Chapter 425: Wang Jinzhong

On the thirteenth day of the eighth month in the sixth year of the Chongzhen reign.

East of Xining, in the Pingrong Township Bao, the fields near the Pingrong Post Station were a sea of gold. On a country lane, a young man walked slowly, leading a black-coated Guanzhong donkey.

He was powerfully built, a black headscarf tied around his head, wearing black cotton trousers and a short jacket with horizontal seams in an earthen hue. His calves were wrapped in indigo-dyed leg bindings, his feet in a pair of rawhide quick-boots, a waist saber at his hip, and the donkey's back carried two bulging packs of luggage along with a bow and arrows.

Figures dressed like this had not been uncommon in the He-Huang region lately. The chest, back, knees, and elbows of their padded jackets and trousers were stitched with stiff leather, and they walked with a strong military bearing. No one dared provoke such men, for they were soldiers of the Grand Marshal's headquarters, just back from fighting the Mongols west of the Yellow River.

The young man followed the country lane all the way until he entered a hamlet. At a fork in the road stood a half-man-high bluestone, three large characters carved into it in ink — Xiashi Bao.

Dusk was near. Beneath the setting sun, the harvesters in the countryside were pushing cart after cart laden with grain toward the village, everyone beaming with joy.

The men were drenched in sweat, their clothes soaked from the back of the collar down to the waist. Sturdy women carried sickles and food boxes. Grubby children who had been playing in the fields darted around the carts brandishing wooden spears, chasing little lambs that scampered wildly about.

When people saw the young man, they could not help but greet him with cheerful faces, asking after his well-being and inquiring about the other young men of the clan.

With no disasters or hardships, bringing in the grain made everyone thoroughly happy. In barely a li of walking, he had already promised to attend three drinking parties with his neighbors.

Outside the three-courtyard mansion bearing the plaque of the Pingrong Township Bao office, cart after cart laden with grain clogged the rammed-earth road. The ripe grain spread across the drying ground, blanketing it in gold.

The young man gazed from afar, a thoughtful look on his face, as if lost in reminiscence. Only when he heard the clear sound of children reciting lessons from the Bao office did he shake his head with a smile and continue leading his donkey homeward.

This place used to be called Wang Family Village. All of the thousand-odd people in the two Bao bore the surname Wang, and the Wang family held properties in the eight surrounding Bao as well. Their ancestor was Wang You, Earl of Qingyuan, hereditary Assistant Commander of the Xining Guard. In this generation, a Regional Commander had emerged, named Wang Cheng'en.

Nearly half the young men of the village had followed General Wang into the army as household retainers, and over a dozen had become military officers above the rank of Centurion.

The young man was called Wang Jinzhong, and he was no exception. He had been Wang Cheng'en's household retainer in the past; now, like the general, he had switched his allegiance and become a soldier in the Tiger Guard Battalion of the Grand Marshal's headquarters.

Walking a short while along the mountain path at the southernmost edge of Xiashi Bao, Wang Jinzhong spotted a few dilapidated loess-walled courtyards. A crooked tree stretched its branches out beside an earthen wall. As he neared his home, his steps quickened with every stride.

Through the half-man-high wooden paling gate, he saw his father, back hunched, feeding the animals in the newly built ox shed. He immediately pushed open the gate, stepped forward, knelt on the ground, and respectfully kowtowed.

"Da, I'm back!"

His old father turned around, his face lighting up with joy. "Ah, the Zhong boy is back!"

Having finished his kowtow, Wang Jinzhong raised his head and looked closely. The smile on his face froze in an instant, and he nearly choked.

What did he mean, feeding the ox? His father held a wine pot in one hand and a clay wine bowl in the other, drunkenly feeding wine to the old ox with bleary eyes.

Though still on his knees, Wang Jinzhong was righteous and bold in reproaching his old man. "Da, how come everyone else is bringing in the grain, but you've got an ox and still don't bring in the grain, and even give wine to the ox? What if you drink it to death?"

His old father, however, paid no mind. Chuckling, he set down the wine pot and bowl, walked over, and pulled Wang Jinzhong up. "Tch, what do you mean, not bringing in the grain? The village knows you're off fighting for the Grand Marshal and that there's no able-bodied labor at home. They sent three young fellows long ago to help our family bring in the grain."

As he spoke, he pointed toward the mud-plastered house, the delight on his face unmistakable. "Eighteen mu of grain land. After paying back the two hundred jin of rations borrowed from the village Bao, we still filled six big grain vats to the brim!"

Only after saying this did the old father smile. "You think your da still drinks every day? You've been off fighting for over half a year without a single letter. Where would your da get the money for wine? It's only after bringing in the grain that I've got wine to drink. Get up, quick, let your da have a look at you. Did you get hurt anywhere fighting the Tartars?"

At these words, Wang Jinzhong's face filled with joy as he rose. He spun around, laughing. "It's nothing. Our Tiger Guard Battalion stays with the Grand Marshal. Just took an arrow to the chest from a Tartar thief — broke the skin a bit. It's already scabbed over, no trouble."

Hearing his son say this, Old Wang noticed the slanted, diamond-shaped arrow hole piercing the stiff leather chest guard on Wang Jinzhong's padded jacket.

The Wang Family Village had produced generals for generations. Even though Old Wang had never pursued military affairs his whole life, he had picked up some knowledge through constant exposure. Seeing that arrow hole, he could not help exclaiming in shock, "Ah! An armor-piercing awl!"

This made him flare up in anger. "I heard people say that General Ma you follow is a coward, charging a few thousand men with just a few hundred!"

Having said this, his anger turned back to joy. He patted the padded jacket on Wang Jinzhong's chest. "This leather is pretty tough, to stop an armor-piercing awl. Miraculous!"

"How could a single piece of leather stop it? We've got a cloth-faced armor on the outside too. Don't worry, Da. The Grand Marshal treats us well enough. If armor plates break or go missing, they're replaced. But when we come home on leave, our armor and warhorses have to stay with the army — we're not allowed to bring them back. Otherwise, you could see for yourself. I took seven arrows and two saber blows in all; all eight only left a mark."

Wang Jinzhong laughed and patted the stiff leather chest guard. "Just this one arrow slipped in through a gap in the armor. Still, without this piece of leather, I reckon my chest would have a hole in it... Aiyo!"

He was just about to be led into the house by his father when he remembered his donkey was still outside. He rushed out in a hurry; luckily, the donkey hadn't wandered off. He quickly led it into the courtyard, startling his father, who asked, "Why have you brought so much stuff back?"

"Bought it. Only five days' leave. I have to return to camp after the Mid-Autumn Festival. Next time I'm back will probably be around New Year's."

Wang Jinzhong carried the two large packs, one in each hand. Without taking them into the house, he set them on the stone mill in the courtyard and opened them as he spoke. "The weather's about to turn cold. Brought a new set of clothes to show my respect to you, Da."

As he spoke, he first took a small money pouch from his person and handed it to his father. "Your son earned merit fighting the Oirat Tartars. A reward of thirty taels of silver. I'll keep ten for my own use; here's twenty. Take it, Da, and spend it sparingly."

"What do I have to spend it on? The harvest's good this year. Our family has land, an ox, and sheep. No need for you to worry."

Yo-ho!

Hearing this, Wang Jinzhong opened his mouth but no words came out.

In the old Wang Family Village, his da had been the most famous layabout in the entire village. His food and drink all depended on the bit of pay silver Wang Jinzhong sent home from his soldiering. When pay wasn't issued, he'd always relied on General Wang's family for a yearly handout of grain. When had he ever heard his da say there was no need to worry about the family?

He laughed. "No need to worry is fine too. Anyway, keep this silver safe, Da, and spend it sparingly. The harvest's good this year, but next year might not be."

"When has He-Huang ever had a bad year?"

Old Wang said this, and Wang Jinzhong laughed too. "Our whole squad is soldiers from northern Shaanxi. I'm the only one from Xining. They're always telling me the heavens are about to reap men. Anyway, better to be prepared. I don't have to worry in the army; the Grand Marshal provides my clothes and my meals."

With that, he pulled out a thick set of padded jacket and trousers and a brand-new pair of straight-seam rawhide boots. He unfolded them and measured them against his father. "Mm, when it gets cold, Da, you change into these. And these boots — all issued by the Grand Marshal's headquarters. One set for me, one set for you. All new cotton, nice and warm. I swapped with someone to get them. Try them on, Da, see if they fit."

"Ah!"

Old Wang took a liking to the boots at first sight, but he did not take them. A troubled look crossed his face. "These boots... common folk can't wear them, can they? Does the Grand Marshal allow it?"

Wang Jinzhong was stumped too. He muttered, "Then should I take them back?" Then he shook his head. "Should be fine. Never heard of the Grand Marshal's headquarters forbidding people from wearing boots. Just keep them at home then. If you see someone else wearing them, you can wear them too. If anyone comes to the house and sees them, just say they're mine. Shouldn't be any trouble."

Then his face broke into a smile. He took a small bundle from the pack and carefully handed it to his father. "Da, open it and see. What kind of clothing is this?"

Old Wang took the bundle and found it quite heavy, maybe four jin. He wondered to himself what kind of clothing this was.

Opening it, he found a blue, half-sleeved, front-opening zhao jia. The armored skirt reached the calves, slit on the left, right, and back, with two-inch red-and-blue fringed tassels hanging from the hem. It was a very common style of military garment.

As far back as the reign of the Hongwu Emperor, regulations had stipulated that anyone other than cavalrymen wearing such clothing would be punished.

What set this zhao jia apart was that it was made of wool — heavy and thick. Two cloth identification patches were sewn on the left and right sides of the front opening. The left read: Tiger Guard Battalion, Left Chiliarch Headquarters, Left Division. The right read: Forward Centurion, Left Squad, Third Ten-Man Unit, Unit Leader Wang Jinzhong.

The Wang Family Village had always maintained its own clan school. No child of the clan was illiterate; even a layabout had studied. However, Old Wang did not recognize the character "ben." He simply exclaimed in delighted surprise, "Squad leader? You've been promoted?"

"Twelve soldiers and four leaders for us — doesn't really count as an officer. But this wool zhao jia is only issued to squad leaders for keeping out the cold. My padded armor's still in good shape. You keep this and wear it too, Da."

Wang Jinzhong then proceeded to pull out a variety of odds and ends from the pack, like paper-wrapped dried meat from the Grand Marshal's headquarters, salted fish from the Naval Office, and kumis brewed at the Dragon Colt Estate — all brought back for his old man to try.

There was also a ram's horn wine pot captured from an Oirat noble. Old Wang was so delighted he could not stop grinning and immediately said he would go ask the neighbors for a couple of eggs and pick some vegetables to come back and stir-fry a couple of dishes, so father and son could have a good meal together.

Wang Jinzhong also cheerfully strolled around the house, looking at the changes brought about after the Grand Marshal's headquarters took over He-Huang.

In truth, for the moment, the changes were not great. In fact, because Wang Cheng'en's family had been forced to relocate to Xining, the village had lost its former pillar, and it even felt like the hometown lacked some of its old prestige.

But for their family, the good changes were very tangible. An ox shed and a sheep pen had been built. They had one ox, six sheep, and even two pigs.

In the past, it wasn't that he dared not even imagine this, but the prerequisite for even thinking about it was that he become an officer — at the very least, serve as a squad commander for a few years, buy a few dozen mu of land, hire a long-term laborer, and only then could he consider raising pigs.

Pigs were different from sheep. Sheep could wander outside and eat their fill; pigs had to stay in the pen to put on meat, and they could not be separated from a farming life.

Since his family had no land before, his old man herded sheep for others. If he had earned some reward silver from the court for a kill, raising a few sheep wouldn't have been a problem, but without land, they couldn't raise pigs.

Now that their family had land, they naturally raised pigs too, and who knew, maybe they could even build him a house in the future... Wang Jinzhong shook his head. There was another matter he had come back to discuss with his father.

Before long, his old man had stir-fried fragrant scrambled eggs with chive flower paste, along with some newly harvested broad beans. Wang Jinzhong had also taken off his military uniform, and father and son poured out the mare's milk wine brewed at Dragon Colt Park, drinking with great relish.

After a couple of sips, Old Wang's face could not hide his joy. Holding his wine bowl, he sighed with emotion, "Don't look down on your Grand Marshal just because he rose from a roving bandit. Wherever he goes, he doesn't steal or plunder, and he even promoted you, giving our family something to hope for. Zhong, my boy, you must follow the Grand Marshal and do a good job!"

"Yes, Da. I came back this time just to see how things are at home. Seeing how the village looks after our family, I can set my mind at ease."

Wang Jinzhong also raised his wine bowl. Drinking was forbidden in the army, and besides, his father's drinking had once led to negligence and ruined their livelihood, so he had never liked alcohol. The burn of it made him hurriedly pick up a bite of food.

But the chive flower paste was spicy too, and it burned even more in his mouth.

After steadying himself a moment, he set down his wine bowl and said, "Da, I want to go away for a few years."

"A few years?" Old Wang had just taken a big gulp and nearly choked. He put down his bowl and asked, "You're doing fine at the Marshal's mansion, where are you off to now?"

Wang Jinzhong knew his father would react exactly this way to his words. He lowered his head for a moment, then looked up again and said, "The Celestial Mountains."

"Where?"

Old Wang sensed something was off. Frowning, he shifted his rickety stool to the side, tugged at the legs of his tattered cotton trousers, crossed his legs, propped one arm on the dinner table, and asked with a serious expression, "The Celestial Mountains—what mountains are those?"

The military focus of Xining was on guarding against sea bandits, and those bandits were only truly eradicated after Liu Chengzong took to the sea. Thus, the Xining army was very rarely deployed far afield. The people of Wang Family Fort, who had followed generations of hereditary officers into military service, had never known where the Celestial Mountains were.

"The northwest, the old homeland of the Oirat Mongols. The reason so many Oirat chieftains kept their lives this time was entirely because they surrendered to the Grand Marshal. The Marshal's mansion is stationing troops in the Celestial Mountains. They set out next year, roughly to garrison the frontier for three..."

"You are not allowed to go!"

Before Wang Jinzhong could finish, Old Wang flatly refused, "You can't go, Zhong, my boy. Da only has you, this one son. If you die in Xining, Da can go collect your body. If you die in some godforsaken place crawling with Mongols, even if Da cries the heavens down, I won't be able to go collect your body!"

Wang Jinzhong took a deep breath, but ignoring his father's refusal, he simply continued, "Garrison the frontier for three to five years. The army is selecting three hundred officers from the veterans. The generals all say the soldiers from northern Shaanxi are unwilling to march west, so they must choose from the Hehuang veterans. They'll study Mongolian and the Rus tongue for half a year in the new city."

"I've studied Mongolian with the Grand Marshal Wang's Tatar soldiers. General Ma says that those willing to go, once they finish their studies and before the troops are formed and depart, will be promoted one rank. After three years garrisoning the frontier in the Celestial Mountains without merit, they'll be promoted another rank upon return. If they earn merit, they'll be rewarded and promoted according to their deeds."

"Everyone says it will likely be a hard life there. The Marshal's mansion is already preparing thicker clothing for the frontier garrison troops."

Wang Jinzhong pressed his lips together, slowly gritted his teeth, and looked at his father. "Da, I am now a first-class Tiger Guard, a squad leader, with a monthly pay of seven mace of silver, a monthly grain ration of seven dou, and an allotment of tea, oil, sauce, dried meat, and dried fish. I command twelve soldiers."

"I come from a surrendered background. If I don't go to the Celestial Mountains, in half a year I'll be a third-class Gallant Rider, transferred to the Hehuang Five Garrisons as a militia squad leader for a year, with a monthly pay of one tael of silver and a monthly grain ration of one dan. After another year, I'll be transferred back to the Logistics Battalion as a squad leader, with pay and rations increased by two mace. In three years, at best, I'll be a village soldier centurion in the Hehuang Five Garrisons."

"Isn't that good enough?"

Old Wang stared wide-eyed and spread his hands. He thought his son's ambition was wild enough. In the past, his highest hope for his son had been for him to become a hundred-household officer in the Xining Garrison.

But to his surprise, Wang Jinzhong shook his head. "If I go to the Celestial Mountains, half a year of language study in the new city gets me a direct promotion of one rank. I'll command a unit in the newly formed Celestial Mountains Army. We three hundred officers lead troops to garrison the frontier for three to five years. As long as we come back alive, the Marshal guarantees us an official pedigree."

"What kind of pedigree?"

Wang Jinzhong swallowed, his eyes burning bright. "An honorary officer, Cloud Rider Commandant. A prestige rank of Martial Instructor Commandant, lower fifth grade. When there are vacancies for deputy battalion commander in the Hehuang Five Garrisons, full company commander in the Logistics Battalion, or deputy company commander in the Field Battalion, we fill them. Those are all true military officers."

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Good evening!