Chapter 281: Kangning Prefecture

The Gama monk opened a jar of barley wine, poured a small cup, and pressed his palms together.

Though he still did not know where the lion he had called would lead this land's future, at least the long war that had lasted years was finally over.

He stood at the edge of his enemy Donyo Dorje's official stronghold, bowl in hand, dipped his middle finger in the wine and flicked it to the sky, making an offering to the god of heaven; dipped it and flicked it to the earth, making an offering to the mountain god; dipped it and flicked it to his right side, making an offering to his father and elder brother who had died in the war.

He drained it in one gulp, lost in a hollow melancholy.

He could never return to those quiet days of cultivation.

Han soldiers came and went in great numbers through the stronghold. Gama looked toward the courtyard with the dungeon on the ground floor — that hand that reached out every day was gone.

Donyo Dorje's steward was locked in the dungeon, a man who shouted and cursed all day long, swearing his master would return, hurling curses at every soldier who passed by.

Gama thought to himself, the man had probably been executed. A pity, really.

Who doesn't like a loyal man?

Just then, Monk Wang came by, carrying a stack of books and scrolls into the stronghold. Since early morning, Gama had already seen him in his new clothes, hauling books back and forth seven or eight times.

Gama called out to him: "Monk from Dêgê, what happened to that steward in the dungeon?"

Hearing such a disrespectful form of address, Monk Wang furrowed his brow and looked up. When he saw it was Gama, his face instantly switched to a fawning, ingratiating smile: "Aiyo, who do I have here — Magistrate Ga!"

That one "Magistrate Ga" made Gama question reality. He looked left, looked right — there was no one else beside him. Who was Magistrate Ga?

Monk Wang then went thump-thump-thump into the stronghold. Not long after, he came up to the third floor, the books and scrolls in his hands now gone. He stepped forward, cupped his hands in salute, and said, "Magistrate Ga, please do not call this humble one 'the monk from Dêgê' anymore. By the Grand Marshal's grace, I have been given a name — I am now called Wang De."

Whatever Wang De called himself, in Gama's eyes he was still that down-and-out monk who had studied medicine in the Dêgê domain. Paying no mind to any of that, Gama waved a hand toward below and asked, "That steward in the dungeon — killed?"

"He's alive. If not for that Sichuan man saving him, how many lives would he have had to squander with that kind of behavior? Every day in the cell, summoning Donyo Dorje's spirit back."

"He'd dealt with Sichuan merchants before and knows a few phrases of Chinese. He's been sent to the Haibei quarry to be an overseer."

Monk Wang was beaming, his smile brimming with happiness: "It's all good!"

Gama drew a sharp breath and rubbed his chin, looking at Wang De with eyes full of doubt. He had no idea what had gotten into this monk from Dêgê — the man was talking in riddles, all muddled and incoherent. Something was off.

"Why are you calling me Magistrate Ga?"

"Oh, the magistrate doesn't know yet?"

Monk Wang countered with a question, then promptly straightened his expression, cupped his hands, and said, "The Grand Marshal has already decided — the post of Makang County magistrate is to be held by Magistrate Ga. This humble official, Wang De, is provisionally appointed as Makang County Confucian Instructor... The letter of appointment will be issued very soon. From now on, this place is the county yamen."

"Ma... Magistrate?"

Before Monk Gama could fully react, he saw Wang De suddenly remember something. Wang De raised a hand to tell Gama to wait a moment, then went rushing off downstairs again like a whirlwind.

Watching his vanishing figure, Gama sighed helplessly.

This monk from Dêgê really was just like the Han people. Those men in their earth-yellow uniforms and armor were the same way — seemingly forever rushing about in a whirlwind. Whether arranging matters or carrying out tasks, the urgency of it all made one's heart flutter with unease.

When the monk from Dêgê came running back up, he was clutching a book in his hand. He greeted Gama, opened it, and read aloud: "Magistrate's Affairs Handbook."

After reading those five characters, Wang De raised his eyes to look at Gama, pointed at the book, and said quietly, "Written personally by the Grand Marshal. The printing-block carvers have already been commissioned to engrave the plates. This is the true scripture."

Gama could not stand this fawning, sycophantic manner of Wang De's. He furrowed his brow and said nothing.

Wang De noticed Gama's disdainful expression too, but he did not care.

On that battlefield roaring with the thunder of heavy muskets and wall guns, his helmet had slipped down over his eyes. In total darkness, a fire lance had been braced against his belly and let out a soul-shattering boom — from that moment on, he had known exactly where the true scripture of this world lay.

"'The magistrate is father and mother to his domain. He must know the land, the people, the funds, and the grain of his county. Land means the fields, mountains, and rivers — it concerns the collection of taxes. People means the population — all endeavors require labor. Funds means the treasury goods and coin — these must be clearly accounted for upon taking office. Grain means the granaries — to the people of a county, food is heaven.'"

"'The magistrate has six essential duties. The first is to civilize and instruct the common people. The common people often break the law out of ignorance. Therefore, on the first and fifteenth of every month, the magistrate shall lead the teaching staff, assistant officials, and miscellaneous officers to the public offices of each township. There, soldiers and civilians shall be assembled, and the Marshal's Headquarters' orders shall be conveyed, explained to the common people word by word and sentence by sentence, without the slightest deviation.'"

Gama understood. This magistrate — he did the same work as the steward of his family's estate in the old days.

Wang De continued: "'The second is to hear cases and pass judgment. On the third, sixth, and ninth days of each month, the magistrate shall receive appeals from the common people. Cases must be tried quickly and concluded quickly, so as not to delay the people's farming.'"

Gama nodded. Still the same work as his family's steward.

"'The third is to encourage the people to devote themselves to agriculture. The county yamen shall select superior seeds and dispatch persons well-versed in farming to the countryside to guide cultivation. Building waterworks, repairing bridges and roads, organizing irrigation, and opening up wasteland — all these are within the magistrate's scope of duty. As for the funds required, on one hand, requests for allocation shall be made to higher authorities; on the other, the magistrate shall seek donations from the county's gentry and landowners.'"

At this point, Gama was starting to have trouble following. He had heard of the imperial court's magistrates, but did not know much about them.

He could do all these things, but a magistrate was a circulating official. What good did a circulating official get out of doing all this?

Wang De paid him no mind. He recognized every character Liu Chengzong had written, but when they were put together, he was not entirely sure what they meant. He simply read the text as written: "'The fourth is tax collection and grain levies. Collect the annual taxes and grain according to the orders of the Marshal's Headquarters. As magistrate, you must ensure the taxes are collected, while also guarding against underlings collecting more than is due and reporting less.'"

"'The fifth is disaster relief and famine aid. Report any incident to the higher authorities as quickly as possible. The Grand Marshal says he will write a separate volume specifically on this matter later, so the handbook does not elaborate. Beyond these, the final matter... is the promotion of learning.'"

A smile appeared on Wang De's face. He put the handbook away and said, "That will also be this humble one's essential duty going forward."

Gama sighed. It was, admittedly, quite troubling. The magistrate was responsible for a multitude of affairs, and just hearing about them made him rather unwilling to accept the post.

But he had no way to refuse — not because of what Liu Chengzong might think, but because reality forced his hand.

Huang Shengxiao was garrisoned at Nangso Chimmo Palace. The slaves in the Nangqên domain had all run off to join Basang's army. The aristocrats in the east had lost their estates and were no different from commoners. The aristocrats in the west had become masters with no one under them. He, the nominal King of Nangqên, was left with nothing but a title.

If he did not become Liu Chengzong's magistrate, there was nothing else he could do — he would have to go to Ü-Tsang and become a monk.

Gama shook his head helplessly. This business of calling for aid — it was no good when the reinforcements who came were too good at fighting.

He waved a hand at Wang De and said, "Alright, alright. We'll talk about this magistrate business when the Grand Marshal comes to find me. What were you doing just now?"

Wang De beamed, raised a hand, and jerked a thumb behind him: "Going to look at the county school. There's an estate to the east that's quite well built. The aristocratic family fled as a whole, so the place is vacant — perfectly suited for a county school."

"You've already found a place for the county school?"

Gama's mood was extremely complicated. Perhaps it was due to the centuries-long history of the chieftains — he cared far more about history than many officials in the Han lands, even actively contemplating his own historical position in the present moment.

Now that the war was over, the six ranges of Dokham were bound to be swept by the massive reforms Liu Chengzong would unleash.

Liu Chengzong was nothing special — this sort of thing happened every time a dynasty changed. It was only a matter of how drastic the changes were.

Gama was already witnessing the beginning of reform. Makang, a single county, now had a county yamen and a county school. Soon, other counties would follow. Once Confucian learning was established, many things would be different.

These matters originally had little to do with Gama, but history was like a forgetful old man — always vague about the process, yet always able to remember the beginning and the end with perfect clarity.

Gama was the end.

He suddenly felt that becoming a magistrate was not such a bad thing after all. At least he would have a chance to take part in the new beginning.

Like a little lamb that had survived the final calamity's wind sweeping across the world, cautiously poking its head out toward the new world.

Wang De had no idea what was going through the mind of the Gama standing before him. He was simply laughing at Gama — the establishment of the county school was far from being fast. The township heads had all already begun work in their localities, and the land and population reports from each township were nearly complete.

Béri and Nangqên were not the same. The Béri domain was vast, bordering both Hezhou and Sichuan. In many places, the aristocrats and commoners were very familiar with the Great Ming's government troops — especially familiar with the troops' military discipline.

The government troops enjoyed exceptionally high pay and treatment on this land. When many people saw a village squad enter the vicinity of a manor, their first thought was whether they could wipe them all out.

There was no personal grudge, nor anything to do with avenging King Béri Döndrub Dorje — it was simply the deterrent power of the government troops.

Over the years in the northwest and southwest, many Western Tibetan tribes had been pushed into rebellion by border commanders, and many more had been revolted into rebellion by corrupt officials. In short, there had been no shortage of fighting.

The vast majority of nobles and commoners living in the Béri heartland lacked the discernment to tell the Lion Army apart from the Great Ming government troops. To them, they were all the same — all were government troops.

They knew nothing else; they only knew that the government troops had strict military discipline.

Because the government troops had strict military discipline, they were stronger than them in marching and battle.

And also because of their strict military discipline, they were better than them at organized arson, looting property, and abducting women during the fighting.

At the sight of government troops, every qualified head of a household would spontaneously want to wipe them all out.

Fortunately, the people's livelihoods were in decline. The tribal chieftains put their heads together and figured that seven or eight government troops, clad in armor and mounted on tall horses, were probably too much for them to handle, so they had no choice but to steel themselves mentally for the loss of wealth to avert disaster.

Who would have guessed that upon hearing these men were here to conduct a census, they'd also be told, from now on, your kids can go to school.

The work was completed very smoothly, to everyone's delight.

Choosing a site for the county school was, at most, merely an appendage to such a massive undertaking — simple and easy.

Monk Wang thought of all this and slapped his forehead. "Then I won't talk to Magistrate Ga about it. I'll go find Commandant Wai to learn Han speech. They all say my Han speech is no good — I'm probably a bit short of being a preceptor."

"Wait."

Ga Ma stopped him and asked, "I haven't seen the Grand Marshal these past two days. Has he gone back to Nangchen?"

"Yes, but he'll be back soon. The Grand Marshal's teacher came from the north and fell ill in Nangchen. The Grand Marshal went to see him."

Yang Dingrui had come from Ju'erwan and fallen ill in Nangchen, which made Liu Chengzong frantic with worry. But by the time he rushed back to Nangchen in a blaze of urgency, Yang Dingrui had already recovered completely under the medical care of the mute Depön Ngawang.

When he asked about the cause of the illness, it made Liu the Lion laugh in exasperation.

In Liu Chengzong's experience, the likelihood of falling ill on the route they had taken south was very low. The odds were somewhat higher if one came from the Sichuan side, since the gradient there climbed less gently.

That was precisely why Liu Chengzong found it strange. His soldiers had fought here without any trouble, yet Yang Dingrui, coming over at his leisure, had fallen ill instead?

The reason Yang Dingrui fell ill was very simple — two points.

First, this was Nangchen, at a very high altitude. Second, Yang Dingrui had a small hobby: mountain climbing.

To put it bluntly, he had brought it on himself.

In the manor by the Zhaqu River, Yang Dingrui, wrapped in a fur robe, shook his head with a wry smile. "I originally heard the fighting was over and thought you might need someone to come help. Who knew that as soon as I arrived, I'd cause you trouble instead."

Liu Chengzong waved his hand. He found the whole matter merely amusing, and said, "I was indeed startled when I heard the news. Fortunately, it was a false alarm. As long as you are in good health, sir, that's all that matters."

Yang Dingrui chuckled, then put on a serious expression and said, "When word of the southern victory reached Ju'erwan, not only were we heartened, but all the tribes around the lake were stirred as well. So, have you thought of a name for the prefecture?"

"A prefecture name?"

Liu Chengzong paused. "I only planned to establish seven counties. Setting up a prefecture… Why are the tribes around the lake so stirred?"

It wasn't that he hadn't thought that far ahead; it was mainly that he didn't understand the structure of prefectural-level administration. Regarding prefectures, for the time being he had only thought of his own Qinghai Marshal's Prefecture.

"They're afraid the market won't be able to stay open after a military defeat, of course. You still need to establish a prefecture."

Yang Dingrui raised three fingers and said, "I've discussed it with Fourth Master. For now, we can set up three prefectures from north to south. The northernmost one can be called Xining Prefecture, stretching from Xining City in the east to Da Qaidam in the west, the Qilian Mountains in the north, and Chaka Salt Lake in the south… Its main thrust will be to swallow Ganzhou and Liangzhou."

"The southernmost one is these seven counties you've conquered. It connects to Sichuan on one side and blocks Ü-Tsang on the other — also a fine piece of land."

Yang Dingrui said, "Once these two prefectures are settled, what remains in the middle is Huangnan and Golog, controlled by Western Tibetans and Tatars. There is no opponent there capable of being our enemy. Winning them over and nibbling away — control is only a matter of time."

"These three prefectures linked into one line, commanding several hundred thousand people — that is the Grand Marshal's foundation."

The blueprint his teacher painted was quite splendid, but Liu Chengzong felt somewhat dejected. He could never reveal the pressure he was under in front of his subordinate commanders; he always had to wear the look of one with victory in the bag. Only upon seeing Yang Dingrui did he suddenly feel a wave of fatigue.

He shook his head and said, "It's very poor, sir. I'm worrying about this very matter right now. Take these seven counties — the three kingdoms of Nangchen, Béri, and Lingtsang. I roughly estimate two hundred thousand people. Dividing them into counties to govern, dispersing garrisons, and paying the soldiers is already imminent, yet this region can't even produce the payroll."

Yang Dingrui's eyes widened. "How is that possible?"

Liu Chengzong smiled bitterly and spread his hands helplessly. "Following the old aristocratic system, we could maintain troops, but that's just too… I want to make some progress. But if in Han lands, after equalizing landholdings, tax revenue increases, then given the productive capacity here, after equalizing landholdings we probably still won't be able to collect much money."

Having said this, he asked Yang Dingrui, "What do you think, sir — for paying the soldiers, is it better to use silver or Lion notes?"

Yang Dingrui listened quietly, then shook his head and suddenly laughed. "It seems the Qinghai Grand Marshal has a great misunderstanding about progress. It looks like I've come at the right time. Lion notes can work in Xining Prefecture, but they'll be harder to use in the south. If you intend to use them, it's not impossible, as long as you're prepared for the commoners to pay their taxes to you in a heap of Lion notes."

"As for silver, I'll solve that. You needn't worry. What is progress? It's when even the methods of plunder advance. On that alone… Grand Marshal, you'd best give this prefecture a name first."

Liu Chengzong did not rush to argue. He simply said, "Then let's call it Kangning Prefecture — peace in Kham."

"Fine. On this Kangning Prefecture alone — the Grand Marshal imagines it far too poor. People are wealth."

Yang Dingrui picked it up effortlessly, counting on his finger joints as he calculated. "Two hundred thousand people — six thousand piculs of salt a year. At the official salt price, that's one hundred fifty-nine thousand six hundred taels of silver. Paying the army is absolutely no problem."