"Ride the long chariots, trample the gaps in Helan Mountain; let our lofty ambitions feast on the flesh of the barbarians, and laugh as we drink the blood of the Xiongnu..."
"Wait until we return, reclaim our lost lands, and pay homage at the palace!"
"Alas..."
Leaning against the railing and gazing north at the splendid landscape, he recited a verse from Man Jiang Hong. Then the man, who looked to be in his forties, let out a sorrowful sigh, shook his head, and left the garden, heading for his official residence and study.
There was no doubt about it: this slightly gaunt but still vigorous old man was none other than Shi Kefa, who had previously gone to Hangzhou!
Recently, though, Shi Kefa had been feeling rather anxious.
Although he held the title of Imperial Commissioner in Yangzhou and was responsible for "overseeing the armies of the four garrisons to defend against the northern enemy," he had no real authority. Apart from the forces in Yangzhou, he couldn't command a single soldier from any of the four garrisons. He was nothing more than a commissioner in name; the others simply didn't give a damn about him.
The Great Ming was still weathering storm after storm. Local commanders held their forces for themselves. Never mind a mere commissioner like him—even the Southern Zhili government, even the new emperor in the palace, could barely control those arrogant, unruly commanders.
When dealing with those powerful commanders, senior officials like them couldn't afford to use force. Instead, they had to serve them carefully. Otherwise, if those commanders decided one day to throw in the towel, their plans to hold the line along the river, develop their territory, govern diligently, and one day launch a northern expedition to restore the old capital and revive