Chapter 168: Shareholders

The layout of a commandery office is essentially a scaled-down imperial palace — front halls for governance, rear quarters for rest. It serves as both a workplace and a residential courtyard.

The rows of rooms lining the outer perimeter house the various eastern and western bureaus, all bustling with activity. Junior clerks shuttle in and out carrying bamboo slips and wooden tablets, and every matter of the commandery, great or small, is handled here.

The rear courtyard, separated by a single wall and guarded by a few soldiers, is where Diwu Lun's family resides.

Follow the public account: Book Friends Base Camp — cash and coins just for following!

Ma Chanchan had moved in some time ago. Though this courtyard is not as spacious as the Ma family estate in Maoling, it is considerably larger than the Diwu clan's fortified compound. Several locust trees have been planted here, their crowns rising above the walls, branches thick with leaves and blossoms in full bloom.

Beneath the grey-tiled walls with their dark green brickwork, there were also flowers, shrubs, and green bamboo planted by the family of the previous commandery governor. Ma Chanchan guessed that the former governor's wife had likely been from the south.

Diwu Lun, for all his attentiveness, was still a man. Busy as a dog all day, how could he have the mind to care for such plants? The commandery staff had also been replaced with a new batch, mostly trusted household maids from the Diwu clan. Their loyalty was beyond question, but they were rough-handed and far more interested in growing vegetables. With no one tending them, the flowers and shrubs had fallen into decline.

"If a guest with an eye for detail were to visit and see the courtyard in such disarray, they might conclude that if the governor cannot keep even one courtyard in order, how can he govern a whole commandery? I fear it could hinder my husband's greater affairs."

So Ma Chanchan, in her idle moments, would water them herself, helping them regain their vibrant reds and purples, their lush green vigor. She also mended the cracked and broken flagstones and scraped away the moss so that visiting elders would not slip. Whatever chaos had been tolerated before, it was now her responsibility to maintain the commandery's proper appearance and make Diwu Lun's living quarters comfortable and pleasant.

When maidservants passed by and saw their mistress standing by the wall in her plain, unadorned robe, they all bowed to her: "Madam Diwu."

Ma Chanchan replied with a smile, "Just call me Young Mistress."

There was no helping it — Diwu Lun's surname was simply too… strange. Especially when paired with "Madam," it made people who didn't know better think she was the governor's fifth wife!

When she led the servants into the rear quarters carrying the meal, Diwu Lun was still flipping through the bamboo slips that his subordinate clerks had already sifted through — yet they still piled up like a small mountain.

Diwu Lun sat there frowning, brush in hand, writing something. When Ma Chanchan drew near, she could see three kinds of marks on the slips.

Checks, crosses, and question marks — Diwu Lun's own invention. Sometimes he even wrote three in a row:???

Whenever he came across a slip that provoked this reaction, Diwu Lun would be so irritated that he'd rise and pace, muttering curses about some county magistrate as stupid as a pig.

After a few curses, however, he could only rub his aching temples, sit back down, and keep reading.

As far as Ma Chanchan could tell, Diwu Lun's bamboo slips were never-ending. Sometimes she had to reach out and physically pull the slip from his hand before he would properly sit down to eat.

Whether because they hadn't courted before marriage, or because they had lived apart for so long after the wedding, their relationship was still not particularly intimate. They remained courteous as honored guests. But over the past month or so, their interactions had increased a little, no longer the awkward scene of exchanging only a word or two over an entire meal.

As Ma Chanchan filled Diwu Lun's second bowl of rice, she said, "In the past, I once stayed at my uncle's residence when he was the Regional Chief of Zengshan. I heard my aunt say that his desk rarely held any bamboo slips, and every day was quite leisurely."

Diwu Lun shook his head. "A large number of slips sent up from the counties is actually a good thing. If the number suddenly drops, it's not that the commandery is already perfectly governed — it means one of two possibilities."

"First, the counties are no longer obeying the governor and have stopped reporting every matter upward."

For example, the three counties controlled by the Li clan in the commandery's northwest, and the three former marquisates of the Zhao royal descendants — they communicated only once or twice a month. To learn the true situation there, spies had to be sent. They were nominally part of his jurisdiction, yet they were like enemy states.

"Second, the slips are being blocked by the subordinate clerks and the various bureaus."

It was common for local petty officials to collude with powerful families and sideline the two-thousand-bushel governor. Never believe the nonsense they feed you about "ruling with hands folded." You might enjoy ease and leisure in ordinary times, but at a critical moment, they'll give you a big surprise.

Of course, one must not swing to the opposite extreme and become excessively hands-on. For instance, if a common soldier in the army committed an offense warranting twenty strokes of the cane, let Ma Yuan and the military officers handle it themselves — no need to review and approve it. Trying to personally seize hold of every matter would only wear oneself out.

Diwu Lun was no political prodigy, and his luck wasn't particularly good either. He could only take the middle path, relying on diligence and constant learning to make up for his shortcomings.

After the meal, Diwu Lun pondered the information Ma Chanchan had revealed. It seemed his wife's uncle, the Regional Chief of Zengshan, Ma Yuan, had a grip on Shang Commandery that warranted three question marks at best. How much support could he truly provide in the future?

It appeared that among the Ma brothers, Ma Yuan was still the most talented and capable. Diwu Lun now relied on him heavily — there was no helping it; this father-in-law was simply too competent. Whoever used him couldn't help but exclaim how indispensable he was! During the three months Ma Yuan was away, Diwu Lun had to personally oversee military affairs just to keep the armaments from falling behind.

In the long run, over-reliance on one person or one family was not a good thing, but in the short term, he couldn't do without him. Ma Yuan had already brought his own children, wives, and concubines to Weicheng Commandery, binding himself even more tightly to Diwu Lun. The current situation was like a son-in-law and his wife's family jointly investing to open a shop — only Diwu Lun hung out the signboard as the boss.

Sitting on the couch, Diwu Lun privately took stock of his power base. Ma Yuan was his foremost military officer, and Geng Chun was his foremost civil official. But Geng Chun's usual attitude toward Diwu Lun was not that of a subject toward a lord, but rather that of a friend — he was, after all, someone Diwu Lun had drawn in through old ties.

There is no loyalty in this world without a reason. Geng Chun had his own private motives: to secure an extra path for the Geng clan of Songzi in the future. After all, Dingtao in Jiping Commandery, where his father held office, was the center of the realm, a battleground on all four sides — it looked anything but secure. Especially now that the Gengshi Emperor and the Grand Preceptor's eastern campaign army of over a hundred thousand imperial troops was using it as a staging ground. Once the fighting was over, that once-rich land would likely become a realm of ghosts.

That was why Geng Chun had invested his own person in Wei, serving as Diwu Lun's deputy, the Commandery Aide. Considering the strength of the Geng clan of Julu, he could stand alongside Ma Yuan as a left-and-right pillar — a shareholder's share!

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If others can invest, they can also withdraw their investment. This was the present reality that he had to soberly recognize.

If the elder Geng was like this, the younger Geng went without saying. Geng Yan had agreed to serve as a military advisor not even because of Diwu Lun, but to travel south for amusement and, incidentally, to measure himself against his fellow townsman Ma Yuan.

Geng Yan's father, the Regional Chief of Shuodiao, Geng Kuang, was a veteran frontier general who commanded three thousand You Province shock cavalry. Once the realm fell into chaos, the younger Geng might well resign his post, hang up his seal, and turn around to run back to Shuodiao. But even if it was just to build good relations with Geng Kuang and draw him in as an ally, this young man still had to be carefully cultivated — he could be called a "potential shareholder."

When all was said and done, Diwu Lun's true foundation was still the old Boar-Rush Braves subordinates he had personally led, along with his clansmen. Only when Wan Xiu, Diqi Biao, and the veterans arrived would his forces be complete — these were his claws and fangs.

Huang Chang and Feng Qin, on the other hand, were locals and couldn't easily run away. Some sought a better future for themselves, while others had tied their clan's interests to Diwu Lun's ship, hoping to survive the coming chaos — their motives varied. Feng Qin was down-to-earth and capable in handling affairs; Huang Chang was eloquent and persuasive. Both could serve as trusted confidants. Regrettably, their vision was mostly limited to Wei itself.

Pillars, claws and fangs, trusted confidants — his wings were gradually filling out. After spending the better part of a year assembling his team, Diwu Lun's core staff was basically complete. He also understood what he now lacked most.

It certainly wasn't a brain — he himself was that.

"I lack eyes."

"I lack a strategist of far-reaching vision, one who holds the realm in his heart, who can help me observe and analyze the shifting situation under heaven!"

…

Meanwhile, in Chenliu Commandery, several hundred li from Weicheng, Feng Yan had just concluded his second attempt to remonstrate with the General of Renewal, Lian Dan — following the failure of his previous effort.

"It is not a betrayal of His Majesty, but an act of self-preservation. The sage turns calamity into blessing; the wise man turns defeat into achievement. I pray you, my lord, will consider this deeply and not follow the common herd. If you can do this, then fortune and emolument shall flow without end, and your glorious deeds shall be recorded imperishably."

But Lian Dan's loyalty to Wang Mang far exceeded Feng Yan's expectations.

This ever-defeated general said, "What Jingtong says is not wrong. This is indeed an age of collapse, and this collapse is not the fault of His Majesty alone. We who serve as the Three Excellencies, the Nine Ministers, and the generals also bear grave guilt."

"My family was not prominent under the Han. I served His Majesty from my youth and was promoted step by step, enfeoffed as a marquis. I have successively served as Governor of Yongbu, Grand Marshal, General of the Southern Campaign, and General of Renewal. I admit my talents are mediocre. I blundered especially during the campaign against Gouding, achieving nothing for so long and ruining the state's affairs. When I was summoned back to Chang'an, I was certain I would be held accountable and executed."

Lian Dan raised his head and sighed. "I never expected that His Majesty would pardon my crimes and entrust me with heavy responsibility once more, sending me on the northern campaign against the Xiongnu."

"I agree with Yan Erudite's view: the Xin's troubles do not lie with the Xiongnu or Gouding, but with internal rebels and roving bandits. So I joined hands with the Grand Preceptor to devise a plan, sending Han Wei beyond the frontier to his death to end the war. But is my loyalty to the Xin any less than Han Wei's?"

"Now that the lands east of the passes are in turmoil, His Majesty has again dispatched me as a general. Though Lian Dan's ability is insufficient, having received the state's heavy trust, if I do not sacrifice my body on the battlefield, I will have no way to repay this grace and fulfill my duty. Setting aside the fact that our army is vast in this campaign, even if we were defeated, to die for the Xin would leave me with no shame before His Majesty! As for those words too painful to hear — Jingtong, speak them no more!"

These were no mere formalities. In Lian Dan's large, perpetually dull eyes, Feng Yan indeed glimpsed a flash of spirit — a resolve to repay his sovereign with death.

Incompetence coupled with stubborn, foolish loyalty. There was no saving him.

Feng Yan understood at once. He closed his mouth and remonstrated no further. As the great army continued its advance from Chenliu toward Dingtao, Feng Yan made another request of Lian Dan: he wished to go to Zhiting Commandery (Dong Commandery) to supervise the grain and fodder supply.

Lian Dan did not stop him. He allowed Feng Yan to take a few personal attendants and depart north from the army. By the end of the fourth month, after they had entered the borders of Zhiting Commandery, the roadsides began to present scenes of corpses strewn from starvation. The detached troops of the Grand Preceptor Wang Kuang's army, marching through this region, could not break their habit of extortion and indiscriminate slaughter even without orders from their superiors. So much so that the common people had begun to chant a rhyme:

"Better to meet the Red Eyebrows than to meet the imperial army!"

This only steeled Feng Yan's resolve. Passing through a hamlet utterly ravaged by soldiers and bandits, he found it filled mostly with corpses — some already stinking, some still fresh. Wild dogs ran rampant through the lanes, red-eyed as they fed on human flesh.

Feng Yan ordered his personal retainers to kill one of the dogs. He then took off his own official robes, draped them over the dog's carcass, and personally stabbed it furiously with a blade!

In the end, he handed the official robe, now riddled with knife holes and stained with blood, to one of his retainers.

"Take a few men back and report to the General of Renewal. Say that Feng Yan was killed by roving bandits before he even reached Zhi Pavilion, his body buried on the spot, and only these clothes and his official seal remain — I hope they give the General something to remember him by!"

Faking death to escape? His trusted aide was stunned, but still took the order and left. Feng Yan, however, let out a long breath. "From this moment on, I have leapt free of a leaking, sinking ship."

He was grateful for Lian Dan's recognition and promotion, but Lian Dan was determined to be loyal to Wang Mang to the end and go down with the Xin — Feng Yan could not follow Lian Dan in that resolve.

His ancestor was the famous Feng Fengshi of the Xuandi and Yuandi reigns. The Feng and Wang families had even had some minor friction in the past, and Feng Yan himself had never received generous treatment from the Emperor. There was no need to drag himself and his whole clan into this. He had said all he could to dissuade the man. Since the General of Renewal was set on his course, Feng Yan could only let him down.

"Duling is out of the question for now. Where should I go?"

Though he had successfully jumped ship, one glance at the ruined hamlets and the corpses strewn everywhere told him he was still in the water, and far from reaching the shore.

Feng Yan had long since planned his escape routes. He thought to himself, "There are three places I can go."

One was to join General of the Bo River, Dou Rong. They had served together, but Dou Rong was now in Yan You's army, marching south against the Greenwood. That campaign was unlikely to end well either. Going there would be like throwing himself into a fire — unwise.

Another was Shangdang Commandery. The Feng clan had originated in Shangdang; it was his ancestral home. Moreover, Feng Yan's good friend, a fellow dissident in the eyes of the court, Bao Yong, was serving as an advisor to the Grand Governor of Shangdang and enjoyed deep trust. He could offer Feng Yan some measure of protection.

But that protection was no more than a thatched hut in a rainstorm — liable to be blown away by a strong gale at any moment. What Feng Yan wanted now was to burrow into a solid, sturdy house of brick and tile, ideally one where he could still stretch his limbs and put his talents to use.

"Then I shall choose my third bolt-hole!"

Feng Yan looked north. Why had he, earlier, risked being discovered by the General of Renewal to help Diwu Lun — a man he had met only a handful of times — for no apparent reason, altering the Boar-Rush Braves' marching route through New Qinzhong?

Why else? For the future… no, for a way out right now!

"Let's go — to Weicheng Commandery!"

"Diwu Lun owes me an enormous debt of gratitude!"

…

PS: Chapter 3 at 18:00.