Chapter 295: Sand

Liu Chengzong ate that steamed duck with caterpillar fungus with a very heavy heart.

He had already mentally prepared himself for the economic conditions of the Hexi Corridor, but he still harbored many romantic illusions about the level of prosperity there.

But Shili had nothing good to say about what he had seen on his journey, and could sum it up in two words: sand.

From Turpan to Hami, it was all sand along the way; from Hami to Guazhou, Guazhou was already nearly deserted, with only a little over two hundred households clustered around a shrinking oasis.

Liu Chengzong asked about Dunhuang — that soul-stirring name, the place where the Han people's dream of the Western Regions began.

Shili just shook his head with a wooden expression and said there was no Dunhuang.

Shazhou had been abandoned by the Great Ming for a full hundred years. In that century, it nominally belonged to the Abdullah Khan of Turpan, but to avoid further conflict with the Great Ming, Shazhou and Guazhou were a tacitly understood buffer zone between Turpan and the Great Ming's Gansu Regional Commander.

Left untended, the Dunhuang oasis still stood within the boundless Gobi, but all that remained were abandoned farmlands along the Dang River banks and wind-sown willow trees.

The fragile Gobi irrigation works had long since become ruins.

Maritime trade was battering the Silk Road; now it was merely a gold road for eight cities: Yarkand, Kashgar, Khotan, Yengisar, Aksu, Uqturpan, Turpan, and Hami.

And in the last thirty years, the various tribes of Yarkand had been warring among themselves, so in reality, the only ones still traveling this Silk Road were the smugglers and merchants of just three cities: Aksu, Turpan, and Hami.

People no longer needed Dunhuang, and the war-torn Yarkand had no strength to develop the Western Regions. The land between the Great Ming, Turpan, and Hami had become a true wasteland.

Hearing such news from the mouth of an envoy from Turpan, Liu Chengzong's mood sank very low.

Although he had anticipated this in his heart, he still hadn't expected the environment to have deteriorated to this extent.

It wasn't until he led his army into the jurisdiction of Luhuo County and, coordinating with the township-officer work teams in the northwest, took down two noble estates and proclaimed freedom for over four hundred slaves, that his mood improved slightly.

However, the impact of this affair was not great either. In the mountainous terrain along the Niqü River, his Lion Soldiers found many terraces suitable for cultivation.

Because Nangqên was carrying out massive land reclamation work, the Lion Army's soldiers all knew the Grand Marshal was fretting over farmland. Many of them were of peasant origin, and some were even expert farmers.

These men paid close attention to the soil along the route. Whenever they came to a meandering section of river, they would go and inspect the soil and water of the terraces, often yielding good findings.

The most fertile land here was the small plains in the mountains, also called bazi. Almost all the noble estates occupied these bazi. Apart from the bazi, the next best were the terraces in the meandering river sections — small in area, but easy to irrigate and with relatively fertile soil.

But the most common in this region were river alluvial lands, the sloping land on both banks that could be reshaped into terraced fields. The soil was not as good, and farming was more laborious.

The guard soldiers registered the fields suitable for reclamation one by one, to await later settlement and cultivation by immigrants. For Liu Chengzong, what he felt most in his heart was a deep sigh of emotion.

He had already discovered the pattern: the closer one got to the Great Ming border, the better the geographical environment, and the better people's lives.

In most places under the rule of Kangning Prefecture, farmland was scarce and pastureland abundant. The entire prefecture had over a million qing of grassland and countless livestock, but this did not mean prosperity — in reality, it was very poor.

Just like the Mongol herders who could not afford to eat meat, the common people of the pastoral areas mainly sustained themselves on a small amount of highland barley and dairy products. Only the extremely wealthy nobles would slaughter animals for meat, but nobles did not raise cattle, so it was equivalent to the herders never slaughtering cattle.

Entering Luhuo County, Liu Chengzong gradually began to see Mongols. Because the Tibetan people did not eat fish, yet there were many little fishing experts on the rivers. Upon closer approach, one could see that the men poling those little fishing boats and rafts were all Mongols, who would flee at the sight of the army.

But rivers are not grasslands after all; with cavalry lining both banks, there was nowhere to run even if they wanted to. Called over for questioning, their Sichuan Mandarin was more fluent than anyone's.

They were not Tümed Mongols; their ancestors were troops transferred from Jiangxi to Chengdu to suppress a rebellion at the end of the Yuan Dynasty, following the Grand Chancellor.

As for the question of how suppressing a rebellion in Chengdu landed them in Luhuo, Liu Chengzong did not press further. In any case, these Mongols' boat-poling skills and fishing techniques were truly excellent, possessing quite the air of "a lone boat, a straw cape and hat, an old man fishing alone in the cold river snow."

Ten li northwest of Luhuo County, his maternal uncle Cai Zhongpan, along with the Changhexi Tusi Muya, stood wrapped in thick fur robes with their retinue, like a cluster of pandas waiting for bamboo in a world of ice and snow.

As the distant figures of men and horses drew near, Muya was still complaining to Cai Zhongpan, saying that since they were practically half-fellows from the same hometown, how could he hide such a big matter from him!

He had only learned three days ago that Liu Chengzong was coming. Before that, Cai Zhongpan had kept him in Luhuo, leaving Muya restless and uneasy, suspecting that Cai Zhongpan had conspired with the Mu Tusi of Lijiang to detain him here.

It made him worry for nothing for over ten days, only to find out after all that fuss that it was Liu Chengzong coming... Damn it, this was a good thing! What was there to hide!

As long as it wasn't the Mu Heavenly King coming, anyone's arrival counted as good news.

Liu Chengzong spotted them from afar, urged his horse a few steps faster, and upon nearing, dismounted and embraced his uncle. Only then did he look at Muya beside them and say to Cai Zhongpan, "This must be the Changhexi Tusi my uncle mentioned to me?"

Muya hurriedly clasped his fists first, then performed a salute. "Yes, I am Muya of Changhexi, paying respects to the Grand Marshal!"

"No need for that. I don't go in for those bowing rituals here. I hear from my uncle that Tusi Mu and he have already become fellow provincials." Liu Chengzong laughed, then raised a hand. "Come, let's mount up and talk as we ride."

Muya nodded at this, stepped forward to take the reins of the red horse, and glanced back. A servant was about to step forward, but Cai Zhongpan quickly tugged at his sleeve, signaling frantically with his eyes.

Cai Zhongpan thought to himself, knowing his nephew as he did, if Muya brought out a slave here to serve as a mounting block for Liu the Lion, there would be no need to discuss anything between the two sides afterward — war would be inevitable.

He truly did not want Liu Chengzong to go to war with Muya, nor did he even want Liu Chengzong to go to war with anyone in this region.

Losing would be painful, and winning would just mean pulling another money-losing piece of land into his hands.

These lands were sources of income in the hands of the Tusi, but once in the Lion Army's hands, with the temples torn down and the nobles driven out, all that remained was a bunch of starving slaves, and they'd still have to figure out how to find food for them — it would be nothing but improving other people's standard of living.

No matter how great one's prestige, one couldn't keep doing that forever.

On the march, Cai Zhongpan walked a few steps ahead with Liu Chengzong and reported on the recent situation. "Grand Marshal, I've sounded out Muya's stance. As long as a boundary is drawn, he'll pay tribute — money, grain, women — as long as he can afford it, it's no problem. There's just one thing."

To be honest, Liu Chengzong had little interest in the money, grain, or women. No matter how much he demanded, these things would ultimately be passed down onto the common people. He asked, "What is it?"

"Don't demand too much. He still has to pay tribute to the imperial court, and he hopes the Lion Army can be his backer."

Liu Chengzong was somewhat puzzled by the logic of this. "Being a backer is easy, but is he planning to stop paying tribute to the Great Ming? Or does he want to expand outward?"

"Neither the Great Ming, nor expansion," Cai Zhongpan said. "It's Lijiang. Changhexi has nowhere to expand. To its east is the imperial court's Sichuan Provincial Administration Commission, to its southeast is the Sichuan Regional Military Commission, and to its south and west is the territory of the Mu family of Lijiang. Go two hundred li west from Dajianlu, and the land is surnamed Mu."

As he spoke, Cai Zhongpan pointed north again. "Go two hundred li northwest, and the land is surnamed Liu. To the north, Jinchuan is busily building watchtowers. Where could he expand?"

Liu Chengzong couldn't help but smile. No wonder this Changhexi Tusi was so restless and agitated — in this environment, anyone would be.

"Uncle has handled this well. I have a clear picture now."

Liu Chengzong said nothing on the road, because Muya was enthusiastically introducing his connections with Shaanxi merchants and insisting that Liu the Lion try some hometown dishes.

They were genuine hometown dishes. Muya had brought in six Shaanxi cooks and six Sichuan cooks from Dajianlu, carrying ingredients transported from the Sichuan border. Since yesterday morning, they had been in the largest estate in Luhuo County, fermenting soybeans, blanching bamboo shoots, preparing aged brine, and simmering superior stock.

Shaanxi merchants were ostentatious, and their dining was no exception. Most of the cooks on the Sichuan border had been brought there by wealthy merchants and were subsequently hired by various Tusi, opening restaurants in Dajianlu.

Muya arranged the banquet with the pomp of Sichuan salt merchants, making Liu the Lion feel like a country bumpkin.

The cooks were all from Guanzhong, and they clattered out the Lantian Nine Great Bowls: braised pork elbow, stewed cabbage, sliced pork strips, crispy fried pork, old tofu... Amidst a spread of dishes that all looked very heavy, he was only relatively familiar with the thick rice wine and the guokui flatbread.

The Sichuan cooks presented Northern Sichuan jelly noodles, honey-glazed ox hoof flower, wine-lees meat, hibiscus tofu, orange-sauce ribs, soft-shelled turtle soup, and milk-sugar tigers.

Actually, that last little pastry was originally a milk-sugar lion. The ingredients were rock sugar made from sugar and milk, combined with ghee, shaped into a lion. It had been a tribute item from Sichuan to the imperial court since the Song Dynasty. At Cai Zhongpan's suggestion, the cook had altered the design, making it into a tiger.

"Tusi Mu has put much thought into preparing this banquet."

Amidst the dazzling array of dishes, Liu Chengzong found every dish delicious, but what he fancied most was the small, round pickled vegetable by the table. He asked, "What dish is that?"

The banquet was very satisfying, especially because Muya was extremely considerate, knowing that the Lion Army had been on a long expedition and had no presentable cooks of their own. If the Lion Army had prepared a similar feast, it would mostly have been about huge portions to fill you up, and the best dish would probably have been the famous northern Shaanxi delicacy...

Hearing Liu Chengzong's question, Muya felt immensely flattered. He thumped his chest and said, "Great Commander, that is the Yutong pickled cabbage from my domain, made with high-mountain round roots. It wasn't worthy of today's banquet. If you like it, tonight we'll serve pickled cabbage stir-fried with cured meat and sour soup noodles."

Liu Chengzong nodded and said to Cai Zhongpan, "This is good. It can serve as a military ration side dish."

Muya was so choked up by that one remark he didn't know how to respond. After thinking for a long while, he smiled and said, "Great Commander, do you know what the most precious thing at this banquet is?"

Liu Chengzong blinked and answered, "The cook you hired, I suppose?"

Muya waved his hand. "No, it's the Sichuan salt. Every dish today uses the finest Sichuan salt brought by Shopkeeper Zhao."

Liu Chengzong looked around. This Shopkeeper Zhao was a merchant Cai Zhongpan had Muya bring from Chengdu Prefecture. He had once been a shopkeeper of the same clan as the Zhao family of Weinan, dealing in salt and tea.

Seated at the table, he ate the entire meal with extreme caution, not uttering a single extra word.

After all, to Shopkeeper Zhao, everyone at this table was either a tusi or a rebel leader. In their territory, none of them were easy to get along with.

Liu Chengzong asked, "How expensive is Sichuan salt?"

"My tusi yamen's full name is the Changhexi Yutong Ningyuan Military-Civilian Pacification Commissioner's Office. We produce no salt." Muya tapped the table lightly with his finger. "Twenty taels of fritillary bulb for four jin of Sichuan salt. By the time the salt reaches Yutong, it's all large chunks of pan-scorched salt."

Fritillary bulb is a medicinal herb, always a precious commodity, with excellent cough-suppressing and phlegm-clearing properties. The Sichuan fritillary in Sichuan Fritillary Loquat Syrup is exactly this.

Twenty taels of fritillary bulb for only four jin of salt — Liu Chengzong felt he had somewhat underestimated salt's value.

In his view, salt was everywhere and hardly precious, but that was based on the Lion Army's vast territory.

From the perspective of a tusi like Changhexi, whose territory had not changed in centuries, having no salt simply meant having no salt.

"The Great Commander is a man who does great things. Changhexi cannot help with great matters, but if the Great Commander has use for my territory, as long as you can give me some cheap salt, everything is negotiable."

Muya had been eagerly anticipating what smuggling deals Liu Chengzong and Shopkeeper Zhao might discuss. He thought it would be salt, which was why he kept steering the conversation that way — hoping that when the Lion Army used his territory to smuggle salt, they would cut him a small opening.

But what Liu Chengzong wanted to do was resettle people. Although the salt wells of Sichuan were close, large-scale smuggling held little significance for him. The difference in altitude between the two regions could even offset the long journey of transporting salt from Nangqian.

Still, since Muya had put it that way, Liu Chengzong asked, "Chieftain Mu, since you say so — with salt, everything is negotiable?"

"It is. As long as the salt price isn't too high — even half a jin of fritillary bulb for four jin of salt would be fine."

"I'm not short on fritillary bulb. The grasslands I passed through are covered with it everywhere." Liu Chengzong looked at Muya. "I am short of one thing."

Muya leaned closer. "What?"

Liu Chengzong said, "Grain."

Hearing those two words, Muya's heart lurched.

He had imagined Liu Chengzong might be short of money or other things, but never once had he imagined Liu Chengzong was short of grain. He dared not think about it.

Anything could be traded for when in short supply — only a grain shortage often meant war.

Because grain is consumed in vast quantities, is heavy, and is difficult to transport, once a grain deficit appears, it is not a problem that can be simply solved through trade.

He had seen Liu Chengzong's soldiers — every one of them powerfully built and well-equipped. If those Shaanxi brutes got fierce, he feared even his own troops plus Yazhou's forces would not be enough to fight them.

The atmosphere at the large round table suddenly froze. Muya's back was already soaked with sweat. He took a deep breath. "What does the Great Commander mean?"

"I have an idea. On my way here, I saw most of the land in Kangning Prefecture. In many places where land could be cleared and grain planted, nothing is being farmed."

Liu Chengzong did not know where Muya's tension came from. He was short of grain, but the Lion Army's territory was large enough — it was not yet to the point of starving his soldiers. It was just that grain supplies had a significant shortfall for the subsequent resettlement.

"Lease me the land west of the Dadu River that is suitable for cultivation but uncultivated — the mountain land, valley land, tableland, saline-alkali land." Liu Chengzong spread his hand. "One jin of salt for every five mu. However much there is, I'll lease it all."