A special thank you to my patrons:
—Cain, Shahzaam, Varun Madhu, Mp Gaming, kevin Williams, Jose Carrillo, ZaberZ, Jose Sierra, Salim, Silver, ManyEB, Archer Sterling, John Doe, Kyle Bates, Acedia, Zhandos Kauzhanov, Kylo Ren.
You can read 50 chapters ahead of everyone on p@treon.
P@TREON - [email protected]/lessaservantofcosmos
(just replace the "@" with "a")
ps: Please support me on P@treon. I can really use your help!
—————————————————————
Why did ancient statesmen favor keeping the masses ignorant? Whether emperors or high officials, why did they so often praise rustic simplicity?
Because when the people don't think, the emperor laughs; when they do, he trembles!
During the Warring States period, Bingzhou built the Qin and Zhao Great Walls. In the late Qin, Meng Tian's 300,000 border troops were stationed there. Under Emperor Wu, Bingzhou's governance was strengthened to combat the Xiongnu. Yet, under Emperor Guangwu's political needs—or those of Hebei and Nanyang elites—it slowly fractured, becoming a playground for the Hu.
Silence fell over the group.
In the Han dynasty, speech was relatively free. Fei Qian's words, stating facts without slandering Guangwu, didn't strike Huang Cheng, Ma Yan, or Du Yuan as disrespectful. They were just hard to accept.
"Bingzhou's poverty isn't due to the Hu, but ourselves," Fei Qian said, looking at the three. "This is the bitter fruit sown by our predecessors, now ours to taste and we've come to Bingzhou to plant a tree for future generations, one that bears sweet fruit. That's my hope, my reason for choosing Bingzho. Bingzhou is poor—everyone is poor, Hu and Han alike. So why do the Hu still raid the poor Han?"
Fei Qian touched the two arrows on the table. "Because the Hu are poorer. To them, everything Han is valuable—bows, pots, clothes, even our plumper women. It's all better than what they have, so they rob us… The question is, when these poor ghosts come to rob us, can we win?"
Huang Cheng was silent.
Ma Yan and Du Yuan were silent.
Their silence stemmed from unwillingness to lie and a sense of frustration.
Fei Qian's forces couldn't even defeat a band of homeless Southern Xiongnu. How could they handle Bingzhou's other "poor ghosts"?
Fei Qian was unwilling too. Since Emperor Wu's time, the Han had beaten the Hu into hushed breaths. Now, they lived under constant threat?
The Five Barbarians' chaos…
That was the Han's final curtain, its people's last frenzy.
After the Three Kingdoms, there were no true Han.
The Tang, though vibrant, was a tapestry of mixed blood.
Fei Qian wasn't a nationalist. He just wondered why the agrarian people of this land always suffered under one enemy after another.
"Barbarians entering the Central Plains become Chinese…"
To Fei Qian, that was nonsense! Those who took it out of context were deluded!
The premise was a strong Central Plains, one that could tell barbarians: "Shed your hides and wear our robes, or die in them. Choose."
Not a thief breaking into a home, killing the men, taking the women, donning the men's robes, and calling himself "Chinese" while the survivors groveled at his feet!
Fei Qian knew later eras had no "pure" Han, and he wasn't qualified to judge the Confucian scholars who endured to preserve culture. If possible, he just wanted—however slightly—to reduce the suffering, the bloodshed, the loss.
The Han had unlocked mechanical manufacturing, then it was snuffed out…
The Tang had tapped physics and chemistry, then it was extinguished…
The Song had sparked capitalism, then it was cut down…
The Ming had ventured into colonialism, then it was slaughtered…
If there was a chance, just a nudge at the tipping point, to let that snowball roll from the peak, perhaps a new world could emerge.
Fei Qian smiled faintly. "There's a saying: poverty spurs change. Since we can't win with force alone, we mustn't rely on old methods. We need a different way to fight…"
---
In Hedong, some weren't so poor but were also seeking change.
When the Anyi Zhang family faced multiple choices, they chose to challenge the contract with Fei Qian—and failed, falling. Others, watching, thanked the Zhangs while swiftly making their own choices.
Since breaking contracts was unwise, they'd fulfill them. But for matters outside the contract, there was no question of breaking faith…
The vast price gap for grain between Sili and Hedong was tantalizing. This once-in-a-century chance made them feel that missing it would shame their ancestors.
Thus, a caravan of over a hundred carts was assembled, grain gathered, and it rumbled south from Hedong Commandery, seeking massive profits.
They didn't lack for more carts; most had already been rented by Fei Qian, leaving only these.
No matter—Hedong wasn't far from Luoyang. A few extra trips would suffice.
The caravan swayed to Shanjin Ferry, the closest and best crossing from Hedong to Sili. Xiaopingjin upstream was too far, and Maojin downstream too small for so many carts.
Zhang Liao's former camp stood by the ferry, its soldiers bustling, loading carts with what looked like daily goods…
An officer at the camp gate watched the caravan briefly but made no move, though his gaze unsettled the caravan leader.
By Han law, ordinary roads weren't tolled, but bridges and city gates usually were.
Shanjin was a long pontoon bridge, iron chains linking boats with wooden planks. Though spacious, it swayed slightly but saved the hassle of loading and unloading ships.
Guarding Shanjin was a dedicated military outpost under court control, led by a junhou responsible for security and collecting crossing fees.
"More fools coming," the junhou muttered, eyeing the caravan.