I Declare a Strike
The torture-like days finally came to an end, and the rewards for our achievements in the campaign were wrapped up in a rather perfunctory manner. My master had his dismissal overturned and returned to court with a slightly elevated rank. As for Dong Zhuo, the blame for the failed encirclement operation was balanced against the successful pursuit and extermination of the escaped Yellow Turbans. In short, it all ended with a simple pat on the back and a “Good work.” Dong Zhuo himself looked deeply dissatisfied, but it seemed the Grand General had something extra in mind for him.
Me? Perhaps because of something he sensed from this war, the court announced they would establish a new unit called the Western Garden Eight Colonels and appoint me as one of its commanders.
“So? Do you dislike it?”
“Isn’t it obvious? I just want to go back to Liaodong and wrestle with the horse tribesmen.”
To someone carrying the memories of a modern man, Luoyang and Liaodong were six of one and half a dozen of the other. There was no electricity, no proper waterworks or sewers. To preserve any kind of food you had to salt it, smoke it, or dry it—and salt was literally worth its weight in gold. In Liaodong I could use salt freely thanks to the saltworks I’d developed with my Xianbei friends, but trying the same thing in Luoyang would get me caught one hundred percent of the time. The quiet trade network I’d built on the side would be impossible here, and if I started manufacturing my secret weapon, the Jincheonroe, someone would definitely steal the formula.
If I had been born a native of this country it might be different, but I didn’t have a single scrap of patriotism for this place. Luoyang offered me zero merit and nothing but the constant risk of losing my head.
“Can’t I just hand back the colonel rank and leave?”
“If you had only accomplished what Cao Mengde or Yuan Benchu did, there would be no problem. But since you brought back Zhang Jue’s head, refusing the post of Left Colonel will cause trouble.”
“Why?”
“Because it will look like you’re throwing a tantrum over a reward the court bestowed upon you.”
“Oof…”
“If you hate the Left Colonel position that much, how about simply doing nothing at all?”
“Are you telling me to go on strike?”
“Strike… Heh heh. What a perfect word. Yes, go on strike. In a few months someone will show up wanting to buy your post with cash.”
“Then I can just sell it at a high price. Wait… the Ten Eunuchs will probably snatch the money, won’t they?”
“Why, feeling greedy?”
“Not particularly…”
Whether he knew it or not, the salt I had stockpiled near Fuzhou—present-day Dalian—would be enough to let me live like a king for the rest of my life if I sold it. Of course salt smuggling was illegal, but in this era the word “illegal” basically meant “a handling fee is required.” It was an age when even government offices were sold for money—on credit, no less—so what did it matter? Salt came from the sea anyway. Selling it cheap to people who needed it was a win-win for everyone.
Slavery was still in full swing, and the easiest slaves to acquire in Liaodong were the horse tribesmen. Aside from the handful who were literally in love with horses and socially dysfunctional, they loved the high-salaryman life. The etymology made the term strangely perfect. Moreover, real horse tribesmen needed salt more than anything, so every tribe was desperate to send their strongest young warriors. As a result, trade had naturally formed since last year: we sold them salt and received hides and labor in return. No wrestling required.
Whether he knew it or not, at this point Liaodong was a far more livable place than Luoyang. An inspector from the capital would expose everything quickly, but nine out of ten of those inspectors would be kidnapped en route and reappear years later as low-wage salarymen in an unlicensed saltworks I didn’t officially manage.
Too cruel? Those bastards spent their days extorting people. This was an era where you could buy an inspector post on credit, after all. They had debts to pay. Of course, if they asked me for money, my secret friends would quietly hand them a salaryman name card instead of an inspector’s badge.
…Good. Stance decided. From now on I was the Wanli Emperor. The actual emperor was already doing the Wanli Emperor thing, so it was only natural that I, Gongsun Zan—loyal subject of Han—would do the same. When the friend who bought the Left Colonel post with cash eventually showed up, I would happily hand over the duties and return to my own kingdom. When the turbulent times arrived I could join the alliance. If things went south I could always leech off Liu Bei. She had been recognized for her contributions this time and received a post roughly equivalent to a district chief; word was she was doing quite well. The sprout of a future warlord was indeed different.
“All familiar faces, I see. Nice to meet you. I am Cao Mengde, appointed Right Army Colonel.”
Setting aside whatever true feelings each man harbored, the patriots who had proven their “loyalty” to Han gathered to become the eight commanders of the Western Garden Army.
Upper Army Colonel Jian Shi—I had never met him, but he was a member of the Ten Eunuchs and a sword master who had quelled the Dou Wu and Chen Fan incident.
Central Army Colonel Yuan Shao, idol of the Clean Stream faction, member of the Yuan clan that had produced three generations of the Three Dukes, and a renowned general who simultaneously held the post of Colonel of the Tiger Division. The kind of man who smiled like a politician right before planting a knife in your back.
Lower Army Colonel Po Hong, hero who had suppressed the Bian Zhang rebellion alongside Dong Zhuo. A filler member who took Dong Zhuo’s spot. Seemed to be in Dong Zhuo’s camp, but honestly I barely knew the man.
Right Army Colonel Cao Cao, who had rendered various services during the Yellow Turban Rebellion and was the grandson of the great eunuch Cao Teng. Perhaps because of his eunuch ancestry, he didn’t give off much of a manly vibe.
Besides them, many heroes famous across the Central Plains had gathered. Given the times, it seemed everyone at least knew one another by face. Even I, who had barely left Liaodong, was acquainted with both Cao Cao and Yuan Shao, so Cao Cao’s claim that we were all familiar faces wasn’t wrong.
“So, what do we do now?”
“Central Army Colonel, there’s no need to be hasty. Thanks to the Left Colonel’s hard work, the Yellow Turban Rebellion is already winding down.”
“Hmm… Still, shouldn’t we assemble the Western Garden Army and begin training?”
“The sowing season is almost upon us. How can you suggest conscripting the common people for training, Right Army Colonel?”
“Upper Army Colonel! The military’s duty is training and defense. No matter how busy the farming season becomes, we cannot let the army sit idle! Left Colonel, say something, would you?”
“The Upper Army Colonel is correct, and the Right Army Colonel is also correct.”
“Left Colonel!”
“Although the military exists for national defense, each soldier is ultimately nothing more than a farmer. It is a terrible thing to drag conscripted farmers away from their fields during the busy season—those who joined the army as a profession are another matter.”
I don’t know. I know nothing. Therefore your words are right, and your words are also right. I was a colonel who had given up on promotion to general. I would tread carefully even around falling leaves. Until someone who coveted my position paid money to take it, I would align myself with the Emperor’s will.
“Heh heh. As expected of Master Zigan’s disciple—you have excellent insight. Central Army Colonel, what is your opinion?”
“Hmm… That makes sense. Training after the sowing season would be appropriate.”
“Benchu! How could you—”
“Aman, calm yourself for a moment.”
It seemed the two of them were exchanging all sorts of signals only they understood, but that was none of my business. I simply lifted my wine cup without a thought. When your head hurts, alcohol is the best medicine.
“What a mess, Duke Gongsun.”
“It really is… Duke Po?”
“Haha, speak comfortably. I’ve heard plenty from Dong Zhuo.”
Yes, your assessment that it’s a mess is also correct. My opinion? What does the opinion of a man going home matter? Let the patriots sort it out among themselves. I was going home.
He Jin, the Emperor’s brother-in-law and Grand General, was extremely displeased with the newly created Western Garden Army. Until just days ago, the position of Grand General had been—at least in military matters—directly beneath the Emperor. Yet with the establishment of the Western Garden Army, even he now had to follow its orders. In effect, despite suppressing the Yellow Turban Rebellion, his actual authority had been lowered.
Moreover, the Emperor’s worsening health was becoming obvious. If the succession went wrong, his own sister risked being reduced to the status of a mere consort’s wife.
“Should I join hands with Yuan Shao?”
The Clean Stream faction had been so thoroughly crushed during the party purge that it could shrink no further, yet their accumulated wealth and prestige had not vanished. On top of that, the court had recalled the Clean Stream heroes because of the Yellow Turban Rebellion. The political war between the Dirty Stream and Clean Stream factions, barely calmed, was about to flare up again.
If forced to classify himself, he belonged to the Dirty Stream faction. But the utter incompetence the Dirty Stream had displayed during the Yellow Turban Rebellion made it perfectly reasonable for He Jin to seriously consider switching sides.
“No, no. He’s too political. If I join hands with him, I’ll be the one manipulated. Dong Zhongying’s greed is no different from the Ten Eunuchs, so that’s dangerous… Hmm… Who would be good?”
Although eight generals had gathered for the Western Garden Army, in the end it had split into three factions: the Clean Stream led by Yuan Shao, the Dirty Stream led by Jian Shi, and Po Hong—Dong Zhuo’s stooge.
“Gongsun Zan. That fellow would do nicely.”
From what he heard, the man genuinely disliked his post as Left Colonel. It was said that for several months now he had abandoned all duties and simply drank all day. If offered a suitable position, he looked like he could become a useful new pawn.
- Knock knock.
That was why he had come to see Gongsun Zan carrying a fine barrel of liquor.
“Who is it?”
“I am Grand General He Jin. I have come to speak with the Left Colonel.”
The Left Colonel—Gongsun Zan’s residence—was quite shabby. He had heard the man was still using the same quarters he had stayed in years ago when he visited Luoyang with his father-in-law, the Governor of You Province. At the time his rank had been nothing more than a low-level clerk, so calling it shabby for a colonel of an army was not inaccurate.
- Creak.
The door, apparently un-oiled, opened with a groan. A giant of a man appeared—easily two heads taller than He Jin. Though it was still broad daylight, the stench of strong liquor rolled out as if he had already been drinking heavily.
“This humble one greets the Grand General.”
“Oh dear! No need for that. Don’t you now hold command authority over me?”
“It is only a temporary colonel post. It is too much for someone like me, so please allow me to observe proper etiquette.”
“Hmm…”
He did not hide his drunken state, yet he was not rampaging like a madman either. If so, this must be the real Gongsun Zan. It was only natural that the corners of He Jin’s mouth curled upward.
“I came because I have an important matter to discuss. This is Hongju, the pride of Yizhou. Shall we talk over a drink?”
“Alcohol is always welcome. Please come in.”
- Creak, creak, creak.
The floorboards groaned continuously as if they had never been properly repaired. The ceiling was so low that a man half a span taller than Lu Zhi had to keep ducking his head, yet the man before him did not seem to mind. Soon snacks arrived at the small drinking table, and He Jin poured the liquor he had brought into Gongsun Zan’s cup.
“Is the work of a Left Colonel manageable?”
“I’m not entirely sure.”
“I feel the same.”
“Pardon?”
“I mean I truly cannot understand how this country is being run these days. Granting military authority to eunuchs… I wonder what my brother-in-law is thinking.”
“…I will pretend I did not hear that.”
“Don’t you think the same? I heard you have washed your hands of the Left Colonel’s duties.”
“I simply believe the position is not mine and am waiting for a better man to claim it.”
“You’re not aiming for a higher post? You are not someone who should be beneath Yuan Benchu or Cao Mengde.”
“Perish the thought. I do not even dream of it. I am fated to live as a merchant in Liaodong.”
“I will grant you the post of Governor of You Province. Will you not do one thing together with me?”
The smile on He Jin’s lips deepened. Gongsun Zan returned a faint, fleeting smile. In any case, a smile was a smile.