Chapter Two: The Ambush

The group was resting at the inn, but Gu Zhenhua tossed and turned, unable to sleep. Through conversation, he finally pieced together the situation.

He Zhonghou was the accountant for Lord Cheng, Zhu Chunchen. Originally, he had traveled to Shanxi to handle accounts, but at that time, Li Zicheng had already proclaimed himself emperor in Xi'an, and the Dashun army was sweeping toward Shanxi. They hurriedly fled back to the capital, only to encounter Gu Zhenhua on the road.

From Lu Yong, Gu Zhenhua also learned that He Zhonghou once had a son named He Fang, who served as a guard in the Lord's mansion. In the ninth year of Chongzhen, when the Tartars invaded, they clashed in Tianjin. He Fang, with several guards, fought desperately, while Lu Yong managed to escape with He Zhonghou and others. Three days later, when they returned, they found only a few charred bodies.

Gu Zhenhua bore a striking resemblance to He Fang and had been struck by a meteorite, his whole body blackened. This stirred memories in He Zhonghou, prompting him to rescue Gu Zhenhua without hesitation.

Once the cause and effect were clear, Gu Zhenhua felt as if he had plunged into an ice hole in the dead of winter. He had read history; there was less than a month before Li Zicheng stormed Beijing, and less than two months before the Manchus crossed the pass.

With so little time, what could he accomplish? Even if he had arrived a year earlier, there might have been hope, but now, at this stage, could anything be changed? Was he sent to this era merely to witness history's tragedy?

Besides the upheaval of the Jia Shen year, there was a more immediate threat: He Zhonghou and Lu Yong were both servants of Lord Cheng. In normal times, this would be a powerful connection worth clinging to. But now, Gu Zhenhua remembered clearly that after Li Zicheng’s army took Beijing, Zhu Chunchen, as a representative of the nobility, was executed.

This was already the end of days, and now he was entangled with a doomed figure; it was like double insurance for a death sentence—survival seemed impossible!

Gu Zhenhua had no intention of sleeping. He sat up, racking his brains for a way out. The Ming dynasty was a lost cause, Li Zicheng’s Dashun would hardly be “smooth,” and as for the Manchus, the thought of that humiliating queue made him sick!

Even if he betrayed his conscience to serve the Manchus, there was no good end—take Hong Chengchou, for example. So dutiful, yet he ended up in the "Register of Traitors," serving the Manchus as a dog, only to be spat on by his masters.

After much deliberation, only one escape seemed possible: Southern Ming. The Manchus did not immediately conquer all of China—the southeast and southwest still resisted fiercely, and the fires of war blazed into the reign of Kangxi, lasting decades.

If he pledged himself to Southern Ming, relying on his skills, he could raise a force to oppose the Manchus. If victory proved impossible, he could flee overseas. At the very least, he would not bow and become a slave.

When it came to organizing troops and training an army, Gu Zhenhua felt confident. He had joined the military at eighteen and served for five years. Later, after a clash with his superior, he left the army, founded a real estate company, and within five years amassed a fortune of several billion.

Thinking of his former glory, Gu Zhenhua allowed himself a hint of pride: a wolf roams the world eating meat, a dog roams the world eating dung! He was a man of talent—there was no reason he couldn’t survive. A bunch of uncivilized savages wanted to take him on? Pure wishful thinking.

Gu Zhenhua kept bolstering his spirits, growing more confident with every thought. But to realize these distant plans, first he had to preserve his head—otherwise, he would perish before his ambitions could even begin.

Returning to the capital was too risky; Li Zicheng would soon be upon them. The best choice was to head south at once, putting as much distance as possible between himself and disaster.

Of course, it would be best to bring along He Zhonghou and Lu Yong. First, they had saved him—he could not let them fall into danger. Second, in unfamiliar territory, recruiting a few companions would give him a foundation. Gradually, a plan formed in Gu Zhenhua’s mind.

He spent a night lost in thought. As dawn broke, there was a knock at the door. Gu Zhenhua hurried to open it. There stood old He Zhonghou, holding a set of brown clothes.

Seeing Gu Zhenhua, the old man smiled and said, "Blame my carelessness—I forgot to prepare clothes for you. These are Lu Yong's. If you don’t mind, change into them quickly."

Only then did Gu Zhenhua notice his own clothes: a once finely tailored suit, now blackened beyond recognition, with some parts even exposing flesh. Luckily, this meant He Zhonghou and the others had not noticed his strange attire.

"Thank you for your trouble, sir."

"Don’t call me sir. If you don’t mind, call me Uncle Six—it sounds pleasant enough."

"Very well—thank you, Uncle Six."

Gu Zhenhua took the clothes and hurried back to his room, tearing off his tattered garments. As he changed, he suddenly felt something strange: though the clothes had been burnt, his skin was unscathed, and his muscles were firmer and fuller. His arms had grown thicker, his chest more defined, and his eight-pack abs rivaled those of a champion. Looking lower, he was larger and longer than before; Gu Zhenhua’s eyes lit up. Perhaps there were benefits to this crossing after all.

At the very least, his body was younger, more vigorous, and his happiness more assured. But to enjoy good days, he first had to escape the immediate peril—without his life, all else was meaningless!

Gu Zhenhua hurriedly finished changing, bundling up his ruined clothes to throw away. Yet he hesitated, quickly rummaging through the pockets. Sure enough, he found a fountain pen, two packs of antibiotics, a few painkillers, a compass, and half a pack of cigarettes.

Gu Zhenhua carefully stowed them away. Small as these items seemed in the modern world, in late Ming they could be lifesavers—especially the medicines, worth their weight in gold.

He searched anxiously for anything else useful, and found a military knife tucked inside his pants. It was a prize from his days in the army—only three per regiment, made from the finest alloy steel, razor-sharp, and a personal favorite.

"My old friend, you never had a chance for battle before—looks like you’ll have your fill of blood this time!" Gu Zhenhua strapped the knife to his calf, crouched to test the draw, ensuring he could pull it quickly.

With everything stowed away, the worthless clothes were discarded without hesitation. When he stepped outside, Lu Yong and the others were ready to depart.

"Zhenhua, can you ride?"

"I can—though I’m not very skilled."

Lu Yong waved it off. "As long as you can ride—we need to hurry." He pointed to a large blue horse nearby. "Funny thing—never expected to meet a horse trader in this town. This horse has some wildness—I wonder if you can handle it. If not, take my horse; I’ll ride the blue one."

"Brother Lu, gentlemen, let's not say 'if not'!"

Gu Zhenhua strode over to the horse. Seizing his chance, he pressed down on the saddle, stepped into the stirrup, and vaulted onto the horse’s back in one smooth, unhesitating motion.

Lu Yong, a seasoned horseman, clapped his hands in praise; the others nodded approvingly. In truth, Lu Yong gave Gu Zhenhua a new horse to test his abilities. In chaotic times, when heads could roll at any moment, no one wanted to save dead weight. Gu Zhenhua resembled He Fang, but if he dragged the group down, Lu Yong would not tolerate it.

Now that he saw Gu Zhenhua’s competent riding, Lu Yong was satisfied and mounted his own horse. The innkeeper came running out, carrying bundles of food wrapped in oil paper—one for each, packed and ready. Everyone mounted and set off at a gallop down the main road.

Gu Zhenhua focused all his attention on this blue horse. In the past, riding was merely for fun; now, his life would depend on it.

Giddy-up!

The blue horse stretched out, running faster than all the others and soon took the lead. Not content, it picked up speed, becoming bolder as it realized its rider was inexperienced. It kicked off the ground, leaping upward, trying to throw Gu Zhenhua.

For the first time dealing with such a spirited horse, Gu Zhenhua could only grip the reins tightly, pressing close to its back. The horse bucked like a dragon, nearly tossing him off several times.

The guards behind noticed the problem. Sun Cheng urged his horse forward, shouting, "Brother Gu, relax—don’t use brute force!"

"Don’t just squeeze the horse’s belly—move with its rhythm, use its strength!"

Through the wind, Sun Cheng’s advice reached him. Gu Zhenhua relaxed his legs, letting his body rise and fall with the horse’s movement. After all, the horse was flesh and blood; each burst of speed required gathering power. Gu Zhenhua gradually learned its rhythm, and riding became much easier.

After some time, Gu Zhenhua grew more at ease in the saddle. "Thank you, Brother Sun—your advice really works!"

"Of course! I’ve spent ten years riding—my fingernails have grown hair, I’m an old hand!" Sun Cheng laughed. "Brother Gu, to deal with beasts, you have to be ruthless. If the horse’s wild, beat it hard—once it fears you, it’ll obey."

Gu Zhenhua nodded excitedly, seized his chance, and hammered the horse’s head three times with his fist. Each blow landed solidly—the blue horse saw stars, whinnied pitifully, and dared not misbehave again.

The horse finally settled, obeying Gu Zhenhua’s commands. He slowed its pace, clasped his hands in thanks to Sun Cheng.

"Brother Sun, your riding skills are truly superb—I owe it all to your guidance!"

Sun Cheng laughed. "If you’re talking about riding, I honed my skills on the frontier—in Lord Cheng’s mansion, I’m one of the best. But I can’t teach mastery in a few words; it’s really your own wit—you learn quickly!"

"Brother Sun, I didn’t know you were a frontier warrior. I admire nothing more than those who fight for their country. If not for the soldiers who give their lives, there’d be no peace. Yet those scholars wag their tongues, daring to slander the military—they should remember, their moonlight poetry depends on the rough work of warriors, or else their beloveds would long be playthings for the enemy!"

"Well said!" Sun Cheng laughed. "Brother, you speak right to my heart. If everyone thought like you, our brothers could die on the battlefield and rest easy in the afterlife!"

Gu Zhenhua and Sun Cheng grew increasingly friendly. Sun Cheng had served on the frontier; Gu Zhenhua had spent years in the army. Though from different times, the blood of soldiers was the same. Their conversation was lively, and they felt as if they had met too late.

Sun Cheng ranked just below Lu Yong among the guards, so Gu Zhenhua’s friendship with him won acceptance from the others. The group became more familiar and close.

After traveling all morning, both men and horses were exhausted. Everyone dismounted and sat by the roadside to eat their rations. Gu Zhenhua joined Sun Cheng on a boulder near the woods, chewing heartily on steamed buns.

After three buns, Gu Zhenhua reached for his water flask. Suddenly, he noticed three black dots shooting from the woods, heading straight for them.

"Damn!" Gu Zhenhua sensed danger and shouted, "Enemies!"

He pressed Sun Cheng to the ground, and both dove for cover. An arrow whistled overhead, striking the boulder and sparking.

Others weren’t so lucky. One man’s throat was pierced, another took an arrow solidly in the back, and collapsed to the ground.