Great Tang Idyll - Volume 4 Chapter 213

Thousands of miles of rivers and mountains lay far away. Great mountains and wide rivers marked the distant borderlands. A narrow sheep-gut path shone faintly like a thread; the scarlet warhorses stained the shadowed mountain bridge. No stars, no Milky Way, the wind still cold—how could the waning moon of the north not wither the leaves? Before crossing the border, this final stretch was escorted; on a tributary of Jinchuan, boats waited to be set afloat.

The night was pitch dark, with neither stars nor moon. The overcast sky after the rain felt even colder than during the downpour.

Guo Tu led his troops with torches lit, making their way down a narrow path where one could slip into the deep ravine at any moment. Knowing that time had already been delayed, he wished he could grow wings and fly over the remaining distance.

The only thing that had satisfied him these past days was the logistics unit. They always waited ahead, having arranged everything that needed arranging. If the troops wanted to rest at night, there were designated places. When it was time to eat, there were hot dishes and hot rice. If not for knowing they were on a military mission, he would have thought he was traveling through Yaoshi Mountain in Yaozhou.

To him, this was not marching—it was too comfortable. Even before walking this treacherous stretch, someone had already prepared ropes, linking each soldier together to prevent anyone from falling into the ravine.

But the marching speed was still slow. At this rate, let alone reaching Jinchuan in ten days—they might not even see the border.

Under any other circumstances, he might still find a reason to blame the logistics unit, saying grain supplies were not timely. But facing Yizhou’s logistics unit, even the most shameless general would not dare say such words. If this level of preparation were still considered inadequate, should they expect the logistics unit to carry the troops on their backs? 

Better to withdraw and let the logistics unit fight the war themselves.

“If only the logistics unit could give us wings,” Guo Tu muttered to himself as he thought of the miraculous logistics force.

Zhang Xiaobao and Wang Juan were still leading their team, following behind the frontline troops at a distance of half a day’s march. Their advance was extremely easy. Their team had grown larger as well—those guards sent by Grandpa Bi and Grandpa Yao to search for them had been persuaded to stay and help complete a logistics assignment together.

“I estimate Guo Tu’s army will reach the place suitable for boarding the boats in another hour. This is the final stretch of escorting while still in our territory. I hope they can complete their mission and bring as many men back alive as possible. The locals who carried grain and cooked along the way can be paid and sent home now.”

Through the telescope, Zhang Xiaobao watched the winding path ahead where the soldiers’ torches formed a long dragon-like line, silently offering his blessing.

Wang Juan understood well that war meant death. Whether proactively or passively, there was no such thing as zero casualties. Many soldiers in the forward units had not yet married or had children. Once they went, who knew how many would return alive and how many would remain buried in a foreign land.

Wearing short-spiked shoes and holding a stick to prevent falling, she glanced at the ink-black sky and said, “The grain should have reached the border. The next batches are being gathered. By the time we arrive, they should have already crossed into Tubo. Later transport will be difficult. We’ll have to wait for Guo Tu to send word before knowing where to deliver the next supplies. What is this? A battle plan not disclosed in advance—they insist on crossing the border and starting the fighting before revealing anything. Even now, I still don’t know what his intent is.”

“I figure it’s not that he didn’t want to say—it’s that he himself hasn’t figured out how to fight this battle. Maybe it will change at any time. If he says the plan now, and then it doesn’t work when the time comes, he’ll only harm his own men. That’s all there is. That’s the difficulty of logistics.” Zhang Xiaobao bit into a compressed ration, chewing as he spoke, his voice muffled.

An hour meant an hour. After one hour passed, the vanguard reached a place where a road spiraled downward. If they didn’t take this descending path, they would have to continue on the narrow mountain trail.

But at this spot, a signpost had been erected. By the light of the torches, one could see an arrow, and beneath it, a line of small characters:

Go down the slope to board boats and proceed straight to the border.

The message quickly reached Guo Tu. 

He brought the adjutant forward, looked at the sign, then at the descending path. As he hesitated, the river below suddenly lit up with countless points of light. In the glow, numerous boats floated on the water, rising and falling with the current.

The sight startled him. Thankfully they had not crossed the border yet—otherwise he truly would have suspected Tubo was ambushing them. Then again, it was only a fleeting thought. No one in Tubo would be foolish enough to attack from below. If they intended to ambush, they would hide on the cliffs and roll boulders down. Whoever stood below would be finished.

“General, look at that flag—it’s the logistics unit’s. Should we board the boats?” the adjutant asked quietly.

His admiration for the logistics unit deepened. They had even prepared the transport vessels. They had been supported all along the way. It seemed Zhang Zhong truly was worthy of his reputation.

What choice did Guo Tu have? If they didn’t take the boats, they would continue struggling along mountain paths—definitely causing delay. Judging from the boats below, going downstream could reduce one or even two days from their journey into Tubo’s Jinchuan region.

He did not hesitate. He ordered, “All soldiers, watch your footing. Board the boats.”

As the order passed down, the vanguard began descending the slope. Only then did they discover that it was not dangerous at all. The descending path had railings installed. Even if someone slipped, they would hit the railing first. The railing had slots for torches—slotting a torch freed their hands and prevented accidents.

Inspecting the railing, Guo Tu said, “Newly built. Looks like Zhang Zhong didn’t have enough time. If he had, he might have installed railings along all the paths we walked earlier. The real question is—once we cross the border, will they still be able to deliver grain in time?”

“General, they don’t even know how we will advance. How could they know where to send grain? Besides, the court only ordered them to gather the food. Once we cross the border, our army must take over the supplies. Surely they aren’t expected to keep delivering into Tubo territory?”

The adjutant did not believe that Zhang Zhong would continue doing extra work. What he had done so far was already far beyond expectations. As long as the army did not lack grain at the border, then Zhang Zhong’s mission would be considered complete.

Of course, it depended on how the court arranged things. If they wanted Zhang Zhong to continue supporting them, then the logistics unit would have to remain at the border, transporting more grain to the border cities so that the frontline soldiers could receive adequate supplies.

Guo Tu knew he was thinking too much. The logistics unit could not accompany them too far, nor would they dare step deep into Tubo. 

Zhang Zhong was a civil official. Without troops, crossing the border would only lead to disaster.

It was simply that the logistics unit had done too well—so well that people were reluctant to leave them behind. 

Unfortunately, once past the border, it was no longer the logistics unit’s domain.

He raised his hand and rubbed his face, chilled by the night air, then followed the troops downward. Every time they reached what appeared to be a dangerous point, they found the railings taller and the steps beneath their feet well-carved.

Thus fifteen thousand men boarded several hundred boats of various sizes and drifted downstream. 

By the time Zhang Xiaobao and Wang Juan reached the place, the fleet was already out of sight.

“Now we don’t have to keep arranging things ahead. There’s no way to arrange anything anyway. We’re done worrying. I’ve never seen what the border fortifications look like—let’s go take a look.”

Standing at the temporary dock, Wang Juan waited for the boats prepared for them.

Zhang Xiaobao’s mind was not on the battlefield. He was busy calculating how to recover their losses.

“This time we directly paid out one hundred and twenty thousand guan. That fellow Li Longji is black-hearted. Expecting him to pay us back is impossible. I’m thinking maybe we should ask him to give us a stretch of pasture—raise more good horses, transport them to various regions, and get rich folk involved in horse gambling. Could be interesting.”

“That’s a good idea. Even if it’s far and conditions are harsh—somewhere like Fengzhou, in Inner Mongolia—if they carve out a piece of land, that’s fine. Grasslands, desert, we can raise more cattle. The climate is bad, but we can grow jujubes or grapes as cash crops. Transporting them back will make them even more valuable.”

Wang Juan could not avoid the subject. For the sake of avenging the people of Wangjiang, even without Li Longji offering anything, she would have spent her own money to retaliate.

But now it was different. Li Longji had brought up the subject first. If he could not repay the money, then letting land change hands would be easy. She believed Li Longji would happily agree. That land was not a good place—sandstorms, rapidly changing weather, wolves.

The population was pitifully small and nomadic. Ordinary people wouldn’t go even if paid. If they requested a piece of land there, Li Longji would be overjoyed.

Thinking of this, she said, “Should we send a message now and let Grandpa Bi know? Maybe we should secure the land early.”

“No. Absolutely not. If we bring it up first, those sly foxes in the imperial court—Li Longji included—will purposely bring up a long list of obstacles. They’ll talk endlessly about how wonderful Fengzhou is, how valuable, and then ask us to bring out something new in exchange. The land we finally get won’t be large. We already have the accounts. Once it’s over, we send the ledger to Grandpa Bi. He will know how to handle it. Based on my analysis, the most likely scenario is—they will come ask us what we want. Forget the money. Once they ask, everything becomes easy.”

Zhang Xiaobao had no intention of being proactive. This was not like dealing with local officials. Those in the imperial court were all sharp. This matter involved ***exchange—political exchange.

Political exchange required strategy. Unless they intended to tear their faces off completely, whoever revealed their intention first would suffer.

Negotiation meant achieving your objective while still appearing humble—as if both sides had taken advantage.

If a bear understood politics, it would make the monkey propose the idea of bringing honey, then complain pitifully about bee stings, asking for compensation—letting the monkey believe it had benefited while the bear enjoyed the honey.

Wang Juan nodded, but her doubts grew. “Then what should we ask for?”

“Ask for control over all trade routes along the Tea-Horse Road.”

(Translator’s Note: Tea-Horse Road (茶马古道) —An ancient network of trade routes connecting Sichuan and Yunnan in China to Tibet, India, and Southeast Asia. It developed during the Tang and Song dynasties and flourished through the Ming and Qing eras. The route’s name comes from its main commodities: Chinese tea, traded for Tibetan warhorses.)

“Impossible. Unless the entire imperial court turned stupid overnight.”

Zhang Xiaobao looked upstream. “I know it’s impossible. In psychology, this is called asking for a foot after gaining an inch. Sometimes it works better than merely pushing an inch. Put simply—ask for the sky and wait for them to bargain down. Once they reject it, we then ask for a good region—large area. If they offer a poorer region, the area must be larger. If it’s extremely harsh, we’ll accept—but demand ten years of tax and rent exemption. Then tell me—where will Li Longji assign the land?”

“To Inner Mongolia. Or the northeast. He will never let us go to Lingnan. But how do you guarantee we get pasture?” Wang Juan knew the court’s thinking instantly. If she were them, she’d do the same. “Your Zhang Family is capable? Fine—go see how capable you really are. Want land? Take it. Nobody wants those regions. See if you can manage it.”

Zhang Xiaobao shared the same thought. 

In truth, not only Li Longji—many wanted to see the Zhang Family stumble in business. It was human nature—not to destroy them, but to subconsciously push them down. Otherwise, wouldn’t the Zhang Family become a legend? Would nothing be able to stump them?

Hearing Wang Juan’s question, he replied: “When the time is right, drop hints. For example, encourage large-scale development of hotpot. Say that this cuisine is especially suited for the northeast. Then use glass to build greenhouses, increase off-season vegetable production, purchase furs in bulk, and have our clothing workshop make beautiful winter garments. Then, at the mouth of the Yellow River, build ships. Make a big show of going to Liaodong Bay, hiring local fishermen to study the marine environment. Also send people to open a new Between Water and Clouds Pavilion restaurant there. Now—what do you think I’m trying to do?”

“What else? You’re preparing for development once the land is granted. You’re too crafty, Xiaobao. I get it now—you’re deliberately showing all this so they look there first. Once they assign land elsewhere, that leaves only Inner Mongolia. Is this the ‘lure the east, strike the west’ tactic—or ‘obscure truth by deception’?” Wang Juan understood his personality.

If he wanted land in Inner Mongolia, he would build layer upon layer of detail, guiding others into giving it to him. He sometimes failed—but only when he didn’t persist. When he persisted, he always found a way.

Zhang Xiaobao had been thinking about this the entire way. In an age ruled by absolute authority, unless he planned to become emperor and overthrow the regime, he could not face them head-on. And becoming emperor was no easy task. Someone like him would try to do everything well—that alone would exhaust him to death.

More importantly, overthrowing the current dynasty was incredibly difficult. Even with ten years of preparation, he would first need to become a regional commander in a remote area to acquire troops—like An Lushan.

(Translator’s Note: An Lushan (安禄山) — A Tang-dynasty military governor of mixed Sogdian and Turkic ancestry who commanded enormous power on the northeastern frontier. In 755 CE, he launched the An Lushan Rebellion, one of the deadliest uprisings in world history. Claiming the Mandate of Heaven, he declared himself emperor of a rival state (the “Great Yan”). Though assassinated by his own son in 757, his revolt devastated the Tang dynasty: millions died, the empire’s economy collapsed, and central authority never fully recovered.)

Then he would need to launch a coup. The consequences would be worse than the An-Shi Rebellion, weakening the Tang and giving neighboring states opportunities. By the time he stabilized internal affairs, other nations might strike first. Even if he won, he would be forty or fifty—too old to enjoy anything.

(Translator’s Note: An–Shi Rebellion (安史之乱) —A cataclysmic civil war in the Tang dynasty, lasting from 755 to 763 CE, initiated by An Lushan and later continued by his follower Shi Siming.)

Why bother? Better to influence an era from the shadows while enjoying life.

“What are you thinking? Get on the boat—it’s here.” Wang Juan nudged him. The boat had finally arrived, yet he remained deep in thought.

“Nothing. I’ll write a letter immediately—some things must be arranged early. A letter for Grandpa Bi. Ask him to look for people who are not afraid of the cold during the skiing event, and train them before adding them to our household guards. Also tell the commercial branch to purchase aged black tea. Have the cloth shops in the capital deliver silk to this region. Let Grandpa Yao take the lead in approaching local officials near the Tea-Horse Road, and hire those who frequently travel the route at high wages. That’s all for now. I’ll add more when I think of it.”

Snapped out of his thoughts, Zhang Xiaobao boarded the boat and began writing.