Great Tang Idyll - Volume 4 Chapter 206:

“By order of the Zhang family!” Xu Si announced loudly the moment he saw the two officials.

“Field Magistrate Tian Tian/Registrar Wang Wang receives the order!” they both replied in unison.

The exchange was perfectly natural for the three of them, but to everyone else, it was deeply strange. 

What Zhang family was this — powerful enough that even government officials opened their gates, lined up to greet them, and spoke so respectfully? Could it be that these visitors outranked the imperial court?

Everyone in Shuangliu knew what kind of officials Tian Tian and Wang Wang were. Their governance had improved the lives of the common people and even left surplus funds in the yamen coffers. They were capable men, the kind whose superiors treated them with smiles. Yet here they were, bowing and deferential to three strangers.

Not only the constables but also passing townsfolk stopped to watch, curious and murmuring among themselves. Were their local officials being threatened? If so, perhaps they ought to help.

Tian Tian and Wang Wang, however, cared nothing for appearances. They remembered well who had supported them in their early days, who had lifted them to where they now stood, who had guided them through their troubles. What they did today was not only to honor the Zhang family but also to honor their own conscience. One must not be ungrateful. They only wished to let the Zhangs know that, next time, there was no need to test them with that embroidered rice sprout marked Ji — a written order from the Zhangs would suffice.

With that thought, they presented the cloth together, Tian Tian saying solemnly, “When the Zhang household issues a command, how could we dare disobey? Please take this back.”

Xu Si accepted it, and Wang Wang immediately said, “Please, come inside. Let’s talk within.”

Before the astonished onlookers, the two officials ushered the three riders into the yamen. 

Half an hour later, Xu Si and his companions emerged, mounted up, and rode off toward Guangdu County, where two more Zhang family associates held office.

After their departure, Shuangliu County posted a public notice. The content was simple: the county sought to purchase grain from local and neighboring farmers to brew fine wine and invited grain merchants to cooperate — once the wine was produced, profits would be shared.

The two officials had already won the people’s trust through earlier initiatives, such as buying raw lacquer and caring for livelihood. Now that they had announced another beneficial venture, local grain traders rushed forward to join.

A day later, new news spread — Guangdu County was recruiting large numbers of mules to form a merchant caravan that would set off along the Tea Horse Road after the autumn harvest.

Two successive announcements of projects that benefited merchants and commoners alike drew great enthusiasm. Those with grain or pack animals hastened to deliver them to the counties.

By the following day, Xu Si had reached Chengdu and once again rode hard, this time toward Yizhou. Along the way, he distributed deposits and contracted shops for vast quantities of charcoal and leather.

No one knew what this man, scattering fei qian (money drafts) as he rode, was truly up to — but money was money. Orders meant profit. When charcoal ran short, new kilns were fired; when leather was scarce, hunters were paid higher bounties.

By the time the Zhang and Wang flotilla arrived in Yizhou, the advance teams had already begun resettlement operations in Yizhou’s surrounding mountains. 

There was little of value there except bamboo and wild beasts. The higher peaks, covered in snow, were unreachable, but the lower hills were already claimed by locals.

Under the guise of a merchant, Xu Si used salt and cloth from their supplies to barter with the villagers for moso bamboo, offering high prices. He also bought timber — but only from specific areas he designated.

The locals didn’t care where they felled trees; as long as they could exchange the wood for daily necessities, they agreed. Only after two days of chopping did they realize that the “merchant” had directed them to cut along lines that now formed clear, connected roads.

By the time the Zhang and Wang fleet reached Yizhou, it was late summer. They had been traveling by boat for over two months, and everyone was weary of the voyage — everyone except little Xiaobei and the other children, who were as cheerful as ever.

Zhang Zhong’s arrival was kept as discreet as possible, but with such a massive entourage, secrecy was impossible. People who learned a little about him began speculating.

When Zhang Zhong stood on deck gazing at the shore, crowds gathered, pointing and whispering.

Before anyone fully understood what was happening, rumors spread from Shuangliu and Guangdu Counties: Zhang Zhong, it was said, had been demoted — transferred from a senior post to a lower one. The Zhang family had made too much money, angering the wrong people. The townsfolk were told that if Zhang Zhong’s convoy wanted to buy anything, they should raise their prices — since the Zhangs were rich, it would be a sin not to profit from them.

Had this rumor come from commoners, few would have believed it. But supposedly it came from the mouths of the magistrates and registrars of those counties. 

With that, everyone was convinced — and eager to make a fortune.

Zhang Zhong, for his part, played along perfectly. Along the way, he bought goods in large quantities — especially rapeseed oil — paying ever-higher prices.

By the time the flotilla neared Yizhou, rapeseed oil had tripled in price. The sellers were almost embarrassed — it felt like outright exploitation.

Zhang Zhong put on a face of helplessness, sighing about his misfortune at being demoted to poor, remote Yizhou, where even the locals were uncooperative.

The three elders were growing anxious. They had expected the Zhangs to purchase grain for the war effort, not oil. What use was oil — one couldn’t eat it! Too much of it, and you’d only get sick.

Were it not for their deep respect (and a measure of fear) for the Zhangs’ unorthodox brilliance, they might have lost their tempers. 

Nothing about this seemed to match their expectations.

“What are the Zhangs thinking? Are they not satisfied yet?” Old Man Yao fumed. “The Ministry of Works already promised them contracts, the salt fields were opened, taxes reduced, and their elders have all been granted office. Why aren’t they organizing logistics?”

Having dealt less with the Zhangs, he did not yet understand their methods — how they might neglect many things but never logistics. For two days he had poor appetite, trying to figure out what they were doing.

“Don’t worry,” Old Man Bi said. “If the Zhangs gave their word, they won’t disappoint. If even they can’t handle logistics, then no one in Tang can. Why else do you think His Majesty sent them to Yizhou? They are his elite — just like their fifty-six Zero Team members. If not for lack of proof and the emperor’s wish to avoid a larger war, he’d never have sent the Zhangs away. They’re builders — wherever they go, they raise revenue and improve lives. His Majesty had no choice. If there were even one other person who could match half their logistical skill, the emperor wouldn’t have dispatched them to such a dangerous frontier. Who else dared build the Grand Bridge across the Yangtze?” Old Man Bi tried to reassure him, though he himself was uneasy. 

If not for his familiarity with the Zhangs’ knack for doing the impossible, he too would have panicked. Why buy oil, when grain was what they needed most?

He and the others asked Zhang Xiaobao and Wang Juan several times, but both maintained expressions of innocent confusion.

As they approached Yizhou, Wang Juan, after playing a while with her younger siblings, turned to Zhang Xiaobao.

“Xiaobao,” she said, “it’s really the country’s loss that you never attended a military academy. This plan of yours reminds me of the Second World War — the Calais ghost operation. Without that decoy, there’d have been no D-Day. It’s like openly repairing the plank road while secretly crossing the river. If your plan succeeds, it’ll go down in the annals of Chinese warfare. And Li Longji too — this will prove he knows how to use talent. But tell me, why buy so much rapeseed oil? I don’t believe you’re staging some elaborate decoy using gunpowder or electronics — that’s not you. You’re more calculating than Eisenhower and Montgomery, and your opponents are no Rommel. Come on, tell me — or we’re sleeping in separate rooms tonight.”

“Thank you… Can you keep a secret?” Zhang Xiaobao asked, embarrassed, head lowered, face slightly red.

“I can,” Wang Juan said firmly.

“I… I can too,” he stammered, growing redder.

“Then we’re separating completely — you can live up on the mountain!” she said sharply.

When the Zhang and Wang convoy finally reached Yizhou, the three elders were stunned. The local people — once notoriously difficult to deal with — now flocked to greet them, smiling and waving.

Could this be the “personal charisma” Xiaobao and Juanjuan spoke of? Why were all the townsfolk here, so cheerful? Something was off.

Wang Juan, however, admired Xiaobao’s foresight. Her eyes swept the crowd and then locked onto something else entirely — two caged animals.

“Xiaobao, pandas! Giant pandas! Look, they’re adorable — they’re even looking at me! Let’s release them and let Xiaobei and the others play with them!” she said excitedly.

“Are you kidding? You think pandas eat only bamboo? They’re omnivores! You want the kids to feed them? There’ve been plenty of stories — people thought pandas were cute, went near them, and got bitten.”

Zhang Xiaobao had no intention of letting the children near those animals.

“Who says so? I’ve heard of wild pandas visiting farmers’ homes, eating with them, even playing with their children! Too bad one farmer poisoned one for money — got himself executed. If pandas came to our home, I’d make them the best food.”

Wang Juan wasn’t truly reckless; she wouldn’t actually let the children play with the pandas — she knew better.

“Pandas prefer tender bamboo with low fiber,” Zhang Xiaobao said. “They won’t eat people’s food unless bamboo’s scarce. Come on — we’ve still got work to do. The next step involves the locals. Let’s go greet them.” He strode ahead as he spoke.

Wang Juan following, still glancing back at the pandas with reluctant curiosity.