Cheng Chumo left under the moonlight, carrying a large bundle of food. His men hadn’t had a full meal since arriving in Shuofang. He always came to Yun Ye to find food. Though he couldn’t take care of the over a thousand mouths under his command, the brothers keeping watch through the night could always receive some unexpected provisions.

Light still shone from He Shao’s room. Yun Ye walked over and pushed open the door, only to see the fat man curled up beside a brazier, using a small iron fork to roast a sausage. The sausage was plump and tender, with large drops of fat seeping out from deliberately pricked holes, dripping into the brazier and igniting bursts of orange flames. He Shao was very earnestly turning and roasting the sausage, not noticing Yun Ye who had pushed the door open. His attention was entirely on the food. Yun Ye didn’t disturb him, just stood there with folded arms watching He Shao roast his sausage.

He held the sausage under his nose to smell its fragrance, nodded with satisfaction, then lifted the leather flask beside him and took a big gulp of wine. He bit into the sausage, closed his eyes and chewed, his expression greedy yet focused. He seemed to have deep feelings for food. Yun Ye had never seen him waste any. Even in Chang’an’s restaurants, he always ate his plate completely clean, not even leaving any sauce behind. On two occasions after they’d finished eating together, he kept eyeing the leftovers on Yun Ye’s plate, very much looking like he wanted to pounce and clean it all up.

Yun Ye felt that getting Old He to do this work was truly finding the right person. He wasn’t particular about any food—as long as it was edible, he could swallow it down. A very easy person to feed.

Yun Ye had only heard him complain about food once, when he said the military biscuits were too dry and too hard, always scratching his throat and difficult to swallow. If soaked in meat broth, they would be delicious. That a lecherous rogue and wastrel could live through harsh days so leisurely and contentedly was also one of this fellow’s few strengths.

He never let any usable part of livestock go to waste. Tang people generally didn’t eat animal organs, especially herdsmen, who considered them unclean things—either discarding them or feeding them to dogs. Old He stubbornly believed these things were edible. Who knows where he got such confidence. He cooked a large pot of mixed cattle organs himself. Just from the smell and appearance, Yun Ye would rather starve to death than eat it. Under everyone’s watchful eyes, Old He filled a large bowl and slurped it down his throat, his expression unchanged, his heart beating steadily, stunning everyone present as if he were a divine being.

At his strong insistence, all the organs were preserved. Looking at the mountains of cattle and sheep organs piled up, Old He paced like an ant on a hot pan. No one liked the mixed organ soup he made—even if given away free, no one would eat it. Fortunately, the weather had turned cold, so it wouldn’t spoil after a day or two.

After learning that Old He had vomited himself into oblivion after eating that bowl of organ soup that could kill a person, even bringing up green bile, Yun Ye went to his cattle and sheep organ storeroom, covered his nose and selected some ingredients, then returned to his own quarters. Old He leaned weakly against the doorframe watching how Yun Ye would process these things. He discovered that Yun Ye simply cleaned the mixed organs thoroughly, added ginger, scallions, and radish, and cooked them together. Before long, a pot of fragrant white mixed organ soup appeared before their eyes. He didn’t hesitate to fill himself a bowl. One bowl of mixed organs had Old He crying with snot and tears flowing, grabbing Yun Ye by the neck demanding to know what kind of logic it was to have a good method but not use it, waiting until he’d made a fool of himself before bringing it out.

Old He was stingily eating his sausage in tiny bites. Suddenly he sensed there was another person in the room. Looking up, he discovered Yun Ye standing there with folded arms watching him eat. He felt somewhat embarrassed—he knew what he looked like when eating.

“You’ve been here for a while?”

“Since you licked the oil off the sausage and burned your mouth.”

“Don’t tell anyone, or I’ll silence you.”

“With the way you eat, everyone in Shuofang City knows perfectly well. Are you planning to silence the entire Great Tang army here?”

“Then forget it. I can’t beat them all. Let them laugh if they want. Anyway, this is just how I am. I can’t change it.”

After speaking, he passed the wine flask to Yun Ye, pulled him to sit beside the brazier, picked up another iron skewer, threaded on a sausage, and continued roasting.

“Old He, why do you treat yourself so harshly? You sent all the servants you brought from home to transport cloth and grain, not keeping even a few to look after you. You were raised in comfort and luxury—can you endure such hardship?”

Only today did Yun Ye learn that Old He no longer had a single servant by his side. He’d sent them all to transport cowhides and sheepskins back to the capital, and incidentally bring back some cloth—no need for silk, as that had no market in Shuofang. This was something Old He had emphasized a thousand times over.

Seeing Old He remain silent, Yun Ye continued: “The household guards aren’t laborers. You can’t make them do hard labor on top of other tasks. Now the army has eaten up all the mixed cattle and sheep organs, so you have nothing left to do. Getting some good rest is the right course. Money can never all be earned—what’s your rush?”

“Brother, you’re the head of your household. Your Yun family is rising rapidly now. The family business is conducted discreetly, the academy is a good place to earn reputation, you don’t worry about money or grain, and you’re not walking the official career path only because you don’t want to. If you had the heart for it, your rank is already high enough. Climbing higher isn’t impossible either. Even if the Yun family stood still for a hundred years, it’s not something my He family can compare with. You don’t know my family’s situation. Coming out this time, I brought out the very last bit of our family’s foundation. I’m not afraid of you laughing at me—even your sister-in-law’s jewelry was pawned. If this business had failed, I’d have only had one path: death. Fortunately, brother, you have a discerning eye and judged correctly. This elder brother has made a fortune. Just the cowhides and sheepskins transported back can sell for two to three thousand strings in Chang’an. Now the family can rest easy, and I can be at peace too. Those goods are more important than my life. The household guards are all old hands who know what’s important. They’ve come through life and death together for decades—they won’t complain.”

Another person who valued family over life itself. Yun Ye reflected on everything he’d done since arriving in the Tang Dynasty and couldn’t help but smile bitterly. His own painstaking schemes had the same original intent as Old He’s. How laughable that he’d just spent so long advising Old He.

The two grown men huddled in the room, neither wanting to speak. Only the sausage on Old He’s skewer sizzled as it was roasted over the fire.

The moon hung high in the sky, and the sausage was finished. Old He saw Yun Ye out of the room. Both men looked up at the sky, somewhat melancholy. If it had been a man and a woman, Yun Ye would have liked this feeling to continue, but unfortunately, beside him was a fat man shaped like a loaf of bread.

Someone was playing the hujia—here it was called the chaoer. Originally it had been two reed leaves, but gradually it had evolved to resemble a flute. Its sound was mournful, giving people a heart-wrenching feeling. This wasn’t good. “Eighteen Songs of a Nomad Flute” wasn’t an auspicious tune. Shuofang City didn’t need sorrow now, didn’t need complex emotions. What it needed was the magnificence of warriors going forth to battle—for instance, Hitler’s military songs were quite good, and even the music of Japanese devils entering a village far surpassed this heart-breaking “Eighteen Songs of a Nomad Flute.”

It was in the adjacent courtyard. The one playing the hujia was that damned Xu Jingzong. Was he wallowing in self-pity, or trying to attract attention in an unconventional way?

Never mind—he’d succeeded. He’d successfully lured Marquis Yun, whose curiosity was greater than the heavens.

A very graceful pose, except for the somewhat unsightly fat belly. Everything else was fine. He leaned against the screen wall in the courtyard, his loose hair just covering half his face. In the moonlight, he looked exactly like Sadako come to life. The chaoer emitted ghost-like sounds, making one’s hair stand on end.

“You think you’re so miserable? You think bringing you to Shuofang was me deliberately harming you?” Yun Ye had originally intended to turn and leave, but couldn’t help speaking up.

“At noon this subordinate was still drifting leisurely with family on the Dongyang River, and by evening received military orders to come to this desolate frontier land. The peculiarity of this subordinate’s fate is rare in the Great Tang,” Xu Jingzong stopped playing the chaoer and said to Yun Ye with a smile.

“I’ve heard a poem. I wonder if you’ve heard it?” Yun Ye asked him.

“If speaking of military tactics and killing arts, this subordinate truly cannot match Marquis Yun. But when it comes to poetry and prose, Xu Jingzong is confident he yields to no one.” A very arrogant answer, but he had the confidence for it.

“There was a fellow who, like you, wallowed in self-pity and wrote a poem. The first two lines were: ‘One morning’s memorial reached the ninefold heavens, that evening exiled to Chaoyang eight thousand li away.’ Very similar to your current situation, no? If you have the chance, you two could talk and find common ground.”

Xu Jingzong searched his mind exhaustively but couldn’t think of where these two lines came from. From the poem, he learned this was also a court official. Why wouldn’t he know these two rather good lines? It must be that Yun Ye composed them on the spot to make things difficult for him.

“Might Marquis Yun bestow instruction on the complete poem, so this subordinate can broaden his horizons?” He was determined to embarrass Yun Ye.

“The complete poem goes like this: ‘One morning’s memorial reached the ninefold heavens, that evening exiled to Chaoyang eight thousand li away. Wishing to remove evils for the enlightened sage, willing to sacrifice my declining years. Clouds cross the Qinling Mountains—where is home? Snow blocks Blue Pass—the horse cannot advance. Knowing you’ve come from afar should have meaning: to collect my bones beside the miasma-laden river.’ How about that? Has some meaning, doesn’t it?”

Yun Ye didn’t need to worry that Xu Jingzong would know this poem. Han Yu didn’t yet know where he was. Yun Ye could use his sorrow to thoroughly slap Xu Jingzong’s face.

It was a good poem. Xu Jingzong, learned and well-read, naturally recognized quality. Yun Ye couldn’t compose such seasoned poetry, moreover, this poem was written by an older person—this was certain. He himself didn’t even know such a fine poem—he truly deserved to be humiliated. Though he was arrogant, he refused to be negligent in matters of learning. He immediately bowed low to apologize to Yun Ye: “This subordinate is indeed ignorant and ill-informed. I don’t know from whose hand this poem comes? Our dynasty has no precedent of officials being demoted for submitting memorials. Could it be an official from a previous dynasty?”

“That person was called Han Yu. That’s not the point. What I want to say to you is that you don’t lack talent. In just one short month, Shuofang City has been completely renewed—your merit is great. But why don’t you use your talents in an appropriate place? I know very clearly why you came to the academy, and you understand too. Since you harbored thoughts you shouldn’t have, accepting counterattack is only natural. The academy isn’t a place for exercising schemes and machinations. Whenever there’s one, I’ll clear them out, even if it takes some measures. As long as you’re willing to lower yourself to do the work and worry less about idle matters, your official career won’t stop here. Think about it. I’m too lazy to talk in circles—I always feel that’s stupid. If you think I’ve humiliated you, come take revenge. I’ll accept it. Just next time won’t be so easy for you to escape.”

Regardless of what Xu Jingzong thought, Yun Ye had his own pride. As someone who didn’t exist in history, he didn’t care what future history would look like. He left Xu Jingzong’s courtyard, leaving only a dazed Xu Jingzong behind. He was somewhat tired and prepared to go back to sleep. He completely failed to notice that in the darkest corner just outside the wall, there was someone watching his retreating figure, seeing him off as he left…