Chapter 297: Enjoying the Fruits

The first month of the fifth year of Chongzhen was a fine season. Zhang Yuanheng, an old banner soldier of Songpan Garrison, returned home in glory.

Though Zhang Yuanheng was a man of Baoding, the phrase "return home in glory" only suited Songpan Garrison, for in Baoding there was no one left who needed him to return in glory to earn face, nor anyone who needed him to lend them his support.

In the government hall of the Xiaohe Defense Battalion, Old Master Zhang sat in the seat of honor, clad in a fur robe and a wide hat. He used the porcelain lid to skim the tea leaves floating in his bowl, blew gently, and looked up. "Huguang has also seen the earth dragon turn over. The Heavenly Army has been defeated again at Dalinghe?"

The battalion commander and company commanders who once swaggered with arrogance now stood in attendance at his side. The battalion commander nodded in agreement and added, "In the eleventh month, the Liao army at Dengzhou mutinied at Wuqiao. General Huang Long, who earned the highest battle merit in the Luanzhou campaign the year before last, had his ears and nose cut off by the rebels."

"Oh."

Zhang Yuanheng felt not the slightest stir within. He took a sip of tea. "Let's not speak of other people's affairs. Your old master spent a year repairing city walls at Songpan. What's become of you all now? I hear that whenever the plowing season comes, you hand the banner troops over to the Fan and Qiang headmen, sending them off to do labor there?"

Having such a disgraceful matter laid bare by Zhang Yuanheng, the officers in the hall could not lift their heads, and in their hearts they bitterly hated this cockless eunuch.

Was this something that had only just started happening, damn it? It had already been the norm back when you, you ball-less wretch, were still repairing the city walls. It was only because the officers, out of pity for your lack of a prick, hadn't sent you along. And now look—you've put on a eunuch's skin and come swaggering back to call us to account.

In truth, the officers did not fear Zhang Yuanheng. The reason they treated him with such cautious deference was simply that they did not wish to bring trouble upon themselves.

When it came down to it, creatures like eunuchs possessed an extremely strong vindictiveness. If you could avoid them, avoid them; if you couldn't, let them disgust you with a few words, then send them off like you were sending off the plague god. That was enough.

Songpan Garrison did not welcome Zhang Yuanheng.

Yet to Zhang Yuanheng, Songpan Garrison felt even more like home than Baoding Prefecture.

"I also hear that you dare not oppose the Fan and Qiang, yet you sent troops to block General Zhang of the Qinghai Marshal's Headquarters?"

At the mention of this, the officers looked at one another. Finally, the battalion commander spoke up. "We know of the matter you speak of, Master Zhang, but what is this Qinghai Marshal's Headquarters?"

They had been puzzling over this themselves for several months now.

The terrain of Songpan was complex. To the west, grasslands cut off the Fan bandits, and any news from further west had to be relayed by the people of the Dongbo Hanhu Pacification Commissioner's Office.

This Dongbo Hanhu Pacification Commissioner's Office was the superior pacification commissioner over the area from Songpan to the Jinchuan chieftains. But it had long since passed its prime. Its former territory could barely hold its own under the encroachment of Boli, and it lacked the strength to protect its subordinate pacification offices. The headmen within its domain each harbored their own ambitions.

The Jinchuan chieftain, for instance, paid tribute simultaneously to three parties: Dongbo, the Mu Heavenly King of Lijiang, and the Qinghai Marshal's Headquarters.

A few months earlier, Zhang Tianlin and Li Laochai, who were pursuing Dunyue Duoji, had led their troops near the Songpan grasslands. When Songpan Garrison received word, they assumed Dunyue Duoji was massing troops on the border and hurriedly led their forces to intercept.

In the end, the two sides merely glimpsed each other from afar across the marshland before Zhang Tianlin withdrew his troops, leaving the Songpan Garrison army utterly baffled... Why were they Han troops?

Later inquiries in many quarters yielded no clear answer. The Fan and Qiang bands that frequently passed through the region knew nothing of the truth either. Some said the King of Nangqian had destroyed the King of Boli, some said the Mongols of Tumed had fought their way into Ma'erkang, and still others said it was the army of the Qinghai Marshal's Headquarters.

All sorts of rumors ran wild through Songpan Garrison, and no one knew which was true and which was false.

The King of Nangqian and Tumed should not have had Han soldiers. They knew only that the Qinghai Pacification Commissioner was a rebel leader, but what was the Qinghai Marshal's Headquarters?

No one knew.

"You don't know the Qinghai Marshal's Headquarters, but surely you know Liu Chengzong?"

Having shed his banner soldier's uniform and donned a eunuch's skin, Zhang Yuanheng now spoke with unyielding force. He jabbed a finger at the officers' foreheads one by one. "Every one of you fears the Qiang and Fan as if they were tigers, yet you dared to block the Grand Marshal's army. Should I call you cowards or bold?"

The Xiaohe battalion commander could least bear hearing such words. He frowned. "Hmph. Master Zhang was once a banner soldier. Surely you know it is not that we soldiers and officers fear the Qiang and Fan. It is that our superiors forbid provoking border clashes. If it were left to the individual banner soldier, which one would not dare fight the Fan and Qiang barbarians to the death?"

"But what good would it do to stake our lives on a single battle? Externally, with insufficient provisions, we'd gain no advantage. Internally, we'd throw away the lives of the banner soldiers for nothing. And in the end, we'd still face punishment from our superiors."

"As for us officers, hah." The Xiaohe battalion commander said, "Does Master Zhang truly think we can hold our heads high, that we are willing, when we let the Qiang headmen order the banner soldiers around?"

"I know."

Zhang Yuanheng gave a light laugh. He knew better than anyone what these officers were really thinking.

To put it bluntly, if the court offered them a bounty—say, thirty taels of silver for every Qiang or Fan head—and if the reward silver were paid out in full, they would first slaughter the Qiang and Fan to extinction, then disguise Han heads as Qiang and Fan heads and slaughter them to extinction as well.

But without reward silver, if they lost a battle they'd forfeit their lives, and if they won there'd be no merit to show for it. They were unwilling to start a war. All that talk of being unable to hold their heads high and being unwilling was just pretty words.

In the end, the officers had to heed the local civil officials, but the banner soldiers heeded these very same officers. Were they really so innocent?

The banner soldiers were there to be ordered about. What difference did it make whose orders they followed?

Thinking of this, Zhang Yuanheng truly felt that following Liu Chengzong wasn't so bad. Though the Qinghai Marshal's Headquarters still had no military pay to speak of, and those Lion soldiers barely scraped by with just enough rations—having to think up every possible scheme just to eat something decent—at least they didn't have to swallow their anger.

Zhang Yuanheng said, "I know things aren't easy for you. The reason I've come back to visit this time is that I've thought of a way to help the brothers of Songpan Garrison live a little better."

The officers looked at one another. Zhang Yuanheng actually had such a conscience?

To be fair, when Zhang Yuanheng was serving his military exile at Songpan, partly because the young eunuch Zhang in the palace had sent word, and partly because he himself was a licentiate, none of the officers had ever given him a hard time.

But that Zhang Yuanheng could actually regard Songpan Garrison as his old home—this was something the Songpan officers had never imagined. They wondered to themselves: Eunuch Zhang, have you no home of your own, that you'd make Songpan, where you spent two years repairing walls, your home?

Zhang Yuanheng truly had no home.

The Xiaohe battalion commander asked, "May I ask what this method is that Master Zhang speaks of?"

"The court has ordered me to Xining to supervise the tea and horse trade. As for the affairs of Xining, and the background of this newly established Qinghai Pacification Commissioner's Office—gentlemen, you must have heard something by now. Whatever else may be said, they haven't yet torn their faces off with the court."

When Zhang Yuanheng said this, the officers in the hall looked at each other, turning over in their minds what Eunuch Zhang's words implied.

They were all proper hereditary military officers. Their knowledge of Liu Chengzong was scant at best, but by instinct, who among them would think highly of a bunch of rebels? At worst, they were just another She Chongming, An Bangyan, or Hong Taiji.

Seeing the subtle expressions on their faces, Zhang Yuanheng knew exactly what they were thinking. He cut straight to the point. "Enough. Marshal Liu rose from humble beginnings, but don't you go putting on the airs of hereditary officers in your hearts. What of Grand Marshal Du Wenhuan of Yulin Garrison? What of Grand Marshal He Huchen of Ningxia Garrison?"

"Battalion commanders and company commanders like you—Marshal Liu killed so many before entering Qinghai that not even a name would be left behind. Ask yourselves honestly: is this what your hereditary officer status has come to—unable to quell the barbarians and guard against the nomads abroad, and unable to protect the realm and keep the people at peace at home?"

The Xiaohe battalion commander's hand, hanging at his waist, loosened and clenched, loosened and clenched again.

The officers' faces were twisted with fury. Had Zhang Yuanheng not been a court eunuch, these men would have had a hundred ways to kill him.

There was no call to slap people in the face like that.

Zhang Yuanheng, however, did not care. He looked at them all and said, "The sea bandits who plagued the border for decades, and Baitai Taiji with his ten thousand nomadic horsemen—they now ride at Marshal Liu's command and have already passed Qamdo and fought their way into Tibet."

"Boli's Dunyue Duoji, who swallowed Nangqian and so frightened the Jinchuan chieftain that he built watchtowers—he was reduced to ashes in a matter of months. When all is said and done, Marshal Liu is a man of northern Shaanxi. Right now he is accomplishing great deeds among the western tribes, just waiting for Han people from the interior to come over and enjoy the fruits."

"Songpan is my home. It's become what it is now. Don't you want to live a little better?"

The officers finally caught on. Zhang Yuanheng's initial blistering tirade had all been leading to this. The Xiaohe battalion commander sneered. "Master Zhang means for us to turn bandit?"

The officers were thoroughly delighted. In their hearts, they were already sharpening their blades. This was the perfect chance to kill that loathsome pest Zhang Yuanheng.

No matter how prettily he phrased it—going to the tribal lands to enjoy the fruits—it held not the slightest temptation for hereditary officers. Could Liu Chengzong possibly offer better terms than the Great Ming?

"Turn what bandit? With the Songpan grasslands in between, even if you raised your banners in revolt, Marshal Liu wouldn't want you. He might even want to help the court put down a rebellion."

Zhang Yuanheng spoke without a trace of good cheer. Given Songpan's geographic position, even if Liu Chengzong took it today, he'd have to spit it back out tomorrow.

Why was a border a border? There had to be a natural barrier blocking the way; otherwise, it wouldn't be a border at all.

"There is plenty of land over there, just waiting to be reclaimed. Songpan has no shortage of artisan households. Over there, they can fetch high prices for farming tools with medicinal herbs and the like. You might give it some thought—with the Songpan officers taking the lead, the two sides could trade what they have for what they lack. Would you really turn down hard silver?"

The officers of Little River Thousand-Household Station instantly relaxed. You should have just said you wanted to do a little smuggling and trading — did this really need so much buildup?

The Thousand-Household Commander asked, "How much does he want?"

"However much you have, he'll take it all." Zhang Yuanheng waved his hand. "No rush on this. The Grand Marshal said, every household of Songpan Guard and Sichuan folk that goes over to take up the offer gets one ox, six sheep, and two hundred mu of land. You all have many family dependents, and the guard troops have plenty of surplus military kin — any thought of going over to earn some land?"

The Thousand-Household Commander shook his head. "If there's profit to be made in farm tools, Songpan can supply him quite a lot. But don't even think about the people. Songpan isn't short of land either. Dragging the whole family off to barbarian territory — what's the point?"

Zhang Yuanheng gave a soft laugh and said nothing.

Songpan wasn't short of land — that was true. But Songpan was also short of land — desperately short.

It simply depended on who you were talking about. For these hereditary military officers, Songpan was certainly not short of land. They had military fields, and they also had civilian fields they'd seized — all belonging to officer families.

But for the rank-and-file banner troops, who were practically tenant farmers — however many banner troop households there were, that was exactly how many households had no land.

It was just that Zhang Yuanheng felt there was no need to explain this in detail to the officers.

In their eyes anyway, the banner troops were just lazy good-for-nothings who couldn't fight and couldn't farm.

In any case, this wasn't the task Liu Chengzong had assigned Zhang Yuanheng. He was just mentioning it in passing. He smiled. "No matter — if you can get farm tools, then make some farm tools for the Marshal's Headquarters. Deliver them in the fifth month, and there will be no shortage of goods and commendations as reward."

Zhang Yuanheng's Embroidered-Uniform agents were all inside the guard station, talking with the banner troops about the Marshal's Headquarters' land-grant policies in Qinghai. He could already foresee that from the fifth month to the eighth month, when the grasslands became easier to traverse, countless banner troops from Songpan Guard would likely migrate with their families to the Marshal's Headquarters' territory.

He wanted to call all the banner troops to the barbarian lands.

Zhang Yuanheng had spent a year as a banner soldier in Songpan Guard. He knew exactly what banner troops were like.

Banner troops were cunning and lazy. They wouldn't work if they could avoid it, were mostly fearful of battle, and drifted through each day waiting to die — the dregs and scum of the army. Even if you gave them military fields to farm, they couldn't farm them well.

Why?

The officers said the banner troops were indolent and unmotivated.

They were right! Absolutely no flaw in that — indolent and unmotivated.

Of course the banner troops were unmotivated. The land produced grain — the imperial tax took half first, then the Guard Commander took another half, then the Thousand-Household Commander took another half, then the Hundred-Household Commander took another half. Whether they planted much or little, the banner troops never saw any of it for themselves. How could they not be indolent?

Zhang Yuanheng knew clearly: the banner troops of Songpan Guard, under collapsed military discipline, might have no real skill in battle — but in farming, mining, and gathering herbs in the mountains, they were true experts. And they were the farmers best able to fight, the absolute ideal candidates for reclaiming wasteland.

As long as Liu Chengzong didn't let anyone exploit them, however much land they wanted to reclaim, they could reclaim that much land. They would even erupt with ferocious fighting strength to protect their own land.

A licentiate always had to think more than others. After all, the identity of a scholar was an auxiliary one — and when a scholar had no other identity to attach to, he was a useless man.

And a useless man, aside from thinking, couldn't really do anything else.

In his reflections, Zhang Yuanheng also discovered a strange thing. With Songpan Guard in the Great Ming's hands, these banner troops were the perfect embodiment of "never able to accomplish anything, only able to ruin everything."

But if they were in Liu Chengzong's hands — even if this entire guard station were transferred wholesale into some remote, deep mountain forest the Great Ming couldn't reach — they would become formidable, perhaps even recovering the might of the early Ming guard troops who had conquered the realm.

He didn't understand the principle behind it, but he thought it was a good thing.

With Zhang Yuanheng's arrival, just after the new year of the fifth year of the Chongzhen reign, the officers issued a string of orders to the banner troops.

Whether it was ordering banner troops to transport iron materials from Pingwu County in Long'an Prefecture, or ordering craftsmen to labor at forging farm tools, the lifeless Songpan Guard burst forth with immense vitality.

Even the officers noticed that the indolent banner troops were working hard again.

And beneath this surface, the banner troops of Songpan Guard — even including the squad commanders and several platoon commanders — every household's surplus military kin had set up large vats for drying vinegar-soaked cloth.

People buried themselves in their tasks, growing ever more silent. Some officers discovered that certain indolent banner troops had actually begun honing their martial skills in the mornings and at night.

Some carefully polished their rusted sabers, removed the rotted wooden hilts, and wound them round and round with hemp cord.

Some brought out ancestral arrowheads, grinding each one to a gleaming shine, and used the arrow tips to meticulously scrape each arrow shaft.

Yet whenever the officers asked, the only response they ever got was the banner troops' foolish grins and self-mockery.

Even the officers couldn't help but smile wryly. What could these banner troops possibly do?

Only at night, beneath the lit oil lamps, would the banner troops' eyes shine with light.

Hemp sacks were overturned onto the bed. Rough palms counted the saved grain, grain by grain, over and over, carefully dividing it into twenty small bundles.

Twenty days' worth of dry rations, dried vegetables, dried sauce, and vinegar cloth.

They were going to charge through the grasslands. The Embroidered-Uniform agents wouldn't lie. Grand Marshal Liu, who had accomplished great deeds, was waiting right there beyond the grasslands, waiting for them to come and take up the offer!