Chapter 122: Training the Household Guards (Begging for Monthly Tickets!)

The crowd had been packed and cursing, and the household guards were full of pent-up anger too. The moment they heard this order, they raised their clubs and started beating down on heads and faces.

No one had expected the guards to suddenly attack. The idlers cried out in pain, and now no one dared block the perimeter — they scattered in an instant.

"Form up! All of you, about-face!" Zhao Jin shouted another order.

Gripping their clubs, the guards turned in unison. The onlookers in the other direction immediately dispersed; no one wanted to take a beating for nothing.

Before long, the area around the goods yard had been cleared out completely, leaving only the children who played there as usual. The children and older boys all stayed off to one side, not daring to move, afraid of getting hit.

Zhao Jin paid them no attention. He simply ordered the entire guard force to stand at ease in place. When they started marching, the formation was still passably neat, but after going back and forth a few times, it had fallen into complete chaos, showing no trace of the ranks they had just formed.

The aroma of food drifted out from the courtyard. They had been at it all morning, and now it was time for the midday meal. Zhao Jin did not arrange for them to eat; instead, he called eight men out from the ranks.

"I never gave the order to stop. Why did you stop marching? Disobedience is punished! Five strokes each! Get down on the ground yourselves!" Zhao Jin said, his face cold.

The five guards stared at Zhao Jin in stunned confusion. One of them muttered aggrievedly, "Master, how were we supposed to march with someone in front of us?"

"Talking back — add five more strokes!" Zhao Jin showed no mercy whatsoever. The others immediately shut their mouths.

They had already been beaten once before, so this time they knew the drill. Naturally, Chen Sheng, Wang Zhaojing, and the others had to step forward and carry it out.

After those strokes landed, standing up and walking was awkward, though it stopped short of injuring sinew or bone. Once the beating was done, the guards' expressions grew a few degrees more solemn.

"Everything must follow orders. Disobedience is punished. On the battlefield, disobedience means execution!" Zhao Jin shouted.

Hearing those words, every man jolted, each face turning stern and awed.

Next came dismissal for the meal. Stern and awed they might be, but exhaustion was exhaustion. The moment they heard it was time to eat, the guards' steps lightened considerably, and in a barely passable formation they rushed into the courtyard.

Zhao Jin and his group lagged behind. Wang Zhaojing stepped forward and said in a low voice, "Brother Zhao, to win people's hearts you must combine kindness with severity. If they eat and drink their fill every day, the guards will take it for granted and feel no gratitude. Training and punishing them so harshly every day will breed resentment. If this continues, there will be trouble."

The others' faces showed agreement. Zhao Jin answered very seriously, "Eating and drinking their fill gives them enough strength to train. Strict training makes them drill neat formations and keeps them from suffering losses in a fight. And punishing every act of disobedience instills the habit of obeying orders — so that when a command is given, there is not a shred of hesitation; they act on it immediately. They don't need to feel kindness or severity. They only need to follow my rules."

Hearing this, everyone was stunned, and then thoughtful expressions appeared on their faces. Zhao Jin also noticed that Uncle He, the man who had come with Wang Zhaojing, was looking at him with great surprise.

"For these next few days, I will do the training. Later, all of you will have to come and train them too, so practice every one of these drill exercises on your own in private. If the drill instructors can't match the guards they're training, that would be the biggest joke of all. When that happens, no one will respect you — that is true absence of both kindness and authority." Hearing this, everyone answered in unison.

Zhao Jin's demands were not difficult for them, because they had been tempering their bodies for years and sparring every day according to Zhao Jin's arrangements. They were already accustomed to obedience and discipline. They themselves knew that if they trained, their progress would far outstrip these utterly inexperienced household guards.

What they certainly did not know was that Zhao Jin's whole set of theories was the method early modern Western armies used to train soldiers: using rods and whips to drill soldiers until they forgot fear and knew only numb obedience. Only such soldiers would rigidly execute drill manuals and battle tactics.

Zhao Jin thought for a moment, then spoke again: "From now on, every midday, we will eat together with the household guards — the same food. If any of you can't stomach it, you'll just have to endure it. Only then will the guards share one heart with us."

At these words, Sun Dalei's face immediately twisted into a grimace. His family was well-off and he had always been fastidious about food, clothing, and daily necessities. Moreover, because Sun Dalei's parents were both doing business in Yutou Town and had left their eldest son in Xuzhou, they were afraid he might be treated shabbily and gave him a very ample allowance. As a result, Sun Dalei ate very refined food.

"If you can't stomach it, endure it. There's nothing to discuss!" Zhao Jin said, staring hard at Sun Dalei.

Spoiled as Sun Dalei was, he was deeply afraid of Zhao Jin. Hearing this, he hurriedly nodded his agreement.

Eating together with the household guards had its own reasoning. From ancient times to the early modern era, officers and soldiers ate different meals and dined in separate places. This constantly told the rank and file that officers were different from them. Western armies were especially particular about this; officers' dining halls could rival high-end restaurants, and this remained true even into the modern day. Only two armies did not do this. In both, officers and soldiers ate in the same mess hall — perhaps sitting in different spots, but all within the same space. One of those two armies was the Chinese People's Liberation Army; the other was the US military.

Zhao Jin had once heard a friend mention this in passing while he lay in his hospital bed. The anecdote was amusing, and Zhao Jin had committed it firmly to memory. His thinking was simple: he could not fully articulate the reasoning behind it, but if both the mighty US military and the People's Liberation Army did it this way, then there was surely a reason. Following their example could not possibly be wrong.

Seeing this scene, the look in Uncle He's eyes grew even more astonished. But astonishment aside, he still strictly observed the proper conduct of a servant, quietly following along without speaking or asking questions.

In truth, he was not the only one astonished. Jixiang's father had also been given a fright. He had assumed Zhao Jin and the others would go home to eat and had made no preparations at all.

The midday meal was very simple: coarse-grain flatcakes and a bone stew. The meat had been trimmed clean off the big bones, which were then smashed and thrown into the pot to simmer. The marrow inside the bones had all dissolved into the broth, making it reasonably rich. To vary the flavor, the Ji family had also specially prepared some pickled vegetables.

For the household guards, this was not a meal they could often eat even at home. No matter how grueling the training or how great their resentment at being punished, the sight of steaming hot flatcakes and soup-stew would turn their faces to smiles.

But in the opinion of Jixiang's father, serving such fare to Zhao Jin and the others was far too crude.

If Zhao Jin had not sent word through Jixiang that no separate kitchen was to be set up, Jixiang's father would have gone to hire a skilled cook and put on a proper spread.

Even so, tucked inside each person's flatcake was a piece of braised pork belly, and the soup had its own touches as well.

Faced with such earnest goodwill, Zhao Jin could hardly call it out on the spot. Besides, while he could endure hardship, the others might not adapt immediately — this could serve as a transition.

Though the guards' formation marching was a complete mess, they had already started lining up for meals. When the guards saw Zhao Jin and his group appear, they were all startled. But when they saw Zhao Jin and the others eating the exact same food, and just sitting down anywhere in the courtyard to eat, they all felt a much greater sense of closeness.

After a busy morning, even mealtime offered no rest. Zhao Jin first confirmed the matter of the bookkeeper with Sun Dalei, then had Chen Sheng go back and explain things to the family elders to settle the matter of Chen Hong coming to help.

Hearing this, Chen Hong was beside himself with excitement and choked on the flatcake in his mouth, coughing violently for a long while and drawing a round of laughter from everyone.

In contrast to Sun Dalei, who ate with furrowed brows, Lei Cai over there ate with great relish. Before long, two flatcakes and a bowl of stew had disappeared into his stomach, and he only slowed down when he got his third cake and second bowl.

The news Lei Cai brought was not just about Yan Blackface. He had also been keeping an eye on Chen Ergou's activities. That morning, business at the Black Tiger Temple gambling den had been exceptionally brisk, because none of the establishments under Yan Blackface had opened their doors.

"Go tell Chen Ergou: the seventy percent of net profit is calculated starting from last month. Tell him to send the silver over as quickly as possible," Zhao Jin said.

Only then did everyone understand why Zhao Jin had said yesterday that they were not short of money. Riding the intimidating momentum of slaughtering those blade-wielders, all the underworld figures in the city would be sending money over — of course they were not short.

After the midday meal, they rested briefly. Then Zhao Jin dragged the household guards out again. The goods warehouse's courtyard wall was to be knocked down that afternoon, after which most of the goods yard would be enclosed within. When that was done, they would have a large enough area to drill without anyone disturbing them. But that would take ten-some days, and for this period, they could only train outside.

With the morning's lesson learned, when Zhao Jin shouted commands that afternoon, the household guards were all very eager. Though they were still chaotic and could not respond to orders promptly or accurately, everyone now knew to listen closely and act quickly to avoid punishment. Moreover, many of those who had only signed up that day had the greatest resentment over the harsh training and punishments, but after one filling meal, and after seeing Zhao Jin and his group eat the same food and sit together with them, all that resentment vanished like smoke. They even felt the bitter drilling was only right.

It was not only the household guards who were earnest and eager. Wang Zhaojing, Chen Sheng, and the others were also watching with rapt attention. Thinking that in the future they would have to serve as drill instructors training the guards, they knew that if their own drill was poor and their commands imprecise, they would surely be mocked and looked down upon. Each of them studied with tremendous zeal.

The children watching the excitement were still numerous, keeping far off to one side and imitating the training in the field. Some children even followed Zhao Jin's commands, going through the motions with great solemnity and having a wonderful time.

As for the idlers, having taken a beating in the morning and also figuring they could show off by telling others what they had seen here, far fewer showed up in the afternoon. Those who did come watched the excitement from a distance.

But as the training continued, apart from the children who never tired of it, the idlers drifted away in large numbers — after all, it was simply too dull and tedious.

With fewer onlookers, the household guards trained with greater focus and began to show some semblance of form. Zhao Jin, however, felt no joy or satisfaction. He knew that only sustained, continuous training could maintain this; the slightest slackening and they would instantly revert to their original state.

"Young Master Jin, this morning it was the Cloud Mountain Trading Company that got burned down!" someone in the crowd of idlers watching yelled out.

Everyone knew Zhao Jin had killed six monks of Cloud Mountain Temple. The Cloud Mountain Company had been set on fire once before, right after that day. Now a great blaze had broken out in broad daylight, and some busybody felt obliged to report it.