Taming the Idealist and Raising the Militia
Leaving behind the new connection named Jo Ang, I returned home to find that the Youngest Brother had finally caused trouble, just as I'd feared.
Faces I hadn't seen before were milling about the estate, so I interrogated the servants. From their account, it turned out the youngest had taken pity on some refugees and brought them in.
To discipline him, I initiated a game of hide-and-seek. It didn't take long to find him.
"There you are."
The youngest was huddled in the corner of the storehouse with the strangers. He'd probably hidden the newcomers when he heard me coming, but failed to conceal them all.
"You think hiding will cover up your crime?"
As soon as I entered, he ducked behind the group and peeked out.
"Everyone except the youngest—come out."
At my threatening tone, the uninvited guests stirred. Before they could respond, I glared, silencing them completely.
Moments later, only the youngest and I remained in the storehouse. I approached him step by step.
"Answer everything. Why did you do it? Who with? When?"
"You have no heart, no tears! How can you ignore people starving to death?"
"I asked why, who, when. I didn't ask you to judge my actions."
"You heartless bastard! Greedy wretch! Cold-blooded monster!"
Smack! I struck the hand he was pointing at me with. That was me holding back from slapping his face.
"Done talking?"
Still, my rising anger creased my forehead.
"Heartless? Cold-blooded? Fine, let's say I am. Then what are you?"
A clown aping the sages nearly rose to my lips.
"If your little 'compassion' play empties our granaries, who'll save us then?"
I wasn't unsympathetic. To a modern man, the lives of these people were heartbreaking. But my arms could only reach so far, so I'd been forcing myself to look away.
"Hah, but just a few dozen—"
"Yes, just a few dozen. So you won't bring more next time? If you keep it up, do we have the wealth of the Mi clan to feed ten thousand servants?"
The youngest had no retort to my logic.
"Learn your limits before prattling about gentlemen! How dare you speak of virtue when you don't know your place?"
Tears streamed down his face. I'd been harsh, but I had no intention of taking it back. Good intentions don't always yield good results.
I had to correct his actions.
"Face the wall and reflect. Then come out."
I left the storehouse without looking back.
"Bring him out after about an hour."
A servant was nearby, so I instructed him and walked on. Even on the dry ground, my steps felt heavy and sticky.
A month after the youngest brought in the refugees, my eldest brother, Jang Chong, returned from his trading expedition.
He noticed the unfamiliar faces and asked me about it. I explained everything.
"I see. Then why not send them away? You could've just chased them off."
"Kicking them out after taking them in is worse than never letting them in. So I'm using them as servants for now and planning to decide after consulting you and Father."
"Well done. What do you think—chase them out or keep them on?"
"I'll keep them. That number is manageable, and it'd just make the youngest sulk more."
Jang Chong nodded at my words. The kid was already hurt from the discipline; another incident might twist him for good.
A mere dozen or so wasn't a huge burden anyway.
He handed me the ledgers to handle. A quick scan showed no irregularities or losses.
"Any issues on the trade routes?"
"Come to think of it, Yellow Turban remnants are gathering strength."
Of course bandits swelled in spring. But his next words demanded attention.
"And rumors of a band growing near our lands."
"Reliable?"
"Gathered from various sources, but not solid. More rumor than intel, though they might really come here."
I agreed we couldn't ignore it. Rumors often had roots in truth, swelling from there.
"Then shouldn't we verify the rumors first?"
"Exactly what I was thinking."
Our minds aligned, we hired scouts immediately. They scattered in all directions to gather information.
"So what's that got to do with embracing me?"
"Both bring peace of mind, don't they?"
I sat in the courtyard, my wife in my arms. This summer had started sweltering, making it hard to enjoy for long. Nights offered relief, but such a cherished hobby took priority.
"Young master, the scouts are back."
I sent my wife inside and went to receive the report. I preferred written accounts, but some scouts were illiterate, so a face-to-face was necessary.
They gathered at the main gate. I lowered my voice.
"Report what you saw and heard in detail, including locations and times. No speculation. Mark rumors clearly as such at the end."
They spoke in turn—some halting, others clear—but nothing essential was missed. We'd sent men to Xu Province and as far as Yanzhou and Qing Province, leaving no gaps.
"Good work, all of you."
When they finished, I rewarded each with a mal of rice and a hen. Their eyes lit up at my question about future call-ups. Smart move adding the hen.
As the scouts departed into the sunset, I compiled the overlapping reports.
The Yellow Turbans' situation.
They weren't massing into one force. Remnants were simply bulking up and merging, without the focused aim of 184 AD.
Good they weren't sweeping home villages yet, but bad that they were scattered, hard to crush at once, and numerous enough to watch.
Next, their targets.
No longer a massive horde, they hit easy prey: small villages, refugee bands. Their small-scale raids made official intervention tricky. The ongoing rebellion in Yong Province pushed Yellow Turban remnants down the priority list.
Finally, the threat level.
Caution warranted, but not panic. Our county had handled them well before, so we weren't prime targets. Still, they could grow into a real danger, expanding daily. Blink, and they'd overrun the province.
When did Han Su surrender, and Tao Qian come to Xu Province?
I racked my memory and records for countermeasures, but details were fuzzy. All I recalled was Tao Qian arriving before the anti-Dong Zhuo coalition.
Hard to pull a later-arriving Tao Qian to Jojo's side?
If I could sway him to Cao Cao, it might avoid awkward entanglements with our clan and Jo Sung in Xu Province later. But I had no way to break the coming Yuan Shu-Gongsun Zan-Tao Qian alliance.
Yuan Shao, Cao Cao, plus Tao Qian, Gongsun Zan, Liu Biao, Yuan Shu...
Joining Yuan Shao without Gongsun Zan meant no chance to rise. Tao Qian wasn't valuable enough to shatter a Yuan Shao-Cao Cao-Liu Biao bloc.
Gongsun Zan...
Toppling him first might prevent Yuan Shu's coalition. But no early power could fell the strongest initial warlord quickly. Even if done, Cao Cao's forces would be swept by a beefed-up Yuan Shao before Guandu.
What a mess.
The web was so tightly woven, it felt like someone's scheme. That was why I'd held back so far. Twist the flow rashly, head into unknown futures, and my foreknowledge lost value. The realm wouldn't bend to my will then.
Scritch-scratch. I wrote and erased emerging thoughts in the courtyard dirt with a stick.
Until now, we'd been at the whirlwind's edge. Next year, like it or not, we'd plunge into the storm's heart. One misstep on that cliff-edge, and death.
I lacked full confidence in my preparations for the chaos.
Only when darkness obscured the path did I return to my room.
"Hm, so the Yellow Turbans are regrouping."
The next day, unable to devise a plan alone, I consulted Jang Chong. Father was still away, so it was just us.
"What do you think, little brother?"
"Two main options. Raise militia before year's end, or wait as we are."
Act boldly or safeguard assets—one or the other. No better paths came to mind.
He heard me out, then spoke.
"One question: any reason we can't pick one?"
"No specific reason. But if there's a best choice, shouldn't we take it?"
"Overcorrecting to fix a flaw—like goading an ox to death with a sharp horn."
He summed up my dilemma in one idiom.
"Sure, a side path would be ideal. But sometimes there are only two roads. If no detour appears despite worry, even more so."
Straight talk. Not every puzzle has a perfect answer. "Not worst" can suffice.
"Then we raise militia before winter."
Between paths, my heart leaned toward early action. Sitting idle while Yellow Turbans stirred was too risky—especially recalling how we'd dodged them two years back.
"Raising men is always possible. The issue is supplies. I'm no ledger master, but I recall winter stocks are thin."
"Need to check, but yes, short."
I tallied mentally: stores versus winter burn rate. Rough, but definitely insufficient.
"Scale back numbers to fit supplies."
Training and feeding them only to freeze in winter would be disastrous loss.
"How many?"
"Up to five hundred. Original plan was a thousand, but rushing now means shorter training, so can't stick to it."
Yellow Turban bands numbered thousands, making five hundred small. But not all were soldiers, so it gave decent deterrence.
"That'll eat deep into our wealth."
"Against refugee-eating Yellow Turbans, it's the right path."
Half a year early meant vanishing assets and grain—wasteful, as brother said. But gains outweighed it.
"Yellow Turbans thrive on the hungry. If we shelter refugees and arm them, it starves the bandits' recruitment."
"You're right."
One hurdle left: absent Father.
"How to convince Father?"
"Leave that to me. He'll see we're not fooling around; shouldn't be hard."