Chapter 292: Peace and Tranquility

Liu Chengzong had no intention of heading to Luhuo too early — there was still one very important matter left undone in Nangqian: opening up wasteland.

He had made Zhang Yuanheng a promise of two hundred mu of land for every Sichuan farming household, precisely to draw people over and increase the Han population of Kangning Prefecture.

This was, of course, because Kangning Prefecture had a mere two hundred thousand commoners — and what did two hundred thousand commoners mean? That was just the population of Fuzhou and Luochuan before the drought struck; against the vast expanse of Kangning Prefecture's land, this number of people was utterly negligible.

But then again, the land in all of Kangning Prefecture currently capable of growing highland barley and vegetables had only been tallied at less than two hundred and eighty-three thousand mu so far — the count was not yet complete, but the rough figure was already fixed; even once the fields were fully surveyed, Liu Chengzong reckoned it would not increase by much more.

Within those two hundred and eighty-some thousand mu, over thirty thousand mu were still in the hands of the nobility.

Liu Chengzong believed that in an environment where average per-mu yield was eighty to ninety jin — a yield that included the seed grain — combined with exploitation by the nobility, a person's actual yearly grain ration likely fell below forty jin, which was not enough to keep a person alive.

Yet he understood perfectly well: back at Yuhe Fort, the imperial court had not issued him much grain in a year either, and he had still survived by primal instinct.

If these two hundred thousand barbarian folk were properly nurtured, they would be like him — people accustomed to enduring hunger, capable of doing great things.

It only depended on whom they did those things to.

In the war against Béri, the combined armies of both sides had smashed the religious and slave systems to pieces; it was only after ruling this land that Liu Chengzong belatedly realized — the nobles were no fools.

Any person knew that the slave system meant low productivity; any person knew that the system of enfeoffing many and establishing many nobles likewise hindered the growth of productive forces.

But these two magic weapons had, for a long time, suppressed the conflict between people and land here.

Once this fig leaf was torn away, the two figures — three hundred thousand mu of farmland and two hundred thousand commoners — became terrifying.

The greatest problem before Liu Chengzong was that even if all these three hundred thousand mu of land were given to Basang's slave camp, it still would not meet his expectations.

Yet apart from the slave camp, he still had one hundred and ninety thousand commoners under his rule.

Driving them all off to be herders would not be a big problem, but without the grain provided by a farming population, he could forget about developing even handicrafts.

The other set of memories belonging to Liu the Lion harbored an almost obsessive pursuit of industry, but for him personally, the path to developing industry was very clear: first, agriculture had to be self-sufficient and produce at least half its yield as surplus — meaning two people could support one extra person doing something else.

This extra person could then take part in commerce or handicrafts locally, and only then could one pursue industry.

But in the era and environment he found himself in, half of per capita agricultural output as surplus was far too extravagant.

Within this simple framework of thought, the problem before Liu Chengzong was straightforward: for the sake of long-term peace and stability, he needed to bring immigrants from Sichuan and Shaanxi into the two prefectures of Xikang.

Large-scale immigration, on the order of ten thousand or more, could accelerate the progress of writing the same script, running carts on the same gauge, and unifying weights and measures.

And immigrants required land — here, the per capita arable land was less than two mu.

Reclaiming land was therefore imperative.

During this period, Liu Chengzong had been traveling all over Nangqian with Chengyun and his guard soldiers, conducting a survey along the old boundaries of the many minor headmen's domains, and the conclusion he reached was not bad.

Nangqian was very poor, but the poverty was not the result of the regional environment.

The low productivity of the many-enfeoffed noble system and the slave system meant this place had never come close to the limit of population the land could support.

Fields, dry land, mountains, marshes, forests, pasture, salt, and mines — all had been exploited to some degree, but none to a high degree.

This situation delighted Liu Chengzong; it so happened that the refugees gathering near Nangqian were growing more and more numerous — so many it made his scalp tingle — so he decided to launch a work-relief program and stop providing meals.

At present, near Nangqian, Basang's camp still had over two thousand people without land, and the refugees who had gathered there already outnumbered those in Basang's camp.

Ever since word got out about the tsampa being distributed outside the Zhaqu Manor, whole families of commoners had abandoned their homes and gathered near Nangqian, forming a new market town.

Because many people had no homes to begin with — some were monks from destroyed temples, even more had fled in the chaos of war and hidden in the mountains, only emerging after the fighting ended; unable to return to their manors, which now had no masters, they drifted in a daze to the foot of Nangso Chendo Palace looking for food.

Although one Lion Army ration could feed eight people, the sheer number of people still made Liu Chengzong's scalp prickle; the long winter had passed, but next spring was coming, and he had to find food for these people fast.

So he gathered Basang's people and the able-bodied men among the refugees, organized them into the Western Barbarian Grand Camp of over five thousand men — nearly ten thousand counting their dependents — and set them to opening military farmland in Nangqian by company.

In the end, there were over four hundred elderly and disabled people left, without families and without the ability to reclaim land; Basang did not want them, considering them useless.

Liu Chengzong did not abandon them either; upholding the fine tradition of respecting the old and cherishing the young, he established a Relief Home by the Zhaqu River and assigned several instructors, both men and women, to teach the elderly, the children, and those with tongues and eyes to speak Chinese, and to teach those with hands to felt wool.

For two old men whose physical condition allowed them to learn nothing at all, he assigned one Lion soldier and a kind-hearted local woman to care for them, with their rations paid out by the government office.

After finally getting all this sorted out, Liu Chengzong handed the land reclamation work over to Chengyun: "You'll mint Marshal Tongbao coins here, turn the damaged weapons from the spoils into farming tools, lead the men in planning the irrigation channels and field positions, and inspect and record merits for the Western Barbarian Grand Camp soldiers based on their reclamation progress."

Chengyun had done land reclamation work back in northern Shaanxi and was thoroughly familiar with it; he agreed readily: "No problem. Brother, the regulations for recording merits — you'd better handle that yourself, right?"

"Alright, hmm… Many in the Western Barbarian Grand Camp have dependents. They're organized into chiliarchs, company commanders, centurions, and squads, so when you plan the reclamation zones, go down to the squad leader level. Let the squad leader divide the large tract among individuals — for example, one squad of fifty men reclaims five hundred mu, then the squad leader splits the five hundred mu into fifty ten-mu plots."

Liu Chengzong continued, "I'll also transfer one company of Lion soldiers to you. At the start, the tools won't keep up, so progress will definitely be slow. Once work begins, use the household as the unit and let their dependents work too. For every five mu reclaimed, record the merit, grant three mu of land, and reward two hundred cash."

Chengyun listened, took notes, and smiled to himself, thinking his second brother was really stingy — reclaim five mu, keep two mu of it as government land, and only give a reward of two hundred cash.

Back in northern Shaanxi during the drought, one mu of land still sold for three or four hundred cash.

"Once they finish and can still keep going, mark out another ten mu and let them continue. When they've reclaimed a total of fifty mu, reward them one sheep; when they've reclaimed a hundred mu, reward them one ox. Then they can stop. You'll find them sixty mu of contiguous land, give them two sheep, one ox, and four thousand cash, let them settle down, and discharge them from the Western Barbarian Grand Camp."

Liu Chengzong calculated in his head as he spoke, and when he had it roughly figured, said, "I estimate by the time they've reclaimed enough, it'll be planting season next year. Once they're discharged from the Western Barbarian Grand Camp, we stop providing meals. You'll then sell grain and seed in Nangqian, and by the way promote our dou and sheng measures — make them buy."

"As for the land tax, discuss it further with Mister Yang to decide what rate is appropriate. I suggest setting it fairly high, between three-tenths and half the harvest, and then exempting all poll taxes and the like — especially things like so much money for bearing a boy, so much for a girl; make it clear to the camp soldiers that all of that is abolished. Collect money, not grain — I don't want to breed a crop of kick-the-measure experts in the government offices."

At this point, Liu Chengzong said to Chengyun with emphasis, "So when you divide the fields, give some thought to the roads. After the autumn harvest, the government will set up several points to buy grain from the commoners at the official price."

Having said this, he let out a breath and smiled. "Though none of this has been deeply thought through. Apart from the harsh taxes and levies the nobles used to collect — those we can abolish, we must abolish — the rest still needs further consideration. There's no rush to decide until land reclamation ends next spring."

Chengyun, for once shedding his usual carefree and indifferent expression, nodded heavily and said, "Those evil policies the nobles used to drive people into bankruptcy must be abolished. I've even heard of a method of taxing silver based on a newborn's eyelids — do they think they're buying donkeys!"

Liu Chengzong merely sighed and shook his head slightly. The two brothers fell silent for a long while, until the sound of a baby crying came from the stairs of the manor's third floor, making them look toward the staircase.

They saw Fan Sanlang coming up, holding a small child.

Liu Chengzong rose involuntarily, peering that way as he asked, "Sanlang, where did you get a little baby?"

Fan Sanlang was flustered, holding the child, afraid its crying would displease Liu Chengzong; she hurried forward and said very rapidly, "Commander, this is a child left behind from the Western Barbarian Camp."

"A child left behind?"

Liu Chengzong shook his head. "I don't recall any children in the Relief Home."

"Not in the Relief Home — in the refugee camp. After the new Western Barbarian Grand Camp was set up and everyone had left, the guard soldiers wouldn't have known if the baby hadn't cried in a pile of rags."

Fan Sanlang said, "I asked around. This baby was abandoned in the camp, unwanted, for quite a few days. It survived until now on nothing but thin, watery tsampa mixed up — whoever saw it gave it a mouthful."

As she spoke, she looked at Liu Chengzong with difficulty. "The guard soldiers said to send the baby to the Relief Home, but I thought that place…"

Fan Sanlang could not bring herself to finish the thought. She knew that in these chaotic times of war, for Liu Chengzong to establish a Relief Home in Nangqian to support the useless was already an act of immense compassion.

But in the end, the people inside were all without hope. Even if they were well cared for, in two years they would probably all be dead. To put it bluntly, in present-day Nangqian, that place was just somewhere to wait for death.

In any case, Fan Sanlang did not believe that Liu Chengzong truly expected the forty- or fifty-year-old widowers inside to learn to speak, still less that he expected the legless or tongueless to live long enough to learn to felt wool.

In her eyes, its greatest meaning was that those people would have someone to care for them and keep them company before they died, so they wouldn't freeze to death on the streets right away.

The significance of human compassion far outweighed any practical effect.

A child this small, left anywhere, probably wouldn't live to adulthood anyway.

"Say no more. I'll raise him." Liu Chengzong walked forward a few steps, found the little one wasn't as dirty as he'd imagined, reached out and took him in his arms, and said to Fan Sanlang, "You washed him? Boy or girl?"

Fan Sanlang was quite forthright about it: "A boy. I was afraid the Marshal wouldn't like him, so I washed him clean beforehand. Looks about two years old."

"Oh, two years old — picked up another son."

Liu Chengzong held him and chuckled merrily. He nudged Chengyun and said, "When are you going to have one? You've been married for years now, and I've already got two sons."

Chengyun looked like he'd swallowed a fly, tilted his head away, and snorted a laugh: "These past few years our family's been doing great things. I've been run off my feet, roaming northern Shaanxi organizing village registers and combining jia units for the common folk, following the army to prepare supplies — where would I find the time to have a child? And anyway, having one could never be as fast as big brother picking one up!"

Liu Chengzong was tickled into a hearty laugh. He turned serious and said to Chengyun, "Don't rush to have one. Have one after we descend from the highlands — childbirth on the plateau is dangerous."

Fan Sanlang shook her head and said, "The Marshal still has the nerve to talk. That child of yours in Xining still doesn't have a name to this day. Supposedly your son, but ever since you picked him up, he's been raised at General Cao's wife's place. You don't take it to heart, so no one dares give him a name."

Liu Chengzong said in surprise, "It's been years — my father never gave his grandson a name?"

"He did — Qin Wang." Fan Sanlang said irritably, "The Old Master always calls him 'the kid picked up at Qin Wang Village,' so everyone else just calls him Qin Wang."

"The little King of Han can call my son brother."

Liu Chengzong couldn't keep his mouth shut from laughing at this form of address: "Grandpa's already got the grandson's fief picked out. Good heavens — later when we take Xi'an Prefecture, I won't even be able to call myself the Prince of Qin if I wanted to... I'll name one. Perfect timing — I'll give both these little ones their names."

As soon as naming came up, both Chengyun and Fan Sanlang grew interested.

Fan Sanlang clenched her little fists: "Liu Feng, Liu Chan!"

Chengyun raised his voice from the side: "Liu Huang, Liu Di!"

Liu the Lion burst out laughing. These two naming prodigies: "Do those even sound like people's names? In times like these, raising a child is hard enough — you want them jinxed to death by their name too?"

"That older child in Xining — I took him from his mother's arms. If his mother had still been there then, she probably would have begged me to raise him to adulthood. My own mother wished for my safety too. Let him be called Ping'an..."

The expression on his face deepened. He looked at the two of them and said, "May we all be safe and sound."

Having said this, Liu Chengzong looked down at the baby in his arms, his face gradually hardening with resolve: "I had a hand in the war at Nangqen and Béri too. The common people were displaced by the chaos of war. Such things will continue for many years yet, until all under heaven is united as one. I hope the region will cherish virtue and fear our might, that Xikang may know peace and quiet. Let him be called Ningjing. What do you think?"

Chengyun's eyes sparkled: "As expected, big brother has to be the one to name them. It's good — the child won't be laughed at when he grows up. If he were called Liu Huang or Liu Di, hahaha!"

Fan Sanlang was thoroughly surprised by these two names. No matter what, she never imagined that Liu Chengzong, who had driven his troops for months and swallowed a thousand li of territory, would name the children Ping'an and Ningjing.

But names like these carried beautiful wishes, and yet made people like them, caught amid disaster and war, feel a pang of sorrow... If only she were still called Du Qiao'er — how fine that would be.

Liu Chengzong saw her expression and guessed the two names had stirred up sad memories for Sanlang, so he asked, "Sanlang is thinking of her family?"

Seeing his inquiring gaze turn toward her, Fan Sanlang nodded slightly, then smiled and said, "Ningjing is good. I thought the Marshal would name him Liu Wenzhong."

"Liu Wenzhong?"

Liu Chengzong paused blankly for a moment before it dawned on him — the founding Grand Commandant Li Wenzhong. He couldn't help but laugh heartily.

Just then, Chengyun nudged him with an elbow and said, "Brother, when do you plan to get married?"

"Get married?"

Liu Chengzong shook his head blankly, took two steps toward Sanlang, and scared Fan Sanlang, who had just stepped forward, so that her face flushed red all the way to her neck — only to see him stretch the baby in his arms forward: "Here, raise him."

Fan Sanlang was dumbstruck. She took the baby: "Huh?"

"Huh what? If you don't raise him, am I supposed to? Do we still want to rebel or not?"

Liu Chengzong then turned his head to look at Chengyun: "Once things settle down, after we descend from the highlands... Marry early, and you just add another worry sooner."

Liu Chengyun clapped and laughed heartily: "By big brother's logic, next we take Chengdu Prefecture, get you married, and then pull back — wouldn't that be splendid?"