Great Tang Idyll - Volume 4 Chapter 207:

According to the most recent census records, Yizhou had a population of 4,422 — though that had been years ago. Whether it had grown or shrunk since, no one knew.

Zhang Xiaobao and Wang Juan had imagined the locals would be dressed in exotic styles, but when they finally saw them, the clothes looked much the same as those worn elsewhere along the route. The only challenge was communication: most of the people here didn’t speak the official language. That was no issue for the two of them — each could speak multiple dialects.

Those locals who did trade with outsiders spoke fluent Mandarin, and they flattered Zhang Zhong endlessly.

“Why do I feel like those compliments were scripted?” Zhang Xiaobao muttered. “Probably what they say to every official they meet. Formality for formality’s sake — how pointless.”

“I don’t think they even know who your father is. Empty flattery is safest; it offends no one. But you heard him mention the Red Army crossing these mountains back in the day? Once things settle down, we should climb up there and see what it’s really like. Could it really have been so cold that people froze to death mid-journey?” Wang Juan took a deep breath, surprised to find it easy — no sign of the altitude sickness she’d expected.

Zhang Xiaobao glanced around and noticed Li Xun nearby, eyes shining with excitement, lost in his own thoughts. Seeing that, he relaxed. Looking again toward the distant peaks, he said, “The Red Army back then must’ve had no time to rest. They were already exhausted when they hit the snow line, and without the proper clothing or knowledge of how to survive up there, they froze. Once things settle, let Huzi and the others climb up there and train a bit.”

After exchanging some polite conversation with the locals, they set off toward the prefectural office.

The road was miserable. Mountains stacked upon mountains, and it looked like it had rained the previous day. The air was heavy with moisture; every step sank into thick mud. Lifting one’s foot felt like dragging up several extra catties of earth.

The older members of the Zhang and Wang families, as well as the three elders — Bi, Zhang, and Yao — were carried in sedan chairs. 

Zhang Zhong refused such comfort, taking a walking stick instead. He strolled along, chatting with the locals, not realizing he was supposed to be the new logistics organizer. He simply wanted to understand their lives better so he could help them later.

The locals answered his questions out of courtesy, not expectation. Generations of disappointment had taught them that no official could change their fate.

“Wait a moment,” Old Man Bi said from his sedan chair just as the bearers were about to lift it. He stared toward the riverbank, where the Zhang and Wang ships had just moored.

“What are you looking at?” Old Man Yao asked, signaling his own carriers to stop as well.

“The little ones haven’t disembarked yet. The Zhangs and Wangs would never leave their children behind. Let’s see how they bring them ashore,” Old Man Bi said curiously, pointing toward the boats.

Old Man Zhang stopped too. The three elders waited together.

Before long, the children’s house was unloaded from the ship — but it was unlike any house they had seen before. The base wasn’t raised on stilts, nor was it set on large wagon wheels or small courtyard wheels like before.

This time, the house sat atop a massive chassis. The house rested at the center, while four people stood on each side holding control bars. Beneath the platform, the three elders saw something strange — rows of linked iron plates forming an oval-shaped chain, looping continuously around a set of grooved metal wheels.

Eight people sat in position, hands gripping pedals like those used to spin a boat propeller back in Sanshui County. As they began pedaling, the chain rotated, rolling the platform steadily forward. When it met a ditch, it rolled straight over without pause. It even overtook the elders’ sedan chairs, climbing uphill without slipping despite the thick mud.

This model didn’t seem to have a balance stabilizer — likely too heavy for the current road conditions — but the children were safely strapped by the windows, peering out in wonder.

“See that? See?!” Old Man Bi jabbed a finger at the moving house, his voice trembling with excitement. “Every bit of their best technology is for their children! Who else would build such a thing? Look at it—uphill through the mud without stopping!”

Old Man Zhang and Old Man Yao nodded blankly. 

The children’s house was astonishing — short of sprouting wings, it could do anything. With wings, it might as well fly tomorrow. The Zhang and Wang families had clearly poured their finest inventions into it. What terrain could this contraption not handle?

“The only problem is that it’s slow,” Old Man Zhang commented after a while.

“That’s because it uses a small gear driving a large one,” Old Man Bi explained. “It saves effort for the operators. Look closely at the chain — it has spikes, perfect for muddy ground. Come on, follow it!”

He waved his bearers forward, urging them to keep up.

It wasn’t just the elders who were amazed. The local villagers gawked too. They had never seen a moving house. People walking along the road kept turning to stare in disbelief.

Even soldiers hauling grain and weapons were stunned. They began wondering aloud whether such devices could be built in numbers — remove the house, load weapons or supplies on top — and save themselves the backbreaking labor of carrying everything.

The elders’ sedan chairs caught up just as the moving house reached a narrow pass and slowed to adjust its direction. Zhang Xiaobao and Wang Juan stood on a muddy slope nearby, directing the maneuver. Despite the slippery ground, neither of them lost footing.

Once the direction was corrected and the house moved on, Old Man Bi called out, “Xiaobao, Juanjuan, come here — Grandpa has a question.”

“Too much effort. The base still isn’t right,” Zhang Xiaobao muttered to Wang Juan as he walked over. “We’ll have to refine it. Tanks and bulldozers can turn easily — why can’t this? Juanjuan, your task: make a gasoline engine.”

“No problem,” she shot back. “Gasoline engine? I’ll build an aircraft engine while I’m at it. Maybe a three-stage rocket — fill the sky with satellites to monitor the ground. How’s that?”

“Grandpa Bi, are you feeling unwell? I’ll find a doctor immediately,” Zhang Xiaobao said quickly, wisely dropping the topic and focusing on the elders as he approached.

Old Man Bi ’s eyes were fixed on Zhang Xiaobao and Wang Juan’s shoes. “Yes,” he said seriously. “I am unwell. My heart aches — someone’s hiding good things from me, and it hurts.”

“Cold as ice, right?” Zhang Xiaobao teased, lifting his foot to show. “Short-nailed soles. Excellent grip. No slipping. Want me to make you a pair?”

“What’s with the children’s house?” Old Man Bi demanded, still staring. He couldn’t begin to guess how much undisclosed technology the Zhang and Wang households still held.

Zhang Xiaobao glanced toward the house, now stuck again at a tight turn, and sighed. “The design’s not mature yet. See? Jammed again. When it’s perfected, we’ll adapt it elsewhere. Don’t worry, Grandpa Bi — we don’t hide technology unless it’s irrelevant to livelihood or national strength.”

He truly had no intention of keeping the chain-track design secret. Let others study it if they wished — it would be years before anyone could afford to build it. The iron alone was too costly unless the smelting industry advanced.

Satisfied with the answer, Old Man Bi ’s heartache eased. He examined the shoes again. “You only have nails in the front.”

“Of course. If there were nails in the back too, it’d be exhausting to walk. These are for mountain climbing — very handy. Once we settle down, I’ll make you a pair.”

Zhang Zhong, meanwhile, wasn’t watching the convoy. The household staff could handle that. He walked along questioning locals — about crop yields, about shortages, about health.

Every answer he received, he kept in mind. Once they settled, he would ask his son and daughter-in-law to devise solutions. He knew his own limits; it was enough to listen and remember.

The replies were disheartening. Each year they planted millet on the few flat patches at the base of the mountains and vegetables on the slopes. When the weather was good, they had a harvest — some to eat, some to trade for salt.

Their clothes were made from homegrown hemp. A few days of heavy rain could wash everything away. They kept no chickens or pigs — they hunted in the mountains instead, eating the meat and using the hides for clothing or trade. The biggest problem was the roads: impassable, and only three boats for the entire area. The smaller fishing boats dared not go downstream for fear of capsizing.

When illness struck, they endured it or relied on mountain herbs. Few ever sought doctors — they had no money, and it was too far.

They didn’t use money; everything was barter. Those with more grain or furs could marry better. It was an old, closed cycle that left Zhang Zhong helpless.

Zhang Xiaobao and Wang Juan had no intention of changing that — not now. Their mission was logistics, not local development. Once the war was over, they’d be reassigned elsewhere.

And even if they wanted to help, this place was unlike Luzhou, which had been rebuilt from ruin, or Shuzhou, which already had a solid foundation. Yizhou was remote, its goods of little value, its terrain harsh.

Most of all, its people were accustomed to this life. Could they be forced to change if they themselves preferred it this way?

As Zhang Zhong pondered how to help, and Zhang Xiaobao strategized logistics, the fleet slowly made its way forward. 

Fortunately, the prefectural yamen wasn’t far from the landing site — the earlier officials had probably chosen the location for that very reason.

Yizhou’s prefectural city was tiny, nestled between two mountains. Around it lay only a small plain. A river ran just outside. The rammed-earth walls stood barely half a zhang high — too low to call it an outer wall, yet too small an enclosure to be an inner city. Even a nimble wild beast could leap it with ease.

From a high spot, the entire city could be seen — a jumble of houses and trees, unlikely to hold more than four or five hundred people.

There was no moat, no drawbridge. Even the gates were just heavy wooden planks like a farmer’s fence, flung wide open with no guards in sight.

Few people came and went, though two groups of naked children ran about with sticks and tiny bows, playing mock battles.

As the Zhang and Wang convoy approached, the children froze, eyes wide with a mix of fear, curiosity, and awe — especially at the great moving house at the front.

“The prefect’s arrived! Go home and tell your families to come welcome him!” shouted a local man walking alongside the convoy.

The children didn’t know what a prefect was, only that someone important had arrived — important enough that everyone should come see. They gave one last longing glance at the beautiful moving house before turning to run home, shouting the news as they went.

At this time, Yizhou had no prefect (cishi 刺史) — only a sima (deputy commander) and a handful of petty officials who had been exiled there. As a result, Zhang Zhong’s appointment went through without issue.

Inside the yamen were just six constables: two old men with white hair, one with a limp, and two boys who looked no older than fifteen. Only one man appeared somewhat capable — until he spoke, revealing a heavy stutter.

Holding the rust-covered official seal in both hands, Zhang Zhong turned to the stooped sima, whose back was so bent he was nearly shaped like a comma. “Sima Fang, this is the entire prefectural yamen of Yizhou?” he asked. “Where can my family be settled?”

Sima Fang  was almost tearfully grateful. With Zhang Zhong’s arrival, he would no longer have to juggle every matter alone. He still couldn’t fathom what terrible offense this man had committed to be exiled here with his entire household.

He coughed violently before catching his breath and replying, “Yes, Lord Prefect, what you see is all there is. The locals live in stockaded villages. They handle most matters within their own settlements and rarely come to the yamen. Likewise, when the yamen calls, they rarely respond. If one wishes to build a levee, each village must be consulted separately, and only when they can spare people will they send help. As for your household, my suggestion is to dismantle the western wall and use the bricks to build your residence, then later raise a new wall farther out. I see that Your Excellency has many retainers — likely you won’t need villagers’ help. If you desire mountain delicacies, simply send word to nearby villages; they will show respect and deliver fresh game for Your Excellency to taste.”

Zhang Zhong fell silent. Compared to this, being county magistrate in Sanshui would have been a hundred times better. At least there, he could see his constables galloping through the streets. These six looked ready for retirement.

Studying the rusty seal in his hand, he sighed and patted Sima Fang ’s shoulder. “You’ve worked hard, Sima.”

Tears welled in Sima Fang ’s eyes. Finally, someone who understood his struggles — it had not been easy.

Zhang Zhong allowed himself a brief moment of emotion, then got back to work. At the very least, they needed housing. 

Fortunately, his household was unlike that of ordinary officials — he had brought capable people from both the Zhang and Wang families. 

With one command, his subordinates moved into action.

Tents were pitched in rows; work teams were organized. Some began clearing a road to the river, others went into the mountains to fell trees. Half of the Zero Team split off, crossbows in hand and short shotguns at their waists, climbing to vantage points to keep watch with binoculars.

The families of Old Man Bi and Old Man Yao came to help as well. Everyone understood that for now, they could rely on no one else. The villagers would listen to proclamations, not orders.

The Zhang family cooks dug fire pits and set up pots. Everything proceeded in perfect order.

It wasn’t just the eleven yamen staff who were astonished — even the onlooking locals were moved. They didn’t know what “discipline” meant, but they could see that these new arrivals were different. They needed no shouting, no supervision. Each person knew their duty and acted calmly.

The villagers, by contrast, could not accomplish anything without someone telling them exactly what to do. Yet this new official’s people had settled in smoothly right before their eyes. Who exactly was this man? A general?

While everyone else busied themselves, Zhang Xiaobao and Wang Juan had little to do. The Zhang and Wang household could replace the entire administrative staff of Luoyang if needed — setting up camp was hardly a challenge.

They had planned to start mapping the local terrain for military use, but seeing that they didn’t even have proper lodging yet, they decided to wait a few days. There was no war here anyway.

For now, the task was to establish rapport with the locals. Even if they wouldn’t be staying long, good relations would help later with logistics.

With a dozen guards accompanying them, they brought out the seven little ones — the children of both families — to meet the locals. They had prepared candies and packets of salt for gifts.

Liu’er, Xin’er, Weiwei, and Xiaoman joined them. Li Xun had wanted to tag along but was ordered to rest and acclimate to the new environment, with a doctor standing by in case he showed any sign of altitude sickness.

The younger children were timid at first, clinging to their older siblings, but soon regained their cheer, running hand-in-hand behind their brother and sister.

The local children who had been playing by the gate noticed the approaching group — strangers their own age dressed in bright, fine clothes — and their fear gave way to curiosity. Even without understanding fashion, they could tell these garments were precious.

“Xiaobei,” Zhang Xiaobao said, pulling his little sister forward and handing her a handful of sweets, “this important task is yours.”

Xiaobei, who had once shared candy with two boys named Dage and Xiaonan back in the kindergarten, loved giving things to others. 

Seeing the candy in her brother’s hand, she instantly understood.

She cupped the sweets carefully in both palms and trotted toward the group of children, calling out, “Candy! Please—have—some—candy!”

The mountain children were bolder than those elsewhere. Though they didn’t understand her words, they recognized food when they saw it — especially after noticing other people eating nearby.

One boy took a piece, peeled off the wrapper like he had seen Zhang Xiaobao’s people do, popped it into his mouth, and instantly squinted in delight at the sweetness. He even smoothed out the candy paper and folded it carefully, cherishing it like treasure.

The others followed, each taking one. When only two candies remained, no one else came forward — too many people, not enough sweets. Xiaobei’s tiny hands could hold no more anyway.

She was thrilled. Watching the others enjoy their candy, she wanted to eat one herself, but remembering her brother’s rule — only four pieces a day — she resisted.

As she turned to leave, the boy who had first tasted the candy suddenly grabbed her hand. Zhang Xiaobao’s guards tensed, ready to intervene, but the boy only took off a necklace made of oily, mud-stained cord and slipped it over Xiaobei’s neck. It had a pendant that looked like a tooth. Smiling shyly, he released her and stepped back.

“What’s this? Putting that dirty thing on our Xiaobei’s neck?” Wang Juan frowned, examining it closely. “Ugh, the cord’s covered in grease. And the pendant — is that a tooth? Xiaobao, look. What kind of animal?”

“Looks like a wolf’s tooth,” Zhang Xiaobao said. “Probably from one he trapped, not one he fought. He may have killed it himself. Dirty or not, don’t take it off yet. You saw how he watched us — if we remove it now, this little friendship ends right here. Wash it later. From now on, Xiaobei is our goodwill ambassador. When people see that necklace, they’ll recognize it. Give her a hug — and send half a catty of salt to the children. They’ll know what it means.”

At his signal, a guard handed small cloth bags of salt to the local children. 

Having already accepted the candy, they took the bags curiously.

When they opened them and tasted the salt, their eyes widened with wonder.

To those living by the sea, half a catty of salt meant nothing — they could have tons of it. But Yizhou had no salt wells, and Chengdu’s well salt was reserved for sale, not for local use. Compared with coarse mountain salt, this white, fine-grained salt was pure luxury.

The children immediately understood its value. To trade for such salt with hides, they’d need at least five fine sheep pelts per bag. The flavor was smooth, not bitter. 

They clutched the bags tightly, unwilling to part with them.

One clever boy whispered to the others, then hugged his bag to his chest and ran home. The rest followed, eager to show their parents.

Watching them go, Zhang Xiaobao nodded. “Good. That’ll save us a lot of trouble later. When we start trading materials, they won’t be so wary. The Long March begins with a single step.”

“True,” Wang Juan said. “Back then, when our army crossed the mountains, they also had to find ways to win over the locals. It’s never easy. Should we invite them to share a meal later?” She removed the dirty necklace from Xiaobei’s neck — it would need several washings.

“Not yet,” Zhang Xiaobao said. “They may not eat what we do. Better to have them help with some work first. Once we’ve had more contact, then we can invite them to eat. No sense offending their customs by accident — like serving pork to Muslims. Good intentions can still backfire.” He sighed. “If only we had someone to brief us on local customs first.”

When he returned to camp, the three elders lowered their binoculars, beaming. “Well done, well done,” Old Man Bi said. “What’s that called again?”

“That’s children’s diplomacy,” Zhang Xiaobao replied cheerfully. “There’s first lady diplomacy, and now there’s this. Children represent life, continuity, and hope — the purest form of goodwill.”

“And what’s first lady diplomacy?” Old Man Bi asked curiously.

“That’s when the wife goes out and befriends other officials’ wives. Every noble household’s lady knows how to do it. Ah, I’m exhausted. Skip dinner — soup will do tonight.”

After trudging all day through mud and thinking through logistical plans, he truly was tired.