Chapter Nineteen: How to Govern Home and Country

Behind the hillside, the black-furred beast was feasting ravenously; before the hill, the General strode swiftly and had already reached the foot. Yang Yanlang moved like a hare bounding and a falcon swooping, and after alighting lightly on the ground, he ceased his frantic dash. Now, a hundred paces ahead, he could see sparks flickering in the darkness; looking closer, it was the Fine-Scale Cavalry, torches in hand, waiting at their post.

Seeing his soldiers, the General let out a sigh of relief, exhaled three times in succession to calm his racing blood, and finally set the boy down.

Once on solid ground, Zhong Ming was still dizzy, for the General’s speed had been so great that a trek which should have taken more than half an hour had been covered in less than a quarter of that time.

The rush of wind past his ears, the feeling of soaring through the air like a bird—it all felt otherworldly to the youth.

Marvelous! Utterly marvelous!

The sensation was more exhilarating than riding horseback, and in his heart, the youth could not help but yearn for more. It was the first time since arriving in this era that he felt such intense curiosity and longing for something.

What boy does not harbor a dream of passionate adventure? Now, as wondrous martial arts unfolded before his eyes and he had personally experienced it, Zhong Ming fell in love with the feeling at once.

“One day, I too shall become a master like my uncle,” he blurted out, unable to keep his feelings in. Hearing this, whether it was flattery or aspiration, Yang Yanlang burst out laughing. “You will,” he said. “Our family’s blade technique surpasses your uncle’s own skills. If you practice diligently, you’re bound to outshine me and find your name on the martial world’s Heavenly Firmament List.”

These words fired the youth’s blood, and he was immediately ready to beg the General for instruction. But Yang Yanlang glanced back toward the hillside, now shrouded in darkness, and said, “This is no place to linger. There’s something wrong with this wild hill. Let’s leave first and talk later.”

Zhong Ming came to his senses, still a little shaken, glancing back at the hillside with lingering fear, and agreed. The two continued forward.

They soon reached the cavalry, where Sun Longhu strode forward. “My lord, you’ve returned,” he said.

Yang Yanlang waved his sleeve. “No more words, let’s leave this place.”

“Yes, my lord!”

Seeing the General’s anxious expression, Sun Longhu dared not inquire further and immediately summoned the Fine-Scale Cavalry. The company set off for Muddy Village.

With the Dragon-Headed Fine-Scale Cavalry pressing ahead, the journey to Muddy Village was swift.

By now, the crescent moon hung high, and the impoverished village lay silent. The moon was dark, faint lamps glimmered, and the starlight was like fireflies.

A few oil lamps flickered in the village; from a distance, only the faint outlines of huts could be seen amid the darkness.

At the village’s edge, the cavalry halted. Yang Yanlang reined in his horse and turned to Zhong Ming. “Zhong Ming, go tell the village chief about the land allocation, then pack your things. I’ll bring you back to the city manor.”

“Uncle, what do you mean by this?” Zhong Ming frowned.

“It’s only natural,” Yang Yanlang replied. “Since I’ve found you, you should live in the city. There’s no need to suffer in this village any longer.”

Clearly, the General intended to adopt him—henceforth, Zhong Ming would enjoy a life of luxury and ease.

Though this was a great fortune, the youth was reluctant. If he went with the General, he’d want for nothing, but life would change; under another’s roof, he’d have to watch his every move. That was not the life he desired.

As later scholars would say: Wealth is precious, love is dearer still; but for the sake of freedom, both may be cast aside.

Compared to a life of riches, the youth longed for freedom even more. Besides, with the General’s character, even if he didn’t go with him, he would not lack for wealth.

The General meant well, so the youth could not refuse outright; he could only stall: “I thank you, Uncle, but as the village record keeper, I’m the only one literate here. If I leave, I fear the land allocation will be mishandled. Let me stay until village affairs are settled, then I’ll go with you.”

Yang Yanlang frowned, thinking it over, but before he could reply, Zhong Ming added, “How about you come with me to the village, Uncle? I’ll have a meal prepared to welcome you as our guest.”

Sun Longhu chimed in, “My lord, I think Young Master Zhong’s suggestion is a good one.”

With the youth so sensible and his trusted officer supporting the idea, the General could not refuse and laughed. “Very well.”

So the cavalry entered the village. Before entering, the General ordered the horses tied at the edge so as not to startle the villagers.

But the thunder of hooves was hard to ignore. By the time Zhong Ming and the General entered, the village entrance was already crowded with people waiting.

At the forefront stood Chief Sun, hands clasped behind his back, peering anxiously down the road. Beside him was Sun Luolian, the young girl’s brows knitted with worry, eyes filled with concern.

Liang Yu, Fei Dacheng, and several other lads squatted by a large stone. Liang Yu, chewing a blade of grass, muttered, “Where’s Ming gone this time? He’s been gone all day.”

Fei Dacheng scratched the back of his neck. “Don’t worry, Brother Liang, Ming’s always quick-witted. He’ll be fine.”

Hearing the horses approach, the boys leapt up, faces alight with joy.

As soon as Zhong Ming entered, the crowd surged forward, nearly overwhelming him.

“Ming, you’re back! I was worried sick!” cried Liang Yu, who stepped forward but, seeing the imposing General beside Zhong Ming, hastily withdrew his hand. Fei Dacheng and the others dared not utter a sound.

Sun Luolian’s face bloomed with a smile at the sight of Zhong Ming, but something made her hesitate at the edge of the crowd, tugging at her sleeve in uncertainty.

Only Chief Sun dared approach. The old man hobbled forward, meaning to kneel before the General, but Yang Yanlang quickly supported him. “You have cared for my nephew for so long, sir. There’s no need for such formality.”

Zhong Ming addressed the crowd: “No need to stand here at the entrance. Go and inform every household to prepare a feast for my uncle.”

Chief Sun was overjoyed. “What an honor! I’ll arrange it at once.”

But the villagers of Muddy Village could barely fill their own stomachs—how could they provide a feast for a hundred-strong cavalry? Chief Sun, having agreed, immediately fell into distress, muttering, “Looks like I’ll have to see if Hunter Hu has any game.”

Zhong Ming was prepared. He whispered to Chief Sun, “Don’t worry about the food, Uncle Sun. Have someone fetch the rice from my house. I’ll arrange for wine and dishes, but with so many soldiers, I’ll need help from Liang and the others.”

“Excellent! I knew you’d have a way,” Chief Sun beamed, his wrinkled face crinkling with delight as he hurried off to make arrangements.

Zhong Ming called Liang Yu over, gave him instructions in a low voice, and Liang Yu nodded repeatedly before rallying the others with a shout. The group of boys dashed off toward Zhong Ming’s house.

Tonight would be a festive banquet. Once everything was arranged, Zhong Ming turned to the General. “Uncle, I’ll just go home and put my things away.”

“I’ll come with you. I’d like to see where my nephew lives,” Yang Yanlang said.

Despite his high rank, the General was affable with the villagers, greeting everyone with a smile.

Muddy Village was not large; walking its paths, there lingered a strange odor, and the thatched huts were scattered haphazardly. The youth was used to it, and the General paid it no mind.

After all, the General had once fought amid heaps of corpses, resting atop the dead when exhausted and eating blood-soaked flatbread when hungry.

Those who wish to enjoy glory in the eyes of the world must first endure hardship behind the scenes.

The General had suffered greatly; the conditions of Muddy Village did not faze him.

Tall and short, silver-helmed and white-cloaked General and the youth in coarse garb walked side by side.

After traversing half the village, Yang Yanlang looked around and remarked, “For a border town, this village is quite decent—every family seems to have a roof over their heads.”

“It was chaos during the recent wars, but things improved after the first year of Kaiyuan. At first we didn’t even have enough to eat, but now with a hundred acres of good land allocated, at least no one goes hungry,” the youth sighed. “Governing a country is about nothing more than peace and prosperity. It’s easy for the nation to thrive; it’s the people’s well-being that’s hard. The vast lands of New Tang are held by generals like you with three hundred thousand troops—peace is won by the sword. But for the millions of common folk, just feeding and clothing them is harder than climbing the sky.

The people are the foundation of the nation, and food is the foundation of the people. Only when they are fed and warm will there be no rebellion. Throughout history, dynasties have fallen because tyrants oppressed the people or disasters struck, leaving them destitute.

The people are water, the court is a boat. Water can bear a boat or overturn it.”

Such words were not what one would expect from a village youth, and Yang Yanlang was shocked, staring at him in wonder—but the youth’s words were perhaps too extreme.

So Yang Yanlang countered, “Peace and prosperity matter, but a nation’s strength lies in its armies. Without our three hundred thousand troops and the seventy thousand Tiger Cavalry to awe our neighbors, how could there be peace and prosperity? Nephew, perhaps you undervalue New Tang’s military.”

The youth was at a loss—his uncle’s point was not wrong.

But accustomed as he was to the security of a later age, the youth did not think highly of armies; his ideas did not entirely align with this war-torn era.

“You’re right, Uncle. But in these times, civil affairs must follow military ones. Right now, the most urgent matter is how the people can fill their bellies.

Look at this border village—ten thousand people, and even after land is allotted, only seventy percent will eat their fill. The other thirty percent still worry about food.”

Yang Yanlang could not disagree and sighed. “You speak truly, but New Tang is still recovering. The Emperor is obsessed with immortality, neglects state affairs, and reveres the White Jade Palace. These worries cannot be resolved for now.”

Speaking of state affairs touched a sore spot in the General’s heart, and he let slip the greatest conflict at court.

Zhong Ming fell silent, unwilling to speak further.

They had touched the very foundation of the nation. Any more, and it would be treasonous.

The Emperor Li Yuan was not someone a village youth should discuss; Zhong Ming did not want trouble and said no more.

Yang Yanlang understood and sighed. “At your young age, you have such insight. You should stand in court, debating with ministers and governing the nation—not remain in this remote village.”

The youth laughed heartily. “Uncle flatters me. I can’t even manage village affairs; how could I govern a nation?”

Just then, as both wished to change the subject, the youth said, “Uncle, you haven’t told me about the Old Mountain Fiend yet. I’m quite curious—please, tell me what happened.”