Chapter 73: Zhao Wenke's Scheme

“Conscripting laborers…”

“Look! They’re conscripting laborers to dig a moat around the city!”

“They’re digging the canal just outside the city walls!”

On the streets of the eastern city, as officials posted proclamation after proclamation, crowds of commoners gathered closely together, discussing among themselves.

In the Sui Dynasty, whenever the conscription of laborers was mentioned, the people would feel a chill down their spines. Over the years, Emperor Yang of Sui had repeatedly issued harsh orders, forcibly conscripting the populace. Not a year passed without millions perishing from these labors; many, to avoid being taken, would even mutilate themselves.

Fortunately, upon reading the decree, it became clear the order was only from Jinyang, conscripting laborers to dig a canal outside the eastern city.

At once, many people hurried to register. The reason was simple—even if the work was hard and paid little, at least they would be able to eat, and not starve. This meant everything to the impoverished folk.

“What? Digging a protective moat?”

Among the crowd, Dou Lichuan, Cai Ran, Chu Bo, and Song Jianfeng also saw the proclamation. They exchanged glances in shock.

Back at their humble lodging, Song Jianfeng put down his sword and paced anxiously.

“Was the plan leaked? Has Pan Changwen, the defender of Jinyang, begun preparations in advance…” Song Jianfeng said, looking at the others.

As trusted followers of Wei Dao’er, Song Jianfeng had joined Dou Lichuan, Cai Ran, and Chu Bo in arriving early at the eastern city of Jinyang, constantly surveying the terrain and the defensive patterns of the Eagle Commandery.

In Song Jianfeng’s eyes, all of Taiyuan would fall easily once Wei Dao’er’s army arrived.

He hadn’t expected to see such a proclamation today—the eastern city was suddenly digging a moat.

“It can’t be! Only a handful of people know our plans for Taiyuan. Besides, the four of us have only been here a few days. If word had leaked, we’d already be prisoners under Pan Changwen,” Chu Bo said, shaking his head and urging calm.

“Dou Lichuan, Cai Ran! You two are close friends with Tang Maochun. Go to the Tang family and inquire—what’s happening in the eastern city? Why are they suddenly digging a canal?”

Chu Bo instructed, watching the two nod before turning to Song Jianfeng.

“Jianfeng, send word to Lord Wei at once!”

Seeing Song Jianfeng nod and leave in a hurry, Chu Bo met Dou Lichuan and Cai Ran’s eyes.

Song Jianfeng was far too rash, nothing like his composed elder brother Song Jingang.

Within the eastern city.

In a narrow, out-of-the-way alley, beneath a makeshift shack that barely counted as shelter, a man in his forties returned home.

He watched as his wife bundled together an uneven pile of firewood, collected over many days from outside the city, hoping to sell it for a few coins.

The man knew the firewood wasn’t worth much, and the mismatched pieces would fetch even less than usual.

“A commandant came today! He ordered that from now on, we are not to harass the townsfolk, nor take their food by force or stealth…” The man laid his knife aside and took off his worn clothing.

Once the rags beneath were revealed, he looked less a soldier of the Eagle Commandery and more a destitute commoner.

He recounted the events of the day to his wife, the commandant’s orders, one by one.

His wife, her hair unkempt from years of exposure, fell silent at his words.

A long moment passed.

When her husband suggested selling their son and daughter, she said nothing, only lowered her head, wiped her tears, and looked at their silent children beside the shack.

She gazed at her son and daughter, her eyes brimming with tears, but could not speak a word.

The woman knew their family had long since run out of grain; in the past, they had survived only by her husband finding ways to bring home food from others.

Now, with the new commandant’s orders, if her husband disobeyed, he’d be made an example of. But by the time the new commandant relaxed his rule, their family would have starved.

Selling their children might at least give them a chance to survive, rather than starve at home.

So she said nothing, only wept, and silently led her son and daughter to a battered wooden tub, intending to wash their faces in the bitter cold one last time.

Beneath the shack, the man watched his silent children, knowing this might be the last time in his life that his wife washed their faces.

“Qiu Dahan! Qiu Dahan!”

Suddenly, voices rang out. The man stood and stepped outside, to find his squad leader, and to his terror, also the company commander and the young commandant he had seen in the barracks that day.

“Qiu Dahan!” Wu Liuzi called out.

“Commandant, Commander, Squad Leader!” Qiu Dahan greeted them in panic, not understanding why so many had come.

Had they discovered that he’d been taking food from others?

At the thought, Qiu Dahan turned ashen, palms sweating.

He remembered how, earlier that day, those who had abused a civilian woman were seized and thrown in jail—one even killed on the spot for resisting with a sword. Qiu Dahan’s legs trembled.

“Commandant! Spare me! I was wrong before, I won’t do it again! Please, have mercy!” He knelt, pleading desperately.

Inside, his wife and children watched in fear.

“Get up!” Fu Zihou stepped forward, helping him to his feet.

Unlike his sternness in the barracks, Fu Zihou’s demeanor here was gentle.

Fu Zihou had always seemed scholarly, and with his soft tone now, Qiu Dahan, though still confused, began to calm down.

“All these years, the villagers who once supported you—some were conscripted to build palaces in Luoyang, some to dig canals. Many died, their families too weak to farm. Some sold their lands, others starved…”

Hearing Fu Zihou recount his situation, Qiu Dahan’s expression turned bleak. His lands had long been seized by powerful clans, with no one to speak for him.

“Write down what happened back then. I’ll help you petition the county for a new household registration.”

Fu Zihou explained.

In the barracks, he had asserted authority and removed a few troublemakers, but that didn’t mean he would only apply pressure. Winning people’s hearts mattered too, and Qiu Dahan was not the first case he encountered.

As a newcomer, Fu Zihou wouldn’t openly challenge the entrenched clans, but that didn’t mean he was powerless.

The very fact that the old families had swallowed up the land and exposed the weaknesses in the militia system gave Fu Zihou his opportunity.

“Thank you, Commandant!”

It was the first time Qiu Dahan had ever heard anyone offer to help him. Instantly, the middle-aged man’s eyes reddened and he knelt again.

He was unlettered and inarticulate, not knowing what to write, but he gazed at the young commandant with tears in his eyes.

“You don’t need to repay this money. Take care of your family until your registration is approved, then take your wife and children to a better place to live.”

Fu Zihou helped him up again, pulling out a large string of coins and handing them over.

Looking at the trembling, grateful Qiu Dahan, Fu Zihou felt a surge of emotion. These people, if only given a way to live, would serve with all their heart—yet the clans who cared only for their own comfort had never spared them a glance.

Emperor Yang of Sui busied himself with building palaces and seeking pleasure, the ministers vied to curry favor, ignoring the uprisings everywhere, while local officials exploited the chaos to enrich themselves.

No one ever spared these people a second thought—until, driven to desperation, they became bandits and only then did those in power take notice, sending troops to suppress them.

In Fu Zihou’s eyes, anything that could be solved with a little money was no real problem. These men were all on the Eagle Commandery’s roster; giving them money was not raising a private army.

In three months, when a hundred thousand rebels besieged Taiyuan, even if Pan Changwen questioned him, Fu Zihou would have ample justification.

Having settled Qiu Dahan’s troubles and asked a few more questions, Fu Zihou led Hu Jingyuan, Yin Tianzong, and the others off to visit other struggling soldiers.

……

In the western city of Jinyang—

Within the Eagle Commandery, a soldier entered the council chamber and handed over a bamboo scroll. After reading it, Pan Changwen smiled and passed it to Zhao Wenke.

“This Martial Commandant is going to make a laughingstock of himself. An imperial champion, personally honored by His Majesty, and now, since arriving in Jinyang, he keeps submitting requests for weapons and provisions. If word gets out, won’t all under heaven know that our Sui commandants tremble before rebels and beg to hide inside the city?”

Zhao Wenke read the scroll, his mustache twitching with amusement.

From Liu Wenjing’s actions, Zhao Wenke had immediately seen that the young commandant was trying to appear weak by going through Liu Wenjing.

And then when Wen Dayou revealed that this commandant was the late Elder Li’s grandson-in-law, Zhao Wenke understood that Pan Changwen would not act rashly.

But the young man’s actions were clumsy, even excessive.

Conscripting the people of the eastern city to dig a moat was one thing, but to petition Eagle Commandery for five thousand sets of armor and sixty thousand bushels of grain?

The young man must be mad!

Sixty thousand bushels—six hundred thousand catties of grain!

Did he really want to turn the eastern city into a fortress? But this was Taiyuan, the heart of Jinyang—rebels would scarcely dare approach.

To make such a show of force would only invite ridicule throughout Taiyuan.

“Such reckless requests—doesn’t he fear disgracing the Sui Dynasty? Send the letter back!”

Pan Changwen spoke with a tone of mockery. Though he knew the other man was trying to show humility, this pretense was distasteful, provoking only greater dislike.

“My lord!” Zhao Wenke’s expression suddenly changed as an idea struck him. He bowed, smiling.

“My lord, after all, this commandant was honored by His Majesty. If you refuse, it might undermine his title. But if you… comply, it will only make the gentry and people of Jinyang laugh at him!”

Zhao Wenke whispered, then smiled broadly.

“Secondly, such a large-scale transfer of provisions will surely be reported by the warehouse and palace stewards to the court. Your lordship need only clarify the matter in your own memorial…”

He left the rest unsaid, but Pan Changwen understood, and a smile spread across his face.

Zhao Wenke and Liu Wenjing had always been at odds. Originally, Zhao Wenke bore no ill will toward the young man, but because of Liu Wenjing, he had no qualms about setting him up.

If things went as Zhao Wenke suggested, the emperor would surely be displeased and revoke the young man’s title and office.

“So be it, as you say,” Pan Changwen replied.

In his view, the Wen family could not blame him—it was the young man who did not know his place. This was already giving them face; agreeing was a favor enough.