Chapter 912

When the sentry on the city wall woke people up at the hour of Mao, Zhang Wenqian was dozing off on the desk, his face pressed against a stack of unfinished official documents, his saliva wetting a small corner of the top sheet of paper.

"Deputy Minister Zhang! Someone has come from the north!"

When Zhang Wenqian sprang up from the desk, he knocked over half of the stack of documents, scattering them on the floor. He didn't care, grabbed the green robe draped over the back of the chair, wrapped it around himself, and ran out the door.

The wind on the city wall was more than three times stronger than inside the room, blowing the hem of his robe to flutter behind him like a flag. When he supported himself on the battlements and looked toward the north, the mouthful of saliva he hadn't yet swallowed got stuck in his throat.

Black, pressing people.

From the foot of the city wall all the way to the horizon at the end of his vision, it was all people, a dense mass surging toward the city wall like a black cotton wool rolled by the wind. Inside the cotton wool were wrapped crying and shouting, the sounds of livestock, and the rumbling of cart wheels grinding over the mud.

"Go invite the Pillar of State."

The messenger ran off.

When Chen Yan ascended the city wall, he was dressed neatly, the copper buttons of the collar of his black cloak fastened, a sword hanging at his waist, his hair tied meticulously. He didn't look like someone who had been called up, but rather like someone who hadn't slept at all.

He walked to the front of the battlements and looked down once.

Thousands of people had already gathered at the foot of the city wall. The group at the very front was kneeling on the edge of the moat, kowtowing toward the city wall, their mouths shouting words that were hard to hear clearly. Their accents carried a heavy grassland tone, the general meaning being begging for shelter, begging for a bite to eat, begging not to be driven back.

More people were still surging over from the north, and the end of the line, near the horizon five or six miles away, hadn't all arrived yet.

"Zhang Wenqian."

"This subordinate is here."

"Has the number been estimated?"

Zhang Wenqian fished a palm-sized copper abacus from his sleeve and gripped it in his hand. His thumb flicked the beads on the abacus twice without making a sound, his eyes still fixed on that black, pressing mass of heads under the city, counting.

"This subordinate roughly estimates that, including those who have arrived and those still on the road who haven't, the total number is no less than thirty thousand."

Chen Yan's fingers rested on the bricks of the battlements, his fingertips tapping once on the brick surface.

"Thirty thousand—five thousand more than this Duke estimated."

Zhang Wenqian withdrew the abacus back into his sleeve and turned to the side, lowering his voice.

"Pillar of State, should the city gate be opened or not? The crossbowmen on the city wall are already on standby. If it's not opened, these people blocking the outside of the moat will cause trouble sooner or later."

Chen Yan didn't answer him immediately, his gaze slowly sweeping over those people kowtowing under the city, sweeping over the people standing behind those who were kneeling, and then sweeping over the crowds stumbling over with thin cattle and lame horses in the distance. There was no pity or disgust in his gaze, only the clarity of a shopkeeper looking at a new batch of goods.

"Open it."

Zhang Wenqian's body leaned forward.

"How to open it? Let them all in?"

Chen Yan turned around, his back against the battlements, his two hands crossed and tucked into his sleeves under his cloak.

"Not let them all in, but screen them as they enter."

"How to screen?"

Chen Yan stepped from the position of the battlements toward the direction of the watchtower on the city wall. Zhang Wenqian followed him, the boots of the two people stepping on the blue bricks of the city wall emitting clicks of different rhythms.

"Mark out three plots of land outside the moat and erect three fences to separate them. The first plot receives able-bodied men, the second plot receives women, children, and the elderly, and the third plot receives craftsmen."

Zhang Wenqian's abacus was fished out from his sleeve again, his thumb flicking the beads.

"How to distinguish craftsmen?"

Chen Yan walked to the foot of the watchtower and stopped, turning to look at Zhang Wenqian.

"Erect a sign at the entrance of the fence, written in three types of script—Han, Rouran, and Turkic, all written on it—just write one sentence: 'Those who can forge iron, tan leather, make bows, or do carpentry, take the third entrance, and receive an extra bowl of thick porridge every day.'"

Zhang Wenqian's abacus beads clicked and clacked twice.

"Can a bowl of thick porridge screen out all the craftsmen?"

Chen Yan pulled a hand from his sleeve and pointed toward the crowd under the city who were so hungry they couldn't even kowtow properly.

"They haven't eaten for three days; a bowl of thick porridge is more effective than ten taels of gold."

Zhang Wenqian tucked the abacus back under his arm and nodded.

"This subordinate understands. Then for the able-bodied men..."

"After the able-bodied men enter the first plot, first disarm and search them. Collect all weapons and register them. Then divide them into three grades according to their physique. The first grade, the strong and sturdy, are to be organized into the corvée camp to repair the official road from Yinzhou to Xia Prefecture. The second grade, those slightly inferior, are to be organized into the military colony camp and distributed to various counties to reclaim wasteland and farm. The third grade, those who are disabled but can still move, are to go to the pasture to watch horses and herd sheep."

Zhang Wenqian's lips moved as if he wanted to say something but swallowed it back.

Chen Yan glanced at him.

"Something to say?"

Zhang Wenqian's voice lowered to a volume that could only be heard within two steps.

"Pillar of State, the daily rations for thirty thousand people is a huge number. Can our Xia Prefecture granary hold up?"

Chen Yan straightened his body from the position where he was leaning against the stone pillar at the foot of the watchtower and walked toward the direction of the stone steps on the city wall.

"You calculate another account."

Zhang Wenqian followed.

"Three bowls of thin porridge a day for thirty thousand people, one person's daily ration is less than three catties of millet. Thirty thousand people is ninety thousand catties, and a month is two million seven hundred thousand catties."

Chen Yan paused for a step when he reached the top of the stone steps.

"Two million seven hundred thousand catties of millet in exchange for the life-selling money of thirty thousand laborers for ten years. Zhang Wenqian, you tell this Duke, is there any deal in the world more cost-effective than this?"

Zhang Wenqian's abacus beads clicked once in his sleeve, and the corners of his mouth pulled to both sides.

"No."

"Go handle it. Within today, erect the three fences, separate the people, and expand the porridge shed from the previous settlement camp by three times. If that's not enough, expand it by five times. Write the terms on the labor contract clearly as before, translate them, and post them. Only those who sign the contract and press their fingerprints can enter the second city gate."

Zhang Wenqian tucked the abacus into his bosom and turned to run out toward the bottom of the stone steps, the sound of his boots stepping on the stone steps as urgent as beating drums.

Chen Yan stood at the top of the stone steps and didn't go down, turning back to walk a few steps toward the direction of the city wall battlements, leaning against that stone brick warmed by the morning sun and looking down.

More and more people were gathering under the city. The black, pressing crowd on the wilderness opposite the moat changed from one thousand to two thousand to five thousand, still surging over continuously from the north. The crying, shouting, and livestock sounds merged into a huge buzzing in the morning wind.

Chen Yan looked at those people, looked at those tattered fur coats and mud-stained faces kneeling on the ground kowtowing, looked at those old people who were too hungry to walk and were being carried forward, and the children lying on adults' backs asleep, not knowing what had happened.

His fingers tapped twice on the bricks of the battlements, the rhythm as steady as if he were tapping on a desk.

Ye Zhuxi walked over from the east side of the city wall, wearing a gray cloak over his iron armor, a long spear slung across his back, his expression calm, showing no emotion.

"Pillar of State, there are quite a few remnants still wearing half-armor mixed among the people under the city. This subordinate has let the crossbowmen keep an eye on them."

Chen Yan nodded.

"Separate the remnants, first lock them into the innermost circle of the first plot. After disarming and searching them to confirm there is no danger, then mix them with the other able-bodied men."

Ye Zhuxi responded and stood there for a while without leaving.

"Pillar of State, there is one more thing."

"Speak."

Ye Zhuxi's gaze swept a circle under the city, his voice lowering.

"Some of those remnants have blood on their hands and are hiding short sabers under their armor. Their demeanor doesn't look like they have accepted their fate, but rather like they still want to find an opportunity to cause trouble."

Chen Yan withdrew the hand resting on the battlements and walked toward the direction of the watchtower on the city wall.

"This Duke does not raise ingrates."

Ye Zhuxi followed him.

"What does the Pillar of State mean?"

Chen Yan walked to the foot of the watchtower and sat down in front of that temporary desk moved up, on which were placed the few official documents Zhang Wenqian had left before leaving and a bowl of tea that had already gone cold.

"After entering the first plot, give them two paths to choose. The first path: sign the labor contract and work honestly; they will be fed and housed, and released after ten years. The second path: those who don't sign can turn around and walk north now to go back and find Yun Geti; this Duke won't stop them."

Ye Zhuxi's fingers tapped on the shaft of his long spear.

"What if someone neither signs nor leaves and wants to cause trouble?"

Chen Yan picked up the bowl of cold tea and took a sip; the tea was cold to the roots of his teeth.

"Kill one for every one who causes trouble, and after killing them, hang the corpses at the entrance of the fence for the people queuing behind to see."

Ye Zhuxi cupped his hands, turned, and walked back toward the east side of the city wall, the long spear on his back swaying slightly with the rhythm of his steps.

Chen Yan sat behind the desk at the foot of the watchtower, holding the bowl of cold tea in his hand, his gaze falling through the open window of the watchtower onto the crowd under the city that was getting larger and larger.

Thirty thousand people.

Thirty thousand pairs of hands.

What was turning in his brain was not pity or disgust, but how many more people were needed to finish repairing that half-finished official road from Yinzhou to Xia Prefecture, how large the shortage of blacksmiths was in the several branch workshops under the Weaponry Bureau, and how many people were needed to farm the wasteland that would be opened up next spring.

Every head was marked with a number in his eyes. That number was not age or name, but the output equivalent to ten years of labor.

At the very front of the crowd under the city, the first fence had already started to be erected. Zhang Wenqian, with twenty-some clerks and over one hundred temporarily conscripted laborers, was busy on the opposite side of the moat. Wooden stakes were driven into the mud, and fence boards were set up. The three entrances were divided into left, middle, and right according to what Chen Yan had said, and a newly painted wooden sign was hung on each entrance.

The characters on the signs were written by a clerk temporarily found from the city. The ink hadn't dried yet, and when blown by the wind, it shone with a wet luster. The three types of script were arranged from top to bottom, and the Rouran script on the bottom line was written crookedly but could be understood.

The first person to walk to the entrance of the fence was a middle-aged man so thin that his ribs protruded from the gaps in his fur coat, leading a five or six-year-old girl. The girl's face was covered in mud, her two eyes staring from beneath the mud at that wooden fence and the Great Zhou soldiers standing behind the fence.

That middle-aged man loosened the girl's hand from his own, turned, and said a sentence in Rouran to her. His voice was as hoarse as if ground by sand and stone, the general meaning being to let her follow that group of women and children next to her to the middle entrance.

The girl didn't move, her fingers clutching the hem of his robe and not letting go.

The man squatted down and pried her fingers off the hem of his robe one by one. When he pried the last one, his fingers trembled. After prying it, he stood up and walked toward the entrance for able-bodied men on the left.

The Great Zhou clerk at the entrance of the fence looked expressionless, handed a roll of sheepskin contract paper and a bamboo stick dipped in ink to him, his mouth speaking a few fixed sentences in stiff Rouran.

"Sign and you have food to eat, don't sign and leave."

That man didn't even look at what was written on the contract before pressing his thumb into the ink dish and pressing it at the end of the contract paper.

The line queuing behind him already had over two hundred people, still extending backward without end.

Zhang Wenqian stood on the high platform between the three fence entrances, his copper abacus clicking and clacking. For every person who entered, he drew a stroke on the paper register placed on the wooden board beside him, the left column, right column, and middle column clearly separated.

On the city wall, Chen Yan placed the cold tea bowl on the desk, stood up, and walked toward the direction of the stone steps.

When he reached the entrance of the stone steps, a messenger ran up from below.

"Pillar of State, the letter from Chief Clerk Gao has arrived, sent by a fast horse from the direction of that dry river ditch in the south."

Chen Yan received the bamboo tube, peeling off the wax seal while walking, and pulled out the silk slip inside. Gao Jiong's handwriting on the silk slip was written even more sloppily than the last time, but the numbers were still clear.

"Twelve bags of gold, silver, and jewelry, equivalent to about twenty-four thousand strings of cash. The team of fifty people had no casualties, expected to arrive at Xia Prefecture in three days."

Chen Yan folded the silk slip and tucked it into his sleeve, his footsteps not stopping, walking down from the stone steps step by step.

The line in front of the fence entrances under the city was getting longer and longer. The torrent of thirty thousand people was still surging over continuously from the north, and on everyone's face was written the same thing—survive.

And what they didn't know was that the three bowls of thin porridge they exchanged for ten years of their lives were, in the eyes of that man in the black cloak on the city wall, a deal far more cost-effective than the ambush at Stony Valley and the wars on the grassland.

Inside the city gate tunnel, the crowd began to flow slowly inside, like a thin, long black river being regulated in speed by the gate of the city, twenty people at a time, twenty people at a time. After every twenty people entered, the next batch had to wait for the previous ones to register and press their fingerprints before they could move forward.

When Chen Yan walked into the tunnel inside the city gate, a Rouran man who had finished signing the contract was being led by two Great Zhou soldiers out through the side door of the tunnel. When that man passed by him, his gaze swept over him unintentionally.

Chen Yan, wearing a black cloak and a sword at his waist, looked different from the soldiers in iron armor and the clerks in green robes in the tunnel. The Rouran man's gaze stayed on his face for less than a breath before he lowered his head and walked past, his steps hurried as if afraid of being disliked for walking too slowly.

Chen Yan watched the back of that man walking out through the side door, his gaze flat without any fluctuation, then turned and walked back toward the direction of the Governor's Office.

The sunlight outside the tunnel shone on the stone slabs of the city gate tunnel, printing a rectangular light on the ground. Inside the light, dust and mud stirred up by the flow of people were floating slowly.

Of the thirty thousand people, fewer than five thousand had finished pressing their fingerprints within this day. The rest were still waiting outside the fence. When the porridge shed opened for the first meal in the evening, the millet porridge, so thin that one could see a reflection in it, was served in coarse pottery bowls larger than a face. Outside the fence, those who hadn't signed the contract all stood up and looked toward the direction of the porridge shed. The hunger in those eyes made the laborers serving the porridge quicken their pace.

The number of people signing the contract tripled on the second day.

On the third day, Gao Jiong returned to the south gate of Xia Prefecture City with fifty people and twelve bags of gold, silver, and jewelry.