Chapter 91: When Officials and Bandits Are One Family

"The counties on this frontier really are huge. We set out yesterday and must have marched nearly a hundred li by now — and we still haven't crossed from the county's south to its north."

"Back in Guanzhong, that'd be enough to cross three whole counties."

"Exactly, exactly."

The Boar-Rush Braves from Guanzhong kept their feet moving forward, but their mouths never stopped either. Diwu Lun had long since given up any notion of enforcing strict silence on the march.

The soldiers were right — Tewu County was simply too large, stretching two hundred li from south to north. The southern townships alone covered an area equal to several counties in Guanzhong, though their population was far smaller.

Diwu Lun had once served as a Household Registry Clerk and knew the census figures best: his own Changling County had a registered population of one hundred eighty thousand.

And neighboring Maoling County had two hundred eighty thousand!

What did that mean? Chang'an's permanent population was only two hundred fifty thousand.

By contrast, this Weirong Commandery — the Northern Lands — was said to have a total commandery-wide population of barely over two hundred thousand. Even Tewu, the most densely populated part, was still vast in territory and sparse in people.

Diwu Lun thought to himself, "So holding an entire frontier commandery yields far less in wealth, grain, and manpower than taking a single Guanzhong county — and concentrating those resources is far harder."

By noon the next day, a river appeared ahead. The shoals were thick with flourishing splurge, and waterbirds walked the banks. Some soldiers, their mouths parched and tongues dry, rushed over at once, startling a flock of gulls and egrets. They scooped up water with the wooden ladles hanging from their belts, shook the silt loose, drank a mouthful — then coughed and spat it out.

"It's deathly salty — this is bitter water!"

"That's why it's called the Bitterwater River."

The stones along the riverbank were crusted white with sun-dried salt. After a moment's hesitation, the men eagerly scraped the salt bloom from the rocks. "This means we'll never have to worry about salt again!"

Back in Guanzhong, salt was outrageously expensive, but here it cost practically nothing. They were overjoyed, as if the whole riverbank were paved with coins.

Diwu Lun dipped a finger into the salt grains and tasted them — so bitter he stuck out his tongue. Clearly, they were full of impurities.

He had also heard that the locals made do with this inferior salt dried from the Bitterwater's banks. Only the county's wealthy households and the Zhang clan — ranked third among the commandery's powerful families — could afford good salt hauled six hundred li from the east, brought at great expense across the Gobi and over the mountains from the Flower Horse Pool.

Diwu Lun understood perfectly. Since this was a feudal army, it ought to have a feudal army's self-awareness. Beyond requisitioning grain and farming military colonies under orders, running a military trade operation was entirely feasible.

The Bitterwater River marked the boundary between Tewu County's north and south. After crossing, they soon reached a township. Diwu Lun, as protocol demanded, received the local Bailiff, Elders, and other notables. Seeing the tension and wariness on their faces, he preempted them by declaring that the imperial army would not enter the township but would garrison the old encampment by the Yellow River.

Since the Bitterwater was undrinkable and digging wells would be a drop in the bucket, their camp had to be near a water source. Fortunately, back when Emperor Wu of Han campaigned against the Xiongnu, he had established military farms and built encampments here. After the Xiongnu submitted to the Han during the Xuandi and Yuandi reigns, some of the frontier troops were gradually disbanded, but the old riverside camp remained — earthen walls, earthen houses, all ready-made, enough to house eight hundred men. It saved them considerable effort.

The next morning, Zang Nu, who had been a field slave for twenty years, led men out to survey the surrounding land. He put clods of earth straight into his mouth and tasted them to judge their fertility.

"The soil's worse than in the county's south — some of it's saline-alkaline. Grain won't grow well here."

Another renowned master farmer, Diwu Pingdan — who had now been promoted to Centurion — crouched on the ground, gazing at the grassland blooming with flowers of every color and sighing deeply. "Such a vast stretch of land, right next to water. If it were opened up, it would be enough for all eight hundred of us to have a hundred mu apiece. What a shame."

The Boar-Rush Braves were men who had known hardship. Give them a plow and a hoe — they didn't even need oxen — and they could fend for themselves.

In Diwu Lun's view, the northern county's natural endowments were in no way inferior to the south's. The only difference was human improvement. Did anyone think the Qin Canal and the Han Canal in Tewu's south were carved by Heaven's own hand? They were simply the work of immigrants slowly opening the land over ten generations under the Qin and Han dynasties. The Yellow River's flow was immense, yet its current was gentle, winding and broad. With just a little effort to divert it, one could split it into multiple channels to irrigate the fields.

The clear Yellow River water leached the saline-alkaline soil and provided a constant, inexhaustible source for the farmland. Only then could pasture be turned to plowland and the frontier grow rich.

Though he had never witnessed it himself, Diwu Lun felt that the age of Qin Shi Huang and Emperor Wu of Han must have been filled with a heroic ambition to reshape the very world.

But that was impossible now. Diwu Lun had only eight hundred men — how could he possibly accomplish what required eighty thousand?

Though farming the northern county posed difficulties and the spring planting season was long past, Zang Nu and Diwu Pingdan — two men utterly obsessed with farming — were still discussing what to plant on the abandoned fields near the encampment. They were, after all, men of the planting folk, who since ancient times could not bear to see good land lie empty.

But it was already mid-fourth month. What could still be planted?

Diwu Lun suggested, "Plant linked-branch grass."

Linked-branch grass was alfalfa.

This plant was a foreign species. In the time of Emperor Wu of Han, Zhang Qian had obtained heavenly horses from Dayuan, and alfalfa, the heavenly horses' favorite fodder, was introduced along with them. It was first experimentally planted in the Joyous Travel Park, then gradually spread, slowly changing from a rare curiosity into a common sight. The people of the imperial tomb counties called it "linked-branch grass," and it was often found throughout the Anding and Northern Lands regions as well.

Diwu Lun, ever prepared, had calculated the time it would take to reach the frontier before setting out and had Diwu Xian ready two full cartloads of alfalfa seed for him in advance.

"Alfalfa's excellent."

Zang Nu and Pingdan both thought it a fine idea and began discussing it eagerly, one picking up where the other left off. "In Guanzhong you plant it in the third month. The weather here is a bit colder — planting in the fourth month should still work."

"Exactly. Alfalfa can survive even in sandy soil. It doesn't fear alkali."

"You can harvest it three or four times a year. Besides using it as fodder for livestock, people can eat it too. Pick the tender shoots, blanch them once, and pickle them into a purple-flower vegetable stew — it's quite fragrant. In famine years, you can just cut it, rinse it, and knead it into green cakes. It's enough to fill the belly."

They were men of action. As soon as the decision was made, they set to work — some plowing, some sowing — and soon scattered the seed Diwu Lun had brought across more than ten qing of land.

After the work was done, Pingdan said cheerfully, "Once alfalfa's been planted for a while, it can actually warm the soil in return. Even if you don't want to keep growing it later, after three or four years you can plow under the roots and switch to grain and vegetables for a bumper harvest."

That was planning far too far ahead. Diwu Lun had ordered the alfalfa planted merely as a matter of convenience. He thought to himself, "We won't be staying in the northern county for long."

Just then, Diwu Fu and several trusted personal retainers, who had been absent for days, returned — their faces beaming.

"You found them?"

"We've met with the two gentlemen, Ma and Wan!" Diwu Fu had seen those two back at Xiliu Hamlet and gave a brief account of what he had learned.

"The upper reaches of this Bitterwater River are sweet water. The two gentlemen have taken over a hundred households — people who couldn't endure the imperial army's brutality and the officials' extortion — and settled them in the mountains. They farm a bit of poor land in the river valley, raise several hundred sheep, and have built a stockade with scores of plank houses. They have over a hundred able-bodied men, all with horses, coming and going like the wind."

The more Diwu Lun heard, the more impressed he grew. Ma Yuan truly had ability — alone and a stranger here, in barely a year and a half he had already raised a fighting force.

He smiled. "Did Wenyuan and Junyou agree to come meet with me?"

"When Master Wan heard that our clan head had come to Tewu County, he was overjoyed and wanted to follow me back at once. But Master Ma stopped him and insisted that the clan head must go to the Bitterwater's middle reaches, to the mudflats, to meet with them!"

…

That night, the lamp in Diwu Lun's earthen house burned long. Only after the soldiers were all deep asleep did it go out. He slipped out of the encampment with Diwu Fu and a few trusted men, riding south along the Bitterwater River.

Fortunately, the moon shone bright that night, so the grassland was not entirely dark. In the distance, swarms of fireflies danced gracefully, and there were even the glinting green eyes of wild wolves on the prowl!

As long as they kept the horses at a slow pace, it was manageable. The only thing to watch for were the holes dug by pikas and voles. Many a man galloping across the grasslands had been undone by them — a horse stumbling and throwing its rider to his death.

After about half a shichen, they were far from the farming area. Looking toward the Bitterwater's shoals, at the edge of a grove of gnarled, twisted desert poplars, three signal campfires were indeed burning as agreed. Diwu Lun had his men light pine torches and personally raised one and waved it three times.

The other side waved back. This was the signal Diwu Lun had arranged after sending Diwu Fu on one more trip. It was all done with great formality, carrying a real whiff of secret collusion between imperial army moles and bandit outlaws.

As they drew near, in the moonlight and firelight, Diwu Lun immediately recognized the man hurrying forward in excitement — it was Wan Xiu!

"Master Diwu!" Wan Xiu dropped to his knees and pressed his forehead to the hard cobbles of the river shoal. "I never thought we would meet again this day!"

"Junyou, you look well." Diwu Lun laughed and helped Wan Xiu to his feet. Diwu Fu had told him that among the "bandits" living upstream, Wan Xiu was the second-in-command.

There was no time for pleasantries. The two walked into the desert poplar grove. A tall, broad-shouldered man stood warming his hands by a fire. The flames lit up his jet-black hair and beard, his features as fine as a painting, just as they had been in days past — it was Ma Yuan!

"Wenyuan…"

Diwu Lun smiled and stepped forward to give Ma Yuan a bear hug, but Ma Wenyuan's face showed no warmth. He raised a hand and stopped Diwu Lun in his tracks.

"Boyu, let's not rush to catch up. There's something you and I must first set straight!"

Diwu Lun's heart gave a thud — could it be that Ma Yuan already knew about his designs on the man's daughter?

Wan Xiu, sensing the atmosphere turning sour, tried to smooth things over: "Wenyuan, didn't you often sigh in the old days, saying that if only Boyu had come along too, the three of us could ride the frontier together, punishing evil and championing good? Why put on such a stern face today, now that we finally meet?"

But Ma Yuan's expression remained solemn. "Junyou, this is a matter of fundamental right and wrong. I must ask plainly, or else I cannot share a table and drink freely with Boyu."

He fixed his gaze on the guilt-ridden Diwu Lun and said, "Dare I ask, Boyu: your great army marched here from Weirong Commandery. In name it is a royal host, but in truth it has burned, killed, and plundered all along the way, leaving slaughter and ruin wherever it passed. Some people even fled from Anding all the way here to seek refuge with me, weeping as they recounted your army's atrocities. As a member of that army, did you take part in any of this?"

Diwu Lun suddenly understood — so it was about this. Indeed, though Ma Yuan was the son of an official, he was also a man of righteous heart; otherwise he would never have thrown away his official post and insisted on freeing Wan Xiu, becoming a fugitive with him.

And the deeds committed by the Swallow-the-Hu General's forces over those two months on the march were, in truth, a mountain of blood debts.

Diwu Lun smiled. "I took part."

Wan Xiu was shocked. "Boyu, don't speak recklessly."

Ma Yuan still seemed unwilling to believe it. He only shook his head in disappointment and said, "Is it truly so? Boyu has changed."

His hand rested on the saber at his waist; he was likely already hesitating over whether to cut Diwu Lun down on the spot.

"I did indeed take part." Diwu Lun raised his voice. "When the great army was about to depart, to spare the Boar-Rush Braves under my command from collapsing with exhaustion, I declined the chance to march alongside the Vanguard Army and stayed only as the Rearguard, following at the very back."

"And so all along the way, I saw everything: Major Dong Zhong and Ru Chen of the Vanguard Army indulging their soldiers, brutalizing the common people. They were even more ferocious than the Xiongnu. Truly, bandits pass through like a comb, soldiers pass through like a fine-toothed rake, and once the royal host passed, it was as if the land had been shaved bald!"

"I witnessed the misery along the road, but I was never in time to stop it. I have often regretted it since — if only I had accepted the duty of marching with the Vanguard Army, perhaps I could have staked my life to block those two, Dong Zhong and Ru Chen, from committing such evils."

His voice sank low. "And so — I too am a murderer!"

Diwu Fu could not contain his indignation and shouted from the side, "When our Rearguard unit was on the march, the clan head issued repeated orders. Let alone killing or plundering — we didn't touch a single hair on the common folk. Even if we trampled a green sprout in the field, the clan head would cut his hair and apologize to the local people. If you don't believe it, send someone to any village or township along the road and ask!"

So that was what he meant. Ma Yuan and Wan Xiu looked at each other. Ma Wenyuan put away his saber, walked over, and gave Diwu Lun a deep bow. "Ma Yuan has wronged Boyu. I knew it — Boyu would never slaughter the innocent."

"Don't be so quick to say that."

Diwu Lun still said, "For the unspeakable horrors that happened on that road, I too bear a responsibility I cannot shirk."

He began to recount the atrocities he had witnessed with his own eyes — the Vanguard Army's Dong Zhong and Ru Chen units' every kind of outrage, far more brutal than what Ma Yuan and the others had heard by hearsay. As he spoke, everyone burned with righteous fury. Speaking on, even Diwu Lun himself grew enraged; he slammed a fist hard against a desert poplar. The thousand-year-old tree did not budge, but his hand hurt terribly.

"Ru Chen has committed such monstrous crimes, yet the Swallow-the-Hu General entrusted him with a critical task, stationing him south of the county to forage for grain. Is there no law left under heaven? Tens of thousands of common folk already suffer the woes of the Seven Deaths and Seven Perils — now they will likely be brutalized by him all over again. This matter absolutely cannot be left at that!"

Wan Xiu still had not grasped his meaning, but Ma Yuan understood at once. A smile appeared on his face. "What does Boyu intend to do?"

"I want to…"

Diwu Lun pointed at the night sky. The vast firmament was as dark as the ways of this world; only the bright, clear moon shone, like the eye of the August Heaven's High God, witnessing all good and evil under heaven!

His words rang with force: "Execute heaven's justice!"

……

PS: Chapter 2 at 13:00. Begging for recommendation tickets.