Affairs of Wan City

“Haha, Zixiu, how are you feeling today?”

In the rear courtyard of the City Lord’s Mansion in Wan City, Magistrate Cao Xin stretched lazily as he walked into the neighboring small courtyard.

The courtyard was secluded and tranquil. A flowerbed bloomed at its center, the early summer sun coaxing forth a riot of blossoms—thousands of branches, myriad colors. At the garden’s edge stood a small grass pavilion, beneath which rested two lounge chairs woven from green bamboo. Cao Ang lounged on one, reading a book, while two graceful concubines brewed tea and fanned him, making his days as comfortable as could be.

“Uncle Six, you’re here!”

“Uncle Six, I’m much better now. You have so many things to handle; you don’t need to come see me every day.”

With the help of his attendants, Cao Ang slowly sat up, offering a hoarse smile. Though handsome, his face was still pale.

After his last injury, the wounds had been so grave that traveling would have made them worse, so he remained in Wan City to recuperate. Over time, his external wounds healed and he could manage to sit up and eat, but a full recovery would likely take several years.

“Haha, as if I have so much to do. I’m the magistrate—I just delegate tasks. The rest is handled by Mister Mao and the others. I prefer ruling by doing nothing,” Cao Xin said, sprawling across the lounge chair beside him, swinging his long legs.

Cao Ang chuckled hoarsely. “Uncle Six, how’s the army reorganization coming along?”

“It’s going smoothly enough, but managing over ten thousand men is just too much work—a real hassle!” Cao Xin sipped his tea.

He hadn’t been idle these past days. First, he took men to survey the mountains and rivers around Wan City, having detailed maps drawn. Then he toured the seven subordinate county towns to learn about the people there.

After visiting the seven counties, Cao Xin returned to Wan City to take charge of the forces left by the old lord: over ten thousand regular troops, plus 4,500 local garrison soldiers—a kind of militia. The main force, ten thousand strong, was stationed at the old East and South Camps. Upon taking command, Cao Xin met with the officers, discussing the city’s defenses and training.

His fierce reputation and string of victories had earned him considerable respect in the Cao army. None of the officers dared challenge his authority.

His assumption of command passed without incident.

“Uncle Six, you’re a born commander. Ten thousand is just the beginning—one day you’ll lead a hundred thousand, two hundred thousand. You should get used to it quickly,” Cao Ang said with a gentle smile.

“Don’t flatter me. I’m Cao Xin, not Han Xin. I can handle ten thousand, maybe, but more than that is beyond me. Besides, it’s quality, not quantity, that matters. If I had ten thousand Langya soldiers, what battle could I not win?”

The key was to defeat the many with the few—the rewards were greater that way. He had no use for human wave tactics, which was why he was training the Langya army.

“You’re right, Uncle Six. Once I’m healed, I want to train an elite force as well. Uncle Six, I was thinking of building a unit of armored cavalry. Could you lend me some money?” Cao Ang asked with a coaxing smile.

“No problem. Once you’re recovered, I’ll give you a hundred sets of full barding for your horses.”

“Really?!”

Cao Ang practically shouted in excitement, which tugged at the wound on his neck and made him grimace in pain. The two attendants hurried to steady him, gently blowing on the injury to ease the discomfort.

“Haha, you’re not a child anymore, yet still so reckless,” Cao Xin teased, pointing at him.

Cao Ang forced a smile through his pain. “A hundred sets of barding—that’s enough for a whole company of heavy cavalry. With them, who could stand against me on the battlefield? All I want is to heal quickly and train my cavalry.”

The more he spoke, the more animated he became, clenching his fist, his face flushed.

“Don’t get worked up. Focus on healing—everything else can wait,” Cao Xin soothed him.

“Yes, I must get better quickly and return to the front lines,” Cao Ang said, barely able to contain his eagerness.

Cao Xin shook his head. The lad was bold, warlike, handsome, and upright—nothing like the old lord’s bloodline, more like his own son.

“Zixiu, look—we caught two big fish!” Xiahou Shang and Cao Chun burst into the courtyard, each carrying a lively silver carp.

“Uh—Uncle Six, you’re here too.”

“Fishing again? I told you both to train the troops—how’s that going?” Cao Xin asked.

These two were his captains: Xiahou Shang commanded two thousand infantry, Cao Chun eight hundred light cavalry.

After the army was reorganized, Cao Xin gave orders that every officer must drill the troops for at least three hours daily, preparing them for the battles to come.

But Xiahou Shang and Cao Chun were always slacking off, wandering about instead of training—as if to test the patience of their commander. He couldn’t let it go unremarked.

“Heh, Uncle Six, I’m training—every day!” Xiahou Shang said with a sheepish grin, scratching his stubbly chin.

“Sixth Brother, me too—I just step out occasionally,” Cao Chun protested. He was the younger brother of Cao Ren, of the same generation.

“Nonsense. Look at the sun—it’s midday, prime time for drills, yet both of you are out fishing. How do you expect to lead soldiers like this?” Cao Xin scolded, pointing at them.

“Don’t blame us, Sixth Brother—you’re lazing around here too!” Cao Chun shot back, eyeing Cao Xin’s outfit: loose shirt, baggy shorts, slippers—utterly carefree, nothing like a general.

Cao Xin’s face darkened. “Fools! I’m the general. Resting means I’ll fight better. Can you compare yourselves to me? I’m a fierce commander—what are you two?”

“Haha, don’t be angry, Uncle Six!” Cao Ang interjected, pulling at his arm. “Uncle Chun and Uncle Boren heard that fish is good for injuries, so they went fishing. But you two, don’t go anymore. I’m almost healed; I don’t need fish. Spend your time drilling the troops—a well-trained army wins battles.”

“Exactly. The Chancellor will soon march on the State of Chen. Once Jing Province hears, Wan City will be embroiled in war. Time is short. If you aren’t diligent now, how will you face the Jing troops? Or do you want a repeat of the defeat at Wan City?” Cao Xin said with a cold snort.

“We understand, Uncle Six. We’ll train properly.”

“Sixth Brother, just wait for your fish,” Xiahou Shang called as he and Cao Chun hurried off with their catch. Soon, the smell of fried fish wafted from the kitchen.

Cao Xin sniffed the air. Those two were hopeless, but their cooking was decent—worth cultivating, perhaps.