For this journey out of the capital, Wang Cang Hai selected six hundred cavalrymen from the Silver Armor Battalion to accompany him. He appointed an obscure qianhu [a military rank roughly equivalent to a commander of a thousand troops] to lead this temporary personal guard unit. Strangely enough, before this, Wang Cang Hai had never even met this fifth-rank military officer—Wu Ma Nan Sheng.
The selection process itself had been rather casual. When the Assistant Minister of War submitted a list of candidates for the position, Wang Cang Hai had been sitting in a pavilion, enjoying a red bean pastry. As he glanced over the long list of names, one suddenly stood out—four characters: Wu Ma Nan Sheng. He thought to himself, "Red beans grow in the southern lands"—this name is quite fitting.
“Wu Ma Nan Sheng… is he from a minority ethnic group?” Wang Cang Hai asked.
The Assistant Minister of War replied, “Lord Xiao Wang, if I may report—his surname is Wu Ma, his given name is Nan Sheng. He comes from the southern province of Dian and belongs to the Shui ethnic group. He is twenty-five years old and previously served for three years in the Embroidered Guards [the imperial secret police]. He is highly skilled in martial arts and has an impressive appearance. However, his arrogance has not endeared him to his superiors, which has stalled his career progression. Last November, he applied for a transfer to the Silver Armor Battalion. After passing the end-of-year evaluation, he was reassigned at the same rank as a qianhu.”
“No wonder I have no recollection of him,” Wang Cang Hai remarked. “Let’s choose him then.”
After transferring to the Silver Armor Battalion, Qianhu Wu Ma Nan Sheng found himself idle for three whole months. Aside from daily drills and training exercises, he had nothing to do—he was even less occupied than during his time in the Embroidered Guards.
Wu Ma Nan Sheng had always been an ambitious man, brimming with aspirations of greatness. His mind was filled with thoughts like “Why should a man not wield his blade to reclaim fifty states of borderland?” [A reference to Tang poet Li Bai’s verses on military ambition.] He was not one to sit idle.
Previously, during his time in the Embroidered Guards, he had spent most of his three years serving in the imperial honor guard—not because of his skills, but simply because he was good-looking. Tired of such superficial duties, he had requested a transfer to the Silver Armor Battalion in hopes of proving himself under Wang Cang Hai’s command, perhaps even making a name for himself.
However, in the three months since his transfer, he had never even caught a glimpse of Wang Cang Hai. Other officers, whether qianhu or baihu [hundred-man commanders], would say that Lord Xiao Wang was so busy with affairs of state that even high-ranking officials of the first and second rank had to line up at his residence just to get an audience. Those of the fourth rank and below, like themselves, could only hope for a distant sighting during the New Year’s military inspection—when Lord Xiao Wang would review the entire camp and distribute festival provisions.
This left Wu Ma Nan Sheng feeling utterly dejected. Back in the Embroidered Guards, he had seen the emperor almost every day. Who would have thought that getting close to Wang Cang Hai would be even harder than getting close to the Son of Heaven himself?
0 Comments