During the Huangyou reign, Face-Tattooed General Di Qing, styled Hanchen, led armies to suppress rebellions in Guangdong and Guangxi. Due to unfavorable circumstances, he made a vow before a temple to Buddha, throwing one hundred coins to the ground – if all faced upward with backs downward, it would ensure great victory for the entire army.
After emerging from the temple, he publicly waved his hand, and the hundred coins fell with a crash. Incredibly, all coins were indeed face-up, causing everyone to gasp in amazement.
Di Qing ordered his men to bring one hundred iron nails and nail all hundred copper coins firmly to the ground, announcing that upon triumphant return, he would retrieve the coins to thank the gods, rebuild the temple, and recast golden statues.
Thus the entire army’s morale soared, and they decisively defeated the rebels. After returning victorious, when people examined these hundred copper coins again, they discovered they were all double-faced coins without backs.
This feat had long circulated among the people, with everyone admiring Duke Wuxiang’s clever strategy. Hou Fangjie had momentarily forgotten this allusion, but recalling the shopkeeper’s earlier words about returning the coin to its inheritor, his eyes immediately lit up.
“This is the legendary backless coin? How is there only one? Didn’t you say there were originally one hundred?”
“This copper coin doesn’t just tell fortunes – it can also buy lives.” The young shopkeeper’s voice was low and elegant, making listeners involuntarily shiver.
“I understand fortune-telling – many people divine by throwing copper coins, which Duke Wuxiang also utilized. But… buying lives?” Hou Fangjie asked puzzledly, having never heard this explanation.
“Haven’t you received New Year’s money? ‘Sui’ (year) sounds like ‘sui’ (evil spirits), so legend says New Year’s money can suppress evil spirits. Juniors receiving New Year’s money from elders can safely pass through one year. The world believes giving New Year’s money to children allows them to bribe filthy demons and ghosts when they try to harm children.” The young shopkeeper’s lips curved meaningfully. “This is so-called buying lives.”
“Uh… I always spent my New Year’s money immediately after receiving it each year… I really must thank Buddha that I’ve grown up safely…” Hou Fangjie felt his hair stand on end, never knowing New Year’s money had such purposes.
“These backless coins were specially made by Duke Wuxiang. It’s said he later distributed those hundred backless coins to ministers and subordinates to ward off disasters and buy lives.” The shopkeeper slowly stood up, addressing Di Yong who had remained silent throughout: “I happened to acquire this backless coin and return it to Young Master Di. This backless coin should be worn close to the body.” Having said this, he ignored Hou Fangjie’s earnest attempts to detain him and gracefully pushed the door open to leave.
The Qingfeng Tower servers, knowing they had matters to discuss, hadn’t served breakfast since bringing the initial pot of tea.
After the man left, they entered the private room and quickly set out all their ordered items.
Hou Fangjie, seeing Di Yong’s continued expressionless face, didn’t pay much attention. After the servers withdrew, he wrapped the backless coin in the silk handkerchief, stuffed it into Di Yong’s hands, and nagged repeatedly: “Since he said to wear it close to the body, find a string later to thread it and hang around your neck.”
Di Yong accepted the handkerchief, smiled self-mockingly, and said calmly: “I serve daily in the imperial palace – when would there be life-threatening danger?” Though serving rulers was like serving tigers, the Song Dynasty never killed innocents arbitrarily. Not only were civil officials not beheaded, but military officers, though easily suspected, weren’t denied dignity. Even common people rarely suffered false accusations.
The emperor was humble and courteous – Di Yong truly didn’t know if he’d ever need this backless coin.
Though his thinking was clear, his words still carried undertones of frustrated ambition.
How could Hou Fangjie not hear this? He could only offer gentle persuasion.
Actually, like Prince of Lanling, Di Qing was so handsome he needed masks for battle, and both ultimately suffered imperial suspicion – history repeating its helplessly frustrating coincidences.
As Hou Fangjie’s thoughts wandered while searching for comforting words, Di Yong gestured for silence. Just as Hou Fangjie wondered why, conversation sounds came from the adjacent private room.
Qingfeng Tower’s soundproofing wasn’t excellent, but no one would discuss secrets here. The two people next door weren’t speaking loudly, but for the martially trained Di and Hou with sharp senses, they heard clearly.
Di Yong initially ignored whatever these two were saying, but they actually mentioned “strong Tang, weak Song.”
This viewpoint circulated widely among the people. With free speech in the Song Dynasty, some always harped on this point. Since Emperor Taizu’s “dismissing military power over wine,” military generals’ status had plummeted – the main reason Di Yong’s father Di Qing faced frenzied suppression and died in depression.
Many believed today’s Song Dynasty couldn’t compare with Tang Dynasty military might. Today, coincidentally, the antique shop owner had returned his father’s backless coin, and Di Yong rarely felt inexplicable melancholy, wanting to hear others’ judgments.
He heard one voice angrily slapping the table: “The Song Dynasty has been weak for long – can’t win wars, and even when winning must pay reparations. This is simply a humiliating period in national history! Stove, why did you set the compass to this era again? Just watching makes me frustrated!” Di Yong’s hand gripping the tea cup showed bulging veins.
Though not spoken to his face, he felt like being slapped, his cheeks stinging. Then another calm, steady voice came from next door: “Fighting wars? It mainly depends on why you fight. Those foreign tribes desperately battle just to obtain Central Plains porcelain, silk, and tea. Opening mutual markets could solve this problem. No deaths, plus exchanging porcelain, silk, and tea – who would still fight? It’s like shopkeepers facing gangsters demanding protection money. Do you pay, or wait for gangsters to completely smash your shop before paying? You can’t kill all the gangsters completely, so unless you want mutual destruction, you know how to choose.”
Di Yong was startled, never having considered this perspective. But from an overall strategic view, this was indeed correct.
During Emperor Wu of Han’s reign, the treasury was rich due to the Reign of Wen and Jing, but major campaigns against Xiongnu were enormously expensive. Years of warfare and taxation would impoverish people and make life unbearable – even Emperor Wu had many regrets in his later years.
Moreover, nomadic peoples were indeed difficult to completely eliminate. As this person said, merchants simply lacked absolute power to make gangsters disappear.
More terrifyingly, even solving this batch of gangsters would bring the next batch.
The steady voice continued: “Actually, economic issues are most important for each dynasty. Generally, as long as people can eat and drink their fill, there won’t be successive upheavals. For example, Emperor Qin Shi Huang building the Great Wall – I estimate he calculated that wall construction costs were more economical than military expenses for maintaining armies, plus eliminated the hidden danger of subordinates controlling troops. Why not? But Song Dynasty rulers discovered an even cheaper method – no need to build walls, just pay protection money.”
“The Treaty of Shanyuan during Emperor Zhenzong’s reign had Song pay Khitan 300,000 strings annually. This sounds like a lot – do you know Song Dynasty treasury income? Song’s annual income at this time easily exceeded 100 million strings. 300,000 strings tribute only equaled 0.3% of annual fiscal income – truly just loose change leaked through fingers to dismiss beggars. Who wouldn’t spend money to buy peace? We’re not short of cash!”
“Moreover, Song Dynasty reparations only used silver and silk, never copper coins, even restricting copper coin circulation abroad. Because Song lacked copper, copper coin face values couldn’t match copper raw material prices. Eventually excessive silver note printing caused inflation – actually Song Dynasty was later dragged down by economic crisis. So economics is really important…”
Di Yong listened intently. These explanations seemed novel even to him, who heard court proceedings daily in Chuigong Hall, not to mention some completely incomprehensible new terms. But… dragged down? Song Dynasty currently enjoyed prosperity – what was this person talking about? Di Yong frowned and stood up.
Though he found the other’s reasoning sound, it felt like standing and talking without back pain. He couldn’t quite grasp this feeling but wanted to befriend this gentleman. They might chat about things like how he knew such confidential data as specific fiscal income figures.
Like what “inflation” meant, what “economic crisis” meant, what “Song Dynasty being dragged down” meant…
Hou Fangjie had also overheard that gentleman’s high discourse with great novelty. Seeing Di Yong’s darkened handsome face striding away, he hurriedly followed.
His brother looked ready for revenge – hopefully they wouldn’t fight if words didn’t match. But Hou Fangjie’s worry was obviously unnecessary. After Di Yong had servers knock and enter, they heard a server’s wail.
Several breakfast plates on the square table were mostly finished, with half a bowl of soy milk still steaming, but no one was visible around the table.
Di Yong frowned. This was their adjacent private room. When he walked over, he heard no footsteps of anyone leaving. What was happening? The private room windows were properly closed. If they had jumped from this third floor, people on the street below would definitely be shouting already.
Then he heard the server’s pitiful pleading: “Young Master Hou, do you know these two? They haven’t paid!” A table of breakfast wasn’t expensive, but Hou Fangjie was somewhat familiar with this server and had to reluctantly accept responsibility, obediently reaching into his robes while grumbling: “This young master has no freeloading friends. Fine, fine – for that earlier discourse, this little money isn’t much. This young master will treat it as dismissing beggars! We’re not short of cash!”
In the imperial capital, sons of official families who weren’t unambitious dandies generally chose between civil and military paths. Choosing civil service meant either using connections to buy positions without learning, or having real talent to enter Imperial Academy, take examinations, and enter Hanlin Academy.
Choosing military service meant palace guards, military training, and promotion. Di Yong, benefiting from his father Duke Wuxiang’s legacy, was already noted by the emperor. After standing guard before the throne for years, he could have transferred to imperial guards for more training before smoothly gilding himself to marry a princess. But Di Yong requested assignment to the northwest frontlines.
Since he dared request it, the emperor had no reason to refuse.
Moreover, though Duke Wuxiang Di Qing died somewhat ignominiously, he remained a childhood idol for the current emperor, who had already decreed that Duke Wuxiang should be reburied beside Yonghou Imperial Mausoleum after the emperor’s death.
Such favor naturally extended special regard to his son Di Yong. So amid incomprehensible looks throughout Bianjing, Di Yong smoothly arrived at Huan Prefecture.
Huanqing Circuit controlled Qing Prefecture, Huan Prefecture, Bin Prefecture, Ning Prefecture, and Qian Prefecture, centered on Qing Prefecture. Huan Prefecture lay northwest of Qing Prefecture – essentially the frontline directly facing Western Xia. Huanqing Circuit had been carefully arranged by Zhong Shizheng, Fan Zhongyan and others, with over ten fortresses and strongholds providing mutual support, appearing impregnable.
But Di Yong’s careful investigation here revealed increasingly alarming discoveries. The Treaty of Shanyuan had prevented Song-Liao warfare for over a century, but after appeasing this major bully Liao, the rising Western Xia naturally wouldn’t lag behind.
Before Fan Wenzheng (Fan Zhongyan) served as Vice Commissioner for Shaanxi Military Affairs, Song and Western Xia armies fought battles at Sanchuan Pass and Haoshui River, with Song forces suffering devastating defeats and heavy casualties.
Though conditions had greatly improved, after Fan Wenzheng’s departure, no one could salvage these lax Song armies.
Yes, who still wanted to fight? At worst, just pay some money! Di Yong stood on Qingping Pass walls, watching yellow sand swirling on the horizon, nearly obscuring the sky but unable to bury the Western Xia troops with fluttering banners outside the city.
At this moment, Di Yong suddenly recalled the discourse overheard at Qingfeng Tower last year, finding it utterly ironic.
Yes, correct – loose change flowing through fingers could indeed dismiss beggars, but long-term, these beggars grew fat and bold, wanting more money. What then?
Di Yong closed his eyes, his hand gripping the city wall firm and resolute. Even today, he didn’t regret his choice.