Volume One: Flames on the Frontier Chapter Sixteen: Ordinary Days

After Deng’er finished tidying up the bowls and chopsticks, she suddenly realized He Yu was nowhere to be seen, so she called out for him.

He Yu had just warmed a pot of wine for Deng’er, set the table, and replied, “Deng’er, I’m in the kitchen. The food is ready—come and eat.”

Lifting the curtain, Deng’er stepped inside. At the sight of the dishes laid out on the table, her eyes reddened. She made a graceful curtsy and, choking up, said, “Brother Yu, you treat me so well, I… I… cannot express how happy I am. But these kitchen tasks aren't for men to do—what if people gossip?”

Deng’er, raised in the strictest virtues, dreaded being thought unworthy.

He Yu laughed. “We’re at home, it’s the middle of the night—who would see? And even if someone did, I wouldn’t care.”

He pulled Deng’er to sit, poured her a cup of wine. “Try it, see if my cooking suits your taste?”

Watching him pour wine for her, Deng’er felt uneasy again. But her brother had always acted unconventionally; perhaps customs in Jiangnan differed from those in the north. She’d heard tales that southerners sometimes walked about unclothed in daylight, or didn’t weep when their parents died—perhaps it was true after all.

Thinking thus, Deng’er no longer protested and began to eat. After the first bite, her dark eyes widened in astonishment, as if stunned.

He Yu smiled. “Well, Deng’er, do you like it? How does it taste?”

Snapping back to herself, Deng’er exclaimed in delight, “It’s not just good, it’s delicious! Even the food at the master’s house doesn’t taste like this… Amazing… I never knew dishes could be made this way.”

He Yu was relieved, a weight lifting from his heart. He was no culinary master—he’d simply cooked as people did in later ages, improvising, and worried their tastes might differ too much. After all, what is honey to one may be poison to another.

As Deng’er ate, she sighed softly, “I never imagined Jiangnan food could be so tasty. Brother, you’ve had a hard time these past months,” her words tinged with guilt.

Deng’er was diligent, clever, and skillful—a fine cook even by local standards, but no match for the culinary arts refined over sixteen centuries.

He Yu had never visited the Jiangnan of the Eastern Jin, but guessed their cuisine was far less advanced than in the twenty-first century. In this famed land of poetry and wine, not even the gentry would likely have tasted such braised pork.

Seeing Deng’er’s earnestness, He Yu smiled and reassured her, “It’s nothing difficult. You’re so smart you’ll learn in no time. As for my skills, they’re quite ordinary—I can’t make many dishes.”

Deng’er nodded eagerly, every bit the good student.

Normally she didn’t drink, but tonight He Yu insisted, and after three large cups, she could drink no more. Repeatedly saying she couldn’t go on, she fell asleep at the table, her breathing gentle and even.

He Yu hadn’t expected her tolerance would be so modest. Sleeping like this, she might catch cold.

She was pure and lovely, like a pear blossom on a tree. Now, tipsy and flushed, her breath fragrant, she resembled a crabapple in spring slumber—more enchanting than ever.

He Yu gently carried Deng’er to bed, removed her shoes, socks, and outer garments, and tucked her in with the quilt. His affection for her was deep and tender, filled with love and respect, utterly free of any base or improper thought.

He Yu sat by her bedside for a while. Seeing that Deng’er slept soundly, he added more firewood to the brazier, stirred up the flames, quietly shut her door, and returned to his own room.

When he awoke, the sun was already high in the sky. He had no idea what time it was. After a night of drinking and eating meat, he’d slept deeply and, though not hungry, his throat was parched.

He thought of calling Deng’er to bring tea, then remembered she usually rose at dawn, yet now all was quiet—she must be sleeping off her wine.

In the army, He Yu had never slept in. Since crossing over and living with Lin Su and Deng’er, he’d risen early with Lin Su out of courtesy. After Lin Su passed, Deng’er cared for him so attentively that he’d developed the habit of lazing in bed and calling for her—something she never minded, being so fond of her brother.

He Yu considered getting up, but the cold made him hesitate, caught in an internal struggle. Just then, the curtain lifted and Deng’er entered, her hair tousled, a teapot in hand.

As she poured tea, Deng’er asked with a smile, “Brother, did I get drunk last night? Did I make a fool of myself?”

“No, no—you held your liquor well. And if anything, you looked even prettier after a drink,” He Yu replied as he dressed.

Hearing his compliment, Deng’er’s heart swelled with delight.

After breakfast, He Yu went to report for duty at the Barracks Office, beginning his official life as a retainer. The Barracks Office was the most important department within the Chen family stronghold, next to the inner fortress and armory.

He Yu wasn’t early; many new recruits had already arrived. Following instructions, he first went to the Armory Office to collect his equipment: a suit of black armor, a spear, a round shield, a ring-hilted straight sword, a four-dan bow, fifty wolf’s-tooth arrows, saddle and warhorse, and more. He estimated this set of gear cost at least fifty or sixty thousand coins—a fortune, unaffordable for anyone but the very wealthy.

The Chen stronghold housed over ten thousand people, with more than two thousand armed men.

Of these, over a thousand were local militia—strong tenant farmers who farmed during busy times, trained when idle, and went to war when needed.

There were also nearly five hundred professional retainers, responsible for guarding the gates, patrolling, and serving as escorts.

The retainers rotated duties among the four gates, with positions of squad leader, section leader, and company leader. All four gates answered to the Cavalry Captain, Li Jun—a title of historic prestige, though by now a local appointment. Li Jun, elder brother to Li Yu, was the fourth most powerful figure in the stronghold.

Li Jun, in his thirties, was fierce and imposing, his hawk-like eyes gleaming with authority.

Once everyone had collected their gear and armored up, they assembled on the small drill ground. Li Jun, whip in hand, gave a terse address, then waved for the company leaders to take their new men to their respective gates. He spoke with a stern, inscrutable expression, his voice calm yet clear, so all understood him perfectly.

He Yu was assigned to the south gate. The Chen stronghold was ringed by mountains on three sides and bordered by water on the fourth. The south gate was the main entrance, heavily guarded by two hundred men, while the other three gates, facing mountain paths and easy to defend, had fewer guards.

He Yu followed the company leader to the south gate, where the regulations and duties were announced. He Yu listened and memorized them all.

Each gate’s retinue was split into two groups, alternating days between guard duty, training, and patrol.

Today, being the first day, the main tasks were to familiarize themselves with their duties and collect equipment—no afternoon shift was required.

After lunch at the south gate, He Yu rode home. From afar, Deng’er saw her brother in full military dress atop a fine horse, radiant and imposing, her heart brimming with pride. The new recruits rode through the streets, drawing the townsfolk’s attention and discussion.

He Yu thought to himself, “Retainers are essentially household servants, yet to think they could look so impressive—I never realized.”

As soon as he entered the courtyard, Deng’er fluttered out like a white butterfly, helped him remove his gear, and served him tea.

With the afternoon free, He Yu taught Deng’er two more hand-to-hand techniques used by modern special forces—moves distilled from dozens of grappling forms, highly effective. He dubbed them “Deng’er’s Three Life-Saving Moves.”

He Yu had always loved martial arts, and since the retainers relied on martial skill for their livelihood, it was only fitting to study them; in a crisis, they could mean survival.

The Lin family’s Eighteen Form Battle-Breaking Technique had been refined over generations; by Lin Su’s time, it was streamlined and powerful. Building on this, He Yu combined it with modern bayonet techniques, reducing the nine mounted forms to three and the nine dismounted forms to six—nine in total, simpler and deadlier, which he named “Nine Battle-Breaking Forms.”

The next day, He Yu officially began his duties. Compared to chopping wood and burning charcoal with Lin Su, this work was easier and paid far more.

As true retainers formed the backbone of the Chen stronghold, they received a generous salary, plenty of cloth and cotton each year, and ten acres of land outside the walls. (Since the Lin family had no one to farm, they received six thousand coins in lieu.) By this reckoning, He Yu’s income was now more than ten times what Lin Su had earned, and with the proceeds from selling a horse, the Lin family had leapt from poverty to prosperity.

A few days into duty, He Yu received half a year’s pay in advance. Deng’er collected the money and supplies from the fortress, overjoyed. He Yu, too, felt a surge of accomplishment—a man’s pride in providing for his family.

With money in hand, He Yu set about improving their lives. He took Deng’er to the county town and bought her two new fur robes and boots, and a set for himself. Deng’er, dressed in her new finery, smiled radiantly, though she kept protesting the cost, making He Yu laugh aloud.

The northern winter was bitter; though the New Year had passed, the cold was still severe. With no cotton available, quilts made from reed and wheat husks offered little warmth. If not for He Yu’s robust health, he might not have managed to sleep at all.

He Yu racked his brain and finally struck upon a solution: why not build a heated kang bed-stove? (Historical records suggest the mature kang first appeared in the late Tang; some claim as early as the Western Han, but that seems unlikely.)

The next day, He Yu hired a mason to reinforce the house and, according to his design, built two kangs. After several adjustments, they worked perfectly.

With the kang for warmth, life was much improved—they no longer needed fur robes indoors. Deng’er was delighted, weaving at her loom and praising, “Brother, you southerners really know how to live—not only is the food delicious, but this kang is wonderful. My hands aren’t cold; I can weave so much more.”

He Yu laughed. “Even in Jiangnan today, there aren’t any kangs. Deng’er, you’re enjoying a convenience that won’t exist for another three centuries.”

“Deng’er, we don’t lack for anything now. Take a rest, keep me company—there’s no need to weave any more cloth.”