The carriage came to a slow stop. Xu Fengnian released Huyan Guanyin, who was drenched in sweat as if pulled from a water vat, and bent down to lift the curtain. He saw three riders halted beside the post road. They wore light martial garb, clean and neat, but unlike ordinary martial artists, each had a Northern Liang saber at their waist. One young rider stood out particularly: his face was as refined as carved jade, and a sturdy leather pouch hung at his horse’s side. It held five or six short javelins.
Seeing these familiar faces, Xu Fengnian smiled, leapt from the carriage, and stamped his feet. The bitter cold made the post road hard as stone. Upon seeing the Prince had disembarked, the three riders quickly dismounted. Xu Fengnian waved them off, signaling not to go through the trouble of formalities.
These three riders were all former White Horse Righteous Cavalry (White Horse Volunteers) of the Fengzi Battalion, and were among the most prominent and reputable in Northern Liang. In particular, Hong Shuwen had earned great recognition during the Battle of Tie Men Pass, wielding dual blades to slay six Imperial Guards and a golden-sabered guard. Known as “Hong the Ruthless,” the young rider had become a deputy general under Wang Zhi, nominally holding the rank of Changshui Captain. Previously, he had appeared during the Yulong Gang affair in Longqing Commandery. This time, he was transferred into the general’s office of Lingzhou. Xu Fengnian remembered how Wang Zhi had trembled with reluctance when he asked for Hong Shuwen, his expression like he had lost his parents, only to quickly change his demeanor and laughily demand two actual captain positions as compensation.
Xu Fengnian took Hong Shuwen’s horse, while Hong rode double with a comrade. Together with the carriage, the four of them—three riders and one carriage—headed toward Huangnan Commandery. Xu Fengnian asked with a smile, “Hong Shuwen, was it Ning Emei who taught you to use the short javelins?”
Hong Shuwen, who usually exuded the ruthless aura of a lone wolf of the desert, carefully restrained his sinister demeanor in the presence of the Prince, even showing a hint of shyness. He nodded and said, “General Ning said I had some talent with the javelin. When I get used to the short ones, he’ll teach me the long javelins.”
Xu Fengnian made no effort to flatter or win him over with words. After a few casual remarks, he focused on urging his horse forward.
By midday, they reached a small town on the border of Huangnan Commandery, walking their horses through the streets. The town was bustling with a year-end market, where villagers gathered to buy New Year goods. Local officials took the opportunity to set up platforms and light candles, reciting moral tales to demonstrate the magistrate’s concern for the people. However, the people of Northern Liang were known for their fierce and bold nature, treating such events as mere entertainment and jokes. In other parts of the empire, these displays were solemn and dignified, with the storytellers dressed in clean, modest attire. In Northern Liang, however, the performers were often poorly educated clerks or even boastful captains who rolled up their sleeves and took the stage, reciting with exaggerated gestures. As Xu Fengnian watched from a distance, a minor official on the platform, despite his well-worn performance, misread a passage. Children who had memorized the tale well jeered at the mistake, and soon the adults joined in, laughing and jeering. The official, losing face, pointed angrily at a man and began cursing. The man, unfazed by the petty authority, shouted back. The man’s wife, with a playful smirk, teased the official further. The official, not truly angry, took the opportunity to mock the woman’s ample bosom. But the women of Northern Liang were not shy or delicate; a few bold and crude remarks from her left the official blushing furiously. Amid this chaotic, unrefined noise, the rigid and pedantic storytelling became a festive delight for all.
Xu Fengnian glanced around and told Hong Shuwen to find a clean tavern. After a meal, they resumed their journey toward Huangnan’s city. Xu Fengnian bought a wide fur hat for Huyan Guanyin, large enough to hide her forehead and eyes, so her beauty wouldn’t draw too much attention. The three attendants, who had left the Fengzi Battalion and now served in the local administration of Northern Liang, kept their eyes forward, never glancing aside. Hong Shuwen, in particular, acted as if Huyan Guanyin didn’t exist at all.
As they re-mounted and turned from the market onto a side road of the post route, Xu Fengnian reflected on Northern Liang’s Post road (post roads). Besides the official three-tiered division of provinces, commanderies, and counties, there were also several hidden routes between key passes, all designed to consume vast sums of silver. Many seemingly redundant post riders were paid handsomely. If not for Northern Liang’s financial strain, Xu Shu had even grander plans.
Meanwhile, under Zhang Julu’s insistence, the imperial court redirected tax revenues into the northern border—the insatiable maw of Northern Liang. South of Jiangnan, many post routes were reduced or eliminated. Zhang Julu had sternly reprimanded several provincial officials at his residence, and there was some improvement, but it quickly reverted. Compared to the post routes, Zhang Julu was personally involved in horse administration, yet even with his authority as Chief Minister, he could not devote full attention to every detail. Furthermore, the Gu Party had controlled the Ministry of War for eighteen years. When Zhang Julu not only involved himself in horse administration but also seized the lucrative horse trade entirely, resentment brewed within the Ministry. Hence, when the influential eunuch Sun Tanglu visited Northern Liang and later recounted his observations to the Emperor, particularly regarding the post routes, the Emperor fell into a long, silent contemplation.
Xu Fengnian did not urge his horse to gallop. The well-developed post roads of Northern Liang, though a strategic advantage for swift troop and supply movements, were also a double-edged sword. If the Northern Mang forces of 350,000 troops defeated the Northern Liang cavalry, they could cross the border in one fell swoop, and the southern route would be wide open. The Zhao dynasty tolerated Xu Shu repeatedly, even turning a blind eye to salt and iron matters, and rarely interfering with grain shipments to Liang, not without fear that if Northern Liang were left vulnerable, it would endanger the Central Plains. Later, when Chen Zhibao was enfeoffed and sent to Shu, it was also a sign of the court’s lack of confidence in Xu Fengnian’s ability to command Northern Liang’s military. The court had prepared for the worst: if the Xu family of Northern Liang could not uphold the northwest frontier for the Zhao dynasty, Chen Zhibao’s Shu would serve as a second line of defense.
At the level of Xu Shu and Zhang Julu, schemes and intrigues became trivial. In the balance of power, strategy, and authority, it was ultimately the one who held the advantage who would dominate the realm.
Xu Fengnian waved Hong Shuwen closer and said, “Hong Duwei, nowadays in Northern Liang, there are too many honorary and nominal officials—more than one can count. Not only are there too many majors and captains, but even generals are everywhere. If I recall correctly, Northern Liang follows the same system as the imperial court, where the combined ranks of civil and military officials, including both official posts and honorary titles, amount to as many as seventy-four levels. Add in the scattered honorary grants, and it becomes impossible to count. If one day I revoke or eliminate most of these, what do you think would happen to the bureaucracy of Northern Liang?”
Hong Shuwen hesitated for a moment.
Xu Fengnian smiled and said, “Speak freely.”
Hong Shuwen said solemnly, “Your Highness, Northern Liang would truly descend into chaos. If the people’s hearts are unsettled, those who now fight on the border for the General would also become uneasy, especially since many have families with them. Take me, Hong Shuwen, for example. My father was granted the title of Yunqiwei, a sixth-grade military honor, for his military achievements. My second uncle, who has some education, was also granted the title of Rulinlang, a sixth-grade civil honor, which is relatively rare in Northern Liang. These titles, while having no real authority, serve as a source of pride for the elders when they gather with old comrades. If these were suddenly taken away, the old men would feel deeply disheartened—worse than losing thousands of taels of silver. Your Highness, if I may speak freely, I heard from the elders that thousands of scholars from other regions have come, all competing with the locals for official posts. On my way from Longqing Commandery to the General’s Office in Lingzhou, I heard many rumors, most of them unfavorable to you.”
Xu Fengnian nodded with a smile and said, “Many people are stirring up trouble, making the fire in Lingzhou’s bureaucracy burn quite warm. I suspect there are still many who are diligently adding fuel to the fire. This year’s end in Northern Liang is quite different from previous years—it’s not cold at all.”
Hong Shuwen was a bit puzzled—how could the Prince still be smiling? Because Hong was close to the Prince, his family had avoided the usual social gatherings and had even shut their doors to visitors, causing them to be isolated and estranged by many families who were once close. Hong had no hesitation in going to battle, believing that a man should fight bravely on the battlefield and be ready to die for glory. But when it came to discussing politics and social issues, he was truly at a loss. Since the Prince had asked about this mess, Hong, who had once slapped a concubine nearly to death within his family, could only speak bluntly.
Xu Fengnian said slowly, “We must treat the symptoms and the root cause, with urgency where needed. First, we must establish the ranks of the military commanders who hold real power. We won’t touch the border troops for now. Hong Shuwen, let me give you a hint—I plan to set up fourteen fifth-grade majors according to Northern Liang’s terrain, each named after a strategic pass. Lingzhou will have three, no exception. Wang Zhi will be stationed at the Lazi Pass on the Mican Ridge bordering Western Shu. One will be given to Han Laoshan, who currently serves as deputy commander of Lingzhou, and the last one will be left for the entire Lingzhou to fight over. I’m sure someone will take the bait. Once someone becomes a major, it means they can stand out from the countless majors and captains who deal with trivial matters every day. They’ll be like local lords. As long as someone is willing to start a fight, the rest will be much easier.”
Hong Shuwen instinctively rubbed his neck and chuckled, “Whatever you say, Your Highness, I’ll do. But can I ask for one favor?”
Xu Fengnian laughed and scolded, “You’re just like Wang Zhi—spit it out already!”
Hong Shuwen said in a low voice, “Your Highness, when there’s a war on the border, don’t forget Hong Shuwen.”
Xu Fengnian asked, “Twenty years ago, so many people joined the army because there was no peace anywhere, and they sought wealth and honor. They gambled, hoping to win a title. But now it’s different. Why do you, Hong Shuwen, insist on going to the border instead of staying in a safe position? Is it because it’s glorious to have your head tied to your belt? Or is it because you can’t rise to a high rank here?”
Hong Shuwen grinned, his expression naturally sinister. “I’m different from others. I just can’t live a peaceful, comfortable life. Especially after following you, Prince, I feel uneasy if I don’t kill someone every day. Going to the pleasure houses and sleeping with soft-skinned girls—after the pleasure, I feel disgusted, like I want to twist their necks. This sickness is probably incurable. I can only go to the border to kill.”
Xu Fengnian smiled faintly, neither agreeing nor disagreeing.
In times of peace, the people sleep soundly. They wake up, and their homes are still there, their families alive. Each day of labor, if there is even one or two good hopes, that is a good era.
In the eyes of the common people, Hong Shuwen was certainly no good bird. But without people like Hong Shuwen and Li Hanlin, the peace of Northern Liang would not last long.
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