Chapter Thirty-Seven: The Command of Arms Camp

Liu Tan eased his grip slightly; though Yuan Yuan was still under his control, her breathing gradually returned to normal. Tears slid down the corner of Yuan Yuan’s eye as she said, “Your Majesty, I wish to live. My father expended great effort to help my mother escape, only so that she and I might survive. But in this world, survival is not so easily won—it demands a price. Nine years ago, when my mother and I were cast adrift and arrived here, we had to submit ourselves to Shentu just to be sheltered and for my mother to receive treatment. It is the same now. If I wish to live, I must yield to Your Majesty. Had I resisted you yesterday, could I still be alive today? As for vengeance? I am but a weak woman—I truly cannot!”

She paused, gazing into Liu Tan’s eyes before continuing, “When my mother was alive, she told me that my father’s death was inevitable. Even without the late emperor, my father would have been hunted down by others. The late emperor, however, treated him with the honors due a lord, allowed his body to remain whole, and preserved his name. My mother said the late emperor was a man of righteousness. Had it been any other lord, my father would have died in disgrace. In truth, the late emperor was indeed kind to my father. I have always understood this.”

“And now, Your Majesty does not hold my son or me accountable for our mistakes and spares our lives—how could I not know gratitude?”

“Thus, before Your Majesty, I dare not hide, nor do I wish to. To bring a smile to the dragon’s face is a blessing for me! Your Majesty, you may rest assured—I truly harbor no ulterior motives.”

From the moment Yuan Yuan began to speak, Liu Tan had watched her closely. Though her eyes were troubled, they did not flicker or wander; the chance she was lying was less than thirty percent. Moreover, her words were, for the most part, sincere.

He had killed her husband, and Liu Bei had driven her father to his death, but what of it? Now, she was but an ant, and he, a towering tree; no matter how hard an ant struggled, it could not shake the mighty tree.

Since that was so, why not strive to live well?

Thus, Liu Tan slowly released her and said, “You have convinced me. Today, you shall accompany me into the city and oversee the rice shop on my behalf. Will you do it?”

Yuan Yuan was overjoyed and, forgetting her nakedness, knelt upon the bed to offer thanks. “Thank you, Your Majesty! I am willing!”

Liu Tan nodded and added, “You may bring your son, but you must personally instruct him in the rites of minister and monarch, so that one day he might render service to me.”

Yuan Yuan bowed even lower—her posture causing her hips to rise higher, which made Liu Tan’s gaze heat with desire. This was another of a young matron’s charms—once she accepted her fate, she could be utterly uninhibited.

“Help me dress,” Liu Tan said, tearing his gaze away with some effort. It was a true test of his self-control.

But if he wished someday to revel in beauty’s embrace and wield power upon waking, then he must exercise restraint now and adhere strictly to his plans.

It was time for martial practice. With Yuan Yuan’s service, Liu Tan donned only his shirt and trousers and entered the courtyard. He began with the horse stance, but finding its effects lacking, he soon shifted to practicing Tai Chi.

Though he had not been training long, with Zhao Yun’s method of nurturing his breath and medicinal baths, he could sense daily changes in his body. He was growing sturdier, his strength increasing, and his proficiency in Tai Chi steadily rising.

This tangible progress was the driving force behind his daily persistence.

With each passing day, his mastery of the forms grew. At this moment, he moved like a Tai Chi master—his motions flowing smoothly, filled with grace and beauty.

This drew cheers from Yuan Yuan, just stepping out of the house. She cupped her hands at her lips and exclaimed, “Your Majesty, your dance is truly exquisite!”

With a crash, Liu Tan, who was balancing on one leg, was so startled by her words that he tumbled to the ground.

After a while, Yuan Yuan helped him up. He patted the dirt from his clothes—perhaps he should forgo the dance after all.

Leaving the courtyard, they found the old clan chief waiting. After a simple breakfast in the manor, Liu Tan took half a gold ingot and a chest of tomb records, and, accompanied by Yuan Yuan and his retinue, set out grandly for the city.

Unlike yesterday, there was no need to hurry today. The party strolled leisurely, admiring the scenery of Shu and familiarizing themselves with the environs of Chengdu.

“Your Majesty, if you follow this side path and cross that ridge, you’ll find a camp of the Prime Minister’s Northern Expedition army, with about fifty thousand troops under General Wei Yan,” explained Pang Bo.

Liu Tan nodded. At this point, there were few famed generals left in Shu Han, and Wei Yan was one of them.

The party moved on. After a time, Liu Tan spotted a large camp in the distance, smoke curling from within, and asked, “What is this place?”

Pang Bo replied, “Your Majesty, this is the Armory Camp—some seventy or eighty percent of the nation’s weapons are forged here!”

“Weapons forging, is it?” Liu Tan mused, his interest piqued. He reined in his horse. “We’ll rest here. You three, come with me for a look!”

The three received his command, and accompanied Liu Tan to the camp gate. Soldiers stood guard, and, seeing them approach, leveled their halberds in a crossed blockade.

One of the guards said, “This is a restricted area. Do you have an imperial edict?”

Pang Bo stepped forward, “His Majesty is here. Notify your commanding officer at once!”

“What? His Majesty?” The soldiers paled and, seeing Liu Tan’s fine armor, realized he was someone of high rank—if not the emperor himself, then at least a prominent general. One of them hurried off to report.

But the halberds did not lower.

Soon, a man came running, breathless. From a distance, he recognized the mounted figure—wasn’t that the emperor? And behind him, the three commanders of the imperial guard? He quickened his pace, brushing aside the guards’ halberds and knelt before Liu Tan’s horse. “Your servant, Zhao Yi’an, Colonel of the Armory, greets Your Majesty!”

So it really was the emperor. The rest of the soldiers knelt and shouted their loyalty, eagerly gazing at Liu Tan—few were so fortunate as to behold the dragon’s countenance.

“Rise,” Liu Tan said with a wave of his hand. “I am passing by and wish to take a look inside.”

Zhao Yi’an rose, replying, “Your Majesty’s inspection brings great honor!” He stepped forward, took Liu Tan’s reins, and said, “This way, please!”

Inside the camp, the air was filled with shouts and the clang of metal. As Zhao Yi’an led them deeper, Liu Tan saw the source of the noise—soldiers working the bellows or hammering metal, calling out with each exertion.

On either side of the path were workshop-style production rooms, each staffed by five or six men. Two took turns working the bellows to stoke the furnace. One used tongs to insert an iron block for forging. Liu Tan calculated how long it would take to heat the iron thoroughly.

Once the iron was red-hot, the worker transferred it to an anvil, where two others stood ready with sledgehammers and alternately pounded the glowing metal.

This process repeated, and gradually a rectangular block was shaped into a long blade—then came the finer forging, edge shaping, and handle fitting.

It took a full two hours to forge a single long sword.

At last, the smith took the finished blade from the fire and plunged it into a bucket of water for repeated quenching.

Liu Tan sighed—ancient artisans indeed possessed wisdom, understanding that quenching increased the hardness of blades.

Only a small portion of the camp was devoted to sword-making; most of it focused on forging spear and halberd parts. The reason was clear—swords required much iron and time, and needed scabbards, while spears and halberds used less iron; forge the head, attach it to a wooden shaft, and they were ready for battle.

Liu Tan said, “I have noticed several issues here. General Zhao, come see me in a few days—I’ll give you some suggestions that may improve your weapon production.”

Zhao Yi’an nodded deferentially, though he took it lightly in his heart.

Leaving the camp, Liu Tan asked as they walked, “Is there a smelting facility nearby?”

Lin Youzhi replied, “Iron is always smelted near the mines, so the nearest would be some distance away.”

Liu Tan felt a pang of disappointment. What concerned him most was iron smelting.

If smelting efficiency increased, weapons could be produced in endless supply. Moreover, if the quality of iron improved, so too would the arms forged from it.

And, he thought, he would also have to see whether they could produce seamless steel pipes at present.