Chapter 793: Contrast

Now Tian Jianxiu supervised the various battalions, and he also managed the baggage, provisions, and fodder. Of course, the specific miscellaneous tasks were still handled by Li Yan, Niu Jinxing, and others. The Chuang camp was basically illiterate; without them coordinating in the middle, managing provisions and such would have been impossible.

Previously, the Chuang camp's provisions and baggage had been managed by Li Chuang's second wife, Lady Xing.

That Lady Xing was skilled in both civil and martial arts, literate, able to write and calculate. After his first wife, Han Jin'er, committed adultery with a ruffian and the adulterer fled, Li Zicheng killed the adulteress in a rage. Unemployed and burdened with a murder charge, he threw himself into the rebellion wave, and afterward Li Chuang trusted Lady Xing deeply.

All the money, grain, and material allocation in the camp were assigned to her management. In the end, Lady Xing committed adultery with Gao Jie, and the two of them ran off together.

Li Zicheng then married Gao Yingxiang's niece, Lady Gao, as his wife. Although the camp's baggage was also handed to her for management, after scholars gradually came to join them, the handling of documents and provisions was slowly transferred to their hands, especially now that Changyi Prefecture had been established and things were taking on a regularized appearance.

However, they had a unique style: an egalitarian supply system. "All plundered gold, silk, rice, millet, pearls, shells, and other goods are handed over to the steward; all expenditures come from the steward. If provisions are insufficient, everyone shares the shortage equally." It resembled the wartime rationing systems of later ages. Compared to the Ming army's practices of claiming pay for non-existent soldiers and exploiting the troops, it was fairer, with fewer opportunities to embezzle provisions and less pointless waste.

Apart from the differential treatment between elite troops and ordinary soldiers that dissatisfied some outer camps, and the discontent of some surrendered Ming officers, this egalitarian supply system was still effective for the time being.

After many Ming soldiers surrendered and came over, even though life in the Chuang camp was still harsh, they saw that officers and soldiers were treated the same—everyone suffered together. This gave each man psychological balance. In particular, Li Chuang himself wore coarse clothes and ate coarse food, setting an even stronger example.

This was one of the reasons the Chuang camp grew increasingly powerful, and because they fought battles year in and year out, their combat effectiveness improved very quickly.

Recently, the Mountain Patrol Camp had drawn the attention of the Old Camp. This newly added force had not joined long ago, yet its performance was outstanding. Lately, it had been very diligent in foraging for provisions, and today it had captured two more stockades—worthy of commendation. As it happened, Quan General Tian Jianxiu was present. He cordially received Old Hu, the Chief Picket of the Mountain Patrol Camp.

He also exhorted him to work hard, saying that if things continued to develop this way and the camp's troops were tempered a bit more, becoming an Old Camp was just a matter of time. In the end, Old Hu returned elated and beaming with joy.

At the same time, Old Hu also brought back five days' worth of provisions for the camp. Provisions for each camp were issued every three to five days, especially for the outer camps. This was also one of the Old Camp's means of controlling the outer camps. Without provisions, trying to stir up trouble was far too difficult.

Because the Mountain Patrol Camp's performance was outstanding, the Old Camp rewarded it with a batch of swords, spears, bows and arrows, some gold and silver, and fifty warhorses. This was what made Old Hu happiest. The women, children, and able-bodied men from the stockades taken today were also assigned to the Mountain Patrol Camp.

According to the Chuang camp's earlier military regulations, wives could accompany the troops during campaigns, but no other women could be brought along. Even so, this had considerable drawbacks. After they gained territory across many prefectures and counties, these dependents were settled in various places. The recently coerced disaster victims and refugees who had wives and families naturally had to keep them with the army.

When needed, their able-bodied men were organized into the ranks, while the rest did logistical work in the camp.

While Old Hu was elated, Kong San was coldly observing his surroundings. He saw that not only the inner camp but also the outer camps, across a very wide range, were full of patrol horses galloping about. The elite cavalry of the five camps all rested in shifts, and their patrols were strict and tight, covering a range of two hundred li in all four directions.

A deserter might luckily flee ten li, but he could not flee a hundred li, and anyone who dared to desert was executed by dismemberment.

They arrived at the Mountain Patrol Camp's encampment, also situated beside a small river that was nearly dry. It was densely packed with a motley assortment of tents of every color, resembling a vast bivouac site. The Chuang army's military regulation was that when passing through cities and towns, they were not allowed to lodge inside city dwellings; everyone had to stay in field tents. This made the area within Ye County a sea of tents.

The Chief Picket's return filled the Mountain Patrol Camp with joy. Then each unit distributed provisions and equipment, creating a lively bustle.

After entering the Chuang camp, the Mountain Patrol Army became the Mountain Patrol Camp. Besides the military regulations, each unit also established positions such as Chief Forager, Equipment Manager, and Mill Supervisor, respectively managing each unit's provisions, equipment, and food affairs, and directing the young camp followers in their work.

For the time being, the affairs of each outer camp were managed by the camps themselves. It was not that the Old Camp did not want to centrally manage their internal provisions, equipment, and other matters, but that it lacked the capability. The Chuang army was basically illiterate; those who could read and write were far too few. Something as complex as tallying and distributing provisions was beyond their ability.

The scholars who had come to serve them were also far from meeting the demand. Being able to sort out the inner camp's affairs was already good enough. The outer camps could only be given autonomy; they could not be deeply interfered with. This was just like how, throughout the dynasties, imperial authority did not extend down to the village level—the most important reason being a lack of qualified personnel.

Therefore, the Old Camp only conducted periodic inspections to see whether each camp was keeping in line with the inner camp. Generally speaking, the affairs of each camp were very crude. If a camp had some private secretary or clerk, it was fine; if not, things were extremely chaotic.

Kong San was now busier than ever. He had to train troops and also manage logistics. After all, in the entire Mountain Patrol Camp, he was the only one who could read.

In the evening, cooking smoke curled up, and the Mountain Patrol Camp's encampment was filled with clamor. Inside a tent, looking at the food brought before him, Old Hu's brow was tightly furrowed. "Damn, eating this rotten stuff again. I've really had enough!"

Old Hu, Kong San, and Batiao sat around a small table. Each had a coarse, rough cornbread bun and a bowl of wild vegetable soup with a few oil droplets floating on top. Beside them was another bowl, a pile of wild vegetables and grass roots mixed with a few chunks of what seemed to be fatty meat.

It turned out the Old Camp had rewarded the Mountain Patrol Camp with two pigs, and they had slaughtered one to feast the whole camp.

But with several thousand men in the camp, how could a single pig possibly be enough to go around?

Besides, pigs at this time were not as fat and robust as those of later ages; pigs in times of chaos were even scrawnier. How could it work without greatly increasing the "raw material"?

At least Old Hu and the others were Chief Pickets, so their "raw material" contained a few chunks of enviable fatty meat. Ordinary soldiers were lucky if they could get a bit of grease and a single shred of meat.

Looking at the food before him, Old Hu had no appetite at all. His heart was now very conflicted. Leading several thousand men and becoming a high official of the fifth rank made him very happy, even though this official post was in a bandit camp. But when he returned to real life, not being able to eat a piece of meat for so long made him dejected, and he felt that being an official was meaningless.

Having gone so long without any grease, today he could be considered to have eaten meat. Yet looking at the wild vegetables and grass roots mixed in beside it, any meat flavor was gone. Being an official to this extent—truly, there was no savor in it at all.

Often, whenever it was mealtime, Old Hu would greatly miss his former life as an armed escort in Xuanfu Town: drinking from large bowls, eating large chunks of meat, choosing from all kinds of delicacies as he pleased, and then going home to embrace his little wife, sometimes having a small cigarette roll.

Tsk, tsk, those days were so comfortable...

Now look at this—ah, what a sorry state of affairs.

Thinking that the living standard of high-ranking officers in the bandit camp was actually inferior to that of an ordinary commoner in Xuanfu Town, Old Hu finally understood why everyone flocked to Xuanfu Town. Even an ordinary household there, if placed here, would be a wealthy magnate.

Seeing Old Hu sighing in despair, Kong San said flatly, "Be content. Having something to eat is already very good. Look at how many commoners in Henan cannot even get this."

Old Hu said nothing. He just resentfully gnawed on his cornbread bun. He ate another piece of flavorless fatty meat and continued sighing. He had originally been full of enthusiasm for being an official. But if being an official meant this kind of wretched existence, then this official post was not worth holding.

Kong San unhurriedly gnawed on his own cornbread bun. In truth, he also felt this food was truly hard to swallow. That he had volunteered to go out on a mission did not mean he liked living a low-quality life. Eating the cornbread too fast nearly made him choke, and later, when it came time to relieve himself, it would be an even more painful affair.

As he ate, he also cursed resentfully: "Blame it all on the roving bandits. They don't engage in production, only know how to plunder, making the whole realm poorer and poorer."

"Exactly."

Old Hu said with deep feeling. He, a high official of the fifth rank, was actually eating cornbread. This debt had to be laid at the roving bandits' door.

Batiao, on the other hand, ate with great relish. This fatty meat in particular was truly delicious. Master Hu and Master Kong each ate one piece and then stopped; the rest was all given to him. This made Batiao secretly grateful in his heart. The two leaders truly treated him beyond words; he absolutely had to repay their kindness.

Batiao looked like a very fierce and tough young man, but he had his own principles in life. When he was a blade-wielding bandit and horse thief, he had set rules for himself: he would not eat human flesh, would not rob the poor and suffering, and would only plunder those who were rich but unkind.

It was just that now, those rich but unkind fellows were all holed up deep within high walls and strong stockades. Even large bands of roving bandits were often helpless against their fortified stockades. And since he had not grown wings, how could he get in to rob them? He often endured a hard life of eating one full meal and then going hungry the next. To be able to eat meat today already made him very happy.

Seeing the two leaders eating listlessly, he was somewhat puzzled. He thought of how the two masters often told him about life in Xuanfu Town, describing it as if it were paradise. Biting into the fatty meat, he mumbled indistinctly, "Master Hu, Master Kong, is life in Xuanfu Town really that good?"

Old Hu abruptly raised his head: "That stuff, it's really no boast. Batiao, let me tell you, have you ever eaten the fatty-meat noodles in Yongning City? For one copper coin you get two big bowls. Truly perfect in color, aroma, and taste, brimming with rich oil, with some chopped scallions sprinkled on top... Tsk, tsk, that flavor... In this place called Henan, you couldn't buy a bowl for ten taels of silver... and there's nowhere to buy it either..."

His eyes sparkled brightly: "And the whole roast lamb in the garrison city... golden-brown, tender and delicate, brushed with a bit of sauce and ginger powder... Tsk, tsk... Before, I could only eat one leg; now I dare say I could eat an entire sheep."

Kong San smiled slightly: "I, Kong, am rather fond of the smoked meat from Chaigou Fort, as well as the naked oats noodles from Huai'an, and the white-water ox-head meat in the garrison city—also things one longs for."

Old Hu said: "Speaking of the garrison city, what I like most is the White Jade Honey Cake on South Main Street."

Kong San said: "There's also fried lamb, 'a single strand', candied floss grapes... too many to count. In the garrison city, you can even eat the capital's roast duck and Shandong braised chicken. Fine foods are available in abundance."

As they spoke, they continuously swallowed their saliva, reminiscing about their former life in Xuanfu Town.

Now Xuanfu Town was prosperous and peaceful, its fame spreading far and wide. Wealthy households from the north poured in, and because of this, it had become a gathering place for the realm's finest foods. Besides local delicacies, many regional cuisines from north and south of the great river could be found, satisfying the tastes of all classes and all kinds of commoners.

But in Henan now, white bones lay everywhere, and bandits swarmed the countryside. In most places, commerce and trade were out of the question. The occasional exchanges between stockades had reverted to the primitive state of barter. Even if one had silver, there was nowhere to spend it.

Therefore, the peaceful life of ordinary people, the common foods, were, in the eyes of the locals here, unimaginable delicacies.

Batiao was among them. Listening to the two leaders recount these things, his mouth watered just the same, and he could only imagine what Xuanfu Town was like.

His joining the intelligence personnel team was not only to repay the two leaders for their kindness to him, but also because Old Hu and Kong San often preached and coaxed him, telling of the good life in Xuanfu Town—that after rendering meritorious service, he could go inside the town to live a good life. This made his heart thump with excitement.

Look at the common people of the Central Plains, living in constant precariousness—what kind of life was that? Even joining the Chuang camp was nothing special. Look at Master Hu, a high official of the fifth rank—the food he ate and the clothes he wore, it was said, could not even reach the standard of an ordinary worker in Xuanfu Town. What meaning was there in that? Truly, it was better to go to Xuanfu Town and become an ordinary commoner.

Old Hu and Kong San, one speaking after the other, merely reminisced about their past life. When they were inside the town they had not realized it; only after going outside and making comparisons did they understand how hard-won that prosperous and peaceful life was. Even if Xuanfu Town had its flaws, looking at it now, it was still just as endearing.

Kong San was considered a veteran of the Intelligence Division, often going out on missions. Each time he went out, the conviction in his heart only grew firmer.

He said in a deep voice, “Only the Grand General can let the common people live good days. The Grand General is a star deity descended to the mortal world, a sage come to earth, here precisely so the common people can live good days. Under his rule, barren deserts turn into paradises of peace and joy; the people dwell in safety and contentment, prosperous and healthy; every person eats their fill, every one eats meat.”

Old Hu said, “Exactly.”

He recalled the good life back in Xuanfu Garrison, drinking wine by the big bowl and eating meat in great chunks, and his heart ached with longing. He thought that after returning to Xuanfu Garrison, he absolutely must order every last one of those fine dishes.

Then Kong San’s face darkened, and a cold, piercing light shot from his eyes: “Look instead at that bandit Chuang. Wherever he passes, rich and fertile lands turn into corpse-strewn wasteland. Apart from a very high skill in bringing disaster to the common folk, he has nothing else. Compared to him, he’s not even fit to carry the Grand General’s shoes!”

Old Hu said, “Exactly. Letting the common people live good days — that is true ability. Making people’s lives worse and worse, poorer and poorer — that is a calamity, a baleful star.”

He deeply agreed with Kong San’s words. Waking from his fond dream and seeing only a cornbread bun in his hand, with wild-vegetable soup beside it — how could he not be furious? He himself was a high official of the fifth rank, yet all he ate was this sort of stuff. That bandit Chuang truly was no good.

Even the fact that Li Chuang ate and dressed the same as the soldiers, sharing coarse fare with the masses — to Old Hu, that was also mere posturing. The hierarchy of rank and status was set in place; a high official ought to have the dignity of a high official. Making himself just like a common soldier — what kind of proper order was that?

And eating cornbread buns every day — was that an official? If the imperial palace were made to look like a thatched hut, and marquises and counts lived in dirt burrows like tenant farmers and refugees, who would be willing to be emperor or a high official? At the very least, he, Old Hu, would not.

If you have the ability, let everyone eat and dress well; let every officer and soldier wear fine clothes and eat fine food. If that were truly the case, then even if you, Li Chuang, feasted in pools of wine and forests of meat every day, I, Old Hu, would have no objection. But making everywhere poorer and poorer, making life in every camp worse and worse — I, Old Hu, did not come into this world to live a bitter life.

The more he thought, the more Old Hu’s belly filled with resentment. Looking at the cornbread bun in his hand, he felt more and more that this fifth-rank high office in the Chuang camp held no value, and that all his bitter toil to climb up the ranks was meaningless.

He thought of when this mission would end and he could return to Xuanfu Garrison. The merits he had earned should be enough to live a good life then. At that time, with his right arm around his wife and his left arm holding his son, gazing upon granaries full of grain and cattle and sheep everywhere — how utterly satisfying.

Best of all would be if the Marquis granted him an official post — a proper, legitimate post, not this unreliable post in the Chuang camp. Hmm, and when the time came, what post would it be?

Defense or garrison posts would probably be hard to get. Township head? At the very least a village head — anything less and he wouldn’t take it, Old Hu thought to himself.

Back in the garrison city, the comfortable life of Village Head Zhou had made Old Hu very envious. The way that man lived his days — tsk, tsk.

Batiao agreed just as much with Kong San’s words. He said, “Right. Look at the wretched state of Henan — people who just want to farm in peace can’t even stay alive.” (To be continued..)