“Can a strategist not ascend the throne?”
Chapter 147: Leping Monthly Report
Gai Xun had yet to meet Qiao Yan in person, but he was already totally blown away by her slick move of using the Southern Xiongnu troops to both guard and deceive the enemy.
Sure, the Qiang people can also be swayed by loyalty, but to pull off what Qiao Yan did, just being a Prefect probably wouldn’t cut it. You’d need to be running an entire region!
But of course, in Liangzhou alone, there are dozens of branches of the Western Qiang, and the biggest armed forces there are still held by the likes of Ma Teng and Han Sui.
With this mix of admiration and whatever else, Gai Xun followed Fu Gan up the Ziwuling Mountain.
Once inside the mountain, he began to see the Xiongnu people who lived in huts, grazing and farming their land, which sparked a certain sense of disillusionment in him.
From afar, one could still distinguish the Xiongnu characteristics in them, but the way they lived—or the way they guarded themselves—was something else entirely.
As Gai Xun rode on, he asked Fu Gan, “Does Qiao Bingzhou not fear raising a tiger to feast on her?”
Fu Gan shot back, “Has Gai Taishou ever heard of our lord sparing anyone when it’s critical to kill?”
Well, he certainly hadn’t.
Gai Xun considered the sequence of Qiao Yan’s rise. If you looked at her actions against the Xiongnu, she had dealt brutally with the Xiongnu raiders who caused a bloodbath in Guyang County, eliminating them and hanging their heads as trophies.
It was said that the heads of three thousand Xiongnu raiders still hung in Shouxiang City beyond Yanshan, visible to the Qiang people crossing over, and that news had traveled into Liangzhou.
This clearly wasn’t the kind of ruler who merely applied principles of benevolence, looking to convert these Hu people with kindness.
“According to what our lord said when he perfected the first merit system in the province, it is enough for us to be stronger than those Hu people,” Fu Gan added. “If we can turn these people into weapons, it might not be a bad protection for our province’s vitality.”
As Gai Xun listened, he noticed Fu Gan nodding towards someone among the Southern Xiongnu troops who seemed to be their leader.
This guy was showing off a catch in one hand, acting all tough, but suddenly switched to a respectful demeanor when he saw them, making Gai Xun chuckle.
“He must be a special case,” Fu Gan noted, staying sharp despite the comedy around them. “The chieftain of the Southern Xiongnu was appointed by the last Protector-General of the Southern Xiongnu. Although the Southern Xiongnu have submitted, according to the rules of Hu competition, his position is somewhat tenuous. His brother, Yufuluo, previously fought for the Han dynasty in Youzhou and has some influence. Yufuluo’s son has taken the Han surname Liu and, at six or seven years old, likely hasn’t had a chance to seize the inheritance. Instead of relying on the chance of inheriting the Southern Xiongnu chieftaincy, he might as well aim to gain a territory working with our lord.”
“But rest assured, Gai Taishou, even though our lord is young, he won’t be swayed by such things. He knows whether to treat them as blades or as subjects to judge.”
“I’m not worried about that.” Probably because they were already at the edge of Bingzhou, Gai Xun felt a bit more relaxed and replied teasingly, “Qiao Bingzhou is sharp-tongued and often spits jewels. With the educational level of those Xiongnu folks, no matter how literate they might pretend to be, I doubt they could even get a rise out of her.”
His words left Fu Gan in a bit of a haze, unsure whether it was a compliment or a diss.
But Gai Xun had a habit of making enigmatic remarks, and given his obviously positive attitude toward Bingzhou, Fu Gan figured it was all good.
Then, Gai Xun added, “I guess I don’t need to worry about you. Your father gave you the courtesy name Yancai, implying you’re meant to be a sturdy tree supporting the heavens. Now that you’re following the Bingzhou governor, that name’s starting to ring true.”
This was indeed Fu Xie’s aspiration for Fu Gan.
But after that comment, Gai Xun didn’t bring Fu Xie up again and instead talked about what was happening in Longxi and Jincheng before he left Hanyang County.
Even though Dong Zhuo had appointed Ma Teng as the former general and Han Sui as the left general, which were higher ranks than Qiao Yan’s previous position as General Against the Bandits, at the end of the day, those two titles still didn’t grant any right to open a government.
But what kind of people were Ma Teng and Han Sui?
These two were like they’d once told Gai Xun, once you go rogue, there’s no turning back.
Whether they’d be able to come back was up for debate, but they were certainly straightforward about ignoring certain rules.
Thus, these two had agreed to set up general’s offices in the commandery, assigning their subordinates with titles like Chief of General’s Office or Clerk of General’s Office.
Thank goodness Dong Zhuo knew better than to appoint the Liangzhou Jincheng or Longxi Commandery governors, or they’d have fueled the flames of their ambition even more.
Even so, this was more than enough to make the western part of Liangzhou feel deeply alarmed.
“Han Sui’s subordinate, Cheng Gongying, and Ma Teng’s subordinate, Pang De, are both top-notch commanders, each appointed as Chief of General’s Office. Liangzhou has always produced many capable warriors. Han Sui also has a young general, Yan Xing, who is impressive in martial prowess, and Ma Teng, a military man, has a son, Ma Chao, who is only fourteen but already supports his father in shepherding the west against the West Liang.”
As Gai Xun spoke, he suddenly remembered, if you counted it up, Qiao Yan had experienced the chaos of the Yellow Turban Rebellion at just ten years old, and Fu Gan had fought alongside Fu Xie in Changshe.
Looking at it that way, Ma Chao didn’t seem all that young anymore.
As they officially crossed over from Ziwuling into Shangjun, Gai Xun felt his eyes were more overwhelmed than ever.
Compared to the harsh climate and growing conditions of Xiliang, the Bingzhou under Qiao Yan truly was a sight to behold.
The land of Shangjun was fully blanketed in winter snow, and wandering through the wilderness revealed almost no sign of life, yet the surrounding silence was clearly not dead; it was a hopeful hush, akin to sprouts coming up beneath the soil.
As the sun began to set, Gai Xun accompanied Fu Gan to the governor’s office in Shangjun for an overnight stay.
It was there that he met Xun You.
The Xun family from Yingchuan serving in Bingzhou seemed unimaginable to Gai Xun before coming here. But when the eloquent and good-looking young man bowed to him, he couldn’t help but think that this kind of thing happening in Bingzhou might not be so strange.
At that point, Gai Xun was indeed feeling a little tired after being on high alert for so long. With Xun You’s slow-paced greeting and the soothing sound of snow falling outside, it made him want nothing more than to find a cozy spot to sleep.
Meanwhile, Jiang Jiao, who had escorted him, was having a fine chat with Fu Gan since they were around the same age and had met before.
When he heard Fu Gan mention that under the governor’s care there’s a place like Leping Academy, Jiang Jiao’s eyes gleamed.
Although he came from one of the famed families of Hanyang, soon to be called the Four Great Families of Tianshui—Jiang, Yan, Ren, and Zhao—they were ultimately still local gentry.
People from Liangzhou faced significant ostracism in the capital, which you could see from how their predecessors were treated.
Take the case of Huanfu Gui from Anding Commandery, who had a great military record but only received a posthumous title as Grand Minister of Agriculture; or Duan Qiang from Wuwei Commandery, who got his position as Grand Commandant because he played nice with the eunuchs; or Zhang Huan from Dunhuang Commandery, who to elevate his career, changed his origin to Hongnong Huayin and still ended up resigning back to his hometown—this was the brutal truth of Liangzhou.
Jiang Jiao clearly understood how powerful local gentry could be in controlling a region but also recognized his own limitations.
Simply being a general had its limits.
So, a place like Leping Academy, described by Fu Gan as a mixture of civil and martial studies with medicine and agriculture, naturally attracted him like a magnet.
It might even offer a massive allure to all of Liangzhou.
However, he was currently juggling his duties in Hanyang County while responsible for delivering Gai Xun to Qiao Yan, so he couldn’t just ditch everything to go study.
He’d figure it out later.
He thought he’d struggle to fall asleep thinking about this, but maybe it was the delicious dinner Xun You hosted, or perhaps he, like Gai Xun, could finally ease up after being tense on the road, but either way, he quickly fell asleep.
By the time they left the Shangjun governor’s office in Fushi the next day, the snow outside had piled up quite thick.
Xun You, appearing slow but meticulous in action, had already prepared a carriage before they set out, stocked with food and water for the road.
Supported by Jiang Jiao, Gai Xun got onto the carriage and continued eastward.
Before he could settle down, Jiang Jiao’s sharp eyes caught sight of something unusual in the carriage.
There was a bookshelf nailed to the side of the carriage, stocked with several books for passing the time.
Normally, if these were bamboo strips, they’d need at least half the carriage filled, but this time just these few books were enough.
Jiang Jiao had never seen anything like this before.
The top book was particularly thin, so he casually picked it up.
But when he held it in his hand, he realized it wasn’t a book at all, but a large folded piece of paper.
Written at the top were four bold characters,
Leping Monthly Report.
This monthly report sounds like some low-ranking official’s annual hassle-up, but Jiang Jiao quickly figured out this ain’t what he thought it was.
It’s more like a mixed bag of practical info across various subjects.
Coincidentally, this monthly report was born this month.
Earlier, Cai Zhaoji had stirred things up in Bingzhou, giving Qiao Yan a little nudge of inspiration.
With her current territory and military strength yet to support her revolutionary printing dreams, the Leping Monthly Report was still churned out by students at Leping Academy copying it by hand, which was totally doable.
If this report could, as Qiao Yan hoped, cover literature, medicine, agriculture, astronomy, casual banter, and geography, it would also serve to further solidify the students’ knowledge in this hand-copied little newsletter.
Externally, it would gradually become a familiar sight within Bingzhou.
Even if it started out as merely a read for the local power players and literate folks, that was fine.
Whether literate folks were peeking into their ruler’s thoughts or flaunting their clout by sharing the report’s knowledge with the villagers, for Qiao Yan, it was a win-win situation.
The mastermind behind this report was—
“Cai Zhaoji…” Jiang Jiao noted the name in the editor section of the report.
Zhaoji didn’t let Qiao Yan down; she did justice to her editing title. In this, the inaugural issue of the Leping Monthly Report for November of the first year of Leping, she filled out the six sections quite nicely.
As Jiang Jiao read this report, he first came across the content on the front page.
A new astronomical observation platform has been established in Leping, and the students at Leping Academy interviewed Liu Yuanzhuo, the creator of the Qianxiang Calendar.
Apart from explaining the theory and progress of the Qianxiang Calendar, the “author” also mentioned how Emperor Ling of Han supported Ma Lun and others in perfecting the calendar back in the day, reminiscing over the late emperor. Boy, did that nail the whole political correctness thing!
As a man from Liangzhou, Jiang Jiao didn’t quite grasp the meaning of those lines, lost in admiration of the accompanying celestial armillary sphere illustration. But if Qiao Yan were to critique it, Zhaoji had definitely nurtured her political awareness during these years by her side.
Putting this on the first page was just perfect!
In the literary section on the first page, Cai Zhaoji didn’t hesitate to mine her dad’s resources.
Is life in Leping cozy? Is writing the “Eastern Observations of the Han” tiring? Well, how about penning another piece titled “Cai Yong’s Random Thoughts in Bingzhou”?
Given Cai Yong’s flair for verbosity—he could churn out thousands of words for an inscription—crafting a piece to showcase Leping’s friendliness towards scholars was no sweat. This also served as a statement for the people of Bingzhou.
If Xi Zhicai were to write this, it wouldn’t be a problem for him either; after all, he’d cooked up words to coax his buddies before. But with the preparations for the Liangzhou conflict in full swing, only Cai Yong had the time to kill; Xi Zhicai certainly didn’t.
Pages three and four found Zhaoji mixing it up, merging medicine and geography.
Earlier, after Qiao Yan returned from her exploration of Northern Dishi, she brought up that the water quality upstream was harmful, which was caused by the soil environment.
Zhaoji thought this was fitting and roped in Fu Shou and Wu Pu to complete this topic.
How many situations like these existed throughout Bingzhou? What kinds of water are suitable for drinking? And how to treat several illnesses caused by drinking contaminated water? All this got some decent explanations over those two pages.
Some of the content was already noted in the teaching materials compiled by Wu Pu during his medical courses at Leping, while some still needed to be adjusted to suit Bingzhou’s conditions and diseases, like the whole “kidney stones” issue.
On the fifth page, the agriculture section wasn’t a solo guide to farming methods exclusive to Bingzhou.
If that was the case, especially if she revealed her current fertilizer formula for bulk sale, her edge from trading agricultural books would just vanish.
So, in this part, Zhaoji mimicked her earlier interview style with Liu Yuanzhuo and chatted with several veteran farmers who had exceptionally high yields this year, kind of merging their origins and names with those handy little farming tricks.
When it came to documenting names and origins, Guo Jia offered some suggestions.
After all, he had the experience from a couple of years ago during the selection process for General Du Liao, when he cleverly organized a shadow puppet show to boost team morale, so he had a bit of authority on creating a sense of honor.
This also impacted the casual banter section on page six.
The reason it’s called “casual banter” is that it’s mostly light-hearted stuff.
It tells tales of amusing anecdotes from the countryside, like how Guo Linzong once evaluated Jia Zihou, leading to Jia Zihou turning over a new leaf.
Even if the local names familiar to Bingzhou folks make the stories sound plausible, a few of these tales make one think, “If this can be recorded in the monthly report, I could, too!”
But that ambiguity in selection criteria confuses people and prevents individuals from self-promotion, making more folks eager to try their hand at something that might land their name in the records.
Jiang Jiao couldn’t quite grasp the deeper meaning, but he had begun to understand why Fu Gan had grown into what he saw now.
It was precisely because he was in such a forward-thinking, positive environment.
Jiang Jiao was momentarily dazed when Gai Xun snatched the Leping Monthly Report from his hands.
“I still want to…” still wanted to take another look.
Gai Xun showed no awkwardness about taking the report from the younger one, responding calmly, “You go read something else first.”
Jiang Jiao’s interest was already clear, so of course, he could find some time-kill reading on the road.
But before he could read a couple of lines, he suddenly felt the ground tremble.
Gai Xun’s expression changed, and he put the Leping Monthly Report down, pushing open the carriage window to gaze outside.
This sound was a bit different from what he had heard before, but it was undoubtedly the clamor caused by a troop of cavalry on the move.
The natural migration of large herds of cattle and sheep could never make such a synchronized noise.
Since their carriage had crossed over from Shangjun into Xihe Commandery, even knowing that some Southern Xiongnu had been dispatched for farming under Qiao Yan’s orders, it was still hard to shake off a nagging bad feeling due to some stereotypes.
However, when Gai Xun looked out the window, what he saw might be a sight he would never forget.
Across the relatively flat terrain of Xihe Commandery, a wave of snow surged from the distance. Amidst that thunderous sound, there was a kind of flow resembling real waves.
That was the swirling snow kicked up by a massive cavalry charge!
It erupted into clusters of dust in the air, falling back down, mixing together like clouds on the ground, resembling waves on the plateau, a visual frenzy that sent one’s eyes spinning endlessly.
And in Gai Xun’s view, this cavalry troop was special; the horses they rode, too, were armored.
This raised the question of whether the weight of that armor was what made their galloping sound so striking on the snowy ground.
In the sunlight, thousands of shining silver-black armors sparkled, with the horses’ natural colors hidden beneath, casting a dazzling hue that turned the snowfield they galloped across into an ocean-like spectacle.
All these colors, bright or dull, converged into one prominent white.
Except for one color that stood out as red.
That was the leader!
This flash of crimson raced towards Gai Xun, making it seem like he didn’t need an introduction to realize—
This was none other than the Marquis of Leping, Qiao Yan!
Gai Xun couldn’t help but be startled.
As he stepped out of the carriage, he was greeted with a wave of overwhelming presence.
He saw the youthful governor without armor exchanging glances with Fu Gan before locking eyes with him, saying, “I came with the cavalry to test the effectiveness of the horseshoe and ended up bumping into you, Prefect Gai. What a lucky day!”
When she mentioned the horseshoe, Gai Xun paid attention to the sound her horse made with each step.
That sound suddenly dawned on him—it wasn’t just the snow on the ground or the heavier load that made those cavalry sound different; it was clear those horses had something else underfoot.
If these things could enhance the cavalry’s load and mobility, they’d undoubtedly be beneficial for the Liangzhou campaign!
So even though Gai Xun was still clueless about the secrets of the horseshoe and hadn’t exchanged more than a couple of sentences with Qiao Yan, upon meeting her spirited face, he blurted out, “When does Bingzhou plan to launch an assault on Liangzhou?”
From everything he’d seen since entering Bingzhou, he had no doubt Qiao Yan had what it took to quell the Liangzhou rebellion.
She could even charge into Liangzhou like a sharp arrow!
And fueled by this hopeful feeling, he asked the question just a tad too eagerly.
But if Qiao Yan cared about his question, she wouldn’t have summoned him all the way from Liangzhou for it.
She raised her whip, pointing west, giving Gai Xun an answer that sounded definitive—
“April next year!”
