Chapter Forty-Four: The Profligate

In the end, Zhang Wujia still stayed. Although the two did not get along, on the surface, they entered a state of working together.

“Since he was about to leave, why bother keeping him? Aren’t you afraid he’ll stab you in the dark one night?”

“You don’t know a thing. I’m short on men right now. For someone of his caliber, he’s the best of the best. Look around the whole camp—how many like him can you count? Letting him go would be truly foolish.”

Liu Ji shot Yang Yu a glance, rubbing his forearm repeatedly. He hadn’t thought much of that block yesterday, but by nightfall, his whole forearm was red and burning with pain. Damn, that was a ruthless hit.

“Well, this is fun. Are you really planning to take that girl as your concubine?”

“Take her? Hell no. I was drunk that day—I didn’t even see her face clearly. You met her, right? What does she look like?”

Yang Yu looked him up and down with curiosity. To live so recklessly, he really was the first of his kind in Kucha City. To have taken a girl’s body and not even remember her face—then what had caught his eye at first, when he snatched her? Could it be her graceful figure?

“Don’t ask me. When I heard the news, you’d already hauled her into your estate. The next day, you dropped her and went off to compete for the courtesan with that other Bai fellow. The whole city was in an uproar. Even the military governor couldn’t keep a lid on it and had to send you off to join the army. She’s probably nothing special to look at.”

Listening to this, Liu Ji nearly bit his own tongue. This guy was outrageous, overturning all his notions of right and wrong. No wonder history didn’t even bother to remember his name. What rotten luck—to end up in this man’s skin. He couldn’t help but think of that notorious villain:

Gao the Deputy Magistrate.

Yang Yu looked at him with a kind of admiration. Though they were equals, when it came to such dramatic exploits, he couldn’t hope to match up. Having such a strict father, how could he compete?

“You really don’t know what fortune you were born with. After all this, not a single elder reprimanded you. Even your future father-in-law didn’t take offense, but helped cover it up. And your fiancée, not a word of complaint—what a virtuous woman. Why can’t I ever meet someone like that? Tell me, how did you win her heart? I’m not any less handsome than you.”

Liu Ji was left speechless, eyes wide. Hold on, he had a fiancée he’d never married yet? After doing something so atrocious, even his father-in-law didn’t come knocking for revenge? His own talent must be beyond this world.

But then, the real question—who was this considerate, indulgent future father-in-law?

A certain image suddenly emerged in Liu Ji’s mind: a man whose walk was slightly unsteady, with small, asymmetrical eyes. A chill ran through him. His virtuous little fiancée might have inherited her father’s genes. If that was the case, everything made sense.

“Old man Feng…”

Now it was Yang Yu’s turn to falter, glancing around nervously before cutting him off: “Even if you are his favored son-in-law, don’t call him that. He just took up the post of acting military governor yesterday. You may not care, but I still have to make a living under him.”

Liu Ji pressed a hand to his forehead, at a loss for words. He hadn’t expected to guess right so easily, but thinking about it, who else could smooth over such an uproar in Kucha City but Feng Changqing, the acting governor—second only to the highest authority? No wonder the man’s behavior seemed so unusual. No matter how close the relationship, no one would go this far to protect someone unless it was for this reason.

The pressure was immense. Knowing all too well how Feng Changqing’s story ended, he was momentarily stunned.

When he came back to himself, Yang Yu was already gone—off, no doubt, to train his men. If not for yesterday’s incident, he wouldn’t have had time for idle chatter.

Restless, Liu Ji stood up. On the parade ground, the formations had just finished their drills. Normally, the soldiers would get a brief rest, then practice their skills under the guidance of their squad leaders—mainly archery and spear work.

He’d been observing for days, trying to gauge the results. Overall, the training intensity for this group of just over a hundred was only about half what a modern new recruit would go through.

The reason wasn’t that people in ancient times didn’t know how to train hard, but that their nutrition couldn’t keep up. Yesterday, he’d ordered a sheep—barely thirty pounds. After removing bones and organs, there were just a little over ten pounds of meat. Split among a hundred men, each got only about an ounce and a half—just a strip the width of two fingers.

Yet for all that, this was the first time in more than ten days of training that they’d had even that much meat!

What did they usually eat? Mostly naan flatbread, similar to the baked bread of modern Xinjiang, plus a bowl of thin soup with a few floating leaves of vegetable.

Not even a trace of fat—how could they possibly replenish their strength? Only before battle did they slaughter cattle and sheep for a hearty meal, as if it were a meal for the condemned.

Military budget didn’t include meat or protein.

For more than a hundred men to eat meat every meal was an immense challenge. The local breed of Kashmiri mountain goats cost only two or three coins a pound, about thirty for a large one—cheap, to be sure. But if a hundred men needed two a day, a force of ten thousand would require two hundred: that’s six thousand coins, plus the cost of grain and fodder. With just the supplies in the Four Garrisons’ stores, Feng Changqing couldn’t possibly afford it.

And that’s not counting the fifteen thousand attendants and more than thirty thousand horses—the daily cost of fodder for them was an astronomical figure.

So for this hundred-odd men, Liu Ji had to pay from his own salary. As a fifth-rank officer, he received 180 bushels of grain, 30,000 coins, forty acres of official land, and sixty coins for servant wages each year. It sounded impressive, but that was only on paper.

After the Tang dynasty, the land equalization system was all but destroyed. Even regular households didn’t have enough fields to distribute, let alone meritorious lands, which were often converted or located in remote, poor areas. This was partly why Tang had to expand into the south—to alleviate the lack of arable land.

By the eleventh year of the Tianbao era, the population was nearly fifty-five million—and that was just the official count.

Zhang Wujia, a top-ranked noble, should by law own fifty acres of hereditary land and five official acres as a commander. But in reality, he was so poor that he couldn’t even afford a burial. In his last years, he had to live in a monastery for a bowl of porridge.

Where did money come from? Aside from regular pay, only victory brought rewards. That was why he stayed in the end.

This hunger for wealth became the driving force that fueled the army’s resolve—risking life and limb in blood and fire to carve out a living.

“All units, listen up! Form ranks, full armor, follow me!”

Like his men, Liu Ji donned his full armor, sword at his waist, spear in hand, bow and quiver slung across his back. Some even carried shields of hard wood reinforced with iron—over fifty pounds in total, even harsher than modern standards.

“Hah!”

A hundred voices answered as one, their shout echoing through the valley.