“Can strategists not ascend to the throne?”
In the second volume, at the foot of Taihang Mountains, I’m just testing the waters in this chapter titled “Hero’s Wine.”
Ah, Zhao Yun…
Even though I had met Cao Cao, Sun Jian, and Liu Bei during the crackdown on the Yellow Turbans, and I knew that Leping and Changshan were just separated by the Taihang Mountains, I never imagined I would bump into Zhao Yun on my very first day in Leping.
I even wondered if I should check my character panel to see if my luck stat had changed without me knowing. Otherwise, how could I have been thinking just a moment ago that with Dian Wei’s skills, he’d be more suited to guard duty than to be a county captain, and then out of nowhere, here’s Zhao Yun right at my doorstep?
Yang Wenran from Shu Han commented that the South-Conquering General, Zhao Yun, was solid and reliable, while Chen Dao, the West-Conquering General, was loyal and decisive. The word “solid” really encapsulates Zhao Yun’s well-rounded abilities.
Whether during the Battle of Changban, the campaign in Sichuan, or governing as the Prefect of Guiyang and overseeing Jiangzhou, or even advocating for long-term farming policies, Zhao Yun undoubtedly possessed the vision and distinction of a great general.
Although the Zhao Yun standing before me now was far from “solid,” still a youth with a face too boyish, unknowingly brimming with youthful vigor, this kind of enthusiasm leaned more towards youthful bravado rather than recklessness.
However, it’s one thing for me to want to recruit him as my county captain, and it’s quite another for him to want to join my side.
In an instant of contemplation, from Zhao Yun’s perspective, the young county marquis only glanced him over and asked, “What brings you here?”
Zhao Yun replied, “I come for the bandits in the Taihang Mountains.”
Upon hearing his answer, I thought to myself, “Just as I suspected.”
He definitely did not come here on a whim.
Good things just don’t come that easily in this world.
But it’s not surprising; Zhao Yun had an elder brother, and unless he was specifically recommended by Changshan County, given that the elders considered Gongsun Zan a more virtuous leader than Yuan Shao, he probably wouldn’t have come here two years prior and then returned home to mourn for his brother’s death.
At this moment, Zhao Yun wouldn’t be like Xu Fu, who decided to look after a noble lady after admiring her rare actions amidst the Yellow Turbans.
Coming to eliminate bandits also aligns perfectly with my preconceived notion of Zhao Yun.
After giving a straightforward answer, he continued, “Chuyan of Changshan County rallied thousands to cause chaos after the Yellow Turban Uprising. To avoid the imperial army’s might, they retreated into the Taihang Mountains, sometimes raiding towns. I heard you were to take over Leping, and as the bandits might pose a threat, I came to give it a try.”
Hearing he came because of my takeover of Leping was certainly not a casual expression.
After pondering for a moment, I asked, “How many bandits are in the Taihang Mountains?”
Zhao Yun was clearly not unprepared; he answered without hesitation, “After Zhang Jiao was captured, many from Chuyan’s faction returned home. There are about three thousand remaining, and two small groups of bandits named Sun Qing and Wang Dang, each commanding five hundred, have also joined Chuyan. Additionally, there’s a bandit leader named Zhang Niujiao who’s gathered around five thousand men around Zhongshan and Boye and is about to head toward Zhen Ding.”
With Chuyan’s original strength combined with Zhang Niujiao’s, they totaled about nine thousand—this matched the previous reports I received.
“Then as you said, the bandits in the Taihang Mountains number around ten thousand. Why would the righteous hero seek me out? I’m newly arrived in Leping, with barely any soldiers or provisions. How could I possibly pacify the bandits better than Chuyan, who is familiar with the terrain?”
As I asked, Zhao Yun examined my expression.
On such a young face, unlike the nearby general wearing light armor, he showed no signs of anxiety upon hearing that Chuyan and Zhang Niujiao commanded such a number. He also didn’t appear anything like someone who’d feel bothered by an unsolicited visitor.
From Zhao Yun’s intuition, I seemed to simply be asking a casual question.
Why indeed was he seeking me out?
The main Yellow Turbans in Jizhou had already been quelled, with those captured during Zhang Jiao’s rebellions sent off to Wu Huan’s guards and various military camps. Given the context, some of the troops for suppressing the rebellion had already withdrawn from Jizhou.
That being said, Huangfu Song still had some troops stationed in Jizhou, which could also be tasked with eliminating bandits.
Otherwise, there were other officials in Changshan County, and the local militia taking on the responsibility of eliminating bandits logically made sense.
So why cross over the Taihang Mountains just to seek out a little county marquis in Leping who hadn’t even faced off against the Black Mountain bandits yet?
Zhao Yun clearly wouldn’t think he’d gain any favor from me simply because he had saved Xu Fu and his mother.
Luckily, he had considered this question. Seeing my attitude, he swiftly replied, “I’m not familiar with Zhang Niujiao, but I’m acquainted with Chuyan. He is known for his light footwork, earning the nickname ‘Feiyan’ (Flying Swallow). He commands troops with the same swiftness.”
“Chuyan’s methods of gathering forces, even if he bests the imperial troops in Jizhou or the officials of Changshan County, are simply pushing them back into the mountains. Today he exits Changshan, tomorrow he reaches Changzhi, the day after he returns to Jizhou, moving back and forth without any true resolution.”
“The more plundering they achieve, the bolder their men become, rallying more rogue elements, not just stopping at the current number. What Zhao Yun wishes to see is not the Black Mountain bandits merely relocating from Changshan, choosing a new place to resurface, but to eliminate them entirely and restore peace in the surrounding areas. This isn’t something solvable by an ordinary strategist.”
This statement really fit Zhao Yun’s character.
Chuyan already has the moniker “Feiyan,” and his style of action is as agile as the name suggests.
Indeed, relying on regular tactics to eradicate them would be futile.
Add in the unique geography of the Taihang Mountains, which connects east and west through the Eight Passes, creating special paths in the mountains, if Chuyan decided to play hide-and-seek with the encircling troops, things could go real south.
One area might temporarily remain unscathed, yet it could easily lead to disaster in another place. These bandits would soon accumulate enough resources to entice more people looking to take shortcuts in these times.
Once that force solidifies, it would be even harder to eradicate.
Zhao Yun speaking this way only made me hold him in even higher regard.
Despite his youth, he evidently did not limit his focus to just one region’s safety.
I smiled, saying, “In your view, does that make me the strategist?”
Zhao Yun’s response was firm: “Within the two provinces, there’s no one better than you.”
This was undoubtedly a high compliment to me.
I studied him closely and saw that, for him, this was truly his recognition.
Zhao Yun had seen the chaos in Changshan County. While it wasn’t overwhelmed like Julu County was, the Yellow Turbans had indeed risen there after Zhang Jiao instigated the disaster in Jizhou, drawing countless to his cause.
Zhao Yun had pondered the turmoil at that time, yet the number of recruits he could gather was limited only to safeguarding a corner of his homeland.
Fortunately, the Yellow Turban Rebellion erupted and broke apart quickly. From the second month until Zhang Jiao’s capture in the fifth month, it was merely three months.
Yet what he just hadn’t considered was that Zhang Jiao’s death wouldn’t extinguish the remaining Yellow Turbans in Jizhou. In fact, not all Yellow Turbans had revolted because of Zhang Jiao’s Way of Great Peace, and the remnants that had drifted into Changshan had maintained their destructive potential while learning to adapt their strategies based on the terrain.
Zhao Yun had a foundation in martial skills since childhood, yet he was just one of the locals in Changshan County, familiar with the causes of the uprising.
But he also clearly saw that within the burgeoning Black Mountain bandit forces, akin to how characters like Bu Ji emerged among the Yellow Turbans, there were indeed individuals savoring the spoils of their plundering, shifting from mere survival to actively engaging in such havoc.
So he had to find someone suitable to attempt to stabilize the situation.
Yet, such individuals are not readily available.
As Zhao Yun said earlier, due to his understanding of Chuyan’s military tactics, he noticed the remaining imperial troops’ operations in Jizhou and the local garrison’s strength in Changshan County, thus ruled them out as his options.
When the news of the Yellow Turban Rebellion’s outcome and the reward notices spread across the various provinces, Zhao Yun set his sights on Leping, just over a mountain from him.
County marquis Qiao Yan of Leping had dismantled the Yellow Turbans in two provinces to avenge her parents and discredited the essence of the Way of Great Peace during her public debate with Zhang Jiao. No doubt, she was capable and adept at using her small force to overcome larger threats.
In Zhao Yun’s assessment and tactical foresight against the Black Mountain bandits, he was especially convinced that only someone with the talent and intelligence of Qiao Yan could potentially bring down the Black Mountain bandits instead of allowing them to continue their rampage.
Moreover, when he happened to cross paths with Xu Fu and his mother north of Changzhi, he became all the more certain.
Based on the brief interaction with them, he easily deduced that Xu Fu was a man of bravery with a bit of shrewdness.
Upon arriving in Leping, Xu Fu claimed that encountering bandits nearly cost them their lives, yet in Zhao Yun’s eyes, even without his interference, Xu Fu could still handle the situation.
After all, moving with just two people is far more agile than the group in their cumbersome cart!
And Xu Fu’s mother, Ms. Qin, was no delicate flower, mind you.
It’s essential to know that Xu Fu mentioned the cart behind isn’t where his mother sat comfortably! No, she drove the cart herself!
This was indeed a remarkable woman who didn’t panic amidst a bandit siege.
This pair could have enjoyed a peaceful life in Yingchuan after the chaos settled. In Zhao Yun’s mind, Yingchuan was certainly a holy ground of learning for anyone, a place brimming with talented individuals.
Yet, without hesitation, they resolutely chose to come over to Qiao Yan’s side, with Xu Fu expressing considerable support for the newly appointed county marquis.
This undoubtedly reinforced Zhao Yun’s judgment.
To garner the approval of such remarkable individuals means Qiao Yan possesses real skills!
Now, seeing Qiao Yan in person—a ten-year-old marquis and a pillar of resistance in these chaotic times—Zhao Yun couldn’t help but feel that although he hadn’t witnessed her actions yet, just from the poise displayed in her few inquiries, she was anything but an ordinary figure.
Maybe he hadn’t made a mistake in his decision.
Then the next reply he received from Qiao Yan only solidified his thoughts.
Qiao Yan said, “I am willing to eliminate the bandits, yet our weapons are lacking, the hearts of the people aren’t with me, and I have neither the right timing nor support. It’s not time yet for action.”
There was a hint of杀氣, a murderous intent, in her words.
Zhao Yun and Qiao Yan locked gazes for some time, and he was further convinced that her answer was far from mere formality.
I have a heart to eliminate bandits, yet my sword is unfit.
He replied, “In that case, Zhao Yun can be a sharp blade.”
But before I could be that blade, I still needed to temporarily take on the role of county captain for a while.
Of course, this didn’t mean I was formally applying to the court for the position.
Rather, like what Qiao Yan indicated, I would assume this post temporarily to see if her intentions to eliminate the bandits and secure Leping weren’t just empty words.
If I felt Qiao Yan lacked the capability to handle the bandits, I could simply leave whenever I wanted, as there were no binding ties.
Additionally, if Zhao Yun truly believed he could be a sharp blade, he should naturally join forces with other soldiers beforehand.
Zhao Yun clearly hadn’t realized yet that my eagerness to eradicate the Black Mountain bandits wasn’t solely due to their looming threat on my doorstep; I had somewhat different motives, and he readily agreed.
Qiao Yan then mentioned she intended to use a month to reorganize the internal affairs and military, which made complete sense.
After Zhao Yun assumed the temporary county captaincy, what he observed was this young marquis alongside Cheng Li, checking the accounts left behind by the previous county magistrate, thoroughly reviewing the population and supplies within the area, which clearly indicated a phase of organized preparation.
Any doubts he had began to dissipate.
Furthermore, in his eyes, Qiao Yan was clearly much more accountable than the last county magistrate.
When Zhao Yun mentioned the Black Mountain bandits, the person showing the most anxiety wasn’t Bao Hong.
He did think he had taken on too much during this escort, and now, with other lingering issues like ensuring safety in the face of potential bandit threats, he had to stay behind.
But at least he was promoted due to the war, now holding a post in the northern army in Luoyang, so he wasn’t about to freeze in place just hearing about the Black Mountain bandits.
It was the previous county magistrate who truly lost his composure.
He already knew about Chuyan being a nearby threat but was increasingly unnerved upon hearing about Zhang Niujiao, creating disarray in his mind.
Earlier, he was eager to finish the handover with Qiao Yan, precisely because of such concerns.
Fortunately, although Qiao Yan had taken some days to arrive in Luoyang, she came quickly enough to spare him from tragic fate in a potential bandit ambush.
On the second day after Qiao Yan’s arrival, he had hurried off to take up his position, not wasting a moment.
I couldn’t help but smile at his antics.
This county magistrate was clearly in such a rush to avoid tarnishing his record with any bandit attacks that he left so promptly.
But people tend to avoid harm as a natural instinct, and I understood that well, hence I had no reason to hold a grudge against him.
Moreover, his hasty departure inadvertently worked in my favor.
Seeing the stark contrast in attitudes towards banditry during the handover of power only further convinced Zhao Yun that only someone like Qiao Yan, unflinching in the face of danger, had true potential for victory.
But just as Qiao Yan had indicated, if one wishes to eliminate bandits, the groundwork must first be solidified.
What I saw in Leping, with its vibrant population that was hardly akin to tossing a fistful of rice into a depopulated valley, was a representation of communities split between villages scattered in the mountains, each footfall bringing up concerns over logistics.
Perhaps it was not merely about…
“Well, the only good news is that Leping is just a small county without any big-time powers or hidden populations.”
If there’s to be any mention of authority, it’s just one wealthy family in the county town—a branch of the Wang family from Taiyuan in Bingzhou. But they’re not like those powerful folks in Yanzhou, living in a fortress to keep themselves independent.
This local bigwig in Leping is more of a rich man than a tyrant. And given his age, he’s all about holding on to what he has, not looking to expand his influence, making him more like a sage from the countryside in Qiao Yan’s eyes. The locals even call him “Lord Wang.”
Thanks to the lack of powerful opposition, Qiao Yan’s attempt to verify the population went surprisingly smoothly.
Previously, Liu Hong had given a thumbs up, saying Leping didn’t need to send tributes to Luoyang for the next five years, which really helped lighten Leping’s financial burden.
After some talks with Cheng Li, Qiao Yan decided to inform the common folks in Leping County that in the first year of establishing the county, they would have their land tax and head tax waived, and afterward, they’d pay an agricultural tax based on a thirty-to-one ratio.
During the Han Dynasty, agricultural tax mostly hovered around either fifteen-to-one or thirty-to-one throughout most times—a good tradition dating back to the early Western Han. Even under Emperor Huan and Emperor Ling didn’t mess with this ancestral law.
But if you wanted to squeeze more wealth from the folks, there were always other schemes.
So, during Emperor Huan’s reign, they added a land tax on top of the “straw tax,” charging an extra 10 coins per mu of land, worsening the plundering from the people.
In plain terms, Leping’s residents originally had to pay taxes that included a basic agricultural tax of fifteen-to-one, meaning for every mu, they owed six sheng of standard yield, then added land tax, head tax, and various other fees to that.
As these taxes piled up, what was supposed to support the people—the fifteen-to-one—turned out to be just a tiny fraction of the total tax burden.
In the future under Cao Cao’s governance, he would merge the various heavy taxes inflicted on the Eastern Han into one manageable rate: four sheng of grain per mu. He would also calculate the head tax per household to encourage population growth. But Qiao Yan’s current situation was quite different from Cao Cao’s.
Running the county certainly gave her some leeway in decision-making, and Liu Hong’s appreciation meant she could escape tribute duties for these five years, but that didn’t mean Qiao Yan could waltz in and start drastic reforms.
Especially since the surrounding tax conditions remained unchanged; any major initiative on her part would be like throwing down a gauntlet at Liu Hong, likely leading to local uprisings.
Rulers can never let situations like that unfold.
However, as a freshly minted county marquis, witnessing the aftermath of last year’s natural disaster, she could take actions to ease some taxes within a reasonable time frame of one or two years.
After all, historically speaking, Huangfu Song had done similar things.
This was also a move recognized by Liu Hong.
“Waiving the head and land taxes while keeping other fees, based on the thirty-to-one ratio, means Leping’s average tax per household is around two to three hundred sheng,”
Qiao Yan calculated while discussing with Cheng Li. Seeing him nodding in agreement, she continued, “Despite Leping being more mountainous than arable, this tax collection method should suffice for a year.”
Cheng Li, although not holding a position in the county while in Dong’e, knew well the kind of pressure these taxes put on the common people.
Since Qiao Yan took over Leping, it was only logical that she would cut down on the taxes; otherwise, with the threat of the Black Mountain Bandits looming, mass migrations would be inevitable.
He simply asked, “Why just one year?”
Qiao Yan replied, “We’re strangers here, and we need to test out any measures we take. After a year, if the Black Mountain Bandits are gone and we can cultivate more arable land in the mountains, our system can adapt accordingly. Plus, lightening burdens is a good policy, proven by the Han’s Wen and Jing periods and also during the reign of Empress Dowager He, but back then it was a natural disaster. Now, though, we’re trapped in a catch-22; if we wholly eliminate the taxation, the soldiers guarding us won’t have enough to eat, leaving us no choice but to restore the head tax next year. It’s all unavoidable.”
There was another reason that Qiao Yan kept to herself during the conversation with Cheng Li.
The world is full of situations where people bite the hand that feeds them; if she waved away the taxes for a whole year, then even normal tax rates afterward would likely seem completely unreasonable.
But by only waiving them because she’s new here, it makes a lot more sense. After that, policies could still have some wiggle room.
Hearing her explanation, Cheng Li couldn’t help but admire her insight.
She understood the current state of affairs well. Upon recognizing the flaws in existing taxation, she didn’t display that naïve and idealistic approach common among youths. Instead, she mapped out the categories and years for tax relief, leaving herself some breathing room.
That was especially commendable.
But this approach left Qiao Yan to shoulder the bulk of the calculations, making Cheng Li feel somewhat sidelined.
However, on the next day, when it was time to communicate these tax reforms, he, the administrative chief, would have to break down the fine details for the county officials to relay to the households while Qiao Yan decided to wash her hands of it all.
Cheng Li had no choice but to rope in Xu Fu, his assistant.
After all, he had already deemed this young wandering knight a promising talent, and now seemed like a perfect opportunity for him to learn practically.
But wait—Xu Fu shouldn’t just be called a wandering knight anymore; now, he was under Qiao Yan’s command as a county marquis’s heir.
This “heir” was not just any title but a specific office under the marquis, akin to how characters like Ying Chang from the Seven Scholars of Jian’an had held such positions.
Above the heir was the family steward, corresponding to the county chief, essentially serving as the marquis’s house manager. This position was currently vacant, and during a conversation about future ambitions between Cheng Li and Xu Fu, Xu Fu mentioned this very matter.
“Lady Lu also wants this position, but it seems that Qiao Yan prefers to give her a position as an envoy since she’s far more eloquent than I am—truly exceptional—making her likely to handle the county’s foreign affairs.”
This was all about creating a favorable external image for the county.
In theory, with Lady Lu unwilling to disclose her background, she shouldn’t be getting this position.
But Qiao Yan figured, since she still chose to follow despite her origins being irrelevant upon coming to Leping, she was someone worthy of use.
Someone as well-educated as Lady Lu, who skillfully navigated conversations, deserves a role as a diplomat—no point in wasting such talent.
“But what’s particularly amusing is the secretary position,” Xu Fu chuckled.
Cheng Li hadn’t seen this, but within the marquis’s residence, Qiao Yan jokingly asked the ten-year-old Cai Yan if she would like to help this seven-year-old girl manage the documents—an utterly hilarious scene.
It felt like a game of pretend with two kids, except neither were your average run-of-the-mill youngsters.
Cai Yan, despite her age, was surprisingly mature due to her tumultuous upbringing, prompting her to evaluate her situation keenly.
Her father, during this trip to Luoyang, may have misspoken, risking new futures; the enemies he’d made previously wouldn’t simply let bygones be bygones.
What happened here can’t be brushed aside simply because of her father’s skills in calligraphy and classics.
Previously, while relying on the Yang family of Taishan, her sister had married a Yang family relative, which to outsiders seemed a perfect match. But in reality…
Her sister was not the first wife but a second.
Last year, her sister’s eldest son, Yang Cheng, alongside a son from the first wife, fell ill. Unable to care for both, her sister chose to protect the other child’s reputation over her own—a decision that left Cai Yan bewildered.
She couldn’t fathom why this was seen as a virtue, nor could she imagine what her future marriage might hold.
Upon meeting Qiao Yan in Luoyang, she noticed despite the mourning attire, this girl sharing her name exuded confidence and authority, igniting a spark of hope for a different future.
Could it be possible that if she were to start from an official position instead of floundering like her father, she could become a true support for her sister and gain control over her own fate?
Cai Yan had no answer to that question.
However, when the olive branch was extended, the turbulent thoughts she’d been harboring certainly found an outlet.
Why not give it a shot? Youth should not constrain one’s opportunities, as learning still lay ahead.
“Cai Zhaoji has an incredible memory, surpassing you in literary skills, so landing this position would be completely normal,” Cheng Li remarked, noting that his judgment is typically based on talent. Furthermore, at his level, he didn’t get hung up on gender; his appraisal of Cai Yan was purely based on her abilities, not the fact that she is the daughter of the esteemed Cai Yong.
Seeing Xu Fu seem oblivious to the fact that Qiao Yan appointed Cai Zhaoji seriously, Cheng Li commented, “If you’re thinking like that, I’d wager you’ll find it tough moving from heir to house steward. I believe Qiao Yan might want your mother to give this position a go.”
“…?!” Xu Fu looked puzzled at Cheng Li, realizing he wasn’t just spinning tales.
Though he sensed Qiao Yan had a favorable view of his mother—having personally visited their home once—he never imagined the possibility Cheng Li proposed.
“Wanna take a bet?” Cheng Li chuckled at the kid’s confused expression.
“No need,” Xu Fu shook his head. “In this, it’s all about capability. Since Qiao Yan selects people based on talent, I’ll just have to show my results.”
What’s there to wager?
Having only recently stepped into the scholar’s role, Xu Fu figured Cheng Li’s playful gamble sounded oddly like the petty bets street rogues made.
But it’s not like he was going to gamble over whether he’d take the house steward role for being known as Xu Shu rather than just Leping Marquis’s son?
How silly would that be?
But now that Cai Zhaoji held an official post under Qiao Yan, having his mother equally engaged could only be a good thing.
He owed his rise to his mother’s care, so he naturally wanted to see her earn the respect she deserved under Qiao Yan’s watch.
With these arrangements, Qiao Yan’s subordinates were all doing their duties efficiently.
The groundwork in Leping County was being laid out quite properly.
During this month, Zhao Yun observed Qiao Yan’s strategy of strengthening the troops, and so did the Northern Army Lieutenant Bao Hong.
Yet, they personally found Qiao Yan occasionally veered off into peculiarities—like brewing wine.
In the Han dynasty, wine was brewed through fermentation, like Huangjiu (yellow wine), unlike the distilled spirits we might think of. Because fermentation made for cloudy wine, it was this “turbid wine” that made the saying “brewing wine and discussing heroes” famous.
But Qiao Yan didn’t plan to mess around with wine filtration techniques that wouldn’t improve until the Tang and Song dynasties; after all, she was only looking for a way to trade, so mastering the nine-stage supplementary fermentation method would suffice.
She had Yang Xiu procure ten ceramic wine vessels, which were already cleaned and stored in the county office’s backyard.
As per Qiao Yan’s plan, five of those ceramic vessels were to be used for making traditional Huangjiu, while the other five would follow her new supplementary fermentation method.
Of course, with two other helpers recruited by Yang Xiu from local wineries, this unusual brewing method seemed pretty odd.
How can you ensure everything stays right while splitting the rice into nine portions throughout the fermentation cycle without seeing what’s happening inside the vessels?
Yet, they were getting paid for this, and since Qiao Yan was calling the shots and had signed a confidentiality agreement with them, they could only offer a few suggestions and nothing more.
However, the free-loading drunkard that Yang Xiu had brought along jumped in without hesitation, helping with the rice steaming and mixing the wine yeast.
By now, the alcohol yeast trade had burgeoned; Yang Xiu had consulted the three other workers and was keen to keep Qiao Yan’s project on track by sourcing from the most reputable yeast dealer in Jinyang.
This pretty much showed how you pay a premium for ingredients and labor could be on the cheap side… the blunt truth.
When Qiao Yan met Yang Xiu, she found him participating in the first round of fermentation, stirring and pressing the mixture, essentially turning into a free laborer as long as meals were covered.
If General Yang were here, he’d probably find it hard to believe his promising grandson had turned out this way.
But hey, a little hardship isn’t a bad thing for a kid his age, so Qiao Yan had no qualms by letting him take on the tasks of frying and filtering the wine after.
Ideally, in this oversight, Bao Hong didn’t have any reason to think she was off track with her plans. Still, every time she added ingredients, she’d rush off, no matter what she had been doing, before returning to the task at hand.
Qiao Yan knew she was playing a long game, while Bao Hong was completely in the dark about it.
When Qiao Yan finally asked him to sample the turbid wine, Bao Hong couldn’t shake the feeling that this might not be the most appropriate timing for such an invitation.
This county marquis… had quite an unexpected style of work.
However, after tasting half a cup of warm new wine, all those previous doubts vanished from his mind.
This wine is brilliant!
The materials and yeast used for brewing, along with the brewing conditions and equipment, he had seen them all, yet he had never expected that such superior flavor could emerge from such rudimentary conditions.
As the aftertaste lingered, he suddenly heard Qiao Yan asking, “What do you think, General Bao? Is this wine fit to be called Hero’s Wine?”
What… kind of wine?
