Chapter 248: A Change of Heart

In the winter at the end of the third year of Chongzhen, Beiyan Taiji, who was sojourning at Juer Bay, heard that something major had happened in the Lion Army.

Between Han Commander Liu Chengzong and his dog Little Zuanfeng, only one bachelor remained.

Little Zuanfeng had found a mate!

That Shaanxi sighthound, its black coat gleaming like satin, wearing new clothes bestowed by the Han Commander, had run off on its own to play for three days.

When it came back, it was covered in wounds and filthy; of its four little protective leggings and booties, only one remained, its new clothes were lost somewhere, several patches of fur had been bitten off, and its ear was still bleeding.

Yet it strutted through the camp with an air of supreme self-satisfaction, looking for all the world as if it had just won a great battle.

"Two!"

Chen Shifo sat cross-legged on the kang in Beiyan Taiji's dugout dwelling, a wooden pipe held between his lips, his hand holding a Yaozhou porcelain teacup as he traced the rim with the lid. Setting down the cup and picking up his pipe, he said, "Two four-eyed Xifan female mastiffs, just like that, led back by Little Zuanfeng to meet the Grand Commander."

Beiyan sat opposite, listening to it all as a joke; he cared far more about the Chen Shifo before him.

This fake monk in a red robe was different now. A few days ago, he had looked unbearably shabby; today, wearing a pair of small spectacles and seeking him out, the man had gone from rags to riches.

He wore dark satin with subtle auspicious cloud patterns and had brought two Xifan student attendants. Upon entering the dugout, he first laid out a silver-threaded camel-wool rug on the kang, its texture soft and its craftsmanship looking exquisitely fine.

Then he took from his bosom an elaborate pipe carved with the six domestic animals and unhurriedly packed it with tobacco.

After that, he set out a white porcelain pot and cups painted with carp and lotus blossoms on the stove, breaking off large chunks of tea brick and tossing them in. Beiyan Taiji thought to himself that this bastard had never drunk tea in his entire life.

And with every single action, this fake monk introduced to him what each thing was.

"Camel-wool silver-thread rug. The silver thread is sheet silver wrapped around the weft threads and woven in — genuine palace craftsmanship."

"The tobacco is from Lanzhou, originally supplied to the border troops to ward off the cold, produced on the estate of the Ming Prince of Su. The pipe, carved in relief with beasts and landscapes — even the goat horns are carved clearly visible."

"This porcelain, from the Yaozhou kiln. You know the Shaanxi Yaozhou kiln, right? No? The very best kiln!"

After this whole spiel, Chen Shifo plopped himself down, and suddenly switched the topic to the Han Commander's dog mounting two mastiffs, leaving Beiyan Taiji somewhat unable to process it.

He was still staring at the felt mat under Chen Shifo's backside. That camel-wool silver rug truly was beautiful; he thought it would be especially suitable placed under a saddle as a pad.

But the more beautiful the rug, the more he detested Chen Shifo.

Wasn't this deliberately coming here to flaunt? What are you flaunting for!

Beiyan was no man who had never seen treasures. In his youth, following his father, he too had been a figure who gave the Ming border troops great headaches — a man of broad experience.

He had seen similar craftsmanship in all the things Chen Shifo brought out.

For instance, the rug. He had once owned a camel-wool rug, looted from a Samarkand tribute caravan back in the late Wanli years, said to be a Persian rug, and it was extremely comfortable to use.

But precisely because of his great fame and wide experience, he later took the worst beatings in Huoluochi's battles with the Ming army. That rug was burned by the Ming troops, and his tribe never recovered.

After that, he turned to Buddhism, his mind at peace, taking everything in stride.

Among these Mongol nobles, some turned to Buddhism because the Red Sect or Yellow Sect could bring very tangible benefits, while others genuinely felt that believing in Buddhism was good.

But no matter the reason, it was different from the common folk. These nobles truly believed; the common folk believed falsely.

This was the same in both the official estates of the tribal lands and the Mongol tribes — the common folk were not worthy of belief.

They were illiterate, had no personal monks to expound the scriptures and explain the Dharma, and only knew how to worship stupidly. Told to kowtow, they kowtowed; told to give alms, they gave alms.

The common folk were only worthy of believing in monks.

Beiyan did not believe in monks. His own younger brother was the biggest reincarnated monk in Qinghai — reincarnated and still wetting his pants as a child?

He looked down even more on Chen Shifo, this fake monk.

Beiyan Taiji gave a light laugh and asked, "What is it you want, coming here today?"

"I recall Taiji once saying your tribe has over three thousand riders in Hequ? You must have a great deal of livestock there?"

Beiyan Taiji grew wary and frowned. "Why are you asking about this?"

"Taiji need not be troubled." Chen Shifo stood up and gestured around at the things he had brought. "The Grand Commander sent me to tell you that he can make all these things. If Taiji desires them, next year you can trade wool, cashmere, camel wool, and all kinds of hides for them."

Beiyan did not show the excitement Chen Shifo had imagined. In a flat tone, he asked, "You're going to war with Lhazang next year, and you still want to sell these to me?"

"The Grand Commander says, Lhazang is Lhazang, and Taiji is Taiji."

"Ha!" Beiyan clapped and laughed heartily, pointing at Chen Shifo. "The Hero's Fierce Tiger Tactic — the middle strategy is enfeoffment and division. How do you Han people put it? Learn and apply!"

His laughter ceased, and Beiyan's face turned cold. "My tribe is not large, but Lhazang is my brother. It's impossible for me to sit by and watch you go to war, yet calmly do business."

"Whether there is war or not is not for the Grand Commander to decide, but for Lhazang to decide. If he wants a thousand horses, he can send troops to take them; if he doesn't want to fight, we can also exchange goods."

Exchange goods.

Huoluochi fought the Ming army for decades precisely for the sake of trade and tribute — not the kind where I give you horses and you gift me back some little trinkets, but mutual markets like in the time of Altan Khan.

If there were any other way, who the hell would want to risk their life just to loot a washbasin?

Yet the Ming wouldn't even sell them a single iron pot.

And now you, Chen Shifo, with just a flap of your lips, casually talk about exchanging goods?

Beiyan did not believe it, nor did he dare to. He shook his head. "The Han Commander is the Pacification Commissioner of Qinghai; he is bound to go to war with us."

"If you honor the Grand Commander's orders, the Grand Commander will remain the Pacification Commissioner, and there will be no need to fight. Isn't war just for seeking goods? Trade can also exchange goods, without people dying."

Chen Shifo thought for a moment and added, "The Grand Commander says things like the Han, Mongol, and Tibetan peoples are originally one body — I don't quite understand it either. Anyway, look at the two Qi chieftains in Xining, both Mongols, and they've been doing fine for centuries."

It would have been better if he hadn't mentioned the two Qi chieftains of Xining. The moment he did, Beiyan flared up in anger — he just had to bring up the sore spot. "Fine my ass! All they do is help the Han fight us!"

After cursing, Beiyan finally said, "What you speak of is too big a matter. I don't have the final say. Ask Lhazang when spring comes."

But Chen Shifo pressed relentlessly. "But you can make decisions for your own tribe."

This was the first major task Liu Chengzong had entrusted to him, and he did not want to return and report with no results at all.

"My own tribe — can you give me the things I want?"

Chen Shifo swept his hand over the rug and porcelain again. "The Grand Commander said, you can trade for all of these."

"What my tribe lacks is not these. I want dried noodles, I want grain, I want Han-made leather boots and wooden chests. I want small knives of three, five, and seven inches. I want iron pots, stirrups, hobbles, iron shovels, iron tethering pegs, iron axes."

"I want hats, white kerchiefs, coarse cloth and silks and satins, gold paper for pasting on Buddha statues, seasonings for food, combs, fine-toothed combs, and hair ties. I want you to craft gold, silver, and bronze wares and jewelry for us."

Beiyan rattled off an endless list of needs, his gaze fixed intently on Chen Shifo. "I want sabers and bows and arrows. Can you give those?"

"Don't be hasty!"

Chen Shifo's face lit up with delight. He wasn't afraid of Bai Yan asking for too much — he was only afraid of him saying nothing at all. The moment Bai Yan opened his mouth, Chen Shifo immediately turned around, got paper and brush from his attendant, and wrote everything down item by item.

"Grain might be tricky, but the other things shouldn't be a problem. The question is — what can you offer?"

Having asked, Chen Shifo added, "Let me tell you upfront: the Grand Marshal has already set prices for some items. Take these blankets, for example. Plain wool blankets are two taels of silver each. But ones with this kind of top-quality workmanship, this size — those go for twenty taels apiece. And there are even better ones."

"If you bring raw wool, we'll take it at one tael per hundred jin. That's the same price as in Xining."

On raw material purchases, Liu Chengzong had no intention of driving prices down hard, because the price itself was a fiction.

Silver meant nothing in this kind of trade. If they could establish commerce, it would still be barter at its core.

And in barter, under these conditions — a total seller's market — their added value was so enormous they could practically do as they pleased.

"Aside from grain, the rest isn't a big problem?"

Bai Yan wondered if he had misheard. "Iron pots, sabers — you'd actually dare sell those to me?"

If he hadn't misheard, then these Han had lost their minds from poverty.

"That's what the Grand Marshal told me. As long as you're willing to pledge allegiance to him, anything that enables mutual trade can be sold. It's just a matter of price — and of course, closeness matters."

Chen Shifo thought for a moment, then added, "Besides, the Grand Marshal has no iron on hand. If you want ironware, you'll have to supply the iron first. Same with grain — it's not that the Grand Marshal won't sell grain, it's that he's short on it too, so I doubt grain will be for sale."

"But if you bring grain or milled flour, the Grand Marshal can give you fine dried noodles in return."

The more Bai Yan listened, the more Liu Chengzong sounded like a swindler.

When their Huoluochi tribe first reached Qinghai, their situation had been much the same as Liu Chengzong's — all herdsmen and fighting men, unable to produce anything. So how was it that Liu Chengzong could produce everything?

Besides, the terms were too good to be true.

If Bai Yan remembered correctly, no one had traded with them like this in nearly three hundred years.

Their smelting and forging skills might be somewhat inferior, but it wasn't that they lacked the ability to make ironware themselves, nor that they lacked iron ore — they simply lacked the objective conditions for large-scale daily production.

This was dictated by the nomadic mode of production.

Most mineral deposits lie in the mountains. In the Central Plains, a single mine, just to sustain the miners, would first attract small vendors selling dry rations, then grow into a village, then draw more people into production, and eventually give rise to a handicraft town.

The nomadic mode of production hits a wall at the very first step.

Too few people mining — you might make a few knives in a year.

Too many people mining — with no one tending the herds, everyone starves.

Settling around the mine to farm? Setting aside the technical challenge of building agriculture from scratch, if everyone farms and forges iron, you become a dish on every other nomadic tribe's table — anyone who feels like taking a bite can take one.

The Great Wall didn't sprout up overnight.

Yet within this feeling that bordered on deception, a sense of adventure Bai Yan had not felt in many years stirred in his heart.

He saw a possibility — a possibility of reviving his tribe.

Just like back when no one could trade through the Ming tribute system, and the first man to obtain a tally, to exchange tribute gifts and horse-market trade for wealth, gained a greater advantage among the many tribes and drew more displaced men to pledge allegiance to him.

He closed his eyes and pondered hard for a long while. If this was real, then perhaps next time, he could fight his way into Ü-Tsang, drive the Tsangpa from Shigatse all the way into India, and make himself the Great Khan of all Ü-Tsang.

At this thought, Taiji Bai Yan looked at Chen Shifo and said slowly, "Salt, gold, silver, copper, iron, lead, medicinal herbs, cattle, sheep, horses, deer antler, musk, hides, and fine wool — I can supply all of them."

Having said this, he drew a deep breath. "But you trade only with me."

Chen Shifo was stunned.

So now you're just tossing your younger brother aside — not playing the older brother anymore?

Though this was an excellent start, Chen Shifo shook his head and said, "The Grand Marshal sent me to talk with you, but I don't want to deceive you. Everyone who pledges allegiance to the Grand Marshal can trade freely with one another."

"South of the Yellow River at Guide, in the Little Loop, I'm the only one."

Taiji Bai Yan waved his hand. "You leave Lhazang to me. I'll persuade him not to go to war with the Han Marshal. Our two houses will become one, and we'll deal with each other properly."

Only upon hearing this did Chen Shifo finally confirm it: Taiji Bai Yan truly intended to abandon his younger brother and go it alone.

This was not what Liu Chengzong had originally envisioned.

Liu Chengzong's plan had been to start with the younger Lhazang, then gradually use trade to fracture Lhazang's power — splitting a fairly large confederation into small chieftains each capable of fielding only a few hundred riders, rendering them utterly harmless.

That way, they could win over everyone.

But this outcome was something even Chen Shifo had not anticipated… and for that matter, Lhazang probably hadn't either. The man he had sent to negotiate with Liu Chengzong would soon be going back to negotiate with him — on Liu Chengzong's behalf.

Bai Yan's proposition sounded deeply familiar to Chen Shifo. He said, "You want to become the tusi of the Little Loop? The Grand Marshal doesn't like tusi. In the future, he may well turn all tusi into circulating officials."

Judging by the fervor in the central army camp these days, Chen Shifo believed Liu Chengzong held a deep aversion to the Sixteen Laws. The entire camp was studying how to defeat the Tsangpa Khan's army.

After that, the craftsmen had also grown energized — apparently because the Grand Marshal had publicly declared that craftsmen mattered greatly to him.

From the look of things, although Liu Chengzong bore the title of Qinghai Pacification Commissioner, given the way he rode around on a third-rank red-furred horse, this Qinghai Pacification Commission probably no longer acknowledged the imperial court.

Naturally, there was little chance of any new tusi being appointed.

The most likely scenario, at best, was that in the future, tribal leaders who had pledged allegiance early would be granted official posts, serving as circulating officials governing a region for a few years — or even a lifetime.

But Bai Yan didn't care. Though the Little Loop's pastures were fertile, the power it offered was too small.

He wanted to restore his family's legacy, to make his tribe strong again. As for exactly how strong — he hadn't thought that far.

Being able to supply large quantities of daily necessities would earn him the prestige to draw large numbers of herdsmen to his side.

With enough troops, he could march into Ü-Tsang again and fight the Tsangpa Khan once more.

He said, "Circulating official is fine too. As long as those goods keep coming, I'm willing to pledge allegiance."

Chen Shifo nodded slowly. "There's no point in us talking further. What comes next is beyond what I can decide. But I will convey everything you've said to the Grand Marshal."

"If he approves your allegiance, then this matter should be settled!"

As if suddenly remembering something, Chen Shifo added, "But before that, you need to have that brother of yours who raises hunting dogs give it a try — see if he can lure away those two mastiffs that Little Whirlwind brought back. They're Hequ dogs; they don't recognize people."

"The three of them have taken over the Grand Marshal's tent now. They carry on shamelessly all day long. The Grand Marshal can't even go back."