Autumn had arrived, and the weather in Qiuyang County was pleasant—neither the oppressive heat of summer nor the bleak chill of late autumn elsewhere, but consistently crisp and clear.
The elders who had chosen the name “Qiuyang” for the county had not done so without meaning.
Feng Wanhe rose early and praised the current temperature in Qiuyang County as just right.
The morning light was perfect. At the garrison, cooking smoke curled upward as the cooks busied themselves with breakfast, while the soldiers who had already finished morning drills shouted sharp, forceful calls on the training grounds.
The stationed troops at Xiafei Garrison were temporarily settled in tents, but in just a single day they had already arranged themselves properly.
Since this was not a posting that would end quickly, the tents were only temporary dwellings. Proper barracks would still need to be built.
If Feng Wanhe were to free up his hands to wipe out the mountain bandits of Qiuyang County, he could easily do so. He had brought over a thousand soldiers with him—pulling out a hundred or so would be more than enough to give those bandits a painful lesson.
He did not believe that a mere band of mountain bandits could be as formidable as cavalry on the battlefield.
It was simply that he could not stand Du Heng, that fair-faced magistrate. When he had submitted an official dispatch, Qi Kaisheng—the man who never got along with him—had unexpectedly taken the initiative to recommend Qiuyang County as his garrison. Though it was indeed partly for the sake of the common people, Feng Wanhe was still unhappy about accepting Qi Kaisheng’s arrangement.
After arriving in the county and meeting Du Heng, each of them attending to their own duties, Feng Wanhe naturally had no intention of cooperating with him to suppress the bandits—why should he add a line of merit to Du Heng’s record?
These civil officials were best at singing their own praises, always using smooth talk to claim credit for themselves whenever anything good happened.
A mere county magistrate—he was not buying that veneer of courtesy. Let Du Heng struggle on his own.
Feng Wanhe stood with his hands clasped behind his back, feeling rather pleased with himself, when a subordinate suddenly came to report, “General, there are many farmers gathered outside the garrison, saying they want to help build the encampment.”
“Farmers?”
The subordinate replied, “They say the general has traveled a thousand miles to station troops in a poor backwater like Qiuyang County, frightening off the bandits and protecting the people. Out of gratitude, they wish to contribute their labor so that the general and the soldiers stationed here can move into proper quarters sooner. Among them are people skilled in building houses. Their words are sincere, and they even brought their own tools. Should we let them in?”
Feng Wanhe was a rough soldier, but going to war and defending the land was, in the end, for the sake of the common people. Wherever he went, civilians usually kept their distance out of awe for his authority. This was the first time he had encountered county folk so warm and proactive.
“Allow this general to go and take a look.”
As soon as he reached the garrison gate, the farmers who had come to help all dropped to their knees in unison, bowing and greeting him.
“The general has come down from the capital to Qiuyang County. The local conditions are crude. We beg to assist in building the encampment, to show our gratitude to the general and the soldiers.”
Feng Wanhe looked at the peasants before him—patched clothes, sallow faces—showing him such respect. His heart immediately swelled with pride, and he hurriedly told them to rise.
“Since the people of Qiuyang County are so simple and warm-hearted, this general would be remiss to refuse. Bring them along to assist with the construction.”
The villagers thanked Feng Wanhe and bustled after him, full of energy, to help build the quarters.
……
Meanwhile, back at the county office, Du Heng was still calculating the county’s autumn harvest accounts.
The autumn harvest was nearing its end. After sorting through and consolidating the many miscellaneous ledgers, it was time to submit the collected yields upward before the year’s end.
Du Heng carefully checked the accounts.
The Great Yun Dynasty classified local villages into four grades—A, B, C, and D. Only villages with three hundred households and a population of over two thousand could be designated as Grade A.
Villages with one hundred to three hundred households and populations between one thousand and two thousand were Grade B.
Large villages of Grade A and B, due to their population and prosperity, often developed into towns. Landlords and wealthy farmers clustered there, building large and impressive residences.
The Suhui region was wealthy, and such villages-turned-towns were common. Some were so grandly built that they rivaled county seats in more remote areas.
However, a small county like Qiuyang had never, over the years, seen villages of that size. The vast majority were of the latter two grades.
Grade C villages had only fifty to one hundred households, with populations ranging from just over three hundred to under one thousand.
The lowest, Grade D villages, had fewer than fifty households and populations under three hundred.
Qiuyang County covered a wide area, but the land was vast and the people few. Of its twelve townships, ten were Grade D villages, with only two barely touching the threshold of Grade C.
In earlier years, when there were no disasters and the county administration was corrupt, there had once been villages that barely reached Grade B, and only two or three that fell into Grade D.
Over the years of hardship, it was as if the frogs had been slowly boiled in warm water—populations gradually dwindled without anyone realizing. A few years ago, a severe drought had further decimated the populace, and now most villages had fallen to the lowest grade.
These lowest-tier villages were tiny, some with barely twenty households.
The ten Grade D villages each had farmland ranging from around two hundred to five hundred acres, mostly poor, arid land. Their annual yields typically fell between fifteen hundred and three thousand dan of grain.
Grade C villages barely managed four thousand dan.
This year, without major droughts or locust plagues, the county’s harvest was fairly normal, producing around seven thousand five hundred dan of grain for tax purposes.
Of course, according to the county’s quotas for each township, plus the shortfalls from villages that had not met their quotas, there might still be another thousand dan or so owed.
But given current conditions, these quota grains could not realistically be collected. The quotas existed merely to prevent laziness. In Qiuyang County, there were no idle rich households hiding from labor—only people eking out a living on the land.
Du Heng decided to temporarily suspend these unusable quotas, planning to reinstate them only once the people were well-fed and such regulations could actually be meaningful.
In short, the county would collect seven thousand five hundred dan of grain, six-tenths of which had to be sent up to the imperial court, leaving four-tenths for local operations.
That meant four thousand five hundred dan went to the court, with three thousand dan remaining for the county’s use.
Converted into silver, this amounted to only a little over two thousand liang.
The grain taxes were the largest portion, but there were also other levies.
Based on household taxes, service fees, late-marriage taxes, and other regular assessments, the county could collect roughly eight hundred liang. Additionally, there were special tribute payments to the emperor, over a hundred liang, which the local government could not touch.
Altogether, the remaining tax income for the county was barely three hundred liang.
Putting aside the twelve townships, the county seat itself contributed taxes as well.
Although smaller in area than the townships, the county seat’s dense population meant it was not short on taxpayers.
The local people grew little grain, but there were other major contributions—chiefly commercial taxes.
Commercial taxes were high and substantial for the county. Collected semiannually, the latter half of the year brought in nearly five thousand liang.
However, seven-tenths went to the imperial treasury, leaving only three-tenths for the county.
Sorting through all this chaotic bookkeeping kept the county officials busy to the point of exhaustion. In summary, this year the county had supplied four thousand five hundred dan of grain to the court and collected over five thousand liang in taxes, totaling roughly ten thousand liang in silver.
Of this, the county’s public accounts received three thousand dan of grain and just over two thousand liang in taxes and commercial levies.
If the first half of the year’s commercial taxes were included, it would total over four thousand liang. However, Du Heng had not been in office during that period, so the first half remained a mess of accounts.
Looking at the properly organized public accounts now, Du Heng saw barely five thousand liang in silver. In wealthier regions, just a couple of prosperous merchants could earn several times that in a single year. Qiuyang County’s poverty was starkly evident.
Once the accounts were tallied, Du Heng understood why even a seventh-rank county magistrate required so much effort to pass the imperial examinations and secure a proper posting. Serving as a deputy magistrate in a larger county would be far more comfortable than contending with these shameful accounts.
Back in Luoxia County, as a clerk, Du Heng had overheard the Qiuyang County accounts and seen that the end-of-year tribute to the court had amounted to fifty thousand liang, while the public accounts rarely exceeded ten thousand.
Knowing the nature of the county officials, most of that money had surely been pocketed. This year, however, Du Heng had personally overseen everything, ensuring nothing went missing.
In previous years, Qiuyang County had barely met its obligations to the court, with differences of about a thousand liang compared to this year. Officials dared not touch funds meant for the imperial treasury, so they scraped clean what little was left in local accounts. When Du Heng arrived, there had been less than two hundred liang in the public accounts—a humiliating situation.
Examining this year’s accounts, Du Heng sighed. The six thousand liang still owed to the court weighed heavily on him. He would need to work diligently to meet that obligation.
He set aside one thousand liang from the public account to remit to the court as a gesture of compliance.
Although the county’s funds were tight, proper repayment would make future borrowing easier. If he failed to send something upward, the court’s overdue notices would bury him.
With the autumn harvest concluded, year-end bonuses for county officials were unavoidable. Otherwise, after scraping the accounts so cleanly upon his arrival, complaints would be inevitable.
As for the farmers’ poor yields, measures would be needed to manage the situation, but any intervention required substantial silver.
Du Heng could only groan at the magnitude of the problem.
At that moment, Jiang Qi came running in again.
“General Wei Ping has arrived!”
Du Heng raised an eyebrow. Pushing aside his ledgers, he prepared to rise and greet the general.
Martial men moved fast. As soon as Du Heng had tidied the table, the general himself strode in.
Feng Wanhe immediately asked, without preamble, “How is the bandit suppression proceeding?”
A blunt question, yet it fell within Du Heng’s control. He chose not to provoke the impatient soldier with unnecessary words and replied directly, “Troops from the barracks have been dispatched to deal with them, but the bandits are cunning and know the terrain well. Our men have only been engaging them cautiously.”
Feng Wanhe snorted, “A bunch of poorly trained amateurs. They may look fine at the city gates, but what good will they do in the field?”
Du Heng responded promptly, “General, if they are properly drilled, even a few county soldiers will be a blessing to the people.”
“Are you suggesting I let you handle it?”
“Your servant would never dare.”
Feng Wanhe glared at Du Heng, uninterested in the weak scholar’s roundabout speech. “Do not concern yourself with the bandits. I will personally lead men to clear them out.”
Du Heng didn’t press to ask why the general had changed his mind. He simply bowed deeply in thanks: “I am most grateful, General. If the people of Qiuyang County knew that you personally led troops to suppress the bandits, they would surely be moved to tears with gratitude.”
Feng Wanhe snorted, voice rough: “If I were not moved by the plight of the people here, do you think I’d be doing this for you? If it were only because you, a little county magistrate, couldn’t handle your duties, would I bother with such trivial matters?”
Du Heng quickly accepted the rebuke: “Your servant is at fault, General. Thank you for your labor.”
Feng Wanhe looked at Du Heng, who seemed as soft and compliant as a stretch of cotton—no matter how hard one might try to punch or push, he offered no resistance. Feeling bored by it, the general gave a cold humph and, having said enough, turned to leave.
Du Heng hurried to add: “This humble officer knows the general is brave and skilled in battle; a mere handful of bandits are no concern. Yet I still request that the staff officers and record-keepers accompany your troops, as the county soldiers have already spent over half a month fighting these bandits and gained some insight. With their assistance, General, it would be as if aided by divine hands.”
Feng Wanhe’s eyes narrowed slightly. So the young magistrate still wanted to claim a slice of the credit—he hadn’t forgotten his own pride in this campaign.
He didn’t hold a grudge; after all, a newly appointed young county magistrate naturally sought achievements to climb higher later. He said nothing further and continued out.
Du Heng watched as the general strode away with his retinue, confident in his answer—no protest from him meant agreement.
Jiang Qi, having seen the general escorted out, returned to find Du Heng standing by the window with a trace of a smile on his face. He smirked: “General Wei Ping is strict and stern. Earlier, he didn’t want to get involved with the bandits, yet your plan worked—he’s now marching out to suppress them.”
When Feng Wanhe first came to the county, Du Heng had attempted to have someone from the county accompany and help construct the camp. Feng Wanhe had refused outright, leaving Du Heng unable to gain the general’s cooperation in the bandit suppression.
Du Heng had therefore dropped the matter, instead quietly instructing Jiang Qi to rally villagers to assist with construction. The farmers, having just finished their autumn labor, should have rested, but Du Heng’s goal wasn’t merely construction—it was to get the villagers close to the troops, allowing them to petition the general to intervene in the bandit problem.
The people of Qiuyang County had long suffered at the hands of bandits. Who wouldn’t hope for peace? Moreover, Du Heng had earned some local favor, so stirring the villagers to action was not difficult. The pre-rehearsed praises he had arranged also helped.
The simple-minded soldiers, flattered by the villagers’ respect, allowed them to help. Day by day, as the villagers became familiar, the general grew fond of them, and the troops appreciated their assistance. When the time came, the villagers could petition the general to help bring peace to their homes.
At this point, Feng Wanhe could hardly refuse. It was easy to snub a small official like Du Heng, but far harder to rebuff a crowd of eager, earnest villagers.
Du Heng had also wanted to test the general’s character: if he were upright, seeing citizens suffer would change his mind and he would act; if cold-hearted, he would ignore the appeals. Either way, Du Heng would learn whom to respect and whom to keep at a distance.
Ultimately, even as Du Heng leveraged the situation, he did not exploit the villagers: petitioning the loyal and people-minded general left a good impression. The villagers genuinely felt gratitude. Some strong young men even considered joining Feng Wanhe’s troops, which would be beneficial for his administration.
Du Heng patted Jiang Qi on the shoulder, laughing: “You handled this perfectly.”
Soon, Feng Wanhe led his troops into the mountains, joining the county soldiers to confront the bandits. Imperial troops, trained and disciplined, easily outmatched the local militia, pushing them to the sidelines.
At first, the operation seemed vigorous, but when it turned into a game of cat-and-mouse with the bandits in the forests, the soldiers grew frustrated. Accustomed to direct combat on the battlefield, they found chasing bandits slowly through the woods maddening.
It became clear that the bandits, familiar with the terrain, were cunning in evasion. Du Heng’s warning proved accurate—the county troops had to be deployed again, thick-skinned and persistent.
Half a month later, Feng Wanhe eliminated over sixty bandits and recovered the remaining ten dan of grain stolen from villagers.
When the bandits were paraded through the town for public shame, the county bustled with activity. Locals brought food for the soldiers to show gratitude.
After the display, Feng Wanhe handed all the captives over to the county office, filling the southern jail.
Du Heng was surprised; he had expected the captives to be detained at the camp. After all, the operation was largely his doing, and the official record would reflect well on him.
Before he could even inquire, Feng Wanhe approached him directly.
“All credit for this suppression rests with you,” he declared.
Du Heng looked at the proud general, sensing familiarity had reduced the usual aura of dominance and authority.
“How can that be? The soldiers’ efforts in suppressing the bandits were evident to all. How could I claim credit for the general’s deeds? I will report to the prefecture, detailing every contribution.”
Feng Wanhe waved a hand: “No need for flowery words or excuses. I won’t argue with you. That person you sent to manage the suppression—he’s mine now.”
Du Heng’s brow furrowed: “The staff officer and record-keeper?”
“Doesn’t seem like anything special, right?”
Feng Wanhe bellowed, “What record-keeper? The one named Yi Yan!”
Du Heng’s eyes widened—he hadn’t expected the general to take notice of Yi Yan, and it surprised him somewhat.
“I won’t hide it from you, General. Yi Yan is a household retainer from my own residence. It was only due to the urgency of the bandit problem that he was sent out. He is not an official of the county office.”
“His background matters little. In this suppression campaign, I saw his surveying skills are exceptional, his hearing is remarkable, and most importantly, his physical abilities are excellent. If he stays by my side, who knows what he may achieve in the future?”
As Feng Wanhe spoke, admiration shone on his face. He was a man who valued talent, and after seeing Yi Yan’s abilities firsthand during the bandit campaign, he had immediately recognized him. If it weren’t for his own appreciation of capability, he wouldn’t have bothered to speak so at length to a bookish scholar he didn’t particularly like.
Gold will shine on its own, Du Heng realized once again today.
He poured a cup of tea for the anxious Feng Wanhe. He knew well that military background didn’t matter, but Yi Yan’s temper was the concern. Sending him to curry favor with officials or climb the bureaucratic ladder could be a long, difficult path.
It wasn’t that Du Heng wanted to keep Yi Yan for his own purposes; he simply understood him and worried. If Yi Yan offended someone due to his temperament, sending him out could ruin him.
He explained Yi Yan’s background to Feng Wanhe, including his past as a hunter.
“A talented person naturally has a temper,” Feng Wanhe said. “You scholars are proud and high-minded, unwilling to do this or that, fussing over trivialities. Why can’t a soldier have a temperament too? Yi Yan’s disposition is common among the army. He speaks little, but when he does, he makes himself understood. Isn’t that far better than a scholar who writes a long essay to explain what one sentence could convey?”
Du Heng was momentarily speechless, unable to refute the general’s confident words.
“I admire the general’s appreciation of talent,” he said. “But whether he stays or leaves, I cannot fully decide alone. We should consult him.”
Feng Wanhe said, “Follow me, and there’s a future. Who wouldn’t want one?”
Du Heng smiled faintly. “Talented people often have unpredictable ways; one must always account for the unexpected.”
Feng Wanhe waved his hand impatiently. “Fine, do as you say.”
Since the conversation had opened, Feng Wanhe added, “Also, my family will come to reside in Qiuyang County. Make the necessary arrangements.”
The imperial court, recognizing that generals were often separated from their families for years, granted allowances to bring their households to the garrison. This allowed fathers to teach their heirs properly and reassured the troops that the court cared for them.
Of course, the general’s family could not live with the soldiers in camp and would be settled in the county town. While soldiers were rough around the edges, etiquette still mattered.
Du Heng agreed and, after leaving the office, first asked Yi Yan if he wished to go to the garrison.