Chapter 1684: The Great Ming Has Produced Another Muddle-Headed Ruler!

Fan Wencheng was disguised as a grand lama of profound attainment, and he entered the Zhangjiakou border market seated in a palanquin. The Ming officers and men of the Xuanfu Garrison guarding the market had all taken silver from the Aohan camp's trade caravan and let him through without any inspection at all. The market covered quite a large area, with two main streets crossing at right angles and a number of small lanes branching off them. Fan Yongdou's old Fan family establishment stood in one of those small lanes, and the lane itself was called Fan Family Lane. The whole lane was Fan family territory, packed full from end to end with shop fronts everywhere, all flying the old Fan family establishment's banner. In the middle was one especially grand and large shop front, and above it hung not the family banner but a gleaming golden signboard: "Fan Family Old Establishment — Head Office."

Accompanying Fan Wencheng was a nobleman of the Aohan camp, a man of the Borjigin clan, a direct descendant of Genghis Khan, a steppe fellow named Batur. At that moment he came up beside Fan Wencheng's palanquin with an ingratiating smile and respectfully helped "Master Fan" down.

Though Fan Wencheng was young, he was quite good-looking, with a broad square face and a solemn, dignified bearing. With his head shaved, a red monk's robe draped over him, and a cockscomb-shaped monk's hat on his head, he really did have something of the air of a steppe Living Buddha.

By now the main gate of the Fan Family Old Establishment Head Office stood wide open, and a group of men dressed like shop clerks, clustered around a richly dressed young man, came hurrying out to greet them. This young man was well acquainted with Batur, and as he walked he smiled and cupped his hands: "Steward Ba, we've been waiting for you! It's been unsettled beyond the passes lately — did you run into any trouble on the road?"

"What trouble could there be? I too am a descendant of the Great Khan — would Khutugtu Khan's soldiers dare touch me? Besides, I have this Red Sect master Ananda with me. Out on the southern steppe these days, who would dare not show face to a Red Sect grand lama?"

As Batur chatted and laughed, he introduced Fan Wencheng to Fan Yongdou.

They were still out on the street, so of course he could not say that Fan Wencheng was an envoy of the Great Jin's Tiancong Khan. Instead he said Fan Wencheng was a Red Sect grand lama, and even borrowed the name of the famous Red Sect grand lama Ananda Gushi of the steppe ("Gushi" meaning State Preceptor).

The Red Sect was a branch of Tibetan Buddhism, and in the first half of the seventeenth century it comprised the Nyingma, Sakya, and Kagyu schools. Before the Yellow Sect's Gelug school allied with the Khoshut Khanate to seize supreme power in Tibet, the Red Sect had been the orthodox one. But in southern Mongolia, the Yellow Sect had long held the dominant position. Khutugtu Khan, early in his reign, had received the Gelug school's precepts, and by rights should have been counted a Yellow Sect believer.

But later, somehow, he was won over by Sakya school monks and became a supporter of the Red Sect — perhaps he wanted to use the Sakya school's connection to Kublai Khan to elevate his own status, but it backfired, causing the Mongol tribes that followed the Yellow Sect to gradually distance themselves from Khutugtu Khan and weakening his ability to rally them.

For the moment, however, everything beyond Zhangjiakou was the domain of the Chahar tribe, and no one would dare provoke a Red Sect grand lama — that status was even more reliable than being a descendant of the Great Khan.

Of course, Fan Wencheng's Red Sect grand lama was a fake. Here at Zhangjiakou he could still fool people, but out on the steppe he could deceive no one. What truly protected the Aohan tribe's caravan was a squad of bayara soldiers dispatched by Hong Taiji — only a few dozen men, but on the steppe they were a force no one dared provoke.

Had they not been on a special mission, those few dozen men alone could have launched a surprise raid and seized the loosely defended Zhangjiakou fort!

"Master," Batur said, pressing his palms together respectfully and performing a Buddhist salute, then pointed at the young man and said to Fan Wencheng, "This is the proprietor of the Fan Family Old Establishment, Fan Yongdou."

So this young man was Fan Yongdou — later the foremost of the Eight Imperial Merchants, and already the richest man in Xuanfu. His family had traded with the Mongols beyond the passes for seven generations, and not only did he have friends everywhere beyond the passes, but even in Xuanfu, Datong, and Jizhen his friends were everywhere — who knew how many people above and below were spending Fan family silver.

That such an enterprise was now being run by this young man Fan Yongdou truly surprised Fan Wencheng somewhat.

"Master, Steward, this is no place for talk — please come inside, both of you." Fan Yongdou smiled and performed a Buddhist salute to Fan Wencheng and Batur, then made a gesture of welcome and ushered the two of them inside the Fan Family Old Establishment Head Office.

Once inside the Fan Family Old Establishment, Fan Yongdou did not pause, but led the two straight into the inner hall. He ordered servants to bring tea and refreshments and prepare a banquet, dismissed all the idle hangers-on, and only then looked at Fan Wencheng with a faint smile.

Clearly, this Fan Yongdou had already seen that Fan Wencheng was no lama, but a man of considerable background.

"Brother Fan," Fan Wencheng said, not bothering to hide anything. He cupped his hands and smiled: "I am a man of the Great Jin, sent by the Great Khan's order into the interior to gather a bit of information."

Fan Yongdou smiled: "Then how should I address you, sir?"

"Just call me Ananda." Fan Wencheng naturally would not tell Fan Yongdou his real name — not because he feared exposing his identity, but because he could not bear the shame of it. If he did not say his surname was Fan, people would take him for a noble of the Eight Banners; if he said it, they would know he was a Han Chinese.

"Master Ananda," Fan Yongdou said, not pressing further, but smiling as he asked, "May I ask what news the master wishes to inquire about?"

Batur, who was keeping them company, laughed and said: "Master, the Fan family of Zhangjiakou is well-informed. There is nothing about the Southern Dynasty's strength or weakness that their household does not know."

Fan Yongdou laughed: "You flatter us, you flatter us. It is only that in the three frontiers of Xuanfu, Datong, and Jizhen, no great matter can be hidden from my family."

"What about Beijing?" Fan Wencheng asked. "The Fan family has connections in Beijing too, does it not?"

"We have a few connections." Fan Yongdou answered with a smile.

But this was something of a boast. This was not yet the Great Qing, and his family were not yet the Eight Imperial Merchants — they were not even counted among the first-rank Shanxi merchants.

Although later generations, whenever they mentioned the Shanxi merchants of the Ming, would think of the Eight Imperial Merchants who colluded with the barbarians and sold out their country, in fact the "Eight Imperial Merchants" of the early Chongzhen years were merely treacherous traders in the Zhangjiakou area who dealt with the Mongols, and were no great figures among the Shanxi merchants. The truly great Shanxi merchants had all made their fortunes in the salt trade — how could trading with the Mongols compare with selling salt?

So Fan Yongdou had no particularly impressive connections in Beijing. If he had, he would have gone into the salt trade long ago — selling out one's country earned nowhere near as much as selling salt.

Of course, he did have channels for sending money to Beijing. Several of the running dogs under the just-toppled Wei Zhongxian and Madam Ke had all taken Fan family silver.

In addition, there were still a few Shanxi-born civil officials in office and military nobles of Xuanfu, Datong, and Jizhen origin who had also taken his family's silver.

If the Great Jin wanted Fan Yongdou to help make connections and find a channel for peace talks, Fan Yongdou did have ways.

"Then tell me about the Southern Dynasty's new Emperor," Fan Wencheng said. "I hear he executed Wei Zhongxian for deceiving the sovereign — he must be a wise ruler?"

Fan Yongdou let out a scornful laugh at that: "What wise ruler? He is plainly a muddle-headed ruler straight out of the Martial Temple!"

"How so?" Fan Wencheng asked. "Has the Southern Dynasty produced another muddle-headed ruler?"

Fan Yongdou laughed: "They have always been muddle-headed rulers, generation after generation — only the manner of muddle-headedness differs. The late Tianqi Emperor loved carpentry and handed all state affairs to Wei Zhongxian. And this current one — ha — is much like the Martial Temple: he loves playing at war! He is on the verge of going to war with the Chahar tribe!"

"What?" Fan Wencheng was startled. "The Southern Dynasty is going to war with the Chahar tribe? Why?"

"Why else?" Fan Yongdou's face was full of contempt. "Over a few hundred thousand taels of market bounty. Word from Beijing is that this Chongzhen Son of Heaven has declared that the Great Ming will not cede territory, will not make marriage alliances, and will not pay tribute! From now on, not a single coin will go to the Chahar tribe."

Fan Wencheng's face lit up with delight. "Is this true?"

"True!" Fan Yongdou laughed. "This Chongzhen Son of Heaven has recently transferred thirty thousand troops from Liaoxi to reinforce the three garrisons of Xuanfu, Datong, and Jizhen, and has also replaced the Regional Commanders of the three garrisons — Man Gui has gone to Datong, Zhao Shuaijiao to Jizhen, and Hou Shilu to Xuanfu. The three Regional Commanders have now taken up their posts, the Liaodong troops are arriving in waves, and the main forces of the three garrisons have all begun to be reorganized. It looks like he means to make a big fight of it!"

Fan Wencheng's eyes widened and he drew a sharp breath: "How many men does Liaoxi have? If he has pulled out thirty thousand troops, does that not leave it empty and undefended?"

Fan Yongdou nodded. "Indeed. If the Tiancong Khan and Khutugtu Khan were to join forces, that little Ming emperor would likely bleed badly this time!"

(End of Chapter)