Chapter 832: Selling Official Posts and Titles

In Liao, snow fell, and though it was uncertain whether it had come earlier than in previous years, the cold was undeniably severe. The snow had fallen continuously for a day and a night without ceasing, turning Liao into a land of snow.

Upon snow-covered ground without hoofprints, a group of more than twenty mounted riders galloped fiercely northward.

Leading the way were over a dozen soldiers, naturally arranged in a cavalry spearhead formation. All wore light armor beneath thick fur-lined garments, fur hats, fur gloves, and even silk cloth wrapped around their faces, leaving only their eyes exposed, their eyelashes caked with frost.

The dozen or so riders behind them had only two or three whose equipment could match the front riders; all wore brocade hats and sable fur coats. The riders further back, though dressed thickly and warmly, could not compare to the brocade and sable, nor to the fur garments of the front riders.

The identity of these twenty-odd riders was obvious without asking.

The dozen or so riders ahead were surely soldiers under the Grand Commander's command; the dozen or so behind, clad in brocade hats and sable fur, were the lead officials of the Zhen family on this journey; the riders behind them were Zhen family retainers and servants, heading to Tuhe to meet the Grand General.

Zhen Sheng, a direct descendant of the Zhen family's collateral branch, born to the collateral branch's matriarch, was the chief official of this expedition to Liaodong.

Their party of five hundred had brought over a hundred carts here, arriving in Suizhong yesterday morning; at midnight they received the Grand General's reply, and immediately set out with local soldiers, leading their personal retainers on a night march of a hundred li to Lianshan, sleeping only one and a half hours before taking morning meal and setting off for Tuhe.

This was because Suizhong was two hundred li from Tuhe; if the Zhen family were to travel two hundred li per day, they would collapse. But the Grand General had ordered: "Come tomorrow," so they must arrive. The front soldiers and local officials cared nothing for the Zhen family—the Grand General said it, so it must be done. Hence they marched through the night with little rest. Had they traveled normally, even on horseback, it would take four days to go from Suizhong to Tuhe. Only cavalry skilled in archery and horsemanship could push themselves to the limit.

Yet men of the great clans of this era were all trained; the swords at their waists were no mere ornament. Zhen Sheng had not trained as fiercely, but he could barely endure it, and he watched the scenery along the way.

Along the roadside stood nothing but brick houses, chimneys exhaling blue smoke. Occasionally, children in thin clothing ran out to play in the snow, only to be roughly dragged back inside and beaten by women, after which doors slammed shut. On the western hills, though distant, countless tiny human figures could be seen, and at times the sound of trees falling echoed from afar.

He had already seen this in Suizhong yesterday—he himself had stayed in a brick house and sat on a heated brick bed. Bricks were not rare; the heated brick bed was rare; building such brick houses for commoners was even rarer. Cutting down mountains was not rare; what was rare was the army's organized, large-scale deforestation solely to chop firewood for commoners to warm themselves through winter.

Now all great clans knew that the Yellow Turbans had produced a capable man—not like Zhang Jiao and others, who fought desperately in the Central Plains, but who, with strange foresight, had gone to Liaodong to carve out their own domain. Although Wang Yan's political claims, spoken to Liu Bei, had spread widely, no one believed them.

Now, having come to Liaodong's territory, Zhen Sheng realized Wang Yan was not joking—he truly treated the common people well—and his curiosity deepened.

Driven by this curiosity, as dusk fell and darkness neared, the group galloped like wind and lightning, and at last arrived at Tuhe.

Compared to other cities, Tuhe was cleaner; snow on the main roads had been cleared. Unchanged was the fact that a light smoke drifted over the entire city, and the air was filled with the scent of rice.

Without resting, Zhen Sheng was led to the Chengxi Academy. After his personal guards announced his arrival, Zhen Sheng entered alone with the Grand General's personal guards. As soon as he stepped inside, a wave of heat struck his face; the room was brilliantly lit, filled with candles. Everywhere he looked were large wooden shelves, all laden with bamboo slips. Following the guards deeper, he finally reached beneath the southern window and saw the master of this place.

Zhen Sheng looked and saw a refined man seated cross-legged on a mat, his face delicate yet resolute, his long hair loosely tied up and pinned with a blue-green jade hairpin. He wore a plain white silk robe, its collar open, sleeves rolled up, revealing a powerful physique. He lounged lazily, casually, with the air of a Daoist sage. Yet his deep eyes seemed to pierce straight through the soul—offering a sense of natural warmth, yet also an invisible pressure that inspired both trust and fear.

Truly a hero and great man—he had not yet spoken, yet Zhen Sheng's heart grew uneasy.

"Grand General, the Zhen family's emissary has arrived," the guard bowed.

"You're at it again—I'm not blind, I can see," Wang Yan scolded the guard who was overacting, waving his hand. "Bring food and wine."

The guard departed. Seeing Wang Yan's gaze fixed on him, Zhen Sheng quickly bowed and saluted: "Zhen Sheng of Wuji, pays homage to the Heavenly Martial Grand General."

Wang Yan remained seated cross-legged, smiling and waving: "The Zhen family is a noble and illustrious clan. In this icy snow, you have come here to trade. I deeply appreciate the Zhen family's goodwill. No need for formalities—please sit."

There were no tall tables or chairs here—only low tables, with everyone kneeling. Since he often held meetings and taught his subordinates here, rows of mats lined both sides.

Zhen Sheng bowed in thanks, then knelt on the lower seat, his posture straight and perfectly proper.

Wang Yan smiled and asked: "What is your courtesy name?"

"Your Excellency, my courtesy name is Meng Guang. I am of the Zhen family's collateral branch, solely responsible for the family's commercial affairs. Hearing of your establishment in Liaodong, I surmised you must urgently need grain—I have brought two thousand shi of grain, and three thousand bolts of hemp, silk, brocade, and satin, to trade with you."

Zhen Sheng spoke bluntly. In all of Han, besides the imperial court, Wang Yan was the richest. He had risen from Zhuo Commandery, grown stronger, destroyed countless fortified estates of great clans, broken over twenty cities, and seized at least half the wealth of Yuyang Commandery, most of Youbeiping Commandery, and nearly all of Liaoxi Commandery.

And indeed, in terms of currency and treasures, Wang Yan had plenty—he had two giant East Sea luminous pearls sitting on his table. Countless bolts of silk, billions of copper coins. Dozens of tons of solid bronze statues. Innumerable horse-hoof gold ingots, silver blocks, rare medicinal herbs, animal hides, tiger bones, and more. The accumulated wealth of great clans over centuries now rested in his hands alone—how could it not be vast?

Yet everyone knew that money alone was useless; wealth and treasures were merely equivalents—they could not be eaten. They had to be spent to acquire actual goods.

Wang Yan said nothing, then asked directly: "Meng Guang, you are not sincere. You come only to trade goods—not to aid me in achieving greatness and reviving your Wuji Zhen family?"

Zhen Sheng paused, thought for a moment, then nodded: "Your Excellency speaks truly. Our Zhen family indeed has this intention."

"Now the Han court is weak, imperial authority fading. The Ten Eunuchs control the government and enact many harmful policies—this is precisely why the Yellow Turbans rose. I hear the Emperor's health is failing, and he may not last long. The Imperial Princes are young and unknown for virtue; when the time comes, they will be unable to rule, and chaos will surely erupt. The Han dynasty cannot endure. Within twenty years, turmoil will break out; warlords will rise, and heroes will vie for dominance."

"Since Your Excellency speaks of reviving the Zhen family, you must know our clan has declined, surviving only through commerce. But this cannot last—we are but meat on the chopping block. The Zhen family wishes to seek a path to revival, yet dares not act rashly. Our entire family's lives are at stake—we dare not be careless."

"Your Excellency rose from the common folk, began in Zhuo Commandery, crossed passes, defeated generals, shattered fortresses, gathered the people, trained a mighty army, besieged Lingzhi, fought three generals alone, rescued your soldiers, and established this foundation in Liaodong. You crushed the Wuhuan, built this realm, command sixty thousand troops, govern two hundred thousand people. You are truly a hero and great man—I deeply revere you."

"Yet now, though you have shattered thirty thousand Wuhuan, you face a harsh winter. I saw in Suizhong how generously you treat the people, yet your land produces nothing, and you have no external income—your grain reserves cannot last. Liaodong is bitterly cold; snow blocks all roads. Even if merchant caravans come, they cannot sustain your consumption."

"And when winter ends and spring comes, the ice melts and snow thaws—Liu Youzhou will surely launch a massive army to attack. When he strikes from the north and your enemies from the south, how will you respond?"

To recognize the Han court's impending collapse was normal for great clans with access to countless intelligence channels. After all, they themselves knew exactly how the Han was collapsing. No one would be so naive as to blame only the Emperor's extravagance, the Ten Eunuchs' corruption, the Partisan Purges, or the Yellow Turban Rebellion. But whatever they said aloud, they would insist on these reasons—they would never admit their own faults.

After all, what wrong had they done in growing and strengthening their own clans?

Wang Yan was about to answer when a guard entered carrying a bowl of food. These past two days of snowfall had inspired the Grand General to eat hot pot mutton. There were few seasonings now—the dipping sauce was poor: only a little soy sauce, chopped chives, minced garlic, and some spice powder—but the mutton itself was excellent, its flavor compensating.

Eating mutton had long been customary; in this era, the wealthy primarily ate mutton. Garlic and spices mostly came from Zhang Qian's missions to the Western Regions, and some from the south.

Hot pots had existed for ages—previously people boiled large chunks of meat; now they boiled thin slices. Nothing remarkable.

The wine was sourced from great clans—all genuine grain liquor, requiring filtration before drinking. Under the Grand General's rule, drinking was forbidden; he occasionally rewarded subordinates with two jugs merely to taste. Now grain was desperately scarce, with no surplus for brewing.

In fact, throughout the Three Kingdoms period, alcohol bans persisted. Floods, droughts, locusts—people barely had enough to eat; where was the grain for wine? But for great clans, such bans meant little—they ate and drank as they always had.

Wang Yan planned to brew fruit wines next year—plum, pomegranate, grape—drunk as beverages…

After chatting briefly about food, eating a few bites of meat, and drinking a few cups of wine, the Grand General resumed speaking to Zhen Sheng's question.

"Just now you asked how I should respond to the harsh winter and next year's enemy. I believe wealth can move even the gods. With Liaodong frozen and roads impassable, I will offer high profits—merchant houses will surely bring grain here. What is the current grain price?"

"Millet, wheat, and broomcorn cost three hundred cash per shi; beans cost five hundred. That is the price in Guanzhong. Where grain is abundant, prices are low; where scarce, prices soar. Your Excellency, commanding troops, knows that transporting grain consumes much—men and horses eat it all. When I left home with three thousand shi, I arrived with only two thousand. After reserving for the return journey, I have two thousand shi left."

"Moreover, though Zhang Jiao is dead and the Yellow Turbans shattered, their remnants still plague the land. The road to Liaodong is riddled with bandits; carelessness means death. Transporting grain is exceedingly difficult. Even if I form an alliance with you, I cannot afford to sell below six hundred cash per shi."

This grain price was already steep. In this era, a laborer earned barely one shi of rice per month; a whole family working could barely survive, eating little. But this was already the cheapest grain price for the next hundred years. Future disasters and wars would drive prices sky-high.

Wang Yan smiled and nodded: "I will offer you a thousand cash, even one thousand five hundred cash per shi. Will you bring more grain?"

"If truly so, I will come. But the Zhen family seeks mutual benefit with you—not such exorbitant prices, merely enough to avoid loss."

"Your single family cannot supply grain for my three hundred thousand soldiers and civilians. You must spread the word widely—great merchants will flock to my Liaodong." The Grand General laughed lightly, drank, then pointed casually at the transparent glass window. "What do you think of this?"

"Excellent! This object is clear and bright—it lets daylight in without opening the window, allowing one to enjoy winter scenery from a warm room. When I arrived, I wished to ask, but dared not speak. May I ask, Your Excellency, what is this?"

For matters of comfort, the Grand General never spared effort. After over a month in Liaodong, he had produced two large glass panes, ordering craftsmen to sandwich them into this full-height window.

Without this, winter was unbearable. At present, wealthy households used silk; the poor stuffed windows with anything; window paper did not exist. Inside, there was almost no light. In the Han and Tang dynasties' glory, commoners suffered.

Next year, he would massively produce glass, striving to ensure every subject could enjoy winter sunlight. With glass allowing daylight in, less firewood would be needed during the day.

These were basic life inventions—he had instructed his craftsmen and farmers to think deeply, study hard, and create more.

The Grand General smiled: "I call it white glass. Crafted by skilled artisans through meticulous firing. Besides this bright window, I have made glass cups, bowls, and statues—those objects on the shelf are examples. Observe."

Following the Grand General's gesture, Zhen Sheng's gaze fell upon a wooden shelf nearby. He bowed in apology, then rose and examined the various objects, as if handling precious treasures.

The General chuckled as he drank wine and ate meat; why he used a wine goblet instead of a glass cup was simple—the goblet felt fresher, glass cups were nothing special, only bronze wine goblets carried true atmosphere.

Soon after, Zhen Sheng returned to his seat, knelt, and bowed: "General, may I ask the value of this item?"

"What do you think it should be worth?"

"It is said that rarity gives value; the harder it is to produce, the more valuable it becomes. If only dozens such items exist in this world, they are priceless treasures."

People with culture never speak plainly. Wang Yan shook his head and smiled: "Next year, every house under my rule shall have such windows. If your Zhen clan dares to defy others' threats, this item shall remain priceless before spring."

Zhen Sheng forced a laugh—he truly lacked the courage. This year it's priceless; next year it's cabbage. If the great clans rage and unite against them, the Zhen clan, already struggling, would be finished.

"General's words are wise, yet our Zhen clan cannot undertake such a thing unless we rise."

"Then, when you leave, take them all and sell them—offset the grain and cloth you transported. What do you think?"

"As the General commands." Zhen Sheng bowed, accepting the price of dozens of broken glass objects for two thousand shi of grain and three thousand bolts of various cloth.

In truth, these weren't pure glass, but colored glass—not glazed glass—yet they looked impressive.

Wang Yan didn't want his people to wait long; installing glass windows early meant early comfort. Otherwise, a single glass pane could easily harvest the rich for years. Later, when chaos erupted, money meant nothing—grain and supplies ruled. At that time, fools would be hard to find.

"Return to Wuji and spread the word—invite wealthy merchants to bring grain here. Then this winter will be safe." Wang Yan turned and asked, "You said Zhang Jue is dead, the Yellow Turbans shattered—what is the current situation?"

"On my way here, I heard Zhang Jue died of illness. Zhang Liang holds Guangzong, Zhang Bao ravages Julu. Marquis Huangfu Song has mobilized troops to attack Guangzong again—by now, the outcome is decided; Zhang Liang is likely dead."

Wang Yan nodded, then asked: "Does your Zhen clan have a channel to communicate with the Ten Eunuchs?"

Zhen Sheng paused: "Does the General wish to buy an official post?"

"Indeed. I seek the position of Governor of Liaodong. I fear I haven't been recommended as Filial and Incorrupt, so the Han Emperor won't appoint me. If buying the post fails, I can still bribe the Ten Eunuchs. Liu Yan plans to raise a large army—he needs court approval. If the Ten Eunuchs obstruct him, how can Liu Yan mobilize?"

The Han Dynasty long had the tradition of selling offices and titles. Cao Song, Old Cao's father, spent a hundred million coins to buy the post of Grand Commandant—the highest of the Three Excellencies…

Rebellion is action, not talk; there's no need to raise a rebel flag as a target. He wanted peace, he wanted development—war would come later. So if he could obtain a legitimate title, that would be excellent.

Being a thief and being a rebel are two different things. In the countryside, gathering a few hundred men to raid the hills—according to the Han Emperor's officials' conduct, they'd likely ignore him. But raising a banner with so many men? That would trigger the court's sensitive nerves—almost certainly triggering a punitive campaign, requiring several battles. But he had no intention of marching south in the short term; such battles consumed grain with no benefit. Better to use money directly.

Moreover, he had no use for money. Once grain and supplies were abundant, he'd issue paper currency, seize economic control, and regulate the economy far better than copper coins, silk, or gold and silver. It would also prevent powerful clans from hoarding cash—paper money was worthless scrap, so hoard as much as they liked.

Being appointed Governor of Liaodong had another advantage: his title was legitimate, not that of a rebel. Angel investors would then operate more freely. No matter how they thought, they'd never guess—the Great General had stopped being bold, and was now paying for peace…

Zhen Sheng pondered a moment: "Given the General's position, you can surely buy the post. If refused, and they send troops to attack, losses will be great. Better to unify the name. Moreover, Liaodong is full of barbarians—the General fighting them there is precisely what the court ministers wish to see. If the General buys the post himself, he spends heavily. Why not wait until spring, win one battle first, and spend far less?"

"Money is less valuable than the lives of soldiers and civilians." The General waved his hand. "I hear Cao Song spent a hundred million coins to become Grand Commandant. Now I offer you a hundred million coins to secure the post of Governor of Liaodong—the position of Heavenly Martial Great General. Will you accept?"

"Does the General truly trust the Zhen clan?"

"I trust only my sword, my troops, and my people."

Zhen Sheng fell silent for a moment, rose from his seat, faced the General directly, and bowed deeply: "The Zhen clan will not fail the General's expectations."

"Rise, rise—Meng Guang, no need for such formality. Your Wuji Zhen clan understands change, grasps the great tide, and came to Liaodong to ally with me—I am deeply pleased. Tonight's feast, tomorrow you enter my treasury—I won't let you travel for nothing. On your return, I'll send a thousand soldiers to escort your money home."

"Thank you, Great General."

"Return to your seat. Cold and frozen nights are best for wine and hot meat—it tastes exquisite. Eat and drink more." The General urged his first investor, avoiding deeper topics—this was only initial contact; more observation was needed.

But he showed generosity by immediately transferring the hundred million coins. He also opened his treasury—filled with treasures, the accumulated wealth of dozens or hundreds of years from many great clans, spectacularly grand. Several dozen carts were loaded, given to the Zhen clan to sell for grain and seeds.

Wang Yan also entrusted the Zhen caravan to travel west and seek cotton.

Thus, hundreds of carts and a thousand soldiers under the General's command marched south in a grand procession.

Wang Yan paid no further attention. With slow carts and horses, long roads, and difficult travel, a round-trip trade of sixteen hundred li couldn't be completed in less than three months. As for buying the official post, if results came before spring, it would be good enough.

Fortunately, the Zhen clan had foresight and vision—they recognized the General as a true hero and arrived early. With a month and a half to return, half a month to gather grain, and another month and a half to come back, the threat of famine was instantly resolved.

Now, production remained paramount—and always would be. The status of the General's artisans was unquestionably high; an atmosphere of invention and creation must be nurtured.

Artisans continued production in winter, naturally. Even when people couldn't leave their homes due to lack of warm clothing, they sat indoors doing what they could. Next year's production tools were most urgent, followed by weapons and armor—all could be made at home: polishing wooden items, sharpening arrowheads and blades, crafting crossbows and bows—all continued without pause.

Civil officials daily traveled, inspecting their people, tallying production, assigning tasks. Two hundred seventy thousand people operated like a vast machine, never ceasing.

Glassmaking also continued, but no longer for the General—large panes were too hard to make, small ones weren't. Though only a few kilns operated and output was slow, they still provided bright windows for the people.

When building houses, this was already considered—window spaces were reserved. Apprentice carpenters made windows; ironworkers cast rivets. Whoever received the house got the nails—then they ground them with stones.

The General was cunning—he first installed windows in a few homes, giving people hope and something to look forward to. Otherwise, surviving on two meals of thin porridge daily would break them.

Brick kilns also didn't stop. Before freezing, the army dug mountains of soil. The kilns were designed for winter production—though inefficient, they still yielded output. Huge piles were stacked, ready to finish all housing after spring, so every household received a home.

In truth, these houses would never truly be finished. Many of his young men, once housed, would marry. Even if they didn't want to, Wang Yan would force them with a stick—population was top priority. Otherwise, no matter how much fertile land he seized, if he couldn't actually hold it, what use was it?

To ensure infant survival and maternal health, he set the marriage and childbearing age at eighteen—mandatory, law-abiding. He also recruited many women skilled in childbirth, training them specifically for maternal and child care. To train them, the General himself took charge, personally delivering babies and teaching on-site. Gender separation meant nothing to doctors, and even less to Wang the Great General. After delivery, he even named the babies…

So next year's marriages and household divisions, plus the future integration of Wuhuan tribes, and the rebuilding of old, dilapidated homes—all required housing.

As for war with the Wuhuan, Liao Hua led four thousand cavalry in raids. Scouts reported that near cities or settlements, soldiers dared not emerge. Thus, Liao Hua pushed deep into Xuantu and Liaodong commanderies—beyond this distance, Wang Yan received no military reports.

But the General wasn't worried. Four thousand cavalry were a formidable force anywhere. If Wang Yan himself led four thousand iron cavalry, he could dominate the land. Liao Hua, though far inferior, had learned the General's true teachings—he understood Mobile Corps Commander tactics. He was also specifically instructed: if no gains could be made in Xuantu or Liaodong, raid beyond the borders—to Wuhuan, Fuyu, even Goguryeo. These were future enemies; striking first was always right.

Liao Hua's mission was to burn, kill, and plunder. Wang Yan didn't care about the rest. As the saying goes: "When a general is abroad, the sovereign's orders may be disregarded." How Liao Hua killed—he didn't know.

Of course, he knew well. The old schemer had grand vision—but he still kept a little notebook. To place all trust in others, relying on their virtue and character, was foolish.

Internal surveillance was the Great General's traditional skill. Once the situation stabilized and markets opened, the Brocade Guard must be established. Military officers and officials, as life grew comfortable and wealth abundant, would become mentally active—monitoring was essential.

The Great General ruled with an iron fist. If you didn't want a good life, then don't have one. But matters had urgency and severity—crimes had degrees. Not everything deserved death; that would be absurd.

The central idea was simple: you may not act—but you must know.

Winter passed quickly. Days were short, nights long; people ate little, worked by day, and slept early. Even if one wished to stay awake, there was no entertainment except making babies—and no candles for light; homes were pitch black. Wang Yan used oil lamps—animal fat for illumination—his guards constantly replenished the oil.

So besides making babies, it was making babies—women across his domain became widely pregnant. The General had ordered: pregnant women must eat more—not just more rice, but occasional meat and eggs, and even a fish from soldiers' catches, to be stewed for nutrition.

Even without incentives, people gave birth. With the General's benefits, who wouldn't? Who'd let such an advantage slip? So the civil officials' records of pregnant women skyrocketed, and grain consumption surged.

At this moment, southern merchant caravans converged—bringing grain, seeds, and other goods, tens of thousands of carts arriving.

Wang Yan sent men to inquire—the caravans were magnificent. Besides Wuji's Zhen clan, the Yuan clan of Ruyang, the Yang clan of Hongnong, the Xun clan of Yingchuan, the Chen clan of Yingchuan, the Sima clan of Heyin, the Mi clan of Donghai, the Cao clan of Qiao, the Wei clan of Chen Liu—over a dozen great clans arrived. Besides Old Cao's family and the Wei clan who funded Cao Cao's rise, nearly all were top-tier families—the elite predators of late Han. Even the Kong clan of Shandong came to sell grain.

It made sense. These great clans owned the most land—they were the largest grain suppliers, their granaries truly full. Now Wang the Great General paid high prices for grain, luring them with profit. Their grain rotted from excess—they had to clear their warehouses and make more money.

On the other hand, with the Yellow Turbans crushed, Wang Yan was now the greatest rebel. And Wang Yan had sent Zhen Sheng with a hundred million coins to buy an office—this was now common knowledge. They came to probe Wang Yan's true strength.

Of course, the Zhen clan didn't wait for payment to arrive before buying the post in Luoyang—they sent fast riders ahead to notify the family, who contacted the Ten Eunuchs. After expressing intent, the Ten Eunuchs informed Emperor Ling—thus, all court ministers knew.

Wang Yan didn't meet them. None were major figures—only collateral branches, even illegitimate ones. None matched the Zhen clan's sincerity. It made sense: the Zhen clan had declined, while they were thriving.

They only sold money and treasures from the storehouses, and separately sold off a batch of glassware at high prices. In any case, it was far more expensive than grain, so it offset the cost of the grain, and they sent everyone away...