Chapter 184: How to Split Five Taels of Silver?

Wang Shide galloped across the vast plain, letting out a string of exhilarated whoops.

His mount was a fine Mongol horse; its four hooves flew, rolling across the withered grass like a ball of flame.

The wind whistled past his ears, carrying a knife-like chill, yet it made the blood surge hot in his chest.

The fields on either side of the post road presented two starkly different scenes.

Some fields lay abandoned, their black clods of earth exposed like ugly scars on the land; others had just put forth fine green shoots, standing stubbornly in the bleak autumn wind, radiating a heartening vitality.

He was nineteen this year, exactly the age when a youth knows nothing of sorrow.

Ever since he had inexplicably inherited his father's post ahead of schedule and been dispatched to this Nine Border region to oversee the "Thousand-Li Lightning Relay Stations," his life, like these new wheat sprouts, seemed full of boundless possibility.

Not far ahead stood a dead tree, its branches spreading wide, swaying in the wind.

A playful glint flashed in Wang Shide's eyes; he spurred his horse slightly faster, straightened up from the saddle, coordinated waist and horse as one, and smoothly drew the saber at his hip with his right hand.

"Dog-spawned Niru Janggin Haningga, watch Wang Sancai take your head!"

He bellowed; a flash of cold light swept past, and the dead branch snapped at the sound, splinters flying.

Having struck true, his spirits soared even higher; he reversed his grip and slid the saber back into its scabbard, then took down the horn bow hanging from his saddle, nocked an arrow, twisted around, and loosed it at the dead tree.

The arrow tore through the air but flew absurdly wide, slanting crookedly into the wheat field by the road.

But Wang Shide did not care.

He simply laughed aloud and galloped away.

After racing on for a while, a solitary wooden tower appeared on the horizon ahead — that was his destination, and the last relay station under his jurisdiction.

This station was not attached to any courier post or postal relay; it stood alone on the plain, and the watchman who manned it ordinarily had the hardest time of all.

Wang Shide dismounted and walked straight toward the tower.

The watchman on the tower had long since spotted him through a telescope; a nimble figure hastily clambered down from the tower, trotted over to greet him, his face wreathed in a fawning smile.

"Chief Wang, you've come!"

The watchman spoke while respectfully handing over a register.

"This is the record of the transmission just sent."

Wang Shide took the register; the handwriting inside, though crooked, was still legible.

He checked it carefully.

Sender: jia-jia-ding-si… correct.

Transmission time: yi-bing-ding-geng… correct.

Message body: jia-ding-si-bing, zi-yin-ding-mao…

He checked all fifteen code groups one by one against the text in his hand, and only after confirming there were no errors did he nod slightly.

"Nothing else."

He fished ten copper cash from the coin pouch at his waist and tossed them over casually.

"It's getting cold. When you come off duty tonight, you and Zhang Fugui and Liu San go buy some wine on your own to warm yourselves up."

The watchman's nickname was Liu Xiyan; he was just in his twenties. Only because his eyesight was sharp and he knew a few characters had he landed this easy job — sitting idle all day yet earning eight mace of silver a month.

This genuinely made those simpletons at the courier post, who couldn't eat their fill even by running their legs off, burn with envy.

Liu Xiyan swept out a hand and caught all ten copper cash without missing a single one, his smile growing even broader: "Chief Wang's always generous!"

Another man who had just emerged from the wooden tower — it was Zhang Fugui — also came over and said with a grin, "I'll thank Chief Wang on Liu San's behalf too!"

Wang Shide grunted an acknowledgment.

He cleared his throat and adopted a businesslike tone.

"An order has come down from His Majesty: we are to find some good farming hands from the Datong area to enter the palace."

He swept his gaze around, looking at the two of them. "You're locals, you know the people and the lay of the land. Is there anyone you can recommend?"

Liu Xiyan and Zhang Fugui exchanged a glance, each seeing a trace of confusion and wariness in the other's eyes.

Liu Xiyan spoke first, choosing his words carefully: "Chief Wang, these… good farming hands — they're men with families and established livelihoods. Even if he's just a tenant farmer, the master of the house has to treat him politely. To suddenly enter the palace…"

Zhang Fugui chimed in: "That's right, Chief Wang. Who in their right mind would want to enter the palace? That's… that's a business that cuts off your roots."

In the understanding of common folk like them, the words "enter the palace" had always been linked solely with eunuchs.

Wang Shide frowned and snapped, "What nonsense! Who said anything about being castrated to enter the palace? His Majesty is selecting men to do farm work!"

Seeing their blank expressions, he patiently explained:

"Didn't that dispute over people and land reach you here a few days ago?"

"The land under heaven is only so much, but people keep multiplying — so we've got to farm the land properly, haven't we?!"

As he spoke, he grew impatient himself and simply thrust out a hand, fingers spread.

"Five taels of silver! If chosen, it's five taels of silver as a settling-in allowance!"

"And if the man truly has skill and catches His Majesty's eye, he might even get an honorary appointment as a Transmitted Officer in the future!"

Liu Xiyan's and Zhang Fugui's eyes lit up instantly.

"My second uncle! My second uncle is a fine farming hand!" Liu Xiyan rushed to say.

"My father! My father's farmed all his life — who in a radius of several dozen li doesn't know him?" Zhang Fugui was not to be outdone.

Watching them vie with each other, the trace of a smile that had been tugging at the corner of Wang Shide's mouth slowly faded.

He folded his arms, said nothing, and simply looked at them coldly with those eyes.

The clamorous atmosphere from moments before gradually quieted.

Liu Xiyan and Zhang Fugui grew uneasy under his stare and sheepishly shut their mouths.

Only after a moment did Wang Shide give a cold snort.

"Choose carefully for me, your elder! If you pick the wrong man, or just grab anyone to fob me off, and then once he's in the palace he shows his true colors before His Majesty —"

"— if I get dragged down for it, watch your hides!"

"That's settled then! I'll come back here tomorrow. Make sure you find me someone and have them ready to await orders!"

With that, he spared the two men not a single further glance, turned, mounted his horse in one clean, crisp motion, clamped his legs against the horse's flanks, and barked: "Hyah!"

The warhorse gave a long neigh and vanished into the dust, leaving the two men with nothing but a faceful of grit.

Liu Xiyan and Zhang Fugui stood in the cold wind for a long moment, not letting out a long breath until Wang Shide's figure had utterly disappeared over the horizon.

The two exchanged a glance, and each saw the burning excitement in the other's eyes.

"We're rich, we're rich…" Zhang Fugui murmured.

Liu Xiyan rubbed his hands together and lowered his voice. "Actually… we don't need five taels. Old Li in that fort — his wife's dead, his children are gone, he's all alone. Give him three taels of silver and he'd probably be willing to go."

Zhang Fugui's eyes darted shiftily. He picked up the thread: "Three taels? I say two would be enough! Don't forget, there are three of us on rotation. Tomorrow it's Liu San's shift. We can't keep this from him — we'll have to cut him in."

Liu Xiyan pondered for a moment, then suddenly shook his head, overturning his own suggestion. "No, Old Li won't do. He's got no one to tie him down — we'd have no hold over him. If he takes the money and runs, or starts babbling once he gets to the capital, we'd be in for it."

He paused, then went on: "We need someone with a family. We're working for the Embroidered Uniform Guard now, after all. Only if we've got his wife and kids in our grip will he dare not try anything."

Zhang Fugui nodded with deep conviction.

The two men huddled together, muttering and whispering, their voices pressed to the barest murmur.

But after a few exchanges, they felt it was too risky to talk beneath the platform, so they simply climbed up together onto the tall watchtower.

The weather was turning cold. By regulation, one man was supposed to keep watch while the other sheltered from the wind in the little wooden hut below the tower, switching off in turns.

But at this moment, with the heat of money burning in them, this bit of cold wind was hardly worth minding.

As for both hiding in the hut? They wouldn't dare.

A few days earlier, watchmen at another station had neglected their duties, leaving a telegraph message to pass through the station with no one to receive it — a full two-hour delay.

The inspecting Ensign found something amiss and fished the two men straight out of a nearby brothel.

Assistant Commissioner Wang personally used the radio set to request military law from the capital. The next day, those two blood-dripping heads were publicly struck off under military statute and paraded for display at every station along the line.

No one thought there was anything wrong with this.

Working for the Embroidered Uniform Guard was simply like that.

Borrow that uniform's authority, and in the villages even the local gentry had to speak to you with a pleasant tone. With eight mace of silver a month in wages, you were more respectable than the runners at the county yamen.

What did a bit of wind and sun matter?

Take this Assistant Commissioner Wang — never mind his fair, tender face, his usual mild and amiable speech, his generous hand with money.

Word had it… that those two heads back then had been struck off under his personal supervision.

But none of this had anything to do with the two of them. Right now, their most pressing task was to hash out exactly how to arrange matters around those five taels of silver.

They talked for a good while and at last settled on a plan.

Zhang Fugui suddenly recalled something else. He nudged Liu Xiyan's arm and asked in a hushed voice: "Say… once this business is done, shouldn't we send a share over to Chief Wang too?"

Liu Xiyan blinked, then shook his head. "Forget it. Look at Chief Wang's bearing — so young and already an Assistant Commissioner. Would his family lack for the likes of what we've got? He hands out tips so readily; he doesn't seem the money-grubbing sort."

"Blockhead!" Zhang Fugui glared at him with the frustration of one watching iron refuse to turn to steel. "Whether he lacks it is one thing. Whether you show the intention is another thing entirely!"

He leaned right up to Liu Xiyan's ear, his voice dropping even lower.

"This is called 'personal obligation'! What we're sending isn't silver — it's loyalty. It's letting Chief Wang know that we're his men, that the things we do put his mind at ease!"

Seeing Liu Xiyan still hesitating, Zhang Fugui simply brought out his own "intelligence."

"I've heard that the watchmen over at the Wanquan Regional Military Commission are already planning to pool money together to prepare holiday gifts for their Ensign."

"It's only because we've got no big-shot figure here in Datong Prefecture to take the lead that things have stayed so quiet."

"But just because others aren't sending doesn't mean we shouldn't!"

"Otherwise, this job — no hauling, no carrying, just a bit of wind and sun — what entitles us to eight mace of silver a month? Could your heart be at ease? Could you sleep at night?"

Zhang Fugui's speech swept away Liu Xiyan's confusion like a flash of insight; he nodded repeatedly.

The two men drew even closer together and, to the accompaniment of the moaning wind, began discussing the details of that tribute offering.

The cold wind howled through the gaps in the watchtower, whipping up a sobbing wail that swallowed their every whispered word.

And that red command flag — the one signifying "voices carried a thousand li, matters of army and state" — had at some point been twisted by the wind into a thin stick, yet no one paid it any mind.

(Attached illustration, showing where this telegraph route is located. The setup's been going on so long you've probably forgotten, haha.)