Chapter Fifty-Three: Mirage

The Eternal Glory of the Tang Dynasty The moonlight casts a gentle chill. 2287 words 2026-04-11 12:42:09

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“There are currently fifteen thousand and sixty-seven households in Wuwei Commandery, totaling sixty-four thousand seven hundred and thirty-six people. At present, two granaries are stationed, with cattle and horses for labor…” As Xue Renyue’s report droned on, Li Wenyuan gradually drifted into sleep.

He did not know how much time had passed before he opened his eyes, glanced at the blanket draped over him, and realized with a start that night had already fallen outside his window. Just then, someone entered from outside; seeing Li Wenyuan awake, she greeted him, “Master, you’re awake. Come and have something to eat.”

The visitor was none other than Qiuniang, who had led a separate party to Wuwei Commandery alongside Li Wenyuan. After their long separation, Li Wenyuan could no longer suppress the longing in his heart. His nerves, stretched taut for so long, finally faltered. He stood, heedless of the blanket that slipped to the floor, and drew Qiuniang into a tight embrace, burying his head in her hair and greedily inhaling its fragrance.

Qiuniang stiffened at Li Wenyuan’s sudden embrace, then gently stroked his head. She understood well that for someone who had crossed into this world, possessing nothing, everything must be built from the ground up, with meticulous planning for the future. Sometimes, even his rare advantage of historical knowledge failed him—especially in the chaos between dynastic transitions. New histories seldom speak kindly of the previous dynasty, resorting to every method of denigration and slander to declare their own legitimacy.

Li Wenyuan had discussed this with her before; the most obvious example being how the accounts of Shang Tang overthrowing Xia and King Wu conquering Zhou are strikingly similar. It is likely that the Zhou king, to assert his legitimacy, rewrote the tale of Shang Tang’s conquest of Xia. Yet the events of those ancient times can no longer be verified, and one can only say that history books are not entirely trustworthy.

With Qiuniang’s fragrant hair and scent filling his nostrils, Li Wenyuan’s tense nerves finally relaxed. After a long while, he released her and led her to sit beside him.

“Qiuniang, how did you handle the matters I entrusted to you?” Li Wenyuan asked.

Qiuniang knew he referred to the affairs concerning the Night Owl, so she replied, “I only arrived this afternoon; how could I have had time to deal with the Night Owl? While you enjoyed your rest here, all those laborers and craftsmen needed me to settle them.”

Li Wenyuan then remembered the twenty thousand refugees he had brought and smiled apologetically. “You’ve worked hard. There’s simply been too much to juggle—I didn’t think of it all at once.”

Qiuniang nodded. “I know. Li Gui intends to establish himself with the support of the Hu people, and you still have the son of the Turkic Khan in your hands. What do you plan to do?”

Li Wenyuan smiled and asked, “Didn’t we previously discuss how to solve the issue of food for those twenty thousand people? Back then, I comforted you by saying Wuwei Commandery would have its own solution, though I truly had no plan and was just going step by step. Now, however, I have ten thousand cattle, ten thousand sheep, and five thousand Turkic horses.”

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Qiuniang, at first puzzled, furrowed her brow to ask for clarification, but suddenly realized and covered her mouth with a laugh. “You’re really rather lucky. But can the Turkic Khan truly use those cattle, sheep, and horses to ransom his son?”

“He’s ransoming a spy who infiltrated the Sui, not his own son,” Li Wenyuan replied with feigned profundity.

Qiuniang tapped Li Wenyuan’s forehead lightly with a slender finger, laughing, “You sly merchant.”

The night passed without further words. The next day, Li Wenyuan, led by Qiuniang, arrived at a camp near the barracks. This camp housed the refugees, a temporary settlement constructed with the help of Zhang Juntai’s troops. Though somewhat chaotic in its arrangement, the refugees themselves were remarkably orderly; not a single disturbance had occurred. Had one not known of their previous life as bandits, they would seem nothing more than ordinary folk, devoid of any outlaw aura.

“General! General!” Zhang Juntai called out as he hurried over. “General, the first batch of scouts we sent out have returned.”

“Have they found the smithy by Moon Lake?” Li Wenyuan asked urgently.

“It’s not news about Moon Lake. The scouts report there is a black market in the desert, trading in goods expressly forbidden by the authorities—even slaves,” said Zhang Juntai.

“Slave trade? Tell me in detail,” Li Wenyuan said with curiosity.

“Our scouts managed to infiltrate; the black market is called the Sea Market, reportedly backed by a major figure from Wuwei Commandery. Each transaction earns this figure a share, which is how it’s survived until now. Besides prohibited weaponry, there are slaves from various nations—mostly Turks, Khitans, Sogdians, and even some from Sui and the Great Qin,” Zhang Juntai explained.

“How are there people from the Great Qin?” Li Wenyuan exclaimed. The Great Qin is commonly thought to refer to Rome, but the Western Roman Empire had long since vanished, leaving only the Eastern Empire struggling to maintain legitimacy amid pressure from European barbarians. Yet Constantinople was tens of thousands of miles away—how could there be people from the Great Qin here?

“They are likely members of a Great Qin trading caravan raided by Turks in the west,” Zhang Juntai replied.

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“Leave Wudulu here to command the troops and assist Renyue in putting Wuwei Commandery’s administration in order. You come with me, bringing gold and silver, to see the Sea Market,” Li Wenyuan said, gently tapping the table with his index finger.

Zhang Juntai responded, “Certainly. But how does the general intend to deal with the twenty thousand refugees?”

“Hmm, let’s go to the barracks and summon Wudulu to discuss this matter,” Li Wenyuan replied.

The three left the refugee camp and returned to the barracks, where Zhang Juntai found Wudulu, who was training the cavalry. As Wudulu entered the tent, he placed his right fist over his left chest and bowed, “General, you called for me.”

“Ha, since joining the army, Wudulu seems less carefree than before,” Li Wenyuan laughed.

“In the army, one must obey military law, whether Turkic or Han,” Wudulu said gravely.

“Good. I’ve called you here today to discuss how to settle the refugees,” Li Wenyuan said, pondering as he explained arrangements to Wudulu. Just then, Xue Renyue arrived to report further matters concerning Wuwei Commandery, so Li Wenyuan shifted a bit to let Xue Renyue sit beside him.

Originally, Li Wenyuan simply liked this scholarly young man, and, entrusted by Xue Ju, had assigned him to handle affairs at Wuwei Commandery, even providing him with skilled guards for protection. Over the past few days, Li Wenyuan found the young scholar quite adept at governance; in a short time, he had brought the officialdom of Wuwei Commandery into order, with all officials praising Xue Renyue’s competence. Even Li Wenyuan marvelled quietly:

A tiger father breeds no dog son.