Old Man Zhao did not possess the pride his son Zhao Wuji had. Just running into the city felt like an imposition to him, and he never dared hope that Han Qian would spare time to see them—being able to meet Zhao Kuo was already fortunate enough.

He remained quite constrained before Han Qian and the others. When he saw Han Qian instruct Qing Yun to take the dishes out from the food box one by one and arrange them, he was overwhelmed with gratitude and stammered:

“A few days ago, I dug up a ginseng root in the mountains. It’s grown for several decades. My daughter said such a thing should be presented to the Young Master to show our gratitude for his great kindness. We only hope this won’t disturb the Young Master.”

Han Qian glanced at Zhao Ting’er, who stood to the side with her head lowered, not making a sound. She wore an old jacket with several patches, and her face was as fair and clean as the first snow after winter’s arrival. Though she appeared shy and timid, fidgeting with her collar under the lamplight, he hadn’t expected that she was actually the one who had actively urged her father and brother to come into the city.

Han Qian smiled apologetically at Old Man Zhao:

“Today an assassin infiltrated the Third Prince’s residence. Since we study alongside the Third Prince, we were detained at his residence from afternoon onward for questioning and couldn’t get away until now. I only just returned to the residence and heard from Zhao Kuo that you’d come. Don’t blame these worthless fellows in the residence for not warmly entertaining guests—with such an incident happening today, everyone’s been in a panic. Please forgive us for any neglect, Uncle Zhao!”

“The Young Master is so busy, yet we’re adding to your troubles,” Old Man Zhao said, overwhelmed and not understanding why Han Qian was explaining in such detail.

“No trouble at all. I just returned famished anyway, so it’s perfect—you can keep me company while I drink.” Han Qian laughed heartily.

There were distinctions between noble and humble.

Old Man Zhao had only agreed to bring the ginseng into the city after his daughter urged him many times. He’d planned to just find a street corner to endure the night after finishing their business, then return to the estate when the city gates opened tomorrow. How could he dare imagine drinking wine at the same table as Han Qian?

“Uncle Zhao, don’t be modest in my residence,” Han Qian said, pulling Old Man Zhao to sit beside him.

At that moment, Lin Haizheng and the obviously reluctant Fan Dahei walked in. Han Qian had them sit at the lower seats along with Zhao Kuo to accompany Zhao Wuji. By now, all trace of resentment had vanished from Zhao Wuji’s eyes, replaced by shame for the inexplicable grievance he’d felt earlier.

Han Qian then had Qing Yun select some food and dishes, asking her to accompany Zhao Ting’er to eat in the inner room.

Eliminating distinctions between noble and humble would demonstrate Han Qian’s courtesy toward men of virtue and talent, but no matter how open contemporary customs were, propriety in public places still required that men and women not share the same席 or use the same utensils.

Han Qian had originally intended to have Zhao Wuji serve at his side, but he hadn’t expected that Zhao Wuji’s initiative to come into the city this time was actually prompted by his sister Zhao Ting’er. During the banquet, he mentioned to Old Man Zhao that he hoped Zhao Ting’er could also stay.

Wars raged in all directions, taxes were harsh, and with massive numbers of refugees flooding south, even the prosperous Jianghuai region was plagued with famine everywhere.

Although Old Man Zhao and his son Zhao Wuji could supplement their household income by hunting and fishing in the mountains, his wife was chronically ill. As a tenant farmer cultivating rented land, besides paying tenant rent, they also had to bear extremely heavy corvee labor based on household members, general corvee duties, and numerous miscellaneous taxes. Their days were barely better than other tenant farmers, with meals irregular—hungry one moment, full the next.

When he’d mustered the courage to bring both Wuji and Ting’er into the city this time, he naturally hoped they could both remain at the Han residence. Even if they became slaves or servants, at least they would have food and clothing without worry.

Old Man Zhao was still hesitating, not knowing how to broach the subject, when Han Qian raised it himself. He was so moved he almost knelt to express his gratitude.

“Uncle Zhao, there’s no need for such formality.”

Among the six new residences added in Lanting Lane, Wuli Lane, and Kaoshan Lane, this residence by Stone Pond River was the largest, with three courtyards in total from front to back. But since Han Qian usually gathered household troops here at night to practice with swords and bows, there weren’t any beds set up for overnight guests.

After they finished a jar of wine, it was already the third watch of the night. Han Qian had Old Man Zhao and Zhao Wuji stay overnight at Zhao Kuo’s residence, while Zhao Ting’er would return with him to the main residence. From now on, she would live in the rear courtyard of the main residence with Qing Yun and Old Man Han and his wife, and usually help Qing Yun look after things at the main residence.

Zhao Ting’er hadn’t expected to be able to stay this very night and hadn’t brought any luggage. She followed Han Qian and Qing Yun back to the Han residence’s main compound with her head lowered.

The Han residence’s main compound also had only three courtyards. Among the high-ranking military officials of the entire court, it was absolutely unremarkable. But as the living quarters for Han Daoxun and Han Qian, it was maintained far more elegantly than the riverside residence, and far beyond what commoner residences of the era could match.

It was now midwinter, with withered grass and bare trees. In one corner of the front courtyard, a red maple displayed brilliant colors, and several clumps of green bamboo and other plants still retained their hues.

Passing through the hanging flower gate led to the central courtyard where Han Qian and his father Han Daoxun resided, surrounded by covered corridors on all four sides. In the corner between the east wing and the main hall, a shallow pond seven or eight paces long had been dug, with a decorative lake stone set up and vines climbing around it. More than ten ornamental carp swam in the shallow pond.

The open spaces in the courtyard not planted with bamboo or trees were also paved with smooth polished stone slabs.

Seeing this scene, Zhao Ting’er thought to herself that this was truly the style of an official’s household.

Han Qian saw that lamps were still lit in the west wing, and his father’s silhouette was cast on the window paper by the lamplight—he was bent over his desk writing something.

Han Qian recalled what his father had said earlier, worried that in a moment of righteous indignation, his father was now writing down his thoughts and ideas into a memorial to find an opportunity to submit to Wenying Hall.

After hesitating for a moment, Han Qian had Zhao Ting’er follow him toward the west wing. He stopped outside the door and said:

“Father, Old Man Zhao has a daughter who is intelligent and clever. I’d like to have her stay at the residence as well to attend to our daily needs—Zhao Ting’er, come pay respects to my father…”

“Zhao Ting’er pays respects to Master!” Zhao Ting’er stepped forward somewhat awkwardly and bowed, quite uncertain whether this manner of showing respect conformed to propriety.

Han Daoxun opened the door from inside and glanced at Zhao Ting’er. He too noticed that though the girl appeared physically delicate, there was a clear and charming quality in her eyes and brows. He hadn’t expected such a daughter to grow up in a rural mountain household. He hesitated for a moment, but then thought that Qian’er’s character had already reformed, and he was well past the age for marriage. Even if young women attended to him, as long as he didn’t indulge himself, there was no need to prevent it.

“It’s so late—what are you still writing in your room, Father?” Han Qian asked with concern.

“After our earlier conversation, I had more thoughts after you left. Fearing I’d forget them by tomorrow, I’m taking the time to write them down,” Han Daoxun said. He didn’t think Zhao Ting’er could understand anything, so he didn’t deliberately have her avoid the conversation.

Han Qian’s head spun. He thought that even such a major incident today hadn’t managed to divert his father’s attention, but had instead made his father’s attitude more resolute. He guessed his father must have harbored these ideas for a long time. Once these thoughts were formally committed to paper, it might very well mark the day disaster descended upon this residence.

“Do you have something else to say?”

Seeing Han Qian hesitating to speak, Han Daoxun asked.

Han Qian thought that since his father had made up his mind, direct persuasion wouldn’t be effective. He needed something else to divert his father’s attention. After pondering for a moment, he said: “Fan Xicheng, Zhao Kuo, and the others have followed Father for many years, loyal in their duties, unwavering in their hearts. Yet as they grow older, none of them have attentive companions in their quarters. Their lives are rough—when their clothes are torn, no one mends them. Your son feels that Father should give more consideration to these matters for them…”

“Oh, when I came to the capital to take up this post, I was focused on other matters and indeed neglected these things. But I should indeed give consideration to these matters for Fan Xicheng and the others.” Han Daoxun nodded.

“His Highness was taken to the palace and probably won’t return to the marquis’s residence for a couple of days. Tomorrow is Father’s rest day—why don’t you go on an excursion outside the city with your son?” Han Qian asked.

“…” Han Daoxun looked at him hesitantly. Arranging marriages for Fan Xicheng, Zhao Kuo and the others would require asking city matchmakers to slowly make arrangements. He couldn’t understand why Han Qian wanted them to take a trip outside the city tomorrow.

“…” Han Qian rubbed his head and said, “Your son has noticed these past days that refugees are clogging the roads outside the four city gates. Many women are dragging along children—it’s quite pitiful. I was thinking that if there are attentive and diligent women willing to marry Fan Xicheng and Zhao Kuo as wives, and their children could also be incorporated into our household registry, this would not only help relieve some of the starving people but also ensure that Fan Xicheng and Zhao Kuo have someone to rely on in their old age. Moreover, if Father needs to dispatch people for any matters in the future, we won’t be short of hands…”

“…” Han Daoxun was slightly startled. He immediately assumed that Qian’er wanted to use the opportunity of arranging marriages for Fan Xicheng and Zhao Kuo to recruit more household troop descendants.

The household troops possessed by powerful families in this era operated somewhat like a hereditary military household system.

For instance, if Han Daoxun received a reward of twenty military households for his merits, once these troops became household soldiers under his command, unless they were transferred out, they would serve as Han family household troops for life. Upon their death, their descendants would take their place, with their wives, daughters, and servants incorporated into the Han household registry.

If Han Daoxun died, these household troops would be inherited by his son Han Qian through hereditary succession, and this hereditary military authority could not be stripped except for crimes.

Nearly half of the household troops Han Daoxun brought from Guangling to Jinling were solitary men without heirs, and quite a few were plagued by injuries and illness. It was only because Han Daoxun couldn’t bear to abandon them that he brought them to Jinling and purchased fields and residences to settle them.

This directly limited the personnel available for use in the residence, and once these household troops died, it would directly reduce the scale of military households the Han family possessed.

From the perspective of consolidating power, the most straightforward approach would be to select widows with children from among the refugees outside the city and marry them to Fan Xicheng, Zhao Kuo and the others as wives. These widows’ offspring would naturally and logically become Han family household troop descendants, becoming the Han family’s reserve household troops.

However, Han Daoxun’s heart was full of indignation toward powerful families for possessing private armies, owning too many slaves, servants, fields, and residences without paying taxes. At this moment, he was thinking about dividing the fields and residences at the Qiuhu Mountain villa among the household troops who had followed him for many years. How could he be willing to increase the number of slaves and servants in the residence through such means?

“…” Han Daoxun scrutinized Han Qian, and only after a long moment said, “Your father’s official salary cannot support too many people.”

“The refugees outside the city are crying for food. Just giving them a meal to eat can save their lives—it truly won’t require Father to spend too much,” Han Qian said, intent on tricking his father out of the city tomorrow as the priority. He steeled himself and continued persuading, “And if this matter succeeds, it might save several dozen lives. Father often admonishes your son: one must not do evil however small, nor fail to do good however small…”

“Very well, tomorrow I’ll accompany you on a trip outside the city.” Though Han Daoxun had no intention of consolidating his own power, he thought this action might save several dozen starving people outside the city. Moreover, after submitting his memorial and recommendations later, if he first disbanded his own household’s slaves and servants, it would better demonstrate his resolve. It wouldn’t necessarily be a bad thing.