Chapter 95 From Leading Troops to Digging Canals

Chapter 95: From Commanding Armies to Digging Ditches

Faced with such a sudden and shocking turn of events, Qiao Zong’s soldiers were stunned into confusion.

"Why did they... kill our king and just leave?"

Amidst the silent crowd staring at Qiao Zong’s corpse, this question suddenly broke the stillness.

Blank stares spread across the faces of the troops.

Yes, why?

Their migrating convoy was utterly unprepared for an enemy attack. Otherwise, Liu Bobo would not have chosen this moment for a direct assault, rather than a night raid or assassination.

Years without battlefield experience had left these soldiers with little instinct for adapting. When Qiao Zong fell, a considerable number of them even forgot what they were supposed to do.

Had the enemy intended to annihilate them, a pursuit at this point would surely have shattered their forces and inflicted heavy casualties.

But they didn’t.

It was as if their sole purpose was to eliminate Qiao Zong—to remove this unpredictable variable who had proclaimed himself king in Shu—and then withdraw.

This single question stirred a sense of relief among the Shu soldiers, as if they had narrowly escaped disaster.

Yet, another pressing issue remained unresolved.

With Qiao Zong dead, they were a headless multitude! What were they to do?

The inherent passivity of the Di people of Shu quickly enveloped the crowd as panic subsided. Or perhaps, they truly had only one choice: "Should we... retreat back to Shu?"

The question hung in the air without an immediate answer. But soon, the military scribe, after some deliberation, proposed a more constructive suggestion: "Whether we retreat to Shu or not can be decided later. For now, how about we withdraw from Hanzhong? If that elite force was sent by the Qin state, we can retreat southward and reinforce the Micang Mountain area north of Ba Commandery. This way, we’ll have continuous support from our rear, and we can ensure they can’t cross into Bazhong, let alone Shu."

"With the Prince of Chengdu dead, our priority must be self-preservation," he added.

Something in his words resonated with the Di people, and soon, voices of agreement rose around them. "Yes, yes, that’s a good plan!"

"We’ll follow your suggestion!"

"We must also guard against another enemy attack and quickly move camp."

As some lifted Qiao Zong’s body and followed the retreating column, others sighed with regret: "If it really was the Qin Army’s elite, the Prince of Chengdu truly brought this upon himself..."

"Attacking Guanzhong from Shu—even after two hundred years, it’s still a thankless task."

"..."

But if Yao Xing had heard these words, he likely wouldn’t have felt particularly pleased.

When news of the Shu army’s retreat reached him, he didn’t care what others thought—he himself sat dumbstruck for a long while.

"What did you say?" he asked in disbelief.

"The Shu forces withdrew very quickly," the scout reported.

Having traveled from Guanzhong to Hanzhong via the Baoye Road, the scout had originally been dispatched to provide intelligence for the Qin Army’s troop movements. Now, he had also fortuitously evaded the Shu army’s rear scouts, gathering more information. "Their army is in mourning—truly leaderless."

"I specifically inquired among the Ba people—those at odds with Shu—and learned that the Shu army was ambushed by an elite cavalry unit. Their other forces suffered minimal losses, but Qiao Zong was assassinated."

Without a leader, how could they continue their march into Guanzhong? Of course, they had no choice but to retreat.

"Who did this?" Yao Xing exclaimed in shock.

He had indeed wanted to deal with Qiao Zong—but not like this.

He had planned to engage him in the Qinling Mountains. To minimize losses in Guanzhong, the initial battle would have been fought by Yang Sheng, who had just submitted a letter of surrender. The goal wasn’t to annihilate the enemy but to make Qiao Zong recognize the power gap and temporarily submit, giving Yao Xing leverage to work with.

Who could have predicted such a sudden turn of events—and this outcome?

"Could it have been the King of Wei?" Yao Chong asked from the side.

"No, it couldn’t have been him," Yao Xing replied firmly. "Him launching a surprise attack from Pingcheng to kill Lü Shao before we could and then negotiating with us was a masterstroke. But if he had sent troops to crush Qiao Zong and behead him, we’d have to believe the Wei Army had sprouted wings."

"Besides, what benefit would killing Qiao Zong bring him?" Yao Xing let out a cold laugh, though it carried a hint of self-mockery. "Unless he did it to block my escape route into Shu? Then he needn’t worry. If Guanzhong falls and my legacy is lost—if destiny ultimately favors Emperor Ying—I won’t live in shame. There’s no question of me seeking refuge elsewhere! Or perhaps Tuoba Gui intended to eliminate two rivals at once by ambushing Guanzhong. If he succeeded, I might as well die a ghost who saw it coming!"

"My lord..."

"Enough. Just thinking aloud. Let’s return to Qiao Zong." Yao Xing tapped the armrest of his throne and said slowly, "Qiao Zong’s death could only have been Yong’an's doing!"

Even if other possibilities existed for Shu, in his mind, there was only one conclusion.

The moment he reached this realization, his expression remained unchanged, but inwardly, a chill ran down his spine.

So decisive.

This surgical strike was too decisive, too effective! It was exactly the kind of thing Yong’an would do.

From the Shu soldiers’ perspective, they had lost a leader with grand ambitions and a talent for timing. Their best option was to retreat to Shu, refusing to aid any faction.

Yet Qiao Zong had died on the march to attack Guanzhong. The prime suspect was none other than Yao Xing, making any alliance between him and Shu out of the question.

Unable to seize Shu, Yao Xing could never march down the Yangtze to open a front at Jingzhou, let alone Jiankang!

She would rather abandon a potential ally—even a land of abundance like Shu—just to keep the battlefield under control.

This was the strategic vision of an emperor who didn’t get bogged down by immediate gains or losses.

Compared to Tuoba Gui, who had personally led his forces near Guanzhong, Yong’an, thousands of miles away, seemed even more formidable.

Even more frightening was that she had commanders willing to carry out such a decapitation mission—and they had succeeded!

At this thought, how could Yao Xing dare feel relieved that Qiao Zong’s death had, ostensibly, aided him?

Yao Chong suddenly heard Yao Xing mutter under his breath, "I’m beginning to doubt whether Guanzhong can still serve as bait."

"My lord..." Yao Chong spoke worriedly.

Yao Xing’s words sounded like a harbinger of defeatism, and that was alarming. But what might be even more troubling wasn’t just the sovereign's melancholy demoralizing his people—it was something else entirely.

In the past, repeated setbacks had pushed Yao Chang over the edge into madness. What would they do to Yao Xing?

Truthfully, Yao Chong feared waking up one day to hear someone say, "Look, the king has raised an effigy of Yong’an in Guanzhong..."

"Chong," Yao Xing suddenly called.

Yao Chong jolted upright. "Yes!"

"I previously entrusted you with managing Guanzhong’s spring crops. How does it fare now?"

Yao Chong replied, "The Agricultural Bureau has dispatched overseers across Guanzhong. We will not fail your trust. However... the rains have been scarce since spring began. I fear there may be shortfalls come harvest."

Yao Xing gritted his teeth upon hearing this. "A change mid-year... The Three Fufu, Guanzhong, and Luoyang capital have always shared similar climates. Even if there truly is a change mid-year, it won’t be limited to just one place. Just have people prepare backup plans first!"

Yao Chong responded with a "Yes."

Seeing Yao Xing wave his hand wearily, signaling his Imperial Younger Brother the Heir to withdraw, Yao Chong bowed and slowly exited the hall.

Despite the increasingly gentle spring breeze, the series of sudden changes left him without a moment of ease.

Thinking of Yao Xing’s instructions, he immediately strode toward the northern gate of Chang’an.

...

Meanwhile, in Luoyang at this moment, the scene was equally a hive of agricultural activity.

No, it wasn’t just farming.

Liu Bobo wiped the sweat from his forehead, along with the mud on his face, finally feeling like he could catch his breath.

But looking down, his legs were still stuck in the muck, nearly impossible to extricate.

"I really shouldn’t have agreed to do this!"

Heaven knows why, after successfully raiding Hanzhong and killing Qiao Zong, he would inexplicably head to Luoyang first, thinking that while awaiting the Emperor’s subsequent orders, he could also look for battle opportunities on the frontlines.

But whether there were opportunities or not was debatable—instead, he had first become a laborer for canal-digging.

His current location was east of Luoyang.

The canal before him was called the Yang Canal, the most important waterway in Luoyang, whose history stretches back to the Spring and Autumn and Warring States periods.

However, this canal truly took shape during the Han Dynasty.

The Luo River was not a reassuring moat—prone to flooding, destroying houses along its banks, or, in extreme cases, running completely dry. Due to the terrain, it couldn’t even supply the farmland outside Luoyang, let alone meet basic water needs.

Thus was born the Yang Canal.

Now, after multiple expansions and improvements, it was divided into two sections.

The western section channeled water from the Gu River into the Luo River, ensuring water supply during droughts.

The eastern section diverted the Luo River into canal systems, connecting Luoyang’s waterways to the Bian Canal, Huai River, and other central plains rivers.

Unfortunately, years of continuous warfare had left the Yang Canal in disrepair. The eastern section, already naturally susceptible to silting, was now severely clogged, rendering even the western section unusable.

With Luoyang’s farmland being restored and fallow land reclaimed, this situation couldn’t be ignored.

Moreover, this year had been less than ideal in terms of weather, making canal maintenance all the more critical.

Though Luoyang’s land allocation quotas were substantial, the population hadn’t migrated quickly enough. After last year’s war, the number of people engaged in farming was far fewer than in Jiangnan, let alone those available for dredging waterways.

Liu Bobo’s arrival was little better than "a lamb to the slaughter."

"You can’t say that," Fu Yan said, clad in utilitarian work garb and wearing a straw hat—less like a battlefield-vaunted general and more like a genuine farmer.

Leaning on a shovel at the edge of the Yang Canal above Liu Bobo, she reasoned with infuriating calm, "Look, if anyone ever talks about Qiao Zong’s death, everyone here can testify that you’ve been digging canals for half a month. There’s no way you could’ve gone to Hanzhong for that ambush."

Liu Bobo: "...Should I say thank you?"

He wasn’t blind—on the engineering plans in Fu Yan’s other hand, there were plans to dig a series of vertical wells and connect them with a tunnel-like canal, patterned after Guanzhong’s Longshou Canal.

That would be far more difficult than simply shoveling away mud!

Now that he was already stuck in this pit as a laborer, how was he to avoid the next phase?

Fu Yan, however, was utterly shameless. Her face, bearing twenty more years of weathering than Liu Bobo’s, showed no trace of shame. "If you’re grateful, I won’t refuse. The people of Luoyang are profoundly grateful for the Emperor's benevolence and treat us like family. The more you do, the more they’ll vouch for you. Isn’t that reciprocal goodwill?"

She waved the engineering plans, unwilling to debate whether a general digging canals was a waste of talent. "I still need to survey the Qianjin and Wulong Canals, so I won’t stay. General Liu, please oversee things here."

Liu Bobo: "..."

"General?" A similarly mud-caked soldier approached.

Liu Bobo reluctantly picked up his pickaxe again. "What are you looking at? Didn’t you hear her? The people of Luoyang see us as family. What’s a little work for family? Consider it training—so you don’t get outrun by your own mounts like during the Hanzhong campaign."

But as the soldier turned away, he distinctly heard Liu Bobo mutter through gritted teeth: "...No wonder Liu Yu is the Luozhou commander while Fu Yan is the Luoyang Chief Administrator. She can both fight and manage!"

The soldier tried to discern whether this was praise or sarcasm.

Before he could figure it out, a shadow suddenly fell from above.

Startled, he scrambled to dig the person out of the piled mud.

Liu Bobo also lent a hand, barely managing to revive the poor wretch who had slipped and fallen.

The young man wiped the mud from his face, revealing the refined features of someone raised in comfort.

Liu Bobo frowned. "...Who are you?"

He looked somewhat familiar.

The youth caught his breath, thanked them repeatedly, then answered, "I’m an official assigned to Luoyang after the imperial exams. My name is Xie Lingyun."

"Oh!" The soldier suddenly realized. "You’re the one—the one from the Heavenly Mirror! The ornamental trim atop a rubbish heap!"

"Cough!" Liu Bobo almost inhaled his own spit.

Xie Lingyun’s expression remained strangely accepting.

After all, the Heavenly Mirror’s description was unforgettably apt. Compared to being called the originator of pastoral verse, "a decoration on a pile of trash" was far more memorable.

Since arriving in Luoyang, he’d heard this many times—once more made no difference.

But the next moment, his expression froze again as the soldier asked, "So what are you doing here? Seeking poetic inspiration by experiencing mud firsthand?"

Xie Lingyun: "...Not quite!"

Suppressing the urge to retort, he explained, "His Majesty values practicality. The imperial exams didn’t specifically select those skilled in poetry but assigned us based on our strengths. Chancellor Xie also believed I should start as a low-level clerk to understand the people’s hardships, so I joined the Ministry of Revenue and was assigned to Luoyang. Just now—"

"Just now was purely an accident! Just an accident!"

It definitely wasn’t because he was unused to manual labor, inspecting the canal when his legs betrayed him and he fell.

But he suspected that after such ordeals, he might not become a landscape poet after all—perhaps shifting his focus to the agricultural frontline, crafting work chants for ditch-diggers.

If so, it wouldn’t be an unpromising new path.

The only worry was whether folks might begin linking his name, "Lingyun," with canals and waterways.

Xie Lingyun suddenly realized that Liu Bobo's aura was radically different from ordinary folk, clearly no ordinary man. Upon a closer look, he recognized him: "General Liu, why are you here?"

In Jiankang, he had met Liu Bobo—mainly during the ceremony where Emperor Yong'an honored the returning generals—and was certain he couldn't be mistaken.

Logically, Liu Bobo shouldn't be here.

Yet, Liu Bobo replied without batting an eye: "I was assigned to dig canals half a month ago. You missed me under all this grime."

As for Qiao Zong’s fate, how was that his problem, who was repairing the Yang Canal in Luoyang?

"General, you just said—"

"What did I say?" Liu Bobo cut him off.

Gripes or not, all he saw now was the work ahead.

……

He watched as Xie Lingyun, ignoring the mud on his hat, hastily put it back on and scrambled up awkwardly to continue his inspection. A literary prodigy who belonged in ivory towers was now toiling in mundane affairs.

He saw women carrying baskets of sludge, humming half-formed melodies as they crossed freshly weeded fields. Spotting Fu Yan riding past, they shouted something—perhaps a cheery greeting.

He also saw, amidst the bustling scene, a group of hollow-cheeked folk plodding toward Luoyang. Soon, they would likely settle here, though it would take time before they could take over his work.

This was a world apart from Jiankang, yet it equally showed Emperor Yong'an’s handiwork.

At this, Liu Bobo suddenly ducked his head with a laugh.

He recalled the Emperor's words—she said that since the celestial screen hailed her as Emperor Yong'an, bearing the title of "Great Emperor," she dared to bend other rulers to her will.

Indeed...

When even celestial-screen emperors were digging ditches, wasn’t that conquest?