Chapter 380: Army Rations

Du Du, the top-ranked scholar in the civil service examination, was one of the few Palace Gentlemen the King of Wei kept by his side without sending out for field training — a second-generation court literary retainer.

On the day of the summer solstice, Wang Long, who thought highly of him, assigned him a task.

"Today His Majesty has invited the elders of Chiyang into the palace to taste the new wheat together with the hundred officials. Jiya, you must record this well — best of all, compose a fu on it, and submit it within three days…"

Du Du, whose literary talent was the finest, knew this was his chance and said at once: "This humble officer can produce the piece within the day!"

"I knew it — Jiya is a swift hand. I shall look forward to your fine work." Wang Long marveled, but had no time to discuss it further with him and hurried off to officiate at the ceremony.

The wheat-tasting had two rites: first, taking fresh wheat to the funerary temple to offer sacrifice; then tasting the new wheat together with the full court of ministers and sharing the joy of harvest with the common people.

The funerary temple ceremony was nothing remarkable; what was novel was the wheat-eating that followed. In the past, the new wheat grains were usually boiled, then scooped from the broth with little strainers woven from wheat stalks — the taste can be imagined.

But today the King of Wei held a full flour banquet in the palace, all made from wheat flour ground days in advance and leavened, producing a great variety of foods.

For instance, the King of Wei had "steamed cakes" made — piping hot in the steamers, layer upon layer, brushed with bean paste, soft and melting in the mouth. Even the elderly Diwu Ba, the King's grandfather, quite enjoyed them.

These cakes gave Du Du inspiration, and seizing a moment he put brush to paper and wrote the opening lines:

"The lost Zhou text 'Tasting the Wheat' states: In the first month of summer, the king first prays in the ancestral temple, then tastes the wheat before the Great Ancestor. The bamboo vessels of the morning rite hold boiled wheat, called feng. The 'Inner Regulations' record no cakes among the dishes. Thus, though wheat was eaten, cakes did not yet exist. The making of cakes is a recent development."

"In the fierce cold of dark winter, at gatherings in the early dawn, snot freezes in the nose, frost forms outside the mouth. To fill the void and quell the shivers, nothing surpasses soup-cakes."

He traced the origins of "cake" as a food — by the time of Emperor Wu of Han at the latest, the native soup-cake and the foreign hu-cake from the western regions had already appeared.

Yet at that time, although winter wheat had been widely promoted, many held that wheat, sown in autumn and ripening in summer, absorbed the full qi of all four seasons and carried a slight toxicity. It therefore had to be boiled whole in water and eaten together with the broth to neutralize the poison. If ground and processed into cakes, it would cause poisoning, madness, and even death!

That cakes could ascend from the fare of barbarians and the poor to enter the halls of the elite was thanks to Emperor Xuan of Han. When Liu Bingyi was still obscure, he loved eating soup-cakes, and legend had it that any shop he visited would afterward see booming business — taken as evidence of the virtue and auspicious signs that destined Liu Bingyi to become the Son of Heaven.

But the food the King of Wei had the palace cooks prepare before everyone's eyes was far more elegant than the flat, sheet-like soup-cakes.

This was a food the King of Wei called "noodles." The household cook from the Diwu ward had now become an imperial chef, laboring at the chopping block to roll out the dough, kneading and shaping it over and over, then pulling it into thin strips.

The wheat flour was yellow, but under the literary brush of Du Du it became: "Dust flying, snow white, gluey-tough and sinewy-springy, the dough slips from the fingertips, hands winding back and forth in crisscross."

Once the dough was rolled out and dropped into the cauldron, Du Du went over to look and saw the noodles tumbling and churning in the boiling water, and so he wrote: "Then the fire blazes, the broth surges, fierce steam billows forth — soft as spring floss, white as autumn bleached silk."

The topping had also long been prepared. When the palace steward brought it out, Du Du even saw the Privy Treasurer Song Hong, who had followed the King of Wei and gone a full month without eating meat, smack his lips.

When the noodles were cooked, they were scooped into bowls, topped with an even ladle of the savory topping, sprinkled with chopped scallions, and seasoned with a little pepper-orchid, salt, and fermented soy paste.

Du Du also received a bowl. After trying a few slurps, his eyes lit up — he now knew exactly how to write the next lines.

"The meat is mutton shoulder and pork rib, fat and skin in equal measure."

"The aroma surges and billows, spreading outward; the fragrance wafts and scatters, reaching far and wide."

"Passersby lose their drool downwind; servant boys chew empty air and cast sidelong glances!"

There were also "baozi," similar to steamed cakes but stuffed with meat filling, boiled in water in a cauldron, and "jiaozi" with chive and meat filling. Simple flour was thus crafted into many varieties — as for the methods, no need to elaborate.

If there was still some hesitation at the first taste, after steeling themselves and trying it, it was hard to feel any aversion to noodles, baozi, or jiaozi. The assembled officials and the attending clerks and commoners all returned home full-bellied and full of praise.

Du Du wove everything he had seen and heard that day into his fu with artistic flourish, but in the end he felt something was missing.

Right — it needed elevation!

"In ancient times, Suiren drilled wood to make fire, transforming the rank and raw, and the people ate cooked food."

"Yi Yin rose from the kitchen, using the art of the cauldron and the pot to aid King Tang of Shang."

"Laozi said: Governing a great state is like cooking a small fish!"

Du Du compared Diwu Lun's building of watermills and invention of new ways of eating to the three sages, arguing that the King of Wei did this not for his own enjoyment, but out of pity for the common people who found wheat rice hard to swallow, and so created these foods.

Setting down his brush, Du Du titled it "Fu on Tasting the Wheat" and promptly presented it to the King of Wei.

Diwu Lun praised Du Du to his face for his quick wit and ready talent, and later said to Wang Long: "Before, I only felt Du Du's writing, apart from a clutter of allusions and ornate phrases, was hollow in content — the sort of thing the Master in his late years criticized as 'the fu of the rhetorician, beautiful to the point of excess.' But today this fu shows progress; it has reached 'the fu of the poet, beautiful yet measured.' At last it has some real substance."

Yet the King of Wei, patting his well-filled belly after the meal, laughed and said: "But he still got it wrong. I had all these wheaten foods made purely for my own enjoyment."

Eating alfalfa for a month had been more than enough for him. After reflecting on that suffering, Diwu Lun had decided: even if he had to take the lead in eating wheat before the autumn harvest, he would at least make some wheaten foods — no more of that hard-to-swallow wheat rice.

But although it was ground very fine, the flour was still far coarser than in later ages — like chewing rough grain, a far cry from what he had imagined.

And for the common people to eat food like today's at every meal? That road was long and far indeed. Diwu Lun reckoned that if, within his own lifetime, he could govern the realm well enough that the common folk had the leisure and means to eat a meal of jiaozi on festivals and holidays, that would be no small achievement…

So why did Diwu Lun spare no labor, building watermills far and wide, drying and hulling the state's wheat and grinding it into flour?

Very simple — three words.

"Making army rations!"

…

There was one kind of wheaten food that the hundred officials and the clerks and commoners who attended the wheat-tasting ceremony had no chance to eat.

Inside Weiyang Palace, in the courtyard of the office of the Grand Provisioner, who was specially responsible for meals, a great stove had been set up, a huge wok upon it. Sturdy soldiers wielded iron spatulas, ceaselessly stirring the contents of the wok.

It was ground wheat flour mixed with bean flour, no water added — only a smear of solidified lard around the bottom of the wok, then the flour was thrown in and dry-roasted over the fire.

The stove fire was not too fierce, but the soldier working the spatula still sweltered unbearably. After stirring a while, he had to switch with another man to continue, or else it would easily scorch — no shame in admitting it, when they first started they lacked experience and had already burnt several batches.

After about a quarter-hour of ceaseless stir-frying, the roasted flour gave off a fragrance. Judging by sight that it was about ready, they scooped it out and filled a vessel. A cook carried a bowl of it before the observing King of Wei.

The finished roasted flour was a deep yellow. Diwu Lun took a spoonful and ate it straight — not unpleasant, but very dry and hard to swallow. Add a little water and it could be kneaded and eaten; add more and it became a thin gruel.

After tasting the plain roasted flour, Diwu Lun tried some with salt added — the texture was a bit worse, but the salt still had to be added.

"Pack this roasted flour into long cloth bags and store them in the granary. See how long they last without spoiling."

If it could keep for a month or so without going bad, then this special army ration would be a success.

With the summer grain stored away, the first stage of this great famine could be considered safely passed. Diwu Lun summoned Ren Guang, who was specially in charge of grain, and made the following arrangements for the newly harvested stores.

"Half is to be kept in the Great Granary, to stabilize grain prices in Chang'an's eastern and western markets."

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"Tens of thousands of shi of wheat that there was no time to grind into flour are to be shipped by canal boat down the Wei River to Hedong."

Ren Guang acknowledged the order: "Your Majesty means to fight another 'Boat Campaign'!"

This event occurred in the Spring and Autumn period, during the honeymoon of the "Qin-Jin alliance." When Jin suffered a famine and sought aid from Qin, Duke Mu of Qin dispatched a great fleet of boats carrying ten thousand hu of grain. Setting out from the Qin capital Yongcheng, they followed the Wei River eastward for five hundred li by water, crossed the Yellow River, then turned north up the Fen River, reaching the Jin capital Jiangcheng directly.

At that time, the white sails of the grain transports stretched from the Qin capital to the Jin capital, eight hundred li of boats linked bow to stern in an unbroken line — history records it as the "Boat Campaign."

Now Jiang County was precisely the main base of the Eastern Expedition Army, where thirty thousand troops were massed, attacking Shangdang on one front while eyeing Taiyuan on the other. Shangdang's terrain was complex; Jing Dan was now fiercely assaulting Zhangzi County, bogged down in a protracted siege. Hedong's grain supplies were running tight, and Dou Rong had already sent urgent appeals — this wheat would be just in time to relieve the crisis at hand.

"As for the remaining wheat, the watermills everywhere will grind it day and night into flour, then it will be dry-roasted on the spot over makeshift stoves, sealed, and shipped in succession to Beidi and Shang commanderies!"

Diwu Lun had not forgotten Geng Yan, whom he had dispatched to fight the Xiongnu and the Hu-Han. Lately the Hu people had also suffered famine, and together with the Hu-Han forces they were raiding Xihe and Shang commanderies with growing frequency. For campaigning in that vast, sparsely populated region, roasted flour, paired with dried meat produced on the frontier, and with a few slices of cheese added, made the ideal individual field ration.

And Geng Yan did not disappoint Diwu Lun. Just after the summer solstice, good news arrived from the north:

"General of Chariots and Cavalry Geng Bozhao has subdued Beidi Commandery and is now shifting his forces to Shang and Xihe commanderies to hold off the Hu brigands!"

……

Geng Yan's offensive against Beidi Commandery lasted two months — not a slow pace, considering it was the Loess Plateau, where simply marching was grueling enough.

Fortunately, Longyou had also been stricken by famine and was in the midst of internal consolidation and reorganization. Wei Ao, conservative by nature, offered no determined resistance. As the two local great clans, the Fu and the Gan, fled west, the whole of Beidi Commandery formally changed its banners and submitted to the King of Wei.

Upon learning that the Xiongnu were raiding Xihe and Shang commanderies, Geng Yan immediately set out with his main force, but he also left behind a detached division under Meng Ze — who had been promoted to Colonel for his battlefield merits — and sent him to New Qinzhong.

After so long, New Qinzhong could at last be reunited with Guanzhong, like a child lost for many years returning to its father's embrace. As an old retainer of the King of Wei, Meng Ze was thoroughly elated.

They passed the desolate Shenquan Barrier; all around stretched nothing but barren wilderness. Sometimes they would go days without seeing a single dwelling, with only dried-up salt lakes and the Han Great Wall holding back the windblown sand to keep them company.

"Do you all think New Qinzhong is just like this place — a bleak frontier backwater?"

Meng Ze often boasted to his men about his homeland: "My home is in Lian County, at the foot of Mount Beiyi. In Han times they dug many canals there; the land is rich and fertile, known as Little Guanzhong. The wheat in New Qinzhong ripens half a month later than in Guanzhong — right now it must be a sea of gold. Once we get there, we can all taste the new wheat together!"

But when Meng Ze led his troops onto the grasslands of New Qinzhong, what he saw were not banners of the local people lining the roads to welcome the King of Wei, but crowd after crowd of dazed, helpless refugees, supporting the old and carrying the young, gathered around the fortified manor of Zhang Chun, Marquis of Fuping, their faces full of misery, while Zhang Chun's household servants and retainers were organizing relief.

Meng Ze was stunned. He had seen this scene before — many years ago, when the Xiongnu invaded, the people of several counties in Hexi had likewise gathered at the docks, fleeing for their lives.

But back then, they had followed Diwu Lun's Boar-Rush Braves in a counterattack and driven the Xiongnu back into the desert in one stroke. After that, even as the Central Plains fell into chaos, New Qinzhong had armed every able-bodied person, keeping crack troops on watch along the Great Wall and beacon towers, and thus preserved New Qinzhong from loss. But today…

Among the refugees, Meng Ze spotted many familiar faces — men from his home village. They flocked over to him, weeping: "Sir Meng, you've finally come back!"

"A few days ago, Xiongnu and Hu-Han soldiers breached the border. Commandant Xuan and Lord Zhang judged that the Hu forces were too numerous, so they had only the beacon towers and the Great Wall put up resistance, while the common people abandoned their homes and crossed the river to the eastern bank."

"The Hu brigands are not skilled at storming cities, but we are cursed that Lu Fang sent men from Shuofang and Wuyuan to assist them. Now Lingwu has fallen, and Shanghe City is lost…"

"Lian County — what of Lian County?" Meng Ze cried out in alarm. There lay not only his parents, wife, and children, but also the golden land he yearned for day and night — the new wheat was just at harvest time.

"Gone too!"

The people of New Qinzhong wailed in despair: "All three counties west of the great river have fallen to the Hu dust!"

Hearing that his homeland had fallen, and that many of his clan had not managed to escape in time, Meng Ze's ears filled with a dull roar, and then fury erupted within him.

"That fine Xuan Bohu! Before I left, he swore with every breath that he would defend the land and protect the people!"

Meng Ze shoved through the crowd and strode forward, shouting curses, searching for Xuan Biao.

But everyone looked at him with strange expressions, until old Zhang Chun hurried over upon hearing the news. When Meng Ze demanded to know where Xuan Biao was, Zhang Chun only sighed.

"The Hu forces numbered tens of thousands, horse and foot — it truly could not be held. And Commandant Xuan, to cover the people's retreat, led his troops to stay behind and delay them. The Hu cut off his line of retreat, and there has been no word of him since!"