Chapter 470: Father and Son, Going and Staying

Outside the city of Kaifeng, the eastern capital, in a rather fine estate, Hucile, who was preparing to take up his post as Military Governor of Taining Army in Xuzhou, had his servants prepare a few small dishes and warm a pot of good wine; he meant to drink a few cups.

In the Five Dynasties, being sent out as a military governor was a tremendous piece of good fortune.

For Hucile, of course, it was the same. From a nobody in the Western Regions, in ten years he had risen to military governor of a great province under the Central Plains court — one could say he had reached the peak of his life.

But before Hucile could savor this satisfaction alone, his son Huguang came in cursing.

Huguang's head was wrapped in bandages, and he looked listless. That blow from a Khitan Iron Sparrowhawk cavalry lance had struck him hard.

Had it not been for the specially made composite helmet from the Liang state, which greatly reduced the force of the lance, Huguang would have died on the spot instead of merely having his head split open.

Of course, the wound was not light. Huguang had lain in a carriage for over a month, and even now the wound on his head had not fully healed; whenever wind blew or rain fell, his skull ached faintly.

"What do Qilang and the others say? Are they still clamoring to go back to Hexi?"

Hucile asked softly. The Qilang he spoke of was also a member of Hucile's tribe, except that now he had turned the original tribe into a clan, and all the original tribesmen had taken the surname Hu.

Their tribe had originally been steppe Tatars who submitted to the Guiyi Army; later, as part of Cao Yuanxing's dowry, they had followed her to Khotan, and after that Cao Yuanxing had given them to Zhang Zhao as guards.

After returning to the Central Plains, his son Huguang had followed Murong Xinzhang to the eastern capital. At that time, the Heavenly King was still a subject of the Son of Heaven of the Central Plains, and these several hundred Liangzhou cavalry were part of the Heavenly King's dealings with the court.

Later, when Murong Xinzhang was determined to return to Hexi, the Heavenly King sent Hucile to the eastern capital to command these several hundred Liang state cavalry.

They had originally numbered eight hundred. In six years, several dozen had died in battle or of illness, and several dozen more had retired from wounds; now there were still over six hundred.

Half of them were members of the Hu clan, and half were cavalry from the Liugu tribe south of Liangzhou.

To be honest, the two generations of Shi family Sons of Heaven had valued them quite highly.

After all, these Liangzhou cavalry had no roots in the Central Plains, and could be won over to serve as personal guards.

Moreover, they were superbly equipped and superb riders, light-armored horse archers rare in the Central Plains, and a great supplement to the Jin state's army.

And however chaotic the Central Plains might be, it was still far more prosperous than Hexi. Add to that six years of staying, and many had begun to grow accustomed to life in the eastern capital and had settled down there.

Toward the Liang state, though they still had special feelings, they no longer missed it so deeply.

Hucile was like that. Back then, when he followed Zhang Zhao east, he had wanted to make his name in the dazzling world of the Central Plains.

And now, his dream had basically been fulfilled, and his sense of belonging to Zhang Zhao no longer seemed so strong.

His attitude was: if the Heavenly King could enter the Central Plains, he would certainly find a way to help, but if the Heavenly King did not enter the Central Plains, then he, Hucile, did not intend to go back either.

But his second son Huguang and a group of the younger generation, such as Hu Qilang, did not think so.

These young men had watched Zhang Zhao rise miraculously step by step, and had followed Zhang Zhao east and west, fighting across the Western Regions.

Therefore their feelings for Zhang Zhao were extremely fervent. Even now they still considered themselves people of the Liang state, and they had always believed that the Heavenly King would surely enter and take the Central Plains.

Huguang walked indignantly over and sat down in front of Hucile. He knew Hucile's plans, and so there was much friction between father and son; they had quarreled more than once or twice.

And as one of Great King Zhang's biggest admirers, Huguang dared to scold even his father Hucile to his face — and even Murong Xinzhang, who in his heyday had married the former Tang's Princess Yongle and was Great King Zhang's beloved son, when he grew somewhat enchanted by the splendor of the eastern capital.

"Never mind Qilang — even I want to go back to Great Liang. May I enter Feng Yu's eight generations of ancestors!

We braved naked blades, broke sinews and bones, resisted the barbarian invaders, and the seriously wounded got only three duan of silk.

Yet a single word or smile from a palace entertainer can please the throne, and they are given brocade robes, silver belts, and hundreds of strings of cash. How can such a realm be worth defending?"

A duan is a unit of cloth, or more precisely, a unit of cloth currency.

At this time silver and copper were scarce, and cloth was often used as money. One duan was one bolt of cloth folded in half and then cut into two halves; one half was one duan, that is, half a bolt of cloth.

At this time one bolt of silk cloth was worth about two thousand cash, that is, two strings, so three duan of silk was a bolt and a half, worth exactly three strings.

That seems like a lot, doesn't it? But the price was a serious wound!

What wound counts as serious? One where, after losing a hand or foot, even survival becomes difficult — that is called a serious wound.

Huguang, who had nearly had his brains knocked out, could not even be counted as seriously wounded.

For such an injury, the compensation received was three strings of cash.

Hu Qilang's right hand had been cut off at the wrist by a Khitan, and one eye had been gravely injured. The compensation he received was these three duan of silk cloth, worth three strings of cash.

Hearing this, Hucile could not help drawing a sharp breath. Was this Shi Chonggui out of his mind?

The soldiers' achievements were immense; they had slain Khitans until the field was strewn with corpses, yet he dismissed them with only a few tens of thousands of strings.

And at the same time he celebrated lavishly in the palace, rewarding entertainers and close attendants, often with hundreds of strings per person in a single gesture. What kind of creature was this?

If this were in Hexi, the Heavenly King would eat only two dishes a meal and wear coarse hemp cloth, yet he would still guarantee the soldiers' compensation.

"Go and persuade Qilang again, and speak to the lads below as well. Though the Son of Heaven has not bestowed much gold, silver, or brocade, he has given me, Hucile, the post of Military Governor of Taining Army in Xuzhou.

Once we reach Xuzhou, I will compensate them tenfold — no, a hundredfold! There will be wealth and women; I will never let any of the lads worry about hunger or cold."

"Is Father planning to use the gold and silver bestowed by the Heavenly King to subsidize Qilang and the others?"

A last trace of hope rose in Huguang's heart. In the six years since they had arrived in the eastern capital, the Heavenly King had never forgotten to send their military pay, and his father Hucile received a special subsidy of thirty strings every month.

Although they had purchased farmland in Kaifeng, the eastern capital, and often used this money to befriend and win over officers of the imperial guard, a large portion still remained.

If this money were used to give subsidies to Hu Qilang and the others, the meaning would be different.

But under Huguang's hopeful gaze, Hucile slowly shook his head.

"We've spent a bit too much on buying farmland lately; it's not enough to reward their merits. Better to wait until we reach Xuzhou. Taining Army is rich; we'll surely get thirty or fifty thousand strings for the lads to support their families."

Huguang stared blankly for a moment. Looking at his father, who was now imitating the Heavenly King's old manner, bestowing offices and making promises, he suddenly felt he no longer wanted to say anything. He merely nodded lightly, then rose and left.

Seeing that his son had for the first time not quarreled with him over this matter, Hucile thought Huguang had finally come around, and his face relaxed with pleasure until even the wrinkles smoothed out.

Well, from now on he too would be the young lord of a province, so naturally his mindset would change somewhat — so Hucile thought.

On the north bank of the Yellow River, at a nameless ferry crossing — though calling it a ferry crossing might be an exaggeration; in truth it was just a small river bend where a few fishing boats were moored.

On a mound of earth north of the bend, twenty-odd fierce riders waited in silence.

At their head was a stout man with a severed wrist. He gazed restlessly into the distance, and only when he saw a lone rider approaching did he let out a long breath of relief, though at the same time he seemed somewhat pained.

"What reward has Third Uncle promised me? It must be at least three hundred strings!" Hu Qilang looked at Huguang and asked, half in jest.

Huguang sighed deeply, not knowing whether to shake his head or nod.

"The prospect of a provincial governorship has bewitched Father. He already thinks of himself as lord of Taining Army, as a military governor ruling his own corner of the realm."

"Far more than three hundred strings of cash — if you're willing, even three thousand strings would do."

The two remarks seemed unconnected, yet in fact they were connected. Watching Hu Guang's expression, Hu Qilang could not bear to tease him further.

"I, Hu Qilang, am a man who stands upright between heaven and earth. Shi Chonggui used three bolts of cloth to insult my heart for serving the country. I will not remain in this Jin state any longer.

Uncle may have some savings, but he could never possibly produce three thousand strings of cash. He could only get it by extorting the territory of the Taining Army.

I fear that using money like that would bring disaster upon my descendants. Young lord, will you come with us?"

"From here, go west. When you reach Shanzhou, someone will receive you." As he spoke, Hu Guang patted Hu Qilang's right arm, the one missing its hand.

"When you return, you must tell the Heavenly King: my heart, Hu Guang's heart, is witnessed by the sun and sky. I have not forgotten the oath we swore back in the Western Regions, to rebuild the Great Tang. I will go to the Taining Army. There, I will be of more use than returning to Hexi."

Almost at the same moment, in the prefectural seat of Guizhou, a father and son were likewise engaged in a conversation of the utmost importance.

Zhao Kuangzan was nineteen this year. Compared with his first meeting with Zhang Zhao, he had matured a great deal.

These past years, Zhao Kuangzan had in truth been living through torment.

He was a proud youth. He had always taken pride in the blood of the Great Tang imperial clan in his veins, although this Great Tang imperial lineage was in fact not so genuine.

After following his mother to the Khitan, Zhao Kuangzan soon lost a mother's love, for his mother, the Grand Princess of Yan, could not endure the Khitan climate and died of illness not long after.

And in the eyes of the Khitan nobles, the slight contempt they held for Han people made it all the harder for the proud Zhao Kuangzan to bear.

Toward his father Zhao Yanshou, who had made him endure all this, Zhao Kuangzan had long since stopped speaking to him, and had even gone a long time without seeing him.

So now, when he saw that his father Zhao Yanshou had already changed the Han topknot on his head for the Khitan-style shaved pate, he was still shocked for a long while.

"It seems you have already made your choice, Father. You truly do not believe your son's judgment. Is it that your son is too young?"

After the shock passed, Zhao Kuangzan became surprisingly agreeable, as though he had made some sort of decision.

He had analyzed for his father the reasons Zhang Zhao was more likely to succeed, but it seemed it had had no effect at all.

Zhao Yanshou had not expected Zhao Kuangzan to wear such a composed expression either, and at once realized that this stubborn son of his must have made some decision.

"There are some things Zhang the Heavenly King cannot give. Only His Majesty can give them. His Majesty already permitted me to shave my head yesterday."

Zhao Yanshou said, pointing to the Khitan-style shaved pate on his head. He seemed rather pleased with himself, for in the Liao state, Han people were openly forbidden to wear the shaved pate.

Zhao Kuangzan shook his head. "What you are thinking of, Father — His Majesty would not have given it to you before, and after letting you shave your head, he is even less likely to give it. From this moment on, you need not speak of these things to your son."

Zhao Yanshou's cheek twitched. He looked as though he were about to fly into a rage, but he forcibly held it back.

"I have followed His Majesty for six years. I know exactly what he is thinking.

But you — have you really made up your mind so quickly? Does the young lord truly surpass the elder brother by that much?"

"Young lord" meant the younger brother. Who were the young lord and the elder brother in this father and son's words? The answer was obvious.

Zhao Kuangzan nodded, and answered slowly and clearly: "The elder brother is indeed an enlightened sovereign, but the young lord is a heaven-sent hero among rulers! When placing a bet, of course one should bet on the one with the greatest prospects."

With that, Zhao Kuangzan clasped his hands in salute. "Some people wish to follow your son. I ask Father to grant me this convenience."

Zhao Yanshou's expression had already turned extremely ugly. He suddenly felt a sense of strangeness and betrayal.

"Must it be this way between father and son?"

"The Zhao family never hangs itself on a single tree. Father — oh no! Grandfather, when he was alive, often said this."

A highly formulaic smile piled up on Zhao Kuangzan's face. "I ask Father to grant me this convenience."

"Unfilial wretch! You will surely regret this one day. What you are throwing away today is the position of crown prince." Zhao Yanshou was thoroughly enraged.

"Father will surely be gratified one day, because your son has carried on the Zhao family's incense and wealth."

Zhao Kuangzan looked straight into Zhao Yanshou's eyes. In ordinary times, looking directly at one's father was extremely disrespectful.

What a fine picture of a loving father and filial son.

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