"So, all of you are former refugees from Liaodong?"
As dusk settled over a harvested field on the outskirts of the Mingdao Palace complex, Zhao Gou, the emperor, set down his clay bowl and wiped his mouth with an unceremonious swipe of his sleeve. Without any trace of imperial decorum, he pressed his question further.
"Your Majesty..."
"Just call me Dajia; speak while seated," Zhao Gou interrupted casually, one of the greatest advantages of being a time-traveler being his willingness to shed formalities.
"Yes, Dajia," the robust man seated on a small stool hesitated, despite being one of the most articulate in the camp. His discomfort made him stammer slightly. "We weren't refugees at first, just regular folks in Liaodong. For example, I used to be a horse trader. But when the Jurchen emperor Wanyan Aguda attacked the Khitan emperor, the Khitan's excessive taxes and levies left us with no way to make a living. That's how we ended up as refugees. Later, the Khitan recruited us, saying that since we blamed the Jurchen for our plight, we could serve as an 'Yuan Army'. Eventually, an emperor from the Xi tribe took over and renamed us the 'Ever-Victorious Army'. The 800 cavalrymen here with the court today are all veterans from the Yuan Army's Yan Prefecture camp."
"Where is Yan Prefecture?" Zhao Gou asked out of curiosity.
"Dajia, it's officially called Yan Yuan Prefecture, near Liaoyang in the Tokyo Circuit of the old Liao dynasty, close to the southern coast..." another soldier chimed in.
"Ah, so you're from Yingkou!"
Zhao Gou, sitting in his striking red round-collared robe, suddenly slapped his thigh in realization.
As the emperor nodded repeatedly, he found his mind wandering. First, the mention of Yingkou triggered a wave of homesickness—after all, he'd once visited the area in his previous life. Second, it dawned on him that this was an untethered and highly skilled qihuajun (survival army), loyal to no one but themselves—a rare unit of seasoned cavalry in his camp.
Naturally, Zhao Gou's interest was piqued.
On the other hand, the soldiers from Yingkou, seeing their young emperor lost in thought, assumed he was simply unfamiliar with court affairs since he had only recently ascended the throne. Eager to clarify their origins, they continued their story in detail.
As it turned out, after this unit was established, their original commander was a man named Liu Yan, while the overall commander of the Yuan Army, later the Ever-Victorious Army, was the infamous Guo Yaoshi.
Guo Yaoshi was a legendary figure of his time—not for his martial prowess or military genius, but for his notorious duplicity. As a remnant of the Khitan elite, Guo had repeatedly switched allegiances in the chaotic aftermath of Liao's fall, first defecting to the Song and then betraying them to the Jin. It was his advice to the Jin that led their prince, Wanyan Wuzhu, to strike directly at Kaifeng, ultimately causing the downfall of the Northern Song dynasty during the Jingkang Incident.
However, among the largely Han Chinese Yuan Army, the Yan Prefecture camp under Liu Yan remained loyal to the Song. Liu, a true Southerner and a scholar by origin, had ended up in the Liao territory under mysterious circumstances. When Guo Yaoshi betrayed the Song to the Jin, Liu led his camp to defect back to the Song, earning Emperor Huizong's favor and the honorary title 'Chi Xin Dui' (Red-Heart Battalion) for their loyalty.
Through years of turmoil, this unit had proven itself one of the few that remained intact and steadfast in resisting the Jin.
The more Zhao Gou listened, the more ideas began to form in his mind. He felt incredibly fortunate—what had initially been an excuse to escape Yang Yizhong's watchful eye had turned into a serendipitous discovery.
Why?
Because this unit's Liaodong origins made them the perfect candidate for a personal guard. Throughout history, rulers and generals often relied on foreign or unaffiliated troops during times of internal instability. These units, unentangled in local politics, were often more loyal to the hand that fed them. For example, during this very era, small lords on the western frontier employed guards from rival religious factions: North African Moors used Christian guards, while Spanish nobles preferred North African mercenaries.
Zhao Gou wasn't a history buff, but his situation made the logic obvious.
With that thought, he began scheming ways to win over this unit, envisioning the comfort of a safer night's rest.
Meanwhile, the soldiers, emboldened by their conversation, began speaking more freely. Their stories grew richer in detail until one name caught Zhao Gou's attention.
"In Tokyo, we followed Commander Liu under General Liu Taiwei, but, as you know, General Liu had a long history of fleeing battles. From Gaoliang River to Tokyo, he ran at the first sign of trouble! Our little camp was swept up in the retreat of his thousands of Western soldiers. Before we could even regroup, word came that Liu Taiwei fled so recklessly he was killed by the Jin at Gui'er Temple. His troops dissolved in chaos."
"Some of the cowards deserted, but we stayed. Still, our 3,000 men were reduced to 1,000. Commander Liu decided we couldn't return to Tokyo but insisted we repay the Song for its generosity. Hearing that Dajia was appointed Grand Marshal in Hebei, we went to find you."
"But before we crossed the river, we met Vice Marshal Zong. He told us you had ordered a mission to rescue the Two Emperors. We followed him instead..."
"Vice Marshal Zong was a true hero, even in his old age, and though he was a scholar like Commander Liu, he carried no pretensions. Our time with him was the best we've had in years. Unfortunately, he didn't know how to fight battles. Despite the tens of thousands of elite troops you painstakingly assembled, we were utterly defeated. We barely managed to protect him and escape. By then, Hebei was empty of troops, and you had retreated to Nanjing (Shangqiu). Only 800 of us remained. That's how we ended up here."
"You've all endured much hardship," Zhao Gou sighed as darkness fell.
"We wouldn't dare call it hardship in your presence!" the soldiers nearest him stood hastily.
"Why not?" Zhao Gou laughed. "You've been in Liaodong so long you don't understand Central Plains customs. In Shandong, even among the imperial family, everyone calls each other ge. Back in Tokyo, though I was a prince, my servants called me Jiu Ge. Even a pear seller on the street could call me xiao ge."
Relieved, the soldiers settled back into their seats.
"By the way," Zhao Gou shifted topics, his tone eager, "since you spent so much time with Vice Marshal Zong, have you heard of someone named Yue Fei?"
The soldiers looked at one another, puzzled.
"Who is this Yue Fei?" one finally ventured.
"He's not some bigshot," Zhao Gou replied, visibly deflated. "He's just Yue Fei, styled Pengju, a native of Hebei. He fought alongside Zong Ze."
But the soldiers still shook their heads.
Disheartened, Zhao Gou was about to rise and leave when one soldier spoke up boldly, "Dajia, is it true that we stopped here not because of bandits but because you don't want to head south anymore?"
"Oh..." Zhao Gou hesitated, caught off guard. "I've thought about staying, but I don't know how to resist the Jin cavalry here. I may have to go to Yangzhou after all."
The soldiers exchanged uneasy glances but said nothing.
Before Zhao Gou could change the subject, a familiar voice came from the shadows behind him:
"Dajia, I've brought Lady Pan's snow cream as ordered."
Startled, Zhao Gou turned to see Yang Yizhong standing respectfully nearby, holding a bowl of creamy dessert with both hands.