Auxiliary soldiers were the lowest-status military personnel in the Great Tang army. If you called them civilians, they held weapons. If you called them soldiers, they had no pay. Their weapons were their own, their clothes were their own, even the food they ate was their own.
By rights, they should have been a mob of stragglers, easily defeated. Yet who could have imagined that on the battlefield they were more ferocious than wolves? Though they faced a hundred deaths, they gave no thought to their own lives. On the battlefield, it was often the Great Tang auxiliary soldiers who fought to the death without retreating. Sharing the same pronunciation but different characters were the fubing—the militia soldiers. Though they also had to provide their own weapons and armor, they had one advantage: their entire families were exempt from the court’s rent, corvée, and tax system. Most of them were sons of good families, well-equipped, forming the most basic military strength of the Great Tang.
What the auxiliary soldiers sought was nothing more than military merit. Some had family members who had committed crimes and needed military merit to obtain pardons. Others were simply hot-headed, wanting to use their martial skills to fight their way to wealth and status. Poor sons could not become militia soldiers—they couldn’t afford that expensive armor, nor could they buy warhorses. They could only attach themselves to the army, dreaming that one day they could behead an enemy and return home wealthy.
They relied on plunder for supplies. Without battles, there was no pay. Once high-risk combat like siege warfare or defensive stands occurred, they were the generals’ first choice. Life and death were ordinary matters—this was their view of life, indifferent yet helpless.
Years of warfare had created a large group of poor people who only knew how to wield blades. The yield from their fields couldn’t even feed a large family. Some men who refused to suffer poverty at home left the last bit of grain to their younger siblings. On some clear morning, they drank their fill of hometown water, shouldered a broken blade, left home, and began their most brutal journey as auxiliary soldiers.
Yun Ye suddenly thought of Zhang Cheng, the first person he met upon arriving in the Great Tang. Honest and forthright, strong yet kind—he still clearly remembered how, when cavalry attacked, Zhang Cheng pushed Yun Ye and two women into the forest, then ran into the military formation shouting to fight to the death.
Now he must be the lowest-ranking officer in the Great Tang, right? He had discovered Yun Ye and had merit in salt production, earning three rank promotions. This was already the most heaven-defying existence among auxiliary soldiers. Remembering what Cheng Chumo had told him: when Zhang Cheng learned the good news, he kowtowed to you all morning. Every kowtow was solid and real—the blood from his forehead stained the ground red.
That honest farm boy who kept an inedible salt block in his bosom as if it were treasure—how was he now? Yun Ye missed him somewhat.
Now standing before him were two hundred forty-seven men. Some were over fifty, others under fifteen. The old ones had graying hair, the young ones still had soft down at the corners of their lips. They stood ramrod straight. Cold wind drilled through the holes in their clothes, yet not one person paid it any mind, because standing before them was a marquis—a noble they had only heard of but never seen.
When had auxiliary soldiers ever had a marquis commanding them? The sensitivity cultivated by years of campaigning made them feel that big business was coming!
Life and death were ordinary matters. As long as there was an opportunity to earn military merit, life wasn’t worth much!
“From today on, I am your commander. My name is Yun Ye. I’m letting you know my name not to make you revere me, but to tell you that if you have troubles, come find me. It’s fair—if I have troubles, I’ll also come find you, because I don’t know how to fight. On the battlefield, I’ll have to rely on you, so off the battlefield, you can rely on me. I’ve found you a captain. He’ll manage you in ordinary times. If any of you have guts, you can try testing him. I’m no good at martial contests—find him for that.”
Yun Ye spoke very casually, as if chatting at home, and he spoke the truth, making the auxiliary soldiers look at each other in confusion, not knowing what to say. They just felt doubtful—was this what a marquis was like? Wearing extremely exquisite armor, yawning constantly while speaking as if he hadn’t slept enough, not to mention being ridiculously young. The parade ground immediately filled with buzzing voices.
Niu Jinda’s personal guard captain stepped forward and shouted: “Silence! Which of you is in charge?”
An old auxiliary soldier stepped forward, cupping his fists: “This lowly one is Nie Daniu, temporarily commanding the auxiliary soldiers.”
“Good! I’m the captain now. You’re the vice-captain. Now select twenty-five squad leaders. You choose them yourselves. I’ll give you the time it takes to burn one incense stick.” Old Niu’s personal guard captain was at least a lieutenant-level military officer in the army—managing a few hundred auxiliary soldiers was naturally more than sufficient.
Seeing things proceeding smoothly, Yun Ye was about to head home. After tossing and turning in wild thoughts all night, he was now terribly drowsy. He had only taken a few steps when a young soldier, only fourteen or fifteen years old, rushed over. Before he even got close, Old Zhuang and the others pressed him firmly to the ground.
“Marquis, I just want a pair of shoes! I just want a pair of shoes!” Though his head was pressed into the snow, he still struggled to voice his request.
Yun Ye had Old Zhuang and the others release the young soldier. He saw the boy wearing an oversized garment, his hair disheveled, his face covered in mud. He didn’t wipe it, just stared intently at Yun Ye, his eyes full of longing. On his feet was a pair of straw sandals. His blackened feet were covered in bloody cracks from the cold wind, like little mouths. Embarrassed, he tried to draw back his feet, helplessly lowering his head, his entire face flushed red.
“Your feet are about the same size as mine. Then wear my shoes.”
Yun Ye’s saddlebag always contained two pairs of shoes. Tang Dynasty shoes weren’t durable—before long, toes would poke through. So Grandmother had specially prepared two pairs of shoes for Yun Ye, ready to change at any time.
A pair of cowhide-soled boots was placed before the young soldier. He wiped his hands and carefully gathered the boots into his arms, saying earnestly to Yun Ye: “I’ll help you on the battlefield!”
His words drew laughter from many present. They didn’t believe Yun Ye needed a young soldier’s help. The earlier words were just a joke.
Yun Ye didn’t laugh. He said earnestly to the young soldier: “Good, it’s settled. I give you shoes, you help me on the battlefield. But first you need to heal your feet. Go to the south gate and find Daoist Sun Simiao. Have him give you some medicinal herbs to soak your feet. With feet like that, there’s no way you can help me on the battlefield.”
Human kindness knows no class boundaries. Even the goodwill from the most humble person should be carefully cherished, because this is Heaven’s greatest gift to each person. In our lives, we don’t have many opportunities to receive others’ goodwill. When such opportunities arise, Yun Ye never let them pass.
The auxiliary soldiers on the parade ground were still laughing. The old auxiliary soldier walked up to the man laughing most vigorously and delivered a resounding slap, stunning the burly man, who didn’t understand why the old soldier had struck him.
“Next time you encounter such a situation, if you still laugh, I’ll chop off your head with one blade.” The old soldier’s voice was as cold as ice chips, making the burly man shiver. He shrank his head, covered his face, and spoke no more.
Yun Ye cleared his throat and said to the auxiliary soldiers: “We’re all born of fathers and raised by mothers. Don’t look down on each other. Me being a marquis doesn’t necessarily make me better than you. On the battlefield, only by banding together can we survive. Today you help him—maybe tomorrow he’ll save your life. This kind of account can’t be calculated and isn’t worth calculating. I only hope everyone can return home in glory with plenty of money in their pockets, and not a single one loses his life on this wasteland.”
“Accepting the marquis’s auspicious words, this lowly one will certainly strive to return alive. At home, two children are waiting for me to bring them candy.” The old soldier bowed to Yun Ye before replying.
“Oh? Looking at your age, you’re not young. From your tone, your children are still very small? You have a wife at home—why must you still lick blood from the blade’s edge?”
It was strange. A bachelor with no family to feed choosing this path was understandable, but a family patriarch running off to mix with auxiliary soldiers made no sense.
“As the marquis knows, this year Guanzhong suffered a severe locust plague that devoured every last grain at home. We couldn’t survive. Fortunately, the court opened its granaries to distribute grain, and this lowly one’s entire family was able to survive. But this grain isn’t enough to eat! Every day we count rice grains before cooking—such days cannot continue. This lowly one used to make his living by the blade. Now with peace throughout the realm, if one wants to eat from this dangerous trade, where else can one go but Shuofang?”
The old soldier was also a man from Guanzhong. He left the grain for his wife and children, picked up his blade, and came to Shuofang. Unexpectedly, these past days Shuofang had been as peaceful as Chang’an. Without warfare, the old soldier naturally had no way to earn money, which was why he was so destitute.
More than half the auxiliary soldiers here were driven by locusts. Thinking of the locusts, Yun Ye was filled with hatred toward Li Er, who had allowed the locust plague to occur.
Regarding the locust disaster, Yun Ye always felt he owed everyone in the realm, so he wanted to give them some compensation. Not for any other reason—he just hoped he could sleep soundly and peacefully.
Xue Wanche had gone directly to Lingzhou, but his goods returned to Shuofang. The quantity was quite substantial—over two hundred purple lamb pelts, and he’d also brought back over a hundred catties of bezoar, along with large numbers of cattle and sheep. Only gold and silver were missing—Old Xue must have privately hidden them. Yun Ye couldn’t help but think maliciously.
Now the Great Tang had a very bad practice—hoarding gold, silver, and copper coins. Great households only took in and never spent. Small households didn’t have that option. Come to think of it, great households’ silks and goods were probably piled like mountains, and they kept countless women. These things weren’t easy to store—silk easily molded, women aged, goods depreciated in value. Only gold and silver were king. Wasn’t it said: antiques in prosperous times, gold in chaotic times? Although Li Er had repeatedly ordered his subjects not to privately hoard copper coins, how many families listened? Those who would hoard still hoarded plenty, like the Yun family.
Yun Ye had a pathological obsession with gold, which influenced everyone at home. Even Xiao Ya took her twenty copper coins of monthly allowance and asked her brother to exchange them for gold.
Thinking of this, then looking at the worried He Shao, Yun Ye found it amusing. On one hand, everyone in Chang’an had no copper coins to use and could only use the prohibited gold and silver. Yet Shuofang was completely reversed—people preferred gold and silver, not copper coins.
Yun Ye decided not to tell this idiot He Shao. He planned to use silver to exchange for the several thousand strings of copper coins in his hands, then return to Chang’an and exchange the copper coins for gold and silver. With one flip, there was a thirty percent profit to be made. What was there to be dissatisfied with?