Chapter Thirty-Five: Each Has a Livelihood to Pursue (3)

The night was as deep as spilled ink, with only the oil lamp in Li Gang’s study stubbornly burning, casting a solitary, upright silhouette against the paper window.

A gust of cold wind forced the window frame ajar, and snowflakes swirled inside, landing on the back of Li Gang’s hand as he scribbled furiously. They melted into a chilling wetness, yet he remained oblivious.

His brush moved rapidly across the coarse paper, ink splattering as he laid out plans for weaponry, city defenses, grain supplies, and military morale—the "Five Strategies for Resisting the Invaders." Each character seemed to strike the paper with the finality of a soldier burning his boats behind him.

With a faint creak, the door was gently pushed open.

His wife, Lady Zhang, entered carrying a bowl of steaming ginger tea. Seeing her husband’s back, stiffened by the biting wind, her heart ached sharply.

She walked over in silence, first pushing the drafty window shut and securing the wooden latch to block out the wailing wind and snow. Only then did she place the tea bowl on a corner of the desk, which was piled high with files.

"Boji..." Her voice, thick with unconcealable worry and exhaustion, sounded strikingly clear in the late-night study. "It is late, and the chill is biting. Drink something hot to warm yourself." She caught a glimpse of the wet ink on the desk—"Resistance against the Jin," "Repel the invaders"—and her heart tightened in terror.

Li Gang looked up and took the bowl, the warmth spreading slightly through his palms.

"Thank you, my lady."

Lady Zhang’s gaze remained fixed on the powerful characters that seemed to pierce through the paper. Her lips trembled; she could not hold back any longer. "Boji, I am but a woman of the inner chambers; I should not meddle in the court's great affairs."

She paused, her voice dropping. "But are there not many men of high rank and power in the court? The Commissioner of Military Affairs, the Grand Councilor, the Junior Councilor... who among them does not hold a position of greater influence than yours as Vice Minister of the Court of Imperial Sacrifices? Why must it be you who jumps forward, single-handedly advocating for war? Even a woman deep in her home knows that the tallest tree catches the wind. You, who have read so many books and experienced so much of the world, do you not understand this?"

She looked at her husband’s bloodshot eyes, her tone a mix of heartbreak, confusion, and deep-seated fear.

Li Gang set the bowl down, the base clinking against the desk.

Looking at his wife’s distraught face, he let out a long sigh, his eyes remaining unnaturally calm, without a trace of wavering.

"My lady, it is not that I do not understand." His voice was low but remarkably clear. "I know well the rules of surviving the treacherous currents of officialdom—how to protect oneself and avoid harm. But..."

He reached out, gently stroking the words written on the rough paper. "But a catastrophic crisis is already upon us! The iron hooves of the Jin invaders are about to cross the Yellow River, and the lives of millions in Bianliang hang by a thread! At a time like this, someone must stand up and shoulder the burden!

"If everyone cares only about not being the 'tallest tree,' if everyone thinks only of following the crowd to save themselves, or if they shout loyalty and patriotism while secretly calculating how to put on a show and shirk their duties... then who will be left to defend the Great Song’s empire and the people of Bianliang?"

His voice carried a distant, reminiscent tone, as if speaking to her and to himself at once:

"Do you remember, my lady, when I was a youth and followed my father to Yan’an Prefecture? That year, the Western Xia besieged the city, and the situation was likely no better than it is today. The whole city was in a panic, hearts were restless. The sons of the city’s officials were all 'assigned' to guard the battlements—but it was merely for show; they stood in safe places to earn credit and rewards."

Li Gang’s lips curled into a bitter smile, one that held both nostalgia for his youth and a piercing insight into the world. "My father was the official in charge of the Jinglue Pacification Office, but I refused to join them in 'mounting the walls for reward.' I did not wish to hide in the depths of the government office, so I spent my days reading. I would ride the small horse my father gave me, circling the city walls, watching the signal fires and listening to the war horns."

"The man in charge of the Fuyan Circuit at that time was Lord Lü Huiqing. Once, while patrolling the barbican, he reined in his horse, pointed at me, and said to the generals beside him, 'This lad has extraordinary courage; one day he will be a man of valor!' I have remembered those words my entire life."

Li Gang’s eyes shimmered with complex light—reverence mixed with deep melancholy.

"As I grew older, I truly came to understand this Lord Lü. In his youth, he followed Wang Jinggong (Wang Anshi) in pursuing radical reforms and was a key figure in the Xining New Laws. But when the Yuanyou era brought a reversal, the new laws were abolished, and he was branded a 'traitor' and exiled. When Emperor Zhezong took the throne and reinstated the reforms, he returned to manage the frontier in Hedong and Fuyan, thwarting the Western Xia's incursions multiple times—what an achievement! But alas, Emperor Zhezong died young, and Prince Duan (Zhao Ji) succeeded him... In his later years, Lord Lü suffered another disaster; his son was exiled to Shamen Island, and he himself was demoted to a minor supervisory post."

He seemed to return to that equally cold evening, more than a decade ago.

"It was likely the third year of Daguan (1109). I once met Lord Lü in Luzhou (Hefei). He was already old and frail, his hair and beard white as snow, living in a dilapidated courtyard with only one or two old servants. I went to pay my respects, and we spoke of the state of the nation."

"The old man took my hand—that hand which had once commanded the winds and clouds was now withered and bony, yet he gripped mine tightly, refusing to let go. He said, 'Boji, my whole life has been a series of defeats. In my youth, the Qingli Reform failed; in my middle age, the Xining Reform also failed... Now, I watch the so-called "New Policies" led by Cai Jing and his ilk with a cold eye.'"

The old man’s cloudy eyes were filled with sorrow and a clarity that pierced the world.

"In them, I see no genuine intention to enrich the state or strengthen the military, nor to eliminate corruption! All I see is the use of Master Anshi’s name to conduct false reforms for the sake of lining their pockets! It is all to satisfy the Emperor’s boundless lust for luxury!"

Li Gang’s voice trembled slightly as he recounted the old minister’s final, heartfelt words. "Lord Lü said: 'The rot of the Great Song has reached the bone! Land annexation is like a tiger, the usury of the noble and powerful is like a gangrenous sore, the collusion between officials and merchants is plundering the people, and the military is in complete disarray... The situation is beyond saving!'

"We failed to turn the tide. In the end, the old man looked to the heavens and sighed, a sigh filled with endless regret and indignation: 'Wang Jiefu, oh Wang Jiefu, we once dreamed of a nation where the people were not overtaxed and the state coffers were full, where the spirit of the scholar was restored. How, how did we end up like this? Heh heh...'"

"He laughed desolately. Today, among those so-called students of the New Learning in the Imperial Academy, how many dare to openly call themselves Jiefu’s disciples? Everyone is terrified of the association! Our once-grand ambitions, our passion to reshape the heavens and the earth, were ultimately... ultimately ground into dust by this world!"

Li Gang closed his eyes, still able to feel the cold, despairing tremor of the old man’s hand. "Lord Lü said to me at the end: 'The world is hanging upside down! The future depends on whether your generation can keep its spine straight!' After he finished speaking, he walked shakily back into his dilapidated courtyard, still murmuring the names of those old friends—Jiefu, Zihou (Zhang Dun)."

A deathly silence filled the study, broken only by the crackle of the burning wick.

Lady Zhang was already weeping, mourning for that desolate old official and for the heavy burden her husband now carried.

Li Gang took a deep breath, his eyes turning sharp and firm once more. "My lady, I, Li Gang, come from the Li family of Shaowu. My father rose to the rank of Attendant at the Longtu Pavilion, a man of integrity throughout his life who shed blood in Yan’an to defend against the Western Xia!

"The Li family motto is loyalty, filial piety, righteousness, and integrity! From a young age, I have recited the words of the sages and understood that the family and the state are one! In my youth, I revered Zhang Xun and Xu Yuan, who died defending Suiyang, and I admired the character of Fan Zhongyan, who guarded the borders against the Xia and worried for the world before enjoying its spoils! They are the eternal models of the civil official who dies by remonstrance and the military official who dies in battle!"

He spoke with long-suppressed anger and insight. "What is the greatest crisis in Bianliang and the Song court today? It is not the Jin cavalry! It is the collapse of the human heart! It is the decay of our morals! In the eyes of those wolves, benevolence, righteousness, and the teachings of the sages have no bottom line! They would sacrifice the Great Song’s mountains and rivers, and millions of lives, as a gift to the Jin, all to protect their own power and wealth!"

Li Gang slammed his fist onto the desk, sending ink splashing. "How laughable are men like Bai Shizhong and Li Bangyan! They speak of the Treaty of Chanyuan day and night, foolishly hoping to buy peace with money! What do they know?

"The Treaty of Chanyuan was only signed after Emperor Zhenzong, at the insistence of Kou Laigong (Kou Zhun), personally went to Chanzhou to oversee the battle. Our army killed the Liao general Xiao Talin, crushing the enemy’s spirit. It was a treaty concluded only when both sides were evenly matched! It was a treaty forged through battle, not begged for by wagging one’s tail! Today, our Great Song has never truly clashed with the Jin, nor have we fought a single decent defensive battle. What right do we have to hope for such a treaty!"

"That Li Bangyan is nothing but the son of a merchant. What does he say? That protecting one’s wealth is more important than protecting the nation! That is their true face! Inside and outside the court, how many so-called refined scholars are indulging in calligraphy, paintings, and exotic trifles, pursuing that ethereal 'prosperity and peace'?

"Li Bangyan, Gao Qiu, and other thieves claim to have 'enjoyed every flower under heaven and kicked every ball under heaven'! What do they fear? They fear the Jin breaking into Bianliang and taking away their life of debauchery and drunken stupor! To preserve this luxury, they would rather scrape the lifeblood from the people to feed the Jin’s appetite than pick up a weapon and fight a proper battle!"

"Boji!"

Lady Zhang could no longer hold back; she sobbed as she interrupted him. "Everything you say is true! But have you thought about it? Today’s court is no longer the court of Emperor Zhenzong’s time! If you stand up to be this Kou Zhun, will you have a good end? Have you forgotten the desolate fate that befell Kou Zhun? Have you forgotten how many times Master Fan (Fan Zhongyan) was cast up and down by the tides of politics? Have you forgotten how Lord Lü ended his days? The century-old reputation of the Li family, the lives of dozens of people in this household... do you not care about them at all?"

Her words were like a blade, piercing through the great risk hidden behind Li Gang’s impassioned rhetoric.

Li Gang looked at his wife—her face covered in tears, her expression one of terrified helplessness—and his own chest churned like a stormy sea.

He stepped forward and gently took her cold, trembling hands. In those palms were the calluses of years of household labor, now chilled to the bone.

"How could I not know? How could I not be afraid? Lord Kou did not end his days in peace."

"But in this dire crisis, Bianliang needs a Kou Zhun! A Kou Zhun who can knock his head against the ground to remonstrate when the ruler wavers, a man who can turn the tide when a powerful enemy presses against the borders! If everyone shrinks back, if everyone thinks only of self-preservation and dares not be that 'tallest tree,' dares not take the risk of being the first to act for the world..."

He looked out the window, past the wind and snow, seeing the swaying signal fires on the city walls and the surging tide of armored horses. His voice carried a prophetic melancholy. "Then Bianliang and its millions of souls will be a second Suiyang! Or perhaps even worse than Suiyang! At that point, what would our Li family’s reputation or lives be worth? When the nest is overturned, can any egg remain intact?"

He picked up his brush and wrote the words "Fight to the Death" firmly on the paper. "Even if I end up like Lord Kou, I accept it. It is better than watching the Jin enter the capital and seeing the people suffer."

Lady Zhang looked at the light in her husband’s eyes—the light of a martyr—and her last bit of strength to persuade him drained away.

She knew she could not sway this man who, as a youth, had dared to ride his horse onto the city walls to patrol, this man who viewed Zhang Xun, Xu Yuan, and Kou Zhun as his models.

A massive sense of powerlessness and an even deeper fear gripped her.

She pulled her hands away abruptly, tears streaming down her face—the tears of despair.

She pointed to the paper on the desk, filled with words like "Resist the Jin" and "Army and People," her lips trembling violently, yet she could not utter a single word.

In the end, she let out a cry of stifled anguish, turned abruptly, and stumbled out of the study. Her thin silhouette vanished into the deep darkness outside, leaving only the door swinging helplessly in the cold wind.

In the study, Li Gang remained alone, a solitary figure by a lone lamp. He watched the direction in which his wife had disappeared, long silent.

The heat from the bowl of ginger tea on the desk had long since vanished.

Outside, the wind and snow grew more violent, beating against the window lattice with a wailing sound.

He sat back at his desk and picked up the brush, his fingertips turning white from the cold and the intensity of his grip.

The brush, soaked in thick ink, landed heavily on the paper once more. Line after line of characters appeared in the dim yellow light, like a blood oath carved into stone—silent, yet possessing the weight of a thousand tons.