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“Can a strategist not ascend to the throne?”
Chapter 251: The Ban on Alcohol.
Chang’an, oh Chang’an…
Everyone knows that the words carry more hope than meaning, but when “Chang’an” is inscribed like this, it oddly brings a sense of peace to one’s heart.
It’s the spring of the first year of Jian’an.
Amidst the bustling crowd, there are those just returning from the fields.
Perhaps because the atmosphere in Chang’an is so much better than last year, or perhaps the orderly spring farming hints at good times to come, or maybe it’s the million stones of grain added to the granary last month that gives people confidence; whatever the reason, relief and lightness are etched on their faces.
These two characters were penned by the Marquis of Leping, a respectable member of the Han.
It’s hard not to feel that the name “Chang’an” now carries a sense of reassurance for those who pass by.
“But the calligraphy of this Qiao Hou is surprisingly high,”
An old man intentionally detoured from the east gate to the south gate, waiting for the onlookers to leave before he slowly approached the two characters and uttered this remark.
Recalling how he had even invited his elder brother to write the three characters of Hongwen Hall, he couldn’t help but ponder the intention behind it.
A man of about thirty beside him looked down at the characters on the ground and asked, “How does this compare to my elder brother’s in clerical script?”
The three characters of Hongwen Hall were written by Zhang Zhi, the eldest son of Zhang Huan from Liangzhou Sanming, and the two present here are Zhang Zhi’s younger brothers.
Second brother Zhang Chang, and third brother Zhang Meng.
When it comes to cursive script, Zhang Chang is a top-notch genius, slightly inferior to his older brother, earning him the title of “second saint” in the world of cursive; however, in clerical script, few can match his skill.
Twenty-seven years ago, in the eighth year of Yanxi, Zhang Chang left behind the “Huayue Stele” on Mount Hua; this stele is considered a classic in Han clerical script, marking his recognition in calligraphy.
Upon hearing Zhang Meng’s question, Zhang Chang shook his head and replied, “You can’t judge a person’s calligraphy by just two characters; there are three styles in Han clerical script. The strokes can be angular or round, and showing and hiding the sharpness doesn’t always have to align with a single style. I say her calligraphy is remarkable because she writes with a steel pen in one go, possessing a grandiose spirit and…”
He paused before continuing, “…also carries the weight of public expectation.”
Zhang Meng dismissively remarked, “Elder brother, you’re making it sound like that Marquis of Leping is under twenty yet possesses centuries of skill.”
He looked ahead at the newly paved cement road stretching toward Gui Palace.
When they arrived here, it was already three days since the road’s completion; the wet surface had slightly changed, and even its color had shifted a bit.
But at that moment, someone was spraying the cement road with a watering can to keep it in a necessary damp state.
Zhang Meng looked at the unfamiliar paving material and this illogical act of adding moisture, muttering “foolishness” under his breath.
Zhang Chang, much older than his younger brother and with slightly impaired hearing, caught every word crystal clear and quickly reprimanded him, “Do not speak nonsense.”
Thinking of his older brother Zhang Zhi’s frail health and his own age of over fifty, the arrogance of this younger brother grated on Zhang Chang’s nerves.
This younger brother was born in the sixth year of Yanxi while their father was Prefect of Wuwei; he was yet to turn thirty.
When their mother was pregnant, she dreamed of wearing their father’s prefectural seal and singing atop a castle tower.
The parents thought this was an omen and sought a dream interpreter, who said it meant this child would one day become the Prefect of Wuwei but would die in office.
The father, oblivious to the ominous part, only thought this late-born child would inherit his responsibilities of stabilizing Liangzhou and guarding the borders.
At that time, the father hadn’t been swept into court disputes and was later appointed General Duliang due to outstanding achievements, so Zhang Huan placed great hopes on him, giving him the name Meng.
His name differs completely from those of his two older brothers.
If it was just a dream and a name, it could be explained; but to Zhang Chang, Zhang Meng seemed to embody a reckless disposition.
“You didn’t grow up in Liangzhou; you grew up in Hongnong. How did you turn into such a thug?” Zhang Chang tried to adopt an elder-brother tone, speaking just loud enough for the two of them to hear, “Don’t blame me for not warning you; this is Chang’an, not your Hongnong District. His Majesty currently rules Guanzhong, and Hongnong is subject to His orders. You should tone it down.”
Zhang Meng was certainly not without abilities.
Before Zhang Huan passed away, he taught students in Hongnong and compiled “Shangshu Jijuan,” with Zhang Meng as an attentive listener.
He also trained rigorously in self-defense with their father.
But Zhang Chang believed the supposed impact from that dream in his brother’s life had accompanied him with every step of the way.
Just as before they had come to Chang’an, Zhang Meng had boasted that among the Four Commanderies of Hexi, Wuwei Commandery had no prefect yet; who knows, maybe it was waiting for him, the destined prefect, to appear.
Hearing that Qiao Yan’s military successes in Liangzhou and Guanzhong could still fuel such unrealistic hopes in Zhang Meng left Zhang Chang almost speechless, imagining what might become of his younger brother if both he and their elder brother were to die.
Thus, he had to invoke the duty of an older brother and order Zhang Meng to accompany him to Chang’an.
On the road from Huayin to Chang’an, Zhang Chang had instructed Zhang Meng to observe the farming conditions along the way, but Zhang Meng paid little attention. Now arriving in Chang’an, witnessing a much more prosperous capital than six months prior, he began to scoff at the fanciful paving of this cement road.
He had an attitude that Zhang Chang would never allow him to directly volunteer in front of Qiao Yan or Liu Yu, or else he might just risk his own life.
Zhang Chang contemplated how Qiao Yan’s intent was revealed through those two characters at the start of the road, leading him to a scheme.
Having witnessed the turmoils of the past and the era when the Liangzhou Sanming shone bright one after another, it was this contrast that allowed him a clearer perspective on what kind of person Qiao Yan truly was.
Such a person would never create something useless at such a crucial stage of various power games.
While Zhang Chang couldn’t yet predict exactly what sort of path this new road would become, it didn’t stop him from turning to Zhang Meng and saying, “Uncle Wei, I’d like to make a wager with you.”
Zhang Meng thought he misheard, but as he looked back at his brother, he felt he wasn’t joking.
He shifted back his gaze from the surroundings and casually replied, “What does second brother want to bet on?”
Zhang Chang pointed at the road and said, “Let’s bet on this road. Since you think it’s just a show, I bet that the Grand Marshal will find it quite useful.”
Zhang Meng shrugged, indicating he had no objection to the bet.
To him, it was just a road; could something that would hold one’s pen ever become a legendary object?
Since his brother thought the road had value, he thought it could only be the Grand Marshal’s pet project in his spare time.
He also wondered why Qiao Yan would enact the rule that “one cannot tread upon the royal road until the railings are removed” as a formal regulation.
Zhang Meng had no intention of breaking the law and embarrassing the Zhang family, but that didn’t prevent him from thinking this was just making the road more pretentious.
Zhang Chang clearly saw his nonchalant expression and understood his brother’s nature well.
He feared until Zhang Meng actually witnessed the truth, he wouldn’t change his views.
So he added, “Before we find out who’s right, you’re not allowed to seek any promotional opportunities and must stay by my side; can you manage that?”
Zhang Meng had initially intended to head straight to Hongwen Hall, but upon hearing this unexpected decree from Zhang Chang, his expression darkened.
But when Zhang Huan passed away, he was only a teenager, and both older brothers had taken on a fatherly role in raising him; he didn’t possess the courage to oppose them.
“`
With a slow and sluggish reply of just “Sure,” he followed Zhang Chang in search of a place to settle in Chang’an.
As luck would have it, if these two brothers hadn’t picked a fight right in Chang’an, on the cement road that Qiao Yan had been vigilantly guarding for the past two months, she probably wouldn’t have known that this seemingly bizarre road in Chang’an could spark a gambling bet.
“Zhang Wenshu and Zhang Shuwei?” When Qiao Yan heard this news from her subordinate, she paused mid-lift of her teacup.
In that instant, rather than feeling displeased about Zhang Meng’s rebellious nature or the doubts raised against him, joy outweighed worry for Qiao Yan.
Just earlier, she’d been musing that simply having people walk along this cement road to compare it to ordinary brick and mud roads was hardly going to create enough buzz.
Now, a handy “talent” had conveniently presented itself.
It was easy for Guo Jia, sitting opposite her, to pick up on Qiao Yan’s thoughts and felt a touch of sympathy for this rebellious Zhang San.
But then he reconsidered; he really had no reason to feel sorry for anyone.
While he had successfully gotten a story about an inspirational figure from Ji Province into the Leping Monthly Report’s April edition, watching Tian Feng’s folly; and heard that Jia Xu would be coming to Chang’an after this year’s autumn harvest with a cute little iron beast doll—he supposed that counted as enjoying a laugh at Jia Wenhe’s expense; now he was also getting to enjoy the spectacle of Junhou using the cement road to broaden Zhang Meng’s horizons.
He couldn’t even convince Qiao Yan to lift the month-long ban on drinking!
And this ban wasn’t just a mere three months long.
Once that cement road was laid and in the solidification stage, Qiao Yan immediately switched gears to her next target.
She proposed to Liu Yu to enforce a two-year drinking ban across the three provinces.
Two years!
That sounded like torture to Guo Jia.
But judging by how seriously Qiao Yan was presenting this proposal to Liu Yu, it was clear this was a decision she wasn’t planning to change.
What was even more evident was that she’d presented this ban with such reasonable justification.
If she had talked about how “drinking leads to losing virtue and distorting societal norms” like Cao Cao did back in the day, someone like Kong Rong would surely counter “many ancient sages liked to drink.”
And if she mentioned that with the current military hunger and grain shortages they needed to hoard enough supplies for future campaigns, there would probably be someone pointing out that Chang’an didn’t really lack grain, given that the million stones of military rations were dispatched right under everyone’s noses to the granary.
But she didn’t choose either of those explanations.
Just like how Qiao Yan made her first bucket of gold back in Leping by sharing the supplementary fermentation method for Hero’s Wine with the Wang family of Taiyuan, which allowed her to have the means to lure the Black Mountain Bandits down from the mountains, at this moment drinking was a trend among the elite.
This trend was not one that could be easily curtailed, especially since they hadn’t yet faced the droughts and locust plagues of the following years, which dulled the sense of crisis in these calmer years.
So she could hardly recklessly disrupt the interests of the noble families with this preventative measure.
For Guo Jia, it was crystal clear that Qiao Yan’s mastery of rhetoric was on full display in this drinking ban proposal.
She told Liu Yu that the distillation techniques for strong liquor in Bingzhou had made it possible for her to carry alcohol with her on military campaigns while attacking Liang Province, but this alcohol could still be further refined, and she needed a certain quantity to be stockpiled.
This wasn’t just for military readiness; it had another universally valuable use.
The disinfecting properties of alcohol were handy beyond the battlefield.
In situations where battles could erupt, it was impossible to guarantee everyone could sit calmly in the Hall of Enlightenment, and the likelihood of injuries remained.
Alcohol disinfection and wound suturing were already widely used in Qiao Yan’s army, giving her the most credibility in this area.
Besides, the major epidemic from years past had shown that in order to slow down the spread of disease, one effective approach was to tidy up the household hygiene.
Ironically, alcohol’s disinfecting capabilities were hard to beat by anything else.
So she needed to stockpile a batch of alcohol and even compress the living space for others to drink, precisely to enhance Chang’an’s ability to withstand disasters in the face of epidemics and military conflicts.
Could these noble officials guarantee they wouldn’t be affected by disasters?
When faced with the threat to life, choosing between a drinking ban or maintaining the so-called upper-class decorum didn’t seem too difficult to decide.
If this drinking ban could indeed be enforced for two years, managing the production of alcohol from her end, it seemed like there would still be plenty of alcohol produced. But this would all go into medical treatment and epidemic prevention, leaving less for public enjoyment, making the trade-off significant.
But for some, this ban might just be too heavy a burden to bear.
Seeing Guo Jia’s thoughts pulled back from Zhang Meng, Qiao Yan displayed a look that was almost mournful and joked, “You think proposing this will truly make everyone abstain from drinking? I understand that moderation is key, especially under the heavy pressures of war. Nonetheless, we should allow at least a sip of relief to them.”
Guo Jia’s eyes brightened, and he heard Qiao Yan continue, “First, we need to set this rule at the most stringent level before easing it back. It’s definitely easier than incrementally taking control from others. Those in the wine business should have a course of action too, or else aren’t we just driving them to the wall?”
“But there’s one step I won’t concede,” she said firmly, “Even if the Wang family in Taiyuan learned the supplementary fermentation method, their efficiency in making wine from grains pales in comparison to ours. This channel where people can still enjoy a little should remain firmly in our hands.”
Seeing a flicker of intrigue on Guo Jia’s face, Qiao Yan mercilessly shot back, “Don’t think about this matter anymore. Back when we were in Leping, it was done with Dezu’s assistance, so let him handle it now too.”
“Some things—”
“Let him say it; it’s better than letting you speak.”
Yang Xiu, from the Yong family of Hongnong, could do more than just maintain relations with the court of Ye City; he had his role here too.
Not letting Guo Jia handle this matter, other than preventing him from indulging too much, was mostly for his protection.
Guo Jia obviously understood this and felt a wave of relief wash over him.
He raised his cup to Qiao Yan, tea instead of wine, saying, “Then I wish Junhou all the best.”
Qiao Yan was certainly on the path to success, with even the performance props set to arrive in two months.
But others might not be so fortunate.
For instance, Yuan Shu.
Initially, he was only up against Liu Bei and his troops; given the close ties with the Yu Province nobility, it wasn’t too difficult to handle.
However, when Yuan Shao got infuriated over the accusation of murdering Yuan Ji and sent Wen Chou south, Yuan Shu’s situation took a turn for the worse.
This was no longer a group he could easily block on the other side of the river; it was a combined force of tigers and wolves.
If Qiao Yan had already marched east from Tong Pass to Luoyang, both Yingchuan and Runan were under the Emperor’s dominion, with reinforcements like Qiao Ye Shu making it hardly a challenge to deal with Wen Chou and Liu Bei’s coalition.
But the current situation was—
The Chang’an court seemed to have granted him the title of Governor of Yu Province, even promoting him to a former general, yet they still kept their main force hidden in perilous fortifications, as if waiting to see the Yuan family from Runan duke it out and decide the higher ground.
They clearly had no intention of getting involved.
Yuan Shu gritted his teeth in frustration and cursed Qiao Yan again in his mind, but he also knew he didn’t have much time to hesitate.
Even during the busy spring plowing season, Wen Chou showed no signs of delaying his military movements.
The time it took for them to enter Runan from Pei State was hardly sufficient for Yuan Shu to send another plea for help to Chang’an.
So he made a decisive call, ordering Ji Ling to lead a regiment, Yuan Huan as military strategist, while Zhang Xun led another regiment with Yan Xiang as military strategist, to engage Wen Chou and Liu Bei first!
He couldn’t afford to think it through any longer; it was time to strike!
