materials, Xue Rui returned to his seat and flipped through a book absentmindedly.

Whenever he heard commotion or voices outside, he would drop his book and run outside to investigate.

The apprentices found this odd. The boy seemed different today—so restless and agitated, completely unlike his usual steady self.

Still, it was no concern of theirs. As long as Xue Rui stayed out of their way, they ignored him.

As noon approached, a clamor erupted outside the official quarters. It sounded like a crowd arguing.

At the noise, Xue Rui sprang out of the Autumn Office. The apprentices, sensing something amiss, followed to see what was happening.

In the courtyard, dozens of astronomy apprentices had gathered, their heated discussions blending into a buzz of voices.

From a few scattered words, Xue Rui quickly grasped what had happened.

Shi Xiang, who had come outside with him, strode forward, craned his neck into the crowd, and spotting a familiar face, called out, “Brother Zhou, what’s happened? Why is everyone so upset?”

A tall, thin man in the crowd turned at his voice. Recognizing Shi Xiang, he squeezed out, his face drawn in pain. “Brother Shi, the army at the front has been defeated again!”

Xue Rui knew this man as well—Zhou Xi, an apprentice from the Central Office. The last time Xue Rui delivered a document to Xu Dun, it was Zhou Xi who received it from him.

“Defeated again?”

Shi Xiang and the others paled in shock. The newly arrived apprentices crowded round, clamoring for details.

“He Shu, who went to copy the court gazette, just returned,” Zhou Xi explained, slapping his thigh in grief. “An urgent dispatch arrived from the front. On the thirteenth, the enemy pursued His Majesty’s carriage. His Majesty sent Marquis Gongshun Wu Kezhong and Commander Wu Keqin to block them, but the enemy was so fierce that our troops could not withstand them. Marquis Gongshun and Commander Wu Keqin were killed in battle, both dying for the nation!”

“So savage are the enemy invaders!” the apprentices exclaimed in horror.

If the defeat and death of Marquis Xining and Baron Wujin on July sixteenth could be blamed on carelessness, this time the Wu brothers had prepared, yet still fell—clearly, this was no accident.

Marquis Gongshun Wu Kezhong and his brother Wu Keqin were both Mongols who had pledged allegiance to Ming in their youth. For their merits, the Yongle Emperor granted them Han surnames.

The brothers were renowned for their valor. Each time the Yongle Emperor campaigned against the Mongols, he would have them accompany him, often sending them as vanguard.

Over the years, the Wu brothers had built an illustrious military record, seasoned veterans of many campaigns.

This time, as the Oirat pursued, Emperor Zhu Qizhen, shaken by the disastrous defeat on July sixteenth, feared history would repeat itself and ordered these prudent, experienced brothers to hold the enemy at bay.

Zhu Qizhen believed that even if they could not win, the brothers could at least delay the Oirat cavalry, buying him time to retreat.

Unexpectedly, the two men were swept aside like paper, defeated within half a day—a blow that stunned both Zhu Qizhen and Wang Zhen.

They were not the only ones taken aback. Now, every official in the capital reading the gazette must be asking themselves the same question:

How could the Great Ming army prove so feeble, suffering defeat after defeat at the hands of the Oirat?

“What are you all doing here in a crowd?”

As the apprentices mulled over the news, a stern voice called out from not far off.

The voice was familiar. Xue Rui turned and saw Chief Gao Mian standing with arms behind his back, his face dark as he surveyed them.

“Greetings, sir,” the apprentices hurriedly saluted.

As the others discussed, Xue Rui had kept silent, standing away from the group. Now, Gao Mian approached and stopped beside him.

After the salutes, Gao Mian fixed his gaze on Xue Rui, displeased. “You tell me—what has happened?”

Xue Rui cupped his hands and replied, “Sir, as I have heard, an urgent dispatch arrived from the front with news of another defeat. Marquis Gongshun and his brother have fallen in battle.”

“What did you say?”

Gao Mian’s expression changed. He turned to Shi Xiang and the others. “Is this true?”

Shi Xiang nodded quickly. “It is, sir. He Shu has already taken the copied gazette to see Master Xu.”

“Return to your offices at once. No one is to wander or speak recklessly of state affairs. If any of you dare, do not blame me for being harsh!”

With these hasty orders, Gao Mian, forgetting all decorum, gathered up his robe and hurried to Xu Dun’s office.

Gao Mian was a strict man, well known for it. After his warning, none dared linger. They returned to their posts.

As Gao Mian entered Xu Dun’s office, Xue Rui spun on his heel and hurried off in the opposite direction.

Shi Xiang and the others, noticing this, were curious.

Fu Cong sneered, “That fellow dares defy the master’s orders. If he’s caught, he’ll be in for it.”

“Did you notice how strange he’s been today?” Shi Xiang said thoughtfully, watching Xue Rui’s retreating figure.

“Strange?” Fu Cong paused, recalling Xue Rui’s behavior. Since arriving at the office that morning, Xue Rui had been restless, jumping up at every noise outside as if looking for something.

They had thought nothing of it before, but now it seemed odd.

Shi Nan mused, “Just now, when Brother Zhou spoke of the battle, he dashed out as soon as he heard. Was he waiting for news from the front?”

“How could he know?” Fu Cong protested. “Zhou said the gazette had been out less than half an hour when He Shu copied it over. Does he have second sight, able to predict a battle report would arrive today?”

“That’s what you’d think, but look at him—he wasn’t surprised at all by the news, as if he’d expected it. Now he’s gone off against orders. There’s something amiss,” Shi Xiang pondered.

As the others speculated, Shi Nan said, “What’s the point in guessing? Just ask him when he returns.”

“That’s true,” Shi Xiang agreed. So, with nothing more to say, they and the others returned to the Autumn Office.