While Huo Tingshan was discussing matters with his subordinates, not far away in another tent, Pei Ying was packing her belongings along with her daughter’s.
It seemed Meng Ling'er had never ridden in a carriage for such a long time before. By evening, when they finally disembarked, the little girl was vomiting uncontrollably, her face as pale as paper, looking as though half her life had been drained away.
Pei Ying’s heart ached at the sight. As soon as their tent was set up, she hurriedly made her daughter lie down and took care of organizing their luggage herself.
Meng Ling'er lay stiffly on the bed, her vision darkening. "Mother, I feel so awful… everything is spinning…"
Pei Ying gently stroked her daughter’s cheek. "Rest well, and the dizziness will pass. I’ll go out later to see if I can fetch some hot water for you."
In this era, most soldiers on the march ate qiu fan—a dry ration made from millet—which was far from appetizing.
Meng Ling'er gazed at her mother’s rosy complexion with envy. "If only I were as strong and healthy as you, Mother."
Pei Ying smiled. "You must eat more and not be picky, my dear."
Though she had only known Meng Ling'er for less than half a month, Pei Ying noticed that in some ways, this era’s daughters were no different from modern ones—especially when it came to being finicky about food.
With her small appetite and picky habits, the girl was rather thin.
But Pei Ying’s own constitution was excellent—she rarely fell ill and never suffered from motion sickness, whether by carriage or boat.
Meng Ling'er buried her face in the embroidered quilt. "I won’t be picky anymore."
Before, she had the privilege to be choosy—spoiled by her parents, with no shortage of food at home. But now, living under someone else’s roof, where that brute had designs on her mother, she couldn’t afford to give him any reason to exploit her weaknesses.
"Rest well, Ling'er. I’ll be back soon." Pei Ying tucked the quilt around her daughter before stepping out.
Just as she was about to leave the tent, she seemed to remember something, turned back, and put on a veil hat before exiting.
After setting up camp, the soldiers had entered a defensive formation. Since they weren’t in immediate battle, the cooks began digging pits to prepare meals.
The central area of the camp was reserved for the officers’ tents. The moment Pei Ying stepped out, numerous eyes fell upon her—some puzzled, some scrutinizing, others admiring with excitement…
But confusion was the most common reaction. Many couldn’t understand why the general would bring a woman along on the march—let alone a mother and daughter, plus two maidservants, making four women in total.
Before this, not even one woman had ever accompanied the army, not even among the cooks, who were all men.
As Pei Ying walked out, nearby guards huddled together, whispering.
"What do you think the relationship is between that lady and the general?"
"Even though she’s wearing a veil hat, her grace is unmistakable. She must be a favored concubine. Besides, as far as I know, the general has no distant relatives in Beichuan County. If she weren’t someone he couldn’t bear to part with, why would he bring her along?"
"I don’t think she’s a concubine. Mr. Gongsun and Mr. Chen treat her with great respect. Before the army set out, I even heard Squad Leader Sha warn his men not to offend the lady or her daughter—any violation would be met with military punishment, and in severe cases, immediate execution."
A collective gasp rippled through the group.
"Is that true?"
"Why would I lie? Just wait—I bet the higher-ups will announce it soon."
The men exchanged glances, their curiosity growing even as they reminded themselves not to cross any lines.
Unaware of the soldiers’ speculations, Pei Ying, accompanied by Xin Jin, went to the cooks’ area to fetch hot water.
The gourd was filled to the brim, scalding to the touch. Seeing Xin Jin shift it awkwardly between her hands, Pei Ying offered, "Let me carry it for a while."
"There’s no need to trouble yourself, my lady. I can manage." Noticing Pei Ying’s lingering gaze, Xin Jin smiled. "I’ve had poor circulation since childhood—my hands and feet are always cold. Holding this warm gourd actually feels nice."
Just then, the largest tent in the distance opened, and Xiong Mao and other officers emerged one after another.
The cooks’ station and Pei Ying’s tent were in opposite directions. To return, she would have to pass by the command tent.
Seeing Pei Ying hesitate, Xin Jin whispered, "My lady, perhaps we should take a detour from behind."
Pei Ying’s eyes brightened. "You’re right, Xin Jin."
Her mood instantly lightened, and she turned to leave—but Xiong Mao, sharp-eyed, spotted her first. "Lady Pei, were you just at the cooks’ station? Do you need anything?"
His booming voice carried across the camp.
Pei Ying closed her eyes briefly. Though his intentions were good, she had no choice but to respond. She walked over. "My daughter is suffering from carriage sickness. I went to fetch some hot water."
Just as Xiong Mao was about to reply, Huo Tingshan stepped out of the command tent and said to Pei Ying, "Later, you and your daughter shall join me for dinner."
Pei Ying declined politely. "Thank you for your kindness, General, but my daughter is exhausted from the journey and quite unwell. I must tend to her, so I’m afraid we cannot join you."
"Leave your daughter’s care to the maids. If they cannot handle such a simple task, what use are they?" Huo Tingshan’s gaze shifted to Xin Jin, who immediately bowed her head submissively.
Though his tone was calm, Pei Ying could sense Xin Jin’s fear and sighed. "General, please don’t frighten the girl."
Xin Jin was only sixteen or seventeen—this man was more than a decade older, yet he had no shame in intimidating her.
Huo Tingshan replied evenly, "Lady Pei, I do not jest."
Xin Jin bent even lower, terrified of being dismissed.
Serving Lady Pei had been the easiest time of her life. The lady was gentle and kind, unlike the strict and demanding wife of the county magistrate. She was the most amiable noblewoman Xin Jin had ever served.
If not for the bandit attack, she would have soon been sent to the magistrate’s youngest son, Young Master Hong, as a concubine. Regardless of his violent temper, the fact that he wasn’t yet married meant she would have suffered greatly once his future wife arrived—new wives always made an example of the concubines.
Life now was far better. The food and provisions surpassed anything she’d had before, and Xin Jin sincerely wished to serve Pei Ying forever.
Pei Ying patted the girl’s arm reassuringly. "Then I shall impose on the General’s hospitality."
Huo Tingshan said, "There’s no need for such courtesy between us."
...
The command tent was much more spacious. Though conditions on the march were humble compared to daily life, the ground was covered with coarse cloth, and oiled curtains hung for rain protection. Two low tables were set close together, already laid out with dinner.
Upon entering, Pei Ying realized only Huo Tingshan was inside. The man was already seated and gestured to the spot beside him. "Lady Pei, please."
Pei Ying removed her veil hat and walked over slowly.
Like the soldiers, Huo Tingshan mostly ate qiu fan on the march—but unlike the common troops, his meals included better side dishes: millet rice balls, braised lamb, and wild vegetable soup.
The rule of silence during meals clearly didn’t apply here. After Pei Ying took a bite of lamb, Huo Tingshan remarked leisurely, "These days on the march must be trying for you. Once we reach Guangping Commandery, I’ll arrange finer delicacies for you."
Pei Ying shook her head. "There’s no hardship. With meat and greens, this is more than enough."
Huo Tingshan noticed that she had only taken two bites of the stewed lamb before avoiding the dish entirely, so he asked, "Does my lady dislike mutton?"
Pei Ying initially wanted to say no, but seeing Huo Tingshan’s expression—the kind that seemed to say, "Those who lie to me have grass growing three feet tall on their graves"—she changed her answer: "I’m not quite used to its gamy flavor."
In later generations, when stewing lamb, spices like fennel and angelica root were often used to help neutralize the gamey taste. Fennel wasn’t introduced until the Northern and Southern Dynasties and hadn’t appeared yet in their time, while angelica root existed but hadn’t been discovered for its ability to remove the mutton’s odor.
In the end, it all came down to the limitations of the era.
Many people were still struggling to fill their bellies—having meat at all was a luxury, let alone worrying about its taste. Besides, the gaminess wasn’t unbearable for most.
Huo Tingshan thought for a moment. "Another day, I’ll have the cooks prepare fish stew for you."
Fish had a much milder smell compared to mutton, and since they were marching near water, it was also easier to obtain.
Pei Ying hadn’t expected him to consider finding fish for her just because she disliked mutton.
She recalled the scene she had witnessed earlier in the kitchen: the head cook, a soldier, looked pained and reluctant each time he measured out grain, as if cutting his own flesh, while sternly lecturing the new recruits to ration carefully.
The young soldier, even after being smacked on the head, didn’t dare protest, only covering his head and murmuring that he just wanted the brothers in the army to eat their fill.
The cauldrons of stewed lamb seemed plentiful, but with so many mouths to feed, each person only got a few bites at most.
Pei Ying pressed her lips together before finally saying, "General, a single sheep weighs about two jun, and if raised freely, it takes at least eight months to reach slaughter weight. Have you considered raising another livestock, such as pigs? A pig can grow up to ten jun. Though the time to slaughter is similar to sheep, their reproduction rate far surpasses sheep."
Huo Tingshan listened attentively but replied, "My lady, pork is even less palatable than mutton. And as for pigs growing to ten jun—I’ve never seen such a thing. Sheep graze on grass, but pigs cannot. Right now, many commoners barely have enough to eat themselves—how could they spare grain to raise pigs?"
Pei Ying paused, suddenly remembering that even meat was hierarchically ranked in ancient times.
It was said that the Son of Heaven dined on the "Three Sacrifices"—beef, lamb, and pork. Lords ate beef, ministers ate lamb, officials ate pork, scholars had fish, and commoners made do with vegetables.
Pork, in the hierarchy of meats, was nearly at the bottom. This was tied to the pig’s diet—omnivorous, eating both meat and plants, and even waste.
Feeding them the first two was too costly, while the last option made the meat reek, something the nobility disdained. Thus, before the Song Dynasty, lamb dominated the tables.
Huo Tingshan observed Pei Ying’s expression and leisurely asked, "My lady spoke so confidently earlier—do you have a solution?"
Pei Ying shook her head slightly. "Not a solution, just a small suggestion. General, you might consider having the people cultivate wheat on a large scale, replacing millet. Wheat can survive in dry fields, has a short growth cycle, and if sown at the right time, can mature in just forty days. Moreover, its yield is higher than millet, better for filling stomachs."
The meals these past days had made Pei Ying realize that the era she was in resembled the Eastern Han Dynasty, though the dynasty itself was the Great Chu Empire, which didn’t exist in history.
At this time, the staple grain in the north was millet, though some also ate wheat. But wheat only became the northerners’ main staple during the Tang Dynasty.
Huo Tingshan had long set down his chopsticks. After listening carefully, he said, "My lady, assuming the issue of spare grain for raising pigs is resolved, how would we tackle the stench of the pigs themselves?"
The odor was too strong—they couldn’t have soldiers returning from battle only to eat unappetizing food. In the long run, no one would want to join the Youzhou Army.
Pei Ying met Huo Tingshan’s gaze, then let her eyes drift downward. "Castration would suffice."
Huo Tingshan coughed lightly.
