Chapter 43: A Newcomer from Xuzhou Guard

In truth, the others at the goods yard weren't that timid either. While Zhao Jin and the dozen or so other youths sat around chatting, people had already been trickling back in twos and threes. Quite a few had actually witnessed those five ruffians slapping themselves, and the news was spreading. Everyone now returned at ease, full of admiration for Zhao Jin.

Those who came back early got a piece of pastry to share. Among the boys and children at the goods yard, only a handful ever made it into the top eight, so they normally never got a taste. Being able to get a piece this time made them all very happy.

A person's standing within a group can be seen from the subconscious arrangement of positions. Even if others couldn't articulate it, they would instinctively know who the center was and whose words carried weight.

At the goods yard now, whether it was the wealthy young master Wang Zhaojing or the fierce Chen Sheng, both sat beside Zhao Jin. Those youths who usually made the top eight, along with those from well-off families, all gathered around Zhao Jin. Everyone knew Zhao Jin was the leader and big brother of this goods yard.

Before, there had only been a vague sense of this, but the events of the past two days had made it clear to everyone. The saying "true feelings are revealed in times of hardship" could apply here too.

There was no sparring today. Everyone chatted easily, laughing and joking merrily, when suddenly the sound of horse hooves rang out. The youths all turned their gazes toward the sound and saw three riders appear at the intersection. The two at the back were both dressed like personal guards, wearing eighty-percent-new mandarin-duck padded coats with waist sabers hanging by their saddles. The one leading, however, was a youth about the same age as everyone else, riding a small horse.

This youth cut a very heroic figure. Just past ten years old, he already had the long-armed, narrow-waisted build of a warrior. He wore well-fitted attire and even had a small-sized set of leather armor. The saber hanging by his saddle was also small-sized, and a bow and arrow set hung on the other side.

The mounted youth's features were also very distinctive: a high-bridged nose and slightly deep-set eyes. In this era, such a face would be taken for having Central Asian blood, while in that other life it would be the standard image of a heroic, tough-looking man.

The youths at the goods yard all stood up. There were plenty of riders in Xuzhou city, but there were no major roads here, so they normally wouldn't pass this way. And while riders were common, someone this age, and so strikingly heroic, was a rare sight.

A busybody looked back at Wang Zhaojing, then at this mounted youth, and said in a low voice, "We're really in for a rare treat here. That Young Master Wang and this gentleman are both figures straight out of an opera!"

The young lords in operas, whether civil or martial, were always outstandingly handsome men of wealth and rank. Wang Zhaojing and this mounted youth truly fit the image.

The mounted youth swept his gaze across the yard. When he saw the ordinary youths, he curled his lip in a look of sheer contempt. When his eyes fell on Wang Zhaojing, however, he showed a flicker of surprise. The distinctions of wealth and status were too obvious; a rich young master like Wang Zhaojing mingling among these people was indeed strange.

Only when he saw Zhao Jin, Chen Sheng, and their group did the mounted youth's expression turn somewhat serious. Whether they had trained in martial arts or not, Zhao Jin, Chen Sheng, and even Shi Manqiang behind them all exuded a fierce, imposing aura. Ji Xiang and Liu Yong also looked clearly formidable. As for Sun Dalei, his plump frame only looked jolly; one really couldn't sense any martial skill or toughness from him.

The mounted youth gave the reins a shake, and the little horse obediently trotted a few steps forward before stopping. The youth asked, a bit puzzled, "I heard there's sparring here, and the winner is the strongest youth in Xuzhou?"

Since when was there such a claim? Zhao Jin was first taken aback, then laughed and raised his voice, saying, "That's right here."

That youth's surname was Dong, given name Bingfeng. He had also brought his own weapon, which turned out to be a staff as well, six feet in length.

There were only twenty-some youths at the goods yard today, and it was already getting late. Zhao Jin told Dong Bingfeng to come back at this same time tomorrow.

Though Dong Bingfeng was clearly disappointed, he said nothing, and was about to mount up and leave. But the two personal guards who had come with him exchanged a few words after seeing Zhao Jin. One of them dismounted, came over smiling, and asked, "Is your surname Zhao?"

After Zhao Jin nodded, that guard asked further, "Is your father the Hundred-Household Commander Zhao Zhentang?"

People in the city all called him Uncle Zhao or Master Zhao. They knew Zhao Zhentang worked as a constable and executioner at the yamen, but this was the first time anyone had brought up the title of "Hundred-Household Commander." Zhao Jin nodded in acknowledgment.

"So you're Old Zhao's whelp," the guard said with a laugh. He stepped forward and ruffled Zhao Jin's hair, then mounted up and escorted Dong Bingfeng away.

Perhaps they were acquaintances. Zhao Jin didn't dwell on the matter until dinnertime, when it came back to him.

"Did that kid look like a Central Asian, with a high nose..." As soon as Zhao Jin brought it up, Zhao Zhentang immediately shot back a question, describing Dong Bingfeng's appearance with great accuracy.

Seeing Zhao Jin nod, Zhao Zhentang gave a scornful laugh, his expression clearly full of contempt, and said to He Cuihua, "Old Moneybags Dong should just honestly be a landlord. What's he practicing martial arts for? Putting on airs."

Zhao Jin hadn't expected that his bit of news would open the floodgates for the adults. His parents and uncle started talking, all about memories and old times.

It turned out that Dong Bingfeng's father, Dong Jike, was a Thousand-Household Commander of Xuzhou Guard. Among the five Thousand-Household Commanders in Xuzhou Guard, he counted as a figure of some note. However, Zhao Zhentang served under a different Thousand-Household Commander, so they had no real connection to each other.

The reason Dong Jike was called "Old Moneybags Dong" was that, compared to the other military households of Xuzhou Guard, this officer was exceptionally skilled at management. He owned two manors on high ground safe from flooding, had also opened an oil press and a mill, and even had a shop over in Shandong. His business was no small affair.

The Commander of Xuzhou Guard and the other Thousand-Household Commanders could only make a little extra off land rents. Moreover, the fields of Xuzhou Guard were barren, so even with ruthless extortion, not much could be squeezed out. By comparison, Dong Jike was the wealthiest of them all.

Wealth invites envy, but the position of Guard Thousand-Household Commander was passed down from generation to generation, so even if they were jealous and resentful, there was nothing they could do. However, military officers at the level of Guard Commander and Thousand-Household Commander were often seconded away to fight in wars, and all needed to maintain personal troops and household retainers in reserve.

Personal troops and household retainers trained daily, received full rations and pay, and were equipped with fine armor and weapons. They could only be used on the battlefield, not to make money in peacetime, so the expense was enormous. Dong Jike alone only kept five. But since he had money, the Guard Commander made him support fifteen more on his behalf.

Such an imposed levy could only be swallowed with a grimace. Dong Jike did have some ability, however. The personal troops nominally belonging to the Commander were supported by him, and although they would follow the Commander into battle when war broke out, in peacetime they answered only to him.

Even so, Dong Jike was deeply resentful. He often told others, "I can't spend my silver for nothing raising soldiers for someone else; I need to make use of them myself." He had two sons and a daughter. The eldest son followed him in learning the business, the daughter had long been betrothed, and the youngest son, Dong Bingfeng, was pushed hard to learn martial arts.

"Learning martial arts is fine, and having those personal troops he supports teach him would have been perfectly good. But no, he insisted they weren't famous masters, so he spent money hiring a bunch of wandering martial artists to teach. What can you possibly learn from that?"

Zhao Zhentang said, his face full of scorn. Zhao Jin listened, speechless. The officers at every level in the Guard, who in peacetime managed the subordinate military households, collected rents and paid taxes, and in wartime were seconded into the army as commanders—such men actually knew nothing about military matters or martial skills, but were instead adept at business. The Great Ming was far too long at peace.

At this thought, Zhao Jin glanced at his uncle Zhao Zhenxing beside him. His own father and uncle were both of military household origin, yet the two of them were very strong. His uncle had likely fought in real, bloody combat on the battlefield.

At that moment, Zhao Zhenxing spoke up: "Xiao Jin, don't underestimate your opponent. That Dong Bingfeng has eaten well since childhood and built a solid physical foundation. Although he's learned those wandering martial artists' tricks, his father has done a good job winning over those personal troops, so they might have taught him some real skills too."

Zhao Jin nodded gravely. In fact, seeing that his opponent also used a staff, he felt a bit of a headache himself. If both used long weapons, and if the opponent had also learned battlefield techniques, he really wouldn't have much chance of victory. Besides, he had started halfway through, and couldn't compare to someone who had trained since childhood.

Seeing the adult expression on the child Zhao Jin's face, Zhao Zhenxing smiled and added, "The difference won't be that great. Don't be afraid."