Old He spoke cheerfully at first, but as he continued talking, he grew increasingly angry. He jumped up and grabbed Yun Ye by the chest, demanding: “Why didn’t you tell me about such a good plan two years ago?”
Yun Ye struck Old He on the head with the flowering branch in his hand and said viciously: “Two years ago, you bastard were busy grabbing land and trading cattle from the grasslands. That was when you were making money hand over fist. Would you have listened to these words back then? Without suffering some losses, how could you suddenly see the light?”
Old He released his grip and picked up the scattered pear blossom petals from the ground, chewing them one by one. His plump face was filled with helplessness as he complained to Yun Ye: “What kind of damn world is this? Having no money won’t do, but having money won’t do either. I just want to leave my children some meal money—is that really so difficult?”
“The money you’ve saved is enough for your family to eat for several hundred years. Are you planning to solve all your family’s problems for the next thousand years by yourself? Even the Emperor doesn’t have that ability. Just honestly do your work, go with the flow, blend into the crowd and slowly accumulate—that’s the way to go.”
It took considerable effort to pull He Shao up. Yun Ye then arranged for him to handle matters for the maritime shipping company, having him send some experienced workers aboard the ships while also preparing sources of goods.
“Hurry up and finish this matter, then work hard to fight for your old life. The next two months will probably make you suffer terribly, but that’s good too. Back when you nearly froze to death on the grasslands, you had that fierce determination—you should still have it now. I’ll wait for you in Chang’an. Open your family’s medicine shops and clinics earlier to start building a reputation sooner. Stop wasting your energy on those barbarian women. Your constitution was already poor to begin with—cutting down trees like this every day, I’m worried you won’t be able to keep up with the rest of us.”
Yun Ye placed the flowering branch on his horse’s back and left the pear orchard with Dongyu. People in this world all rushed about laboring with heart and strength like this. Just because you were born into a wealthy family didn’t mean you could lie on your ancestors’ laurels and sleep soundly. If one or two generations made no progress, even the largest clan would split apart and scatter. Fallen descendants could only sit on doorsteps catching lice while imagining their ancestors’ glory.
Lady Ronghua was staying at the Dengzhou prefectural office. Yuan Dake had found two Korean women of passable appearance to attend to her. Yun Ye also lodged there, though in a different courtyard. Seeing Lady Ronghua sunbathing in the courtyard, Yun Ye smiled and placed the branch of pear blossoms in her arms, then walked along the corridor into his own work area.
Settling into his study, he saw a mountain of letters piled on his desk. He first picked out the family letters—as for those letters from the old generals, he might as well not read them.
Grandmother’s letter was growing longer and more verbose. From the handwriting, he could tell it was written by Daya. The beginning still had Grandmother’s tone, asking about his well-being, but the last few pages changed. Yun Ye decided not to read further—this was Daya writing to Dan Ying. He called over Dan Ying, who was sunbathing in the courtyard, handed him the letter, and returned to his study with a dark expression. Was there no family discipline left at all? They were now openly corresponding! Which family’s unmarried daughter would behave like this?
He tucked the letters from Xinyue and Na Rimu into his bosom to read later that night while lying in bed—he might cry then. Na Rimu should have reached the grasslands by now. He wondered if she would gain any advantage competing with the stewards and managers from those old generals’, distinguished officials’, and nobles’ households. Most importantly, his daughter—he didn’t know if she was settled and safe. Sun Simiao must have given all the children cowpox vaccinations, so at least they could resist this virulent infectious disease. This gave Yun Ye considerable peace of mind.
After opening Li Chengqian’s letter, Yun Ye’s mood improved considerably. From greeting to closing, not a single question about military affairs. He knew his friend deeply detested warfare, and at this time, whether in victory or defeat, would not want to mention it. So his entire letter was about how robust his son Li Xiang was, along with some amusing anecdotes from the palace and court gossip—how Wei Zheng had caused the death of His Majesty’s parrot, how Lanling was now the wealthiest little rich girl in the palace, how Gao Yang refused to marry Fang Yiai, and how Fang Yiai declared he also didn’t want to marry Gao Yang, resulting in both being punished by the Emperor and made to kneel outside Chaotian Gate, where Fang Yiai took off his clothes to shield Gao Yang from the rain, making her cry. All happy news. Only at the very end did he mention that he had decided to mint gold coins, silver coins, and copper coins, and was preparing to petition the court to abolish the chaotic currency system. Henceforth the court would only recognize these newly minted Shengshi Tongbao coins. Other forms like silk would gradually be phased out of the currency system over the next five years, becoming merely commodities like grain rather than currency.
Yun Ye wasn’t worried about Li Chengqian’s reforms. The Buddhist and Daoist sects were currently badly weakened and in a temporary truce. They had found a graceful retreat and were even too lazy to bother with the Zoroastrians, attacking briefly before disappearing without a trace.
As long as these two great financial powers of the world didn’t jump out to make trouble, good money driving out bad was a natural progression. As long as the dies at the Chang’an mint weren’t lost, no one else could obtain those dies that exceeded even hundred-times-refined steel, let alone the hydraulic stamping machines. The envelope contained one gold coin, one silver coin, and one copper coin. The gold coin bore the image of Shennong on the front, with grain stalks on the back, and small teeth around the edges to prevent people from scraping off gold. The silver coin had Fuxi on the front and the Eight Trigrams on the back, also with small teeth. The copper coin was only in hundred-wen denominations, stamped from pure copper. The front showed a portrait of Li Er on horseback, and the back depicted the battle formation from the “Prince of Qin Breaks Through the Enemy Lines” dance. This man was born with a penchant for showing off—the smaller denomination copper coins that followed probably wouldn’t escape his clutches either.
Li Tai had actually managed to weave wool fabric! Judging from the blanket he sent, the craftsmanship was first-rate. Yun Ye lay on it and sniffed for a long time without detecting any odor. Excellent stuff! His navy’s uniforms would be made from this wool fabric. The current hemp cloth uniforms hung loose and baggy—wearing them was embarrassing.
Cheng Yaojin’s letter contained nothing but laughter throughout. Looking at the chaotic “hahaha”s on the paper moved him deeply. Old Cheng’s first “haha” was dark and lustrous, full of ink, but by the final “hahas,” they looked as if swept by a broom, faint and barely visible. The very last “haha” had only a few pale traces of ink. One could imagine how deliriously happy Old Cheng must have been upon receiving the military report that the army had returned and successfully completed its mission.
Old Niu’s letter also contained just a few simple words: Good, good, grand celebration when you return home!
After reading these people’s letters, Yun Ye lost interest in looking at the others. He tidied up the correspondence and casually tossed it on the desk when a strange letter suddenly caught his eye. The characters on it were crooked and twisted, writing only two barely legible large characters: “Daddy.” He quickly opened it, and tears immediately gushed forth like springs.
“Daddy, I can write now!” No signature, no salutation—just these seven characters, plus the two characters “Daddy” on the envelope. Only nine characters total, yet they stirred up tremendous waves in Yun Ye’s heart.
He pressed the envelope against his face, greedily inhaling its scent until his tears soaked the ink, leaving a black smudge on his face. Only then did he quickly wipe away his sobs and carefully blot the tear stains on the envelope with the blanket Li Tai had sent.
“My eldest son can write letters now?” Yun Ye’s thoughts instantly flew across ten thousand mountains. He seemed to see a chubby child kneeling at a low table, gritting his teeth, sticking out his tongue, writing characters stroke by stroke. It was a warm scene—except for the fox-like beautiful woman standing beside him.
Thinking of the beautiful woman, Yun Ye’s heart calmed down. Which three-year-old child could write? At the age of wearing split-crotch pants, why learn to write? It must have been his mother guiding his hand. This woman knew exactly where the child’s father’s weak spot was.
Furious, he rummaged through the pile of envelopes and sure enough found Li Anlan’s letter. He cut it open with a knife, directly skipping the sweet-talking nonsense at the beginning and the shopping list in the middle, reading only the end.
“Rong’er is also three years old this year. Fortunately, heaven has blessed us—the child is healthy and free from illness and disaster. This concubine is also well in Lingnan, no need to worry. Now Rong’er can write too. Though the characters are somewhat ugly, since they’re written to his own father, I suppose it doesn’t matter. My imperial father happens to be celebrating his forty-ninth birthday this year. During the universal celebration, this concubine also plans to return to the capital to offer birthday wishes. I only hope that when I return to the capital, my husband will have already sung songs of triumph. The battlefield is fraught with fierce winds and high waves, life hanging by a thread. I hope my husband will treasure and value himself.”
He closed the letter and sat at the table, vigorously rubbing his face, then thoroughly washing it in the basin of clean water. He applied a hot towel to his eyes before pushing open the door, preparing to clear his head.
Thick smoke billowed from the east side of the prefectural office, accompanied by the sounds of Daoist chanting and Buddhist sutras. This black smoke had been rising for three full days, and the monks and priests had been busy for three days and nights. There were many corpses. Each time the coroners finished piecing together a skeleton, auxiliary soldiers would carry it to the cremation site for burning. Finally, everything was placed into individual ceramic jars, waiting for Yun Ye to take them back to the capital.
It was time to see them off. Dust to dust, earth to earth. If there were still any grievances or humiliations, they should all dissipate now. His subordinates would receive the same treatment this time. The only difference was that their ceramic jars all had names on them. Three men from Yun Family Village had died in battle.
A strapping seven-foot man’s flesh and blood reduced to ashes by fire—now just a small pile of cremains. The coroners waited for the ashes to cool, then used dustpans to pour the ashes into the jars. A strange gust of wind blew over, scattering much of the ashes from the dustpan. The coroner paid no mind and very casually poured the remaining ashes into the jar.
“Drag them away and give each of them thirty heavy strokes with the rod. Every single one. After receiving their punishment, continue cremating the fallen soldiers’ remains. If this happens again, execute them on the spot!”
The surrounding naval soldiers immediately dragged those coroners outside for punishment. Yun Ye approached the next fallen soldier awaiting cremation, straightened his appearance, arranged the firewood properly, then personally poured oil and lit it. Watching the flames gradually consume this young body, he waved farewell to the corpse.