Ren Jun
A man with pursuers on his heels is never warm between the shoulders.
Yuan Shao's column raised a pall of dust and pressed on without pause, every breath short. Dong Zhuo, now master of Luoyang, might turn at any hour and loose a pursuit as cold as a drawn blade—and that blade might yet find Yuan Shao's back. A tension sharp enough to cut skin held the whole of the march. Until they set foot in Ye, their destination in Jizhou, not one moment could be spent at ease.
The ferry port of Wushajin.
Ji Ying, Commandant of Passes and Fords and the officer charged with the place, came running and folded himself nearly double to receive Yuan Shao's party, his waist bent until it nearly brushed the earth. While he made his greetings, Ren Jun—the man who actually ran the port—had already set about shifting the column to the far bank. He halted every shipment of grain and every private cargo at a stroke. Every boat and every hand at the landing turned like the teeth of a single great gear, bent to one purpose alone: to carry Yuan Shao's party across, swiftly and safely.
Indeed. It turns smoothly. The man has ability.
Yuan Shao's keen eyes swept the landing. That heavy gaze did not rest on Ji Ying, bowing and scraping, but on Ren Jun, who directed the port in silence. In an age of peace, would a scion of a great house have spared so much as a glance for a low official sprung from a fallen clan? But this was the threshold of a troubled age—and more than that, the man was a talent his youngest son had singled out and marked.
Yuan Shao smoothed his face into mildness and turned his eyes upon Ji Ying.
"Commandant Ji."
"Yes—yes! Only speak."
"You have my sincere thanks. I was at a loss how we were to cross the Yellow River, and yet you have prepared so thoroughly that my heart is quite at ease. I shall not forget the spirit in which you have served me."
He hid the arrogance that was his habit and praised the man behind a gentle, generous smile. Ji Ying's face flushed red with gratitude.
"T-two days! In two days I will stake my life on seeing every one of you across in safety. Rest easy in the tents!"
"I shall trust you. I will remember Commandant Ji's name, and the sincerity behind it."
"Th-the glory of my house!"
Yuan Shao clapped his shoulder in encouragement, voice thick with apparent sincerity. In that moment the name Ji Ying, Commandant of Passes and Fords at Wushajin, was etched cleanly into a blank space in his mind.
In a disordered court, the weight of Wushajin hardly needed saying. Suppose one meant to move troops from Luoyang to Ye, or from Ye back to Luoyang: the ferry there, gate of the Yellow River, was a strategic hinge that had to be held. And so Yuan Shao scattered promises before Ji Ying, diligent in the work of making the man his own.
Evening had settled thick and dim.
The bustle of the crossing had begun to ebb when Father carved a sliver of time from the day and granted me a rare audience alone. Beyond the wavering candlelight his face was worn, and yet the light in his eyes was sharp.
"Do you mean to take that Ren Jun with you?"
He tossed the question out lightly. The tone was easy; beneath it lay the edge of the Inspector of Jizhou. His will was plain. He would not let just anyone into the provincial administration.
"Yes, Father."
"What is your design? I trust you are not merely collecting one clever hand."
"If you mean to break Dong Zhuo's tyranny and contend for the realm, what you need above all else is overwhelming military strength. And the foundation that holds such strength up is, in the end, army grain."
I answered without hesitation. Father stroked his beard.
"Boy. Before your father, you need not circle the point. Show me what you truly intend."
"The moment we reach Ye, you must establish an Office of the Colonel of Agriculture. Only by controlling the farming of all Jizhou, directing the military colonies, and filling the granaries to the brim can you repay the humiliation Dong Zhuo dealt you."
For an instant the air in the tent froze. Father went still with the teacup in his hand.
His deep trust in me was one thing. It was another that his youngest son seemed ready to seize and shake the most intimate core of power—grain, and control of the lands. That suspicion stirred the instinct by which he guarded his authority.
A misstep.
The cold truth came home through the skin: before power, even the bond of father and son is put to the test. I felt cold sweat slide down my spine, drew myself at once into a formal posture, and answered. I could not show ambition here, nor the color of panic. What was required was a single move, wholly rational and wholly calculated.
"You misunderstand me, Father."
I pressed my hands together and spoke calmly, but with weight.
"However fine Ren Jun's craft and eye may be, how could he dare look to so grave a charge as Colonel of Agriculture, master of a whole province's farming? Your son has only presumed to speak of how vital it is that the office be founded."
Father still watched me with a fierce eye. I met that gaze without yielding an inch, and went on.
"A post as heavy as Colonel of Agriculture requires a fame and a gravity to match it. To soothe the hearts of Jizhou, keep the great clans in hand, and see the work done smoothly, I believe a man of true capacity is called for—someone such as Xin Ping, or Xun Chen."
When the names of retainers Father cherished left my mouth, the killing air that had ringed him melted away as if it had been a lie. The hard line of his mouth softened again into a mild smile. He was convinced, at last, that his son was not reaching for the power he held, but truly laying the board for the sake of the house.
"Ha—yes. Now that I hear it, you are right a hundred times over. A man like Ren Jun would be entirely suited to showing his talent as a Sima beneath the Colonel of Agriculture."
"Your son's thought is the same as yours, Father."
"He must work hard. A precious post is being given."
"I will not disappoint you. If he schemes, or harbors idle fancies, I will drive him out myself."
I bowed my head with all due respect and, inwardly, cheered.
A Sima is perfect.
Xin Ping or Xun Chen, men of great houses, would sit as Colonel of Agriculture in any case—but they would never bury themselves in dust to direct the colonies in the field. In the end every practical matter, and control of the ground itself, would rest in the hands of the Sima, Ren Jun. Which was to say, beneath my influence. I had dodged needless suspicion and still taken the substance entire.
"Boy..."
Father rose and came to me. The cold warlord of a moment before was gone. A rough, warm hand patted my back lightly.
"You are still of an age when clinging to your father's knee and giving yourself wholly to study would not be enough—and yet you strain so to lighten the weight on these shoulders. It makes me proud. And it makes me ache."
Deep affection moved in his eyes, and a thread of apology.
"I will rely on you hereafter as well. That flashing counsel of yours will be a great strength."
Before power he could be frost itself, and yet for me, at least, he was a fence this sturdy. I looked up at the father who smiled at me with such warmth, and I smiled back, bright and sincere.
It was a cold and cruel age of chaos. Even so, Father—my own blood—I would protect with every stratagem I possessed. And I was truly glad to have a father such as this.
Once the Yellow River lay behind them, Father let out a breath of relief at last. Even if Dong Zhuo sent pursuit now, it would be caught at the ferry of Wushajin.
Ren Jun followed at my back, his family with him. One man watched that sight with open displeasure: Guo Tu. He spurred his horse until he rode level with Yuan Tan.
"Eldest Young Master."
"Speak."
Yuan Tan put on a solemn face, but the caution in him was plain. Guo Tu was a man of a great house, and a talent Yuan Shao prized.
"The Third Young Master's movements offend the eye. Wen Chong, who came up as his bodyguard, now stands in a proper place, leading household troops. And Ren Jun, Port Chief and the man who actually ran Wushajin, has set out after him as well. These are not the Inspector of Jizhou's men. They are the Third Young Master's."
"All this over a handful of underlings? Isn't your eye rather small?"
"Control the small, and the great can be accomplished."
"I thank you for the advice."
Yuan Tan nodded, but inwardly he was displeased.
Why fret so over Shang? He's only eleven. The times are disordered, so of course he taught Wen Chong his letters because the man guards him stoutly and he finds him dear. Petty officials like Ren Jun are everywhere. Ren Jun will do nothing but fetch and carry for Shang—I don't see what the fuss is.
He was shaking his head when his eyes met Guo Tu's dead on, and he grew awkward.
"I'll see to it myself. And don't press my dear little brother too hard."
"In every crisis, the Inspector has met with the Third Young Master. That is proof enough that he acknowledges him."
"Acknowledged or not. I am the eldest son."
Yuan Tan snorted. Guo Tu found him frustrating, but he resolved to bide his time and counsel him further. He turned the talk.
"How do you read these disordered times?"
"Father will deal with Dong Zhuo and steady the Han. Then this disorder will settle as well, will it not?"
"Dong Zhuo is no easy opponent. He will not fall readily. And so the realm will remain deeply unsettled for a long while."
"Surely it won't be chaos on the order of the Later Han's founding?"
Yuan Tan blurted it without thinking, then started and clapped a hand over his own mouth. Guo Tu's eyes went round, as if the thought had never occurred to him.
In those days Wang Mang had destroyed the Former Han and raised the Xin, and Emperor Guangwu had cast the Xin down to found the Later Han. Depending on the ear that heard them, the words could be taken to mean the Later Han itself would fall—and that was the talk of a traitor. Which was why Yuan Tan had gone pale with fright.
A silence passed. Yuan Tan and Guo Tu looked at each other in the same moment, as if both had grasped something. Then, quietly, they nodded.
Yuan Tan's eyes were no longer what they had been.
"It could be so. I ought to look further, and larger."
He murmured it with a grave face, and nodded. Guo Tu answered in a stern voice.
"Be greedier. Before the seat is taken from you. If an age of chaos like that truly comes, it will not be a matter of simply inheriting the house."
"I understand. Help me a great deal. I ask it of you."
Yuan Tan bowed his head, and Guo Tu bowed his as well.
The jolting of the cart wheels had begun to fade when Ye drew within a day's journey.
Darkness came, and I had a guard summon Ren Jun to my quarters.
"Young Master. You called for me?"
"You've had a long road. Sit, and be at ease first."
Once he was seated, I spoke in a voice calm, and weighted.
"When we reach Ye, my father, the Inspector of Jizhou, will at once found an Office of the Colonel of Agriculture. As you know, it is a place where grave power gathers—the power to turn the military colonies of all Jizhou in the palm of one's hand, to govern the farming, and to fill the granaries until they stand sound. I recommended you, Port Chief Ren, to my father in the strongest terms, and as a result I have secured for you the heavy post of Sima."
"Day and night, without rest! I will work until my bones break, and I will not disappoint you, Young Master!"
Gratitude and grim resolve crossed Ren Jun's set face in a single instant. He offered his thanks without hesitation, answering in a voice that trembled. I let out a short breath of a laugh and passed him a warm cup of tea. There are times when one must be cold. Toward a man who has become wholly one's own, one must be boundlessly generous.
"Work in that spirit and you'll be ill before the year is out. Do your utmost, short of ruining your body. Doing a thing blindly and hard matters far less than doing it cleverly—and doing it well."
"I will take it to heart!"
"Fail my father's expectations, and another man will slip into that seat at any time. I'll ask once more. Do you truly have the confidence to do it well?"
"Of course, Young Master."
Both of Ren Jun's eyes shone hard with confidence. Wushajin had been a place where interests tangled like a spider's web. Even in that suffocating mire he had served as Port Chief, and boasted a thoroughness that permitted not a single mistake. The practical work of the Office of the Colonel of Agriculture would be harsher and vaster than that exacting port; the two could hardly be set side by side. Yet what lay on Ren Jun's face was not fear, but a thick ambition. Without that boiling desire, he would have been content from the start to settle into a mere Port Chief's post at a ferry and go no further.
I smiled faintly and lowered my voice.
"One thing more. Beyond the duties that show on the surface, take a silent, fast grip on the junior clerks of the office, and on the men beneath them. Can you?"
A thin smile spread at the corner of Ren Jun's mouth. He had read my intent exactly.
"Easier than eating gruel. The men above have no notion of the weary way of things among those who roll in the mud below. I know better than anyone how to win their hearts."
He was right. This was an old age, with no internet to send word at the touch of a finger and no telephone to issue an order on the instant. In the end everything depended on reports that men carried up on their own feet, after seeing the matter with their own eyes. The Colonel of Agriculture, holding the power, merely looked over the results gathered from below, nodded or roared, and gave his orders. And if the men who did the work grew discontented and dragged their feet as one? That great office would be paralyzed in a breath, its windpipe cut. It was a blind spot every vast organization under heaven necessarily possessed.
They would not strike with the noise of a modern union. They would bow still lower to those above, and all the while delay documents with cunning and slow the work, and so torment their superiors. A superior comes at last to the bitter truth that without the men below not a single task will turn—and he has no choice but to lean on them. That was the reality of this age.
Had it not been for the fierce experience and memory of my previous life, I too would have been blinded by the shell of visible power, and overlooked the delicate gearwork of an organization so large. By whatever means necessary, I would draw close to the deepest heart of that power and make it mine.
"Let us share in the glory together."
"I will serve you with a loyal heart."
Ren Jun rose from his seat and made a deep bow.