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Though the rain and mist blurred the scene, Fei Qian's eyes shone brightly. He recognized a tall, somewhat familiar figure.
Fei Qian hurried forward a few steps, heedless of the yellow mud staining the hem of his robe. Stepping out of the camp gate, he bowed deeply and said, "Qian arrives late to greet you all. Please forgive me!"
Ma Yan, leading his group, returned the courtesy to Fei Qian.
Yesterday, Ma Yan had already seemed imposing, but today, clad in military attire, he appeared even more formidable.
With a solemn expression, Ma Yan clasped his hands and said, "I was discourteous yesterday. I hope you will forgive me, Lord." Then, he took the pheasant from the armored woman beside him and presented it to Fei Qian with both hands.
This wasn't a refusal, pettiness, or an attempt to save effort. It seemed as though he was returning the gift Fei Qian had offered.
This was the "Returning of the Pheasant" ritual.
It originated from the "Returning of the Jade" ritual of the Spring and Autumn and Warring States periods. During that era, feudal lords were vassals of the Zhou dynasty, essentially brothers. To maintain bonds despite being separated in their respective domains, the Zhou rites established four protocols for interactions between lords: "Sending Jade," "Declining Jade," "Accepting Jade," and "Returning Jade."
A fine jade tablet was sent by an emissary to the visited state, symbolizing the high moral character of the sending lord—this was "Sending Jade." The receiving lord would first decline to show humility, known as "Declining Jade." The emissary would then present it again, and after fasting, the lord would "Accept Jade." When the emissary completed their mission and prepared to leave, the lord would return the jade as a gift to the emissary's lord, known as "Returning Jade."
The same jade, carried back and forth, conveyed goodwill without additional cost or burden. This was the Zhou rite of "reciprocity," a simple yet profound gesture of equality.
For feudal lords, the gift was jade; for scholar-officials, it was a pheasant.
Fei Qian smiled faintly, accepting the pheasant with both hands and passing it to Jia Qu, who had caught up. With a gesture toward the camp gate, he invited Ma Yan and his group to enter.
But Ma Yan didn't move. Instead, he turned halfway, gesturing to the people behind him, and said, "Lord Fei, the last of my Ma clan is here… Entering the camp is not difficult, but before we do, we have some questions. I hope you will indulge us…"
"Why have you come? And for what do you fight?"
The Ma clan, though called a clan, was now quite diminished, barely larger than an extended family. Including Ma Yan, there were only six or seven men in their prime. The rest were either elderly, young, or family members hidden in the three carts behind them.
All the Ma clan members, including Ma Yan, watched quietly, waiting for Fei Qian's answer.
"Ah… the rain has stopped!" Fei Qian suddenly said.
The group realized the rain had ceased at some point, leaving the air filled with a fresh, hopeful scent.
"Shuye, assemble the entire army!" Fei Qian ordered.
"Yes, sir!" Though Huang Cheng didn't know Fei Qian's intentions, he immediately complied, issuing the command.
A drummer rushed to the gate's drum, removed the rainproof tarp, seized the drumsticks, and struck the war drum.
The deep, slightly muffled sound of the drum echoed over the camp. Soldiers hurriedly emerged from their tents, assembling in formation on the open ground outside.
As the final beat of the third drum roll fell, the army was arrayed. Veterans stood on the perimeter, maintaining order, while the newly recruited soldiers stood in the center, facing a makeshift wooden platform.
Huang Cheng, along with a few junhou (battalion commanders) and the Ma clan from Shangjun, stood together.
Fei Qian stood atop the wooden platform, scanning from left to right, front to back. Among the crowd were familiar faces and strangers alike.
"Some of you may have heard we're preparing to return to Shangjun. Others may have heard that Shangjun is now overrun with Hu people, its lands desolate. What could we even do if we went back? Some say the Hu in Shangjun are ferocious, drinking raw blood, eating raw flesh, with green faces and fangs like demons. With our numbers, going there would be sending ourselves to death. Some even say I'm just an ignorant nobleman's son, using your blood and flesh to chase fleeting fame, your lives to secure my promotion…"
A few in the ranks instinctively avoided Fei Qian's increasingly piercing gaze.
"Perhaps not all of you know me. I am Fei Qian, Fei Ziyuan, from Heluo. The one leading your drills, Huang Cheng, Huang Shuye, is from Jingxiang. The veterans around you come from Bingzhou, Sili, and Shangjun, while most of you are from Hedong. Look at the comrade beside you. He may not be from your hometown, and you may not have known him before. But on the battlefield, he'll block the spear aimed at you, clear the obstacles in your path. He is your brother, your kin, your life! Does it matter, in those moments, whether he's from your hometown? Would you abandon him to help someone from your village instead?"
Fei Qian's words carried a touch of humor, and soft laughter rippled through the ranks.
"Why is that? Because we all know, no matter who we are or where we lived before, today, standing here, we share one name—we are—"
"Han people!"
"Whether in Sili, Hedong, Shangjun, or Jingxiang, we are all called Han people! We drink the same water, eat the same food, speak the same language, and write the same script… Our ancestors lived under the same sky, our fathers on the same land. We live here, and our children and grandchildren will live on this land that belongs to us! We are Han people! We are friends, brothers, kin! But out there, in Shangjun, there is a piece of our Han people's land, stolen by the Hu years ago... There, we once sowed wheat. There, we built homes. There, we carved roads…
"There, we laughed and cried. We poured our sweat into that land, spilled our blood, left the bones of our kin, and carried the deepest pain from that soil… Today, we stand here, gathered together, not because we love war, but because we cannot forget our homeland, the land that once belonged to us Han people! We Han people don't bully others, so no one should bully us! And even if we did wrong, those Hu… they still have no damn right to bully us!"
"Now, we're going back!"
Fei Qian declared, each word deliberate, "…It's time to end it!"
The Ma clan members standing with Huang Cheng, men and women, young and old, were all sobbing uncontrollably…