Chapter 145: Rising from Humble Beginnings

"Chen Ping of Kushang Village, by order of the Patrol Chief, reporting as commanded."

The next morning, before the dawn mist had fully lifted, Chen Ping arrived outside the gate of the Qin army encampment. After announcing his purpose in a loud voice, he strained to lift his head so the Qin sentries above could see his face clearly.

Chen Ping wore clean, rough hemp clothes and carried a basket on his back. Inside were a balding brush and a cake of poor-quality ink—things he used every day. Though the camp would surely provide him with supplies, he brought his own just in case. The basket also held his morning and evening meals: millet rice pressed into a lump. Chen Ping assumed he would be eating with the soldiers inside, but his sister-in-law had insisted he bring it anyway.

The Qin sentries at the gate were very cautious. Unable to understand what Chen Ping was saying and not knowing who he was, they sent someone to report. Taking advantage of this interval, Chen Ping carefully observed the Qin camp. For the past half-month, this had been the most mysterious place in the eyes of Huyou Township's people—not only heavily guarded and off-limits, but even the Qin soldiers inside rarely came out.

The gate was tall and imposing. Though the camp itself did not cover a wide area, it was well enclosed by wooden stakes seven chi high. Looking up, Chen Ping saw the sentries standing solemnly at their posts, none of them slacking off. Just as he arrived, the shift changed: Qin soldiers whose armor was covered in dew departed, yawning, while comrades who had slept through the night and were full of vigor took their places.

They did not keep Chen Ping waiting long. Before much time had passed, the camp gate opened, and Zhong Ming, a man from Henei Commandery, walked out. He said to Chen Ping, "Chen Ping, I did not expect you to come so early."

The sun had only just risen and it was not yet breakfast time. Chen Ping had indeed come quite early. He was simply too embarrassed to say that he had deliberately timed his arrival to see if he could get a Qin army morning meal out of it.

His family was poor; he had no choice. Every meal and every bite had to be accounted for. Chen Ping was not the sort to cling to pride and go hungry—he was very adaptable.

Zhong Ming did not disappoint him. He said the Patrol Chief had also just risen and was leading the soldiers in morning drill. Once training was finished, they could eat.

"Morning drill?"

Chen Ping had never heard the term before, but as he followed Zhong Ming into the camp, he could faintly hear shouts coming from within.

When the two reached the open ground of the encampment, which had been converted from a village neighborhood, the Patrol Chief Heifu, whom Chen Ping had met the day before, was standing there. Unarmored, with his hands clasped behind his back, he watched as several dozen Qin soldiers stood in rows, drilling with swords and shields.

Heifu spotted Chen Ping too, but only nodded at him without coming over.

Chen Ping took the chance to observe the scene before him. He had never experienced camp life before, so it still felt somewhat novel. What was more, these sturdy, rugged-looking soldiers before him were the greatest enemy that had terrorized the people of Wei for generations: the Qin army.

He had been born the year King Anxi of Wei died. During those years, Qin and Wei fought almost every year without fail.

In the first year of King Jingmin (242 BC), Qin seized twenty cities from Wei and made them the Qin Eastern Commandery. Wei was surrounded by Qin on three sides and faced the danger of annihilation.

In the second year (241 BC), under the persuasion of Tang Ju, the final Vertical Alliance was formed. King Kaolie of Chu served as alliance leader, with Pang Nuan as general, commanding Han, Wei, Zhao, Yan, and Chu in a joint attack on Qin. They took Shouling, but when Qin sent forth its troops, the five kingdoms' armies withdrew and returned. Qin seized the opportunity to capture Zhaoge, which Wei had just retaken, and relocated Wei's small vassal state of Wey to Yewang.

In the third year (240 BC), Qin took Ji. In the fifth year (238 BC), Qin took Yuan, Puyang, Yan, and other cities. Wei sued for peace in humiliation.

That year, Chen Ping was only six years old. Because the King of Wei sued for peace in time, the flames of war did not reach his home.

After that, Wei threw itself entirely at Qin's mercy. The King of Wei paid court to Qin twice, becoming little more than a vassal, sending annual tribute without cease. When Qin attacked and destroyed Han and Zhao, struck Yan in the north, and crushed Chu in the south, Wei stood by with folded arms.

There was no helping it. Wei had lost Lord Xinling, and with him, its backbone. Beaten into terror by Qin, it covered its face and dared not utter a single word of protest.

So, aside from those first few years, warfare was relatively scarce during Chen Ping's boyhood and youth. Thus, commoners of Wei his age had virtually no chance to see Qin people. Their impression of the Qin army came mainly from the tales of old veterans...

Chen Ping remembered that when he was little, in Kushang Village, there had been a disabled old soldier who liked to sit on the bluestone slab by the well, lifting his severed arm to bask in the sun. Sometimes he would tell Chen Ping and the others about the war of the Five Kingdoms' attack on Qin that he had experienced over a decade ago.

The old soldier rambled on at great length. Because he was so young at the time, Chen Ping only remembered the one sentence that left the deepest impression.

"We, the soldiers of the lands east of the mountain, don armor to join battle. Yet the Qin men across from us would cast off their armor and charge the enemy bare-chested, clutching heads in their left hands and dragging live captives under their right arms, like ravenous tigers and vicious wolves..."

He still remembered that as he spoke these words, the fearless old soldier's eyes were filled with terror!

Wei's fear of Qin was like man's innate dread of wild beasts—carved deep into their very marrow and passed down from generation to generation. From the King of Wei above to the common soldiers below, it was everywhere.

So the kings and nobles of Wei thought: if kneeling can spare us a beating, then let us kneel. It was only a pity that, after kneeling to the very end, they still could not avoid the Qin army turning its head to stab Wei. Judging by the momentum of this war, Qin was utterly determined to destroy Wei.

With national ruin imminent, the court dignitaries would have to kneel before the altars and weep, regretting their foolishness and short-sightedness. But commoners outside the court like Chen Ping had to figure out, under the Qin army's new order, where to go from here.

Lost in memories of the past, Chen Ping could not help but drift off slightly. He then realized that the Qin soldiers' training had already ended amid shouts that soared into the heavens.

Heifu took the cloth Ji Ying handed him and wiped the sweat from his forehead. He showed no excessive warmth toward Chen Ping, merely telling him to join everyone for the morning meal.

The meal was eaten in the courtyard of a large house. It had originally belonged to a wealthy family and had now been converted into a dedicated kitchen.

Heifu had assigned five men specifically to wash vegetables and cook—the equivalent of a mess squad. The grain was the one hundred fifty dan given by the Zhang clan. Fresh vegetables and meat were purchased from the township market.

At this moment, Heifu assigned Chen Ping his first task.

"Chen Ping, from now on, every other day, you will accompany the squad leader here to the township market to buy vegetables. What to buy and how much of each item will be written on wooden tablets. The soldiers do not understand the local dialect, and the vegetable sellers cannot read. Qin coins cannot circulate locally either, so we can only barter with cloth, which is very inconvenient. With your assistance, things will be much easier."

Heifu did this not out of some mischievous pleasure of "making the future Grand Chancellor of Han buy my vegetables." Rather, it was because the Chen Ping of now was, after all, a lowly commoner—a poor scholar who had muddled through eighteen years and still could not shoulder a load or lift a hand, much like those university graduates of later ages who step into society with ambitions sky-high yet can accomplish nothing. In his little camp, Heifu had no major affairs to entrust to Chen Ping. Better to start training him with small tasks.

He also happened to want to see whether Chen Ping, aside from being eloquent and good at seizing opportunities, could handle practical work.

If one cannot sweep one's own room, how can one sweep the world? Chen Ping's road ahead was still long. As someone who had likewise risen from humble beginnings—and was, of course, still humble now—Heifu, upon meeting a famous figure still in his callow youth, rather wanted to teach him a few life lessons...

Heifu finished speaking in halting local dialect tinged with a Nan Commandery accent. Chen Ping more or less understood: what he had to do was not just clerical work, but also quite a few miscellaneous chores.

He did not take it as an insult. Instead, he agreed readily.

When other families held funerals, he would leave early and return late to help put makeup on the dead and shovel earth to bury coffins, bustling about happily—all for a mouthful of food. Helping the Qin army buy vegetables was nothing. Anyway, he only needed to use his mouth; the physical labor could be left to the sturdy Qin soldiers.

The vegetables of Wei were somewhat different from those of Nan Commandery, but the main types were all present—for example, chives, rape, cucumbers, mallow, and scallions, all common across the various states in this era. The Qin men stationed here could not just eat rice all the time. Heifu would occasionally give them an extra meal, buying some meat to boil a large cauldron of soup.

Soon, the aroma of food wafted over. Several Qin soldiers came in carrying large wooden buckets filled with cooked millet, golden-yellow in color.

At this point, Chen Ping witnessed for the first time the strictness of the Qin army's rank hierarchy. Heifu did not, as some officers deliberately did, make a show of "sharing food and clothing with the common soldiers." Instead, under the envious gazes of the crowd, he received half a dou of polished rice, a small dish of black bean paste, a vegetable stew with mallow leaves and diced meat floating in it, and even a few stalks of crisp green scallions to go with his meal.

"That is because the Patrol Chief's rank is Bugeng. Naturally, he is not the same as us."

Zhong Ming explained to Chen Ping what the ranks meant, then walked with some pride over to the polished rice reserved for rank-holders. He pointed to the other side and told Chen Ping to take a pottery bowl and a bamboo tube and go queue with the common soldiers who wore no ornaments in their hair.

In the end, Chen Ping received one-third of a dou of coarse rice and one bamboo tube of bean-leaf soup with a faint shimmer of oil on top—not much different from what his own family ate.

At least he could eat his fill. For someone of Chen Ping's impoverished background, being able to scrounge a meal was already not bad.

"If this were inside the Daliang army camp, military law would be even stricter. You are not a soldier; they would not even supply you with this much grain."

Zhong Ming said this to Chen Ping with a mysterious air, then burst out laughing. "But the Patrol Chief said, since the grain we eat was sent by the Zhang clan anyway, one more mouth to feed is no problem."

Chen Ping laughed along with him, but inside he felt a little strange. His identity as a "man of Wei" had not yet been completely erased.

For the first time, Chen Ping experienced up close the strict Qin hierarchy of ranks. To change one's status and treatment, one had to render meritorious service. Meritorious service meant killing more enemies to obtain military ranks. The combat effectiveness of such an army was easy to imagine.

"Cast off their armor and charge the enemy bare-chested, clutching heads in their left hands and dragging live captives under their right arms..."

Chen Ping swallowed his last mouthful of millet. For some reason, the old soldier's words came back to him again. He thought to himself: "Wei valued its elite soldiers, recruiting brave warriors and equipping them with three-layer armor, crossbows of several dan draw weight, fifty arrows on their backs, halberds set down and swords at their sides. The Wei elite troops could be called crack soldiers, able to march a hundred li in a day. The state gave them land and houses, and had the common people support them for life."

"Thus in Wei, war was often a war belonging only to the king, the nobles, and the elite soldiers. It had little to do with commoners like us. Merit brought no reward, yet fault brought punishment—who would be willing to die? But once the elite soldiers passed their prime, they gradually aged. Their sons and grandsons could not possibly all be as strong as their fathers and grandfathers. And as wars grew larger and larger, that small number of elite soldiers often could not change the course of battle."

"But Qin is different."

He looked at these Qin men before him—alone in a foreign land, yet still orderly and disciplined, drilling every day—and at Heifu who commanded them, and thought:

"The avenues for its common people to make a living are narrow, and their lives are poor and hard-pressed. The ruler employs the people with cruelty and severity, luring them with the profit of rank and intimidating them with the terror of laws and punishments. This makes Qin's warfare a matter that concerns every individual. Thus it can be multitudinous, strong, and enduring. No wonder the Qin army is invincible under heaven."

"When I was traveling to study, a friend of my teacher's from Zhao once spoke to me of Xunzi and Lord Linwu debating military affairs in Handan. Xunzi was right: the elite soldiers of Wei cannot match the keen warriors of Qin. Looking at it this way, Wei's defeat was not unjust!"

For a moment, Chen Ping's gaze grew fervent.

To the nobles of Wei, the fall of Wei was the collapse of an era.

But for a destitute scholar of humble origins like him, was it not also a new beginning?

PS: Starting tomorrow, the morning update will be moved to after 11 a. m., so no need to refresh in the morning, everyone.

(End of chapter)