Chapter 79: When in Doubt, Decide Not

"Eat slower, eat slower — there's plenty."

Diwu Lun could never have imagined that Xuan Biao, who at their last meeting had spoken of a scholar's backbone and a Confucian's dignity, would lose all composure like this over a single bowl of broth-soaked rice.

Little Zhang Yu, standing nearby, chuckled and said, "Sect Leader, after two months of starvation, everyone ends up like this. My brother Zhu and I were the same when we first arrived."

Xuan Biao's hand, which had been shoveling millet rice, stopped. As the hunger in his belly eased a little, what followed was overwhelming shame.

After all, barely half a year ago, when Diwu Lun had gone to pay his respects to Xuan Biao's father Xuan Bing, Xuan Biao had still thought Yang Xiong lacked staunchness and had compromised his moral integrity!

Xuan Biao swallowed his food and said guiltily, "Lord Diwu must know that I followed my father into reclusion in the mountains and forests, and I have endured hardship — tilling the land myself, sewing my own clothes, eating nothing but coarse grains and vegetables, no better off than a farmer."

"But this army camp — it is truly no place for human beings!"

Fortunately, Diwu Lun did not deliberately humiliate Xuan Biao with his words. He had a very good impression of Xuan Bing, who kept himself unsullied, and asked with concern how Xuan Biao had ended up here.

Only then did Xuan Biao tell his story.

It was Xuan Bing's kindness that had brought disaster. In the autumn of last year, when the court levied the property tax, Xuan Bing had taken in several runaway slaves and impoverished tenant farmers who could not pay the tax, but the local county clerk discovered it and came knocking.

It was also Xuan Biao's own fault for being too young and rigidly upright in the past, treating the officials sent by Wang Mang and the province and commandery to summon his father with far too poor an attitude. Apart from Diwu Lun, who would not bear a grudge?

The Magistrate of Xiuling County had long found the Xuan family deeply disagreeable, so he seized the chance to blow it into a major case, making an example of the Xuan household. Xuan Bing was deemed a political offender for repeatedly refusing office and was sent to the Bureau of the Master of Fates of the Five Majesties. Xuan Biao, along with the dozen-odd people his family had sheltered, were all conscripted as laborers.

Once Xuan Biao had eaten his fill, Diwu Lun asked, "When you left Xiuling County, how many were you in total — slaves, convicts, and able-bodied men?"

"One hundred and seventy."

"And how many were left when you reached the conscript camp in Liewei Commandery?"

Xuan Biao sighed. "Fewer than seventy."

More than half lost? Diwu Lun was shocked. "Could it be they fled on the road?"

Xuan Biao shook his head. "Several tens ran away, and several tens dropped dead. Lord Diwu knows that Xiuling is the most remote part of the commandery. It is four hundred li to Changling, a ten-day march. So many places along the road were utterly desolate — not only was there no food to eat, there was not even water to drink. The post stations along the way had prepared no provisions either. Usually, the officials would eat while we stood there swallowing our saliva, watching. Only every other day, upon reaching a new county seat, could we get one meal of wretched slop."

"The rest of the time, we could only dig up grass roots and gnaw tree bark at the rest stops. If the officials pressed us hard, we had to march on empty stomachs. Hungry and exhausted the whole way, every night several people died — or fell gravely ill with dysentery. Those still breathing were simply abandoned in the wilderness to feed the wild dogs."

All this had happened during the two months Diwu Lun was away in Shu. It was a tragedy beyond human reckoning.

And according to Xuan Biao, even the half who had managed to reach the commandery's conscript camp were still struggling on the line between life and death. They were tethered with ropes like dogs in crude camps, beaten at the slightest movement. As for food, it was even scantier and coarser — just enough to keep them alive and prevent them from starving to death.

"At night, the shed-huts were nailed shut with wooden boards. If they weren't, by dawn everyone would have fled. As a result, one night a fire broke out. It burned three huts. Two hundred people died…"

At this, Xuan Biao broke into violent coughing. As he coughed, tears welled up in his eyes. He seemed to smell again the choking smoke and fire of that night, mingled with the sickeningly savory stench of roasting flesh.

Diwu Lun handed him a cup of water. Xuan Biao held the scalding hot water in his hands and blew on it gently, and then he actually wept. Truly — for an entire winter, he had not had a single sip of hot water.

"Did no one resist?" Diwu Lun was somewhat puzzled, for as far as he knew, the escort for several hundred conscripts numbered only a few dozen men.

Had this been before, Xuan Biao would certainly have been filled with righteous fury, but now, having been brutally beaten down by reality, he could only shake his head and smile bitterly. "How could we resist? They had armor and crossbows, while we were bare-handed, and when we marched, we were bound with our hands behind our backs and tied together."

What was more, these Boar-Rush Braves were mostly private slaves abandoned because their masters did not want to pay the three-thousand-six-hundred-cash levy. They were people long accustomed to being slaves.

Like a flock of sheep, they only followed the master's whip and stones. Shut inside the pen, they would watch wide-eyed as their fellows were dragged off one by one to be slaughtered, yet still stand rooted to the spot. They had long since grown numb.

The result was that, in the process of assembling toward the commandery, out of every five conscripts, one fled, one fell ill, and one died. Only two out of five survived to be received into the ranks by the officers dispatched from the General of Renewal's headquarters.

So it turned out that the thousand-odd men Diwu Lun had seen recorded in the main camp's registers were already the survivors of two or three thousand.

Only after that did the Boar-Rush Braves begin to receive a fixed daily grain ration. The march from Changling to Hongmen was not so far, and the death rate dropped considerably, yet in the brief two months since, nearly three hundred more had still perished.

So it was that, after enduring countless hardships to reach the great camp at Hongmen, they had thought they would finally receive supplies and rest — little knowing they had merely arrived at another hell.

Diwu Lun had gone to inspect it. The dwellings were sheds with thatched roofs, their four walls barely standing. Some seventy or eighty men lay on wooden planks inside the sheds. Only a few occupied the warmest spots, covered in old sheepskin coats and wrapped in bedding — they were the Sergeants and Corporals.

The ordinary soldiers had no bedding at all, only spreading and covering themselves with a little dry wheat straw. The promised winter clothes had turned into thin summer garments. The shoes issued two months ago were long since tattered beyond recognition; they went barefoot or wore only straw sandals. To keep warm, they huddled as close together as possible, but sometimes, waking in the middle of the night…

You would find that the fellow villager beside you had already gone cold.

The weakest and thinnest were tossed into corners like piled-up corpses. They were too ill to rise to relieve themselves, defecating and urinating right where they lay, so that filth was everywhere and the stench was suffocating.

The grain and fodder issued by the court were of full measure, but after being skimmed layer by layer through officials and army clerks of different systems, little remained. The food was a little millet rice mixed with sand, dirt, and fine gravel per person per day — often even that was unavailable, replaced by thin gruel.

Xuan Biao said through gritted teeth, "The officials even egg on the strong to seize the rations of the weak, deliberately letting them die. Every morning, we have to carry out several corpses…"

Di Biao, who had served in the army before, explained the reason from the side: with this constant non-combat attrition, the officials could, first, pocket a large number of empty-payroll slots, and second, weed out the weak.

He did not much care and said with a laugh, "They're useless people anyway. By the time we mobilize for the front, they'd die on the road regardless. Since they're doomed, better to die sooner and suffer less."

Di Biao's words roused Xuan Biao to indignation once more: "Absurd! If they were useless, why force everyone here when conscripting laborers in the first place? Do they simply deserve to die?"

Di Biao was unimpressed. "If you conscript too few, you can't make up the quota. Ever since the Former Han, for every thousand conscripted, five hundred survive — so they have no choice but to conscript in excess."

Xuan Biao was about to retort, but felt a wave of helplessness and could only shed tears. The reason he had survived until now was entirely because the people traveling with him, out of regard for his father, had looked after him the whole way, enduring hunger to share their meager rations with him. Very few of them were left now.

Human life? Just a consumable — no different from the mules, horses, and livestock conscripted along with them. Or even worse.

After hearing Xuan Biao's ordeal, Diwu Lun fell into a long, brooding silence. Had he not entered the army himself, he would have had no visceral understanding of it. After a long while, he simply called Xuan Biao by his courtesy name: "Bohu, come serve as my clerical aide."

"That way, you won't have to go hungry anymore."

Xuan Biao said nothing, only nodded his assent. When he had first entered the camp, that Company Commander Dai Gong had also wanted to select him as a clerical aide, but Xuan Biao had refused. Back then, he would still rather break than bend, refusing to show the slightest courtesy to wicked officials.

But now… as long as there was something to eat, it was fine. Dignity, moral backbone — all of that could be shoved to the back!

Yet, to his surprise, Diwu Lun still remembered the words he had spoken back then.

"Half a year ago, Bohu, in both word and deed, you aspired to be a man of righteous honor."

Xuan Biao raised his head and found Diwu Lun's face utterly solemn, by no means mocking him. "I can see that your father has grown disheartened with the world, but your blood still runs hot."

And then reality had beaten him bloody, teaching him that in this degenerate age, even staying alive was no easy thing.

"People like us are of low station and our words carry little weight. A mere Major cannot change the world for now."

"But he can change this tiny camp! If evil has a distance, we can at least pull it back from a hundred paces to fifty."

Diwu Lun looked steadily at Xuan Biao. "Is Bohu willing to help me?"

Xuan Biao's hands trembled slightly. He drained the hot water in his cup and bowed deeply. "Yes! Your subordinate is willing to share one heart with the Major through darkness and light, to tread righteousness and brave peril, equal in life and death, steadfast in honor!"

…

"I am Diwu Lun, courtesy name Boyu, a fellow man of Liewei Commandery with all of you! From this day forward, I am the Major of this camp!"

The next day, before the morning meal, Diwu Lun appeared, standing on the platform and addressing the Boar-Rush Braves who had been assembled in the bitter cold.

Just like the day before, the crowd was still filthy, chaotic, and jammed together. The soldiers were feeble and gaunt, their clothes hanging off them like rags. They stared at Diwu Lun with blank indifference, like a pack of beggars watching a rooster with its head held high crowing at the crack of dawn.

Still, the name Diwu Lun did stir a handful of people: "Is that the filial and righteous Diwu Lang?"

The full year Diwu Lun had spent building his reputation back home was not wasted effort. A few glimmers of expectation crept onto the numb faces; they still had faith in a filial son and righteous man. And Diwu Lun's most famous deed was paying the entire poll tax for his whole clan out of his own pocket — by that measure, he ought to be a good man, a kind man. Perhaps he could improve life inside the camp?

He would, right? Surely he would?

But most people still gazed up hesitantly, their eyes listless — until Diwu Lun skipped the long-winded speeches no one cared about and announced a happy event straight away.

"Extra rations today!"

"Yeahhh!" All eight hundred men instantly came alive and cheered. They drummed their wooden bowls in unison; though no one had much water for washing, the bowls looked spotless — in truth, they had licked them clean.

The grain clerk in charge of distributing rations curled his lip and glanced back at Company Commander Dai Gong, who was silently watching everything. In the clerk's eyes, Dai Gong was the real man running this camp, shielded from above by Colonel Liangqiu.

Only after Dai Gong nodded at him did the grain clerk have the food carted forward. Diwu Lun had not lied: today it really was golden-yellow dry millet rice, along with jar after jar of sauce to go with it.

The court's regulation was one shi of grain per man per month, but that had never actually been carried out.

The grain sent by the Receiver of Words — that is, the Grand Minister of Agriculture — was short to begin with, and by the time it reached the detachment, only half remained. The camp clerks not only drew pay for dead men and phantom soldiers, they also skimmed the rations of the living, so that each man got a mere two and a half dou of food a month — pitifully little. What could they do but boil thin gruel?

To get dry rice, then, was a feast richer than New Year's for the Boar-Rush Braves.

In front of every hut, the men clamored and scrambled over each other, no order at all; only when the clerks beat them back with clubs would they retreat a few steps.

"Today is just a special case," Dai Gong quietly warned the grain officer afterward. After all, it was Diwu Lun's first day at his post — they still had to give him some face.

Besides, Dai Gong figured that Diwu Lun's insistence yesterday on counting the camp's true numbers was just to get a clear picture. After all, Diwu Lun had not even bothered with the usual hypocrisy of sharing food and clothing with the soldiers.

That, in fact, was a lesson Diwu Ba had taught Diwu Lun: "When this old man was conscripted, I often met young officers who had read a few military manuals and, the moment they entered camp, started sharing food and clothing with the rank and file. How ridiculous!"

"Even if you eat with them meal after meal, those men are still drinking gruel and eating chaff all day, their bellies empty. Far from feeling grateful, they will simply think this officer is useless!"

Diwu Ba told Diwu Lun that the correct way to survive after entering camp was to ignore the majority at first, gather the loyal, brave, and crack troops, and then treat them generously — strip off your own coat to clothe them, push your own food to feed them.

At this point, the clerk Xuan Biao, who had been in camp for two months, proved useful. He told Diwu Lun that the sturdiest men in camp had long ago been taken into personal service by the company commanders and platoon leaders.

"The most sought-after are the condemned murderers among the Boar-Rush Braves. Those men are ruthless, and now they've all become personal bodyguards and enforcers for the various officers."

And the single biggest reason the officers drew empty pay was to support this clique of "tiger soldiers" who had already sworn private allegiance to them. A large portion of the skimmed rations ended up in these men's mouths. They were the ones who did the daily training in camp, wearing armor and carrying swords, suppressing any discontent.

Still, based on his everyday observations, Xuan Biao brought a dozen or so men to Diwu Lun. Most were of private-slave origin. The big fellow who led them was named "Zang Nu" — zang meant "slave," so the name meant "the slave called Nu."

His eyebrows were thick, as if painted on with ink, and his voice was a low rumble. According to Xuan Biao, this Zang Nu was a righteous man among the camp's youths. Strong and sturdy, he never snatched food, and he even took the initiative to carry out the dead for burial. He had once saved Xuan Biao's life.

"Where are you from?"

"Yunyang County."

"Whose household slave were you?"

"The Fan clan."

Diwu Lun laughed. "Fan Zhu?"

Zang Nu nodded, still not daring to speak his former master's name. But the odd thing was, he was clearly a capable worker — why had Fan Zhu cast him aside?

The other men's situations were much the same. These were the "tiger soldiers" Diwu Lun selected. Having spent so long in this dreadful camp, their demands for survival had sunk extremely low. Promise them full bellies, thick clothing, and warm heated beds, add Xuan Biao's lavish praise of Diwu Lun beside them, and the men naturally kowtowed and pledged themselves as his personal guard.

Within a few days, a fifty-man platoon of personal tiger-soldier guards was organized. Besides Zang Nu, men like Jiming and Pingdan were each given a squad of ten to lead. Armor and weapons were issued, and they stood watch around the perimeter of Diwu Lun's quarters.

In the eyes of Dai Gong, Jin Dan, and the others, this was a sign that Major Diwu was about to draw empty pay and raise a private retinue too. They breathed a sigh of relief.

"It's time to lay our cards on the table," Dai Gong resolved. With an extra man above them, they would inevitably have to share some of the empty-pay slots and skimmed grain, funneling benefits to Diwu Lun as tribute.

Dai Gong sent Jin Dan to hint at this to Diwu Lun, expecting it to be difficult. To his surprise, Diwu Lun did not put on the slightest pretense and cheerfully accepted the two hundred shi of grain per month as his perk.

Only after Jin Dan came back delighted and told everyone did Dai Gong fully relax. Now Diwu Lun was in the muck with them. Though everyone's take had shrunk a little, at least everything could go on as before.

Dai Gong sneered inwardly: "Filial and righteous Major, what a joke — one thing on his lips, another behind his back. The way I see it, he's just another vulgar fellow like the rest of us. Who's he putting on an act for!"

…

With Dai Gong, the ringleader, also dropping his guard, the grain officer, on his instructions, ended the Boar-Rush Braves' days of eating dry rice. The cauldrons once again held thin gruel — five bowls of it still could not fill a belly.

It is hard to go from luxury back to frugality. Complaints erupted everywhere, and everyone was utterly disillusioned with Diwu Lun.

But just as the Boar-Rush Braves' anger was boiling over, Diwu Lun received a visitor — none other than his friend, the Receiver of Words clerk in charge of delivering grain to Hongmen Camp: Geng Chun, Geng Boshan.

Diwu Lun deliberately made sure the whole camp knew of Geng Chun's visit. This rather startled Dai Gong, Jin Dan, and the others. Although the grain sent by the Receiver of Words went straight to the headquarters of the General of Renewal and was then distributed to each unit, the Receiver was still the source — getting on good terms with him might mean a bigger share.

Diwu Lun also made a point of talking loudly with Geng Chun at the camp gate. During their conversation, Geng Chun mentioned that State Preceptor Liu Xin had asked why Diwu Lun had not visited his residence for so long, and had brought along several precision-measured jialiang vessels, saying the State Preceptor had entrusted them to Diwu Lun…

This left the officers even more stunned. They had assumed Diwu Lun was merely a former bureau clerk and Palace Gentleman, somewhat well-known within the commandery, saddled with an impoverished teacher, and forced into the army because of it. But from what Geng Chun implied, Diwu Lun could meet regularly with the State Preceptor?

Though Liu Xin had long since lost any real power, he was still one of the Four Supports. By the time Diwu Lun saw Geng Chun off and returned to camp, the officers all treated him with noticeably more respect.

This was the second piece of advice Diwu Ba had given Diwu Lun: "Make sure everyone knows you have someone above you! Only then will they be wary."

With that foundation laid, Diwu Lun dropped the act. That day at the morning meal, he suddenly carried out a snap inspection. Just as the Boar-Rush Braves, faces grim, were lining up for their thin gruel, Diwu Lun appeared. Behind him were Diwu Biao, Jiming, and the rest of his fully armed private retinue, along with Zang Nu and fifty other newly recruited bodyguards who had eaten their fill and recovered their strength these past few days. Xuan Biao followed at his side.

The party took their positions in the yard. Diwu Lun stepped forward, snatched the ladle from the dumbstruck grain officer's hand, dipped it into the cauldron, and found nothing but watery gruel. His fury erupted.

"Did this Major not order you to cook dry rice every day and give the soldiers enough to eat? Why is it thin gruel again? Grain clerk — are you the one skimming the rations?"

The grain officer gaped. Hadn't Dai Gong said Diwu Lun had been bought and assimilated, that everything could go on as before? How could he turn on them so fast?

He looked back, hoping Dai Gong would help, but Diwu Lun did not wait. He barked the order: "Diwu Biao! Zang Nu!"

"Yes!"

"Arrest this grain clerk who has disobeyed military orders, embezzled grain, and mistreated the soldiers!"

"I've been wronged! I've been wronged!" The grain officer turned back and saw only the utter shock on Dai Gong's face.

Diwu Lun gave him no chance to speak, nor did he implicate anyone else for the moment. He had the grain officer gagged and marched straight to the camp gate. Diwu Biao's blade was already raised high; it slashed down hard, aimed at the grain officer's neck!

This was the third piece of advice Diwu Ba had given Diwu Lun — a trick that had worked without fail for two thousand years.

"When in doubt, kill the grain officer!"

…

PS: Chapter 2 at 18:00.