Chapter 225: The Matthew Effect

An abandoned relay station, mottled courtyard walls, deep night, and the intermittent low growls of wild beasts beyond the walls. These unsettling elements put Fang Chongyong's party on high alert. Three of the group stood watch with crossbows while the others sat on the ground around a campfire.

They changed shifts every two-hour watch, no different from marching on campaign.

"Why is Luomen Relay Station so desolate? It's actually not that far from Chang'an."

Pei Xiu, this blockhead, asked a question that seemed foolish on the surface but actually carried a great deal of depth.

"The people all ran off, that's all."

Fang Chongyong answered casually, still resting with his eyes closed. Pei Xiu did not have to stand watch and talked relatively more—not because the group cherished her like a delicate flower, but because none of them dared entrust their lives to a blockhead with zero wilderness survival experience.

In another half watch it would be Fang Chongyong's turn to rotate on duty, and with his eyes closed in rest, he could not be bothered to make small talk with Pei Xiu.

"The people all ran off? There's no war—why would they run?"

Pei Xiu was taken aback, not understanding what Fang Chongyong meant.

"Because they couldn't make a living anymore—what else could it be."

When I served as Inspector in Shazhou, a small farming household there could be allotted less than forty mu of land, far short of the hundred mu required by the equal-field system. Their annual harvest was roughly forty shi. The situation in Guanzhong is similar, and Longyou is even worse.

Grain is cheap in Chang'an, so the crops they grow can't fetch much money, while the farm tools they need and daily necessities like oil, salt, sauce, and vinegar all have to be purchased. Back and forth like this, life becomes even more impoverished.

Over time, why would these people keep farming in their hometowns? They sell their land to local strongmen, then go to Chang'an and do any odd job to make up the difference."

Fang Chongyong said impatiently.

Many things explicitly forbidden by law—as long as there is vast and urgent demand, those are no obstacle at all! There are always ways to circumvent those "obstacles."

Fang Chongyong believed that making Brother Ji's life happier was an easy matter, but making the lives of the Tang common people easier was very difficult.

Fang Chongyong had been in the Great Tang for many years now, and he basically conducted "field research" wherever he went. Then Fang Chongyong discovered with sorrow that even without land consolidation, the Tang's existing economic model could hardly be sustained any longer.

Actively or passively joining in the upheaval was the call of the era—no one could stop it.

Because in the small-farmer economy, during the Tianbao era, the land owned by an ordinary Tang farmer was far less than what the equal-field system entitled them to. The equal-field system required one hundred mu, but the actual average was less than forty.

And even without land consolidation, this average would keep shrinking.

Forty mu of land—given current productive capacity, the yield from the fields could no longer feed a family of five!

In other words, even under the most ideal conditions—no illness, no disaster, favorable weather—a small farming household still needed someone to engage in side occupations for long stretches of time, or even work as a petty vendor doing business to supplement the household income, just to keep the family afloat.

This was the pressure that a continuously growing population placed on the land! It was not something that could be solved by simply changing emperors.

So for the barren Longyou region, for the local farmers, there was a very blunt question staring them in the face: since they couldn't get by locally, should they go to Chang'an to make a living?

Longyou's land yielded even less, life was even harder, and from the Kaiyuan era onward, the Tang's population mobility was increasing while population controls were loosening. Even the lives of the local powerful families were nothing to speak of—everyone was stuck with barren land, and even the landlords had no surplus grain.

For these commoners from small farming households, wouldn't going to Chang'an to make a living give them better odds of success?

The situation around Luomen Relay Station was extremely typical.

Because the area was plagued by poor mountains and hostile waters, the local commoners could no longer survive the economic pressure, so they had no choice but to migrate. Their specific destination was Chang'an. A small number of them became long-campaign soldiers, with their entire families relocating to guard the frontier.

And as a relay station, the supplies Luomen Station needed were all purchased from surrounding villages. With no one left in the vicinity, the fodder for the station's horses, the rice, flour, grain, and oil needed for cooking, and the fruits, vegetables, and meat—all lost their source.

If they didn't abandon it, were they supposed to wait for Chang'an to send supplies over to keep it running?

So the question Pei Xiu asked seemed easy to answer on the surface, but in reality it was the gradual eruption of the Great Tang's deep-seated social and economic crisis! How could there possibly be a solution!

Even in Fang Chongyong's previous life, that world over a thousand years later, the poverty of the Longyou region remained unsolvable due to rugged roads and mountainous terrain covering over ninety percent of the area. Because of these inherent disadvantages, the return on investment here was extremely low.

Even then, with advanced agricultural technology to bolster things, it was still like this—let alone in the Great Tang of today!

This was the classic "Matthew Effect"—those who have little will have even that taken away, while those who have much will accumulate even more. Chang'an's cheap grain prices created a "bloodsucking" effect, causing resources from Guanzhong and the areas near Guanzhong to continuously tilt toward Chang'an.

Thus the weakest places went bankrupt first. The area around Luomen Relay Station—adjacent to Guanzhong and with extremely barren land—was the first to experience the situation of "a hundred li of deserted villages with no sign of human habitation." If Chang'an's grain prices were high, then these places could still transport grain to Chang'an or to the government's ever-normal granaries in exchange for more wealth, keeping their lives above the subsistence line.

But Chang'an's grain supply came from all over the empire via canal transport, especially from Hebei, with its developed waterways and vast farmlands. How could agriculture in the Longyou mountains compete with Hebei's agriculture?

In other words, the cost for Longyou's commoners to grow grain was actually higher than Chang'an's grain prices. Rather than farming, they'd be better off buying grain in Chang'an. But they didn't have the money to buy grain, and instead had to sell the grain they produced at below cost in exchange for daily necessities. Over the long run, bankruptcy was the only path.

To put it bluntly, the cheap grain transported to Chang'an via the canal had simply collapsed these mountain dwellers' way of life in one blow.

If this situation had been caused by some local strongman running roughshod over the community and lording it over the people, then killing that family could alleviate the problem. But the problems facing the commoners of the Longyou region now were far more complex—almost unsolvable.

"By your logic, wouldn't the commoners of Longyou be better off not farming at all?"

Pei Xiu asked in disbelief. What Fang Chongyong was saying deviated completely from what she had been taught.

But she vaguely sensed that there was a certain measure of truth to Fang Chongyong's words.

In Chang'an, petty vendors were countless. Many people just pushed a flatbed cart, set up a stove on it, and could start doing business—selling flatbreads, noodle soups, and the like. The technical skill required wasn't very high.

A year of such hustle wasn't necessarily worse off than farming at home. Even if she hadn't seen these vivid examples with her own eyes, she had heard about them quite a few times.

So where did all these petty vendors come from?

The answer was self-evident.

Pei Xiu already understood.

"That's what you said—I never said that."

Fang Chongyong waved his hand with his eyes closed. One had to be careful with words; many things could not be said directly.

"Awooo!" "Awooo!" "Awooo!"

From outside the courtyard came the howls of mountain wolves!

Everyone stood up alertly. Even Pei Xiu, this blockhead, tightly gripped her sword and looked around in all directions.

The commoners of the Longyou region might migrate, but the mountain wolves would not! These wolf packs were extraordinarily resilient—even over a thousand years later, one could still occasionally spot traces of wolf packs in the villages of Longyou.

And in the Tang dynasty, the Qiang tribes in the Longyou region that used the "wolf" as their totem were too numerous to count.

"Censor Fang, it seems we're surrounded by a wolf pack in here."

He Changqi, who had been standing watch at the gate, retreated into the courtyard and said to Fang Chongyong in a low voice.

"That's the alpha wolf calling its companions. Fall back and stay by the fire. It looks like there's no sleeping tonight."

Fang Chongyong instructed the group.

Behind the fire were the carriages and horses the party had ridden in. The wolves' target might not be the people—it could well be those restless horses.

The night was pitch-dark; beyond a few meters of firelight nothing was visible. In the gloom not far away, pair after pair of "glowing" eyes moved ceaselessly. Their bodies were completely invisible—one could only detect the positions of these wild wolves through their flashing eyes.

They kept prowling outside the courtyard gate, seemingly unwilling to come in. Fang Chongyong felt that the low courtyard wall probably could not stop these wild wolves either. The wolves were unwilling to enter the courtyard because they did not want to be killed in return; they were waiting for the right moment.

"What do we do?"

Pei Xiu leaned close and asked in a low voice.

"Hold our position and stay vigilant. After dawn, the pack will withdraw."

Fang Chongyong said in a low voice, not quietly by any means—basically everyone present heard him.

Those "roaming" eyes in the darkness shifted back and forth without pause for a moment. But quite cunningly, not a single wild wolf entered the courtyard's bounds; they seemed to be constantly searching for a weakness, and would not strike unless they found one.

With the wolf pack refusing to disperse, Fang Chongyong and his companions had no way to sleep. Each of them held a finely crafted crossbow in hand. Within five paces, the thing could shoot wherever you pointed with near-perfect accuracy and exceptionally swift response speed—an ideal weapon for dealing with wolf packs.

As it turned out, the wolf pack lingered and hesitated outside the courtyard for two full shichen, until the sky revealed the pale white of fish-belly dawn, when a single howl from the wolf king sent them retreating, not one left behind.

After the wolf pack withdrew, Fang Chongyong's group felt their entire bodies soaked in cold sweat. Each of them was so exhausted they nearly collapsed, their calves trembling as they walked. These wild wolves were extremely cunning—if there was no opportunity, they would not make their move, preferring to keep going hungry.

Such enemies, though merely wild animals, were both fearsome and worthy of respect.

Fang Chongyong and his party wasted no words. They packed up their things, mounted horses and drove carriages, heading straight for Longxi County seat to the west. The dangers of this journey had exceeded imagination. Fang Chongyong felt it was necessary to use his authority to update his equipment in Longxi County.

……

In one of the "entertainment rooms" of the Calyx and Petal Pavilion, the Tang Emperor Li Longji held a certain kind of "wooden pole" in both hands, swinging it about. It was the polo mallet he had excelled at in his youth—straight along most of its length, with only the tip curving into an arc, the part used to strike the polo ball.

It looked somewhat like the hockey stick from Fang Chongyong's previous life, except the curve at the tip was more pronounced.

This polo mallet was crafted with considerable refinement, and its materials were far from ordinary. It was not simply a piece of wood cut and called done; rather, "composite wood" was used. The method of construction was somewhat similar to that of a Masuo shaft—extremely high in strength, with excellent flexibility, and not easily broken.

"The Anren Army wants to feign surrender to trap the Tibetans?"

Brother Ji asked while swinging the mallet, addressing Fang Youde, who stood to the side bowing in greeting.

"In reply to the Sage, it is indeed so."

Fang Youde said, steeling himself.

He knew he had been manipulated by Fang Chongyong this time, but there was no help for it—the matter concerned the Tang border defense, so even though he had been manipulated, he still had to carry it out.

"Nonsense. The Tibetans are exceedingly cunning—how would they fall for such a trick? The Anren Army is simply making a fuss over pay, that's all."

Brother Ji said with a scoff, clearly not taking the letter Fang Chongyong had Cen Shen write seriously at all.

"Let it be thus: the Anren Army's winter clothing shall be issued for one year in arrears first. I will then have the court think of a way to see whether the Longyou border army's pay can be supplemented."

Brother Ji tested the mallet in his hand once more. Whether it was an illusion or not, this polo mallet that had once been most handy now felt much heavier; after just a few swings, a wave of fatigue set in.

"I thank the Sage for his grace."

Fang Youde performed a cupped-hand bow and had nothing more to say.

Brother Ji's reaction was within his expectations. He neither fully made up the Anren Army's pay nor tried any new trick to carry out some "feigned surrender" against the Tibetans. In truth, it was not that Brother Ji did not want to deal with the Tibetans, but once war broke out, Chang'an and Guanzhong's wealth would need to be supplied to the border garrisons in large quantities.

That would inevitably lower Brother Ji's quality of life. So if fighting could be avoided, it was best not to fight.

Only, Fang Youde worried that Brother Ji probably still did not know what would happen if those border-garrison soldiers were pushed too far.

Tang Emperor Dezong, Li Kuo, had treated his own meritorious troops harshly while suppressing the regional commands, leading to the later Jingyuan Mutiny. In a certain sense, the severe consequences of this incident were even worse than the An Lushan Rebellion.

Today there is the Anren Army—who is to say there won't be crop after crop of arrogant soldiers and fierce generals in the future?

"How is the recruitment for the twelve Divine Strategy Capitals going now?"

Brother Ji switched to a lighter polo mallet, weighing it in his hand as he asked.

"In reply to the Sage, the troops have already been fully recruited."

Fang Youde said with a bow.

"Oh? You moved quite fast. Then how is the combat strength of the Divine Strategy armies?"

Li Longji asked with keen interest.

"In reply to the Sage, the Divine Strategy Army does not yet possess any combat strength. Your minister intends to train the troops by simultaneously drilling and culling them as we go.

The twelve Divine Strategy Capitals need not all be fully staffed and equipped; better to have vacancies than to accept the unqualified."

"Hmm, then... what would be the best way to handle the Dragon Martial Army?"

Li Longji asked with some hesitation.

"In reply to the Sage, the Dragon Martial Army could relocate its garrison to Chengdu Prefecture and station in the Shu region. At the same time, reduce its scale and keep the establishment under seven thousand men."

Fang Youde said without batting an eye.

The Tang border garrisons' ordinary border armies generally had between five thousand and seven thousand men, main field armies numbered over ten thousand, and court-directly-controlled armies such as the Red Water Army and the Quiet Frontier Army exceeded twenty thousand.

Fang Youde's proposal would effectively downgrade the Dragon Martial Army from central imperial guard to an ordinary border garrison's border army, freeing up an imperial guard establishment for the Divine Strategy Army.

Much like emptying the cage to swap in a new bird!

It had to be said, this was indeed a good solution. Because the Dragon Martial Army itself had been established under Brother Ji's forceful promotion, its origins were rather "extraordinary"—it had not followed the old path of the Northern Ward imperial guards.

Recruited through private channels, and now sent off to the border armies. This could be called arriving strangely and departing humbly.

Fang Youde's proposal left Li Longji not knowing whether to laugh or cry. He set the polo mallet aside, patted the other man's arm, and said, "Quanzhong, I plan to reopen the Lingyan Pavilion and add some meritorious officials to it. The exact number hasn't been decided yet, but you rank first!"

Brother Ji wore an earnest, expectant smile on his face, yet Fang Youde merely stood there stunned, as if shocked by this news into being unable to utter a single word.

The significance of the Lingyan Pavilion was, for Brother Ji, perhaps a matter of glory.

But for Fang Youde, it was not at all the same; his feelings were far more complicated.

In his distant memories, the man Zhu Quanzhong had also entered the Lingyan Pavilion, and the implications of that had truly plunged everyone at the time into silence.

Now he, Fang Quanzhong, was also going to enter the Lingyan Pavilion. Could this be the fate of the name "Quanzhong"?

"Quanzhong, what do you think? You wouldn't be unwilling, would you?"

Brother Ji asked, his tone less than friendly.

"Your minister thanks the Sage for his profound favor."

Fang Youde prostrated himself on the ground and performed a full prostration with all five limbs touching the floor.

(End of this chapter)