Chapter 14: Searching for a Buyer

“Old Wu, why didn’t Wei Xiang come to the Prince’s Mansion today?” Zhao Bin glanced at Wang Wu beside him and asked.

“Before leaving yesterday, Old Wei said that since autumn harvest has begun, there are many affairs at the government office, so he won’t be coming to the mansion these days,” Wang Wu replied after a moment’s thought.

Zhao Bin didn’t want to linger on the matter, so he quickly gave orders: “Send word to Lin Jingtang, Cao Li, and Wei Xiang. The three of them are to come to the mansion tomorrow for a meeting.”

Seeing Zhao Bin’s serious expression, Wang Wu immediately responded, “Yes, Your Highness. I will send someone to notify them right away.” With that, he left the hall and hurried to the main gate to have a guard deliver the message to the government office.

Early the next morning, Lin Jingtang, Cao Li, and Wei Xiang arrived at the Prince’s Mansion together. When they arrived, Zhao Bin had not yet risen; as a man from the modern era who had traveled back in time, he still hadn’t adapted to the early rising habit of the ancients. It wasn’t until Wang Wu came to inform him that Zhao Bin reluctantly got out of bed.

When Zhao Bin entered the main hall, the three men quickly stood and bowed. “Your humble servants pay respects to Your Highness.”

“Enough. We are not strangers here. Please, sit. I’ve called you here today to discuss a matter with you,” Zhao Bin said as he took his seat at the main position. “Gentlemen, are there Xianbei or Western Liao people within the borders of Yancheng?”

Lin Jingtang considered briefly. “Your Highness, less than a hundred li north of Yancheng lies a small tribe of about five hundred Xianbei people. Between Western Liao and Yancheng is the territory of the Xianbei, so there are no Western Liao people within the borders.”

“Do you know approximately how many Xianbei there are?” Zhao Bin inquired.

“The exact number is unclear, but likely fewer than two hundred thousand. At their peak, the Xianbei numbered around seven to eight hundred thousand. However, over the past hundred years, the Jie tribe has been growing stronger and continuously raiding the Xianbei. There have also been territorial disputes and skirmishes with Western Liao, which have caused the Xianbei population to steadily decline and their territory to shrink. Now, they are mainly confined near the southern part of the Xianbei Mountains,” Lin Jingtang explained.

The Xianbei Mountains are actually the ancient name for the Greater Khingan Range, also the origin of the Xianbei people.

“How many Western Liao are there?” Zhao Bin asked again.

“Probably no fewer than four hundred thousand,” Lin Jingtang answered.

Wei Xiang looked puzzled. “If the Western Liao number four hundred thousand and want to take over a tribe of fewer than two hundred thousand, although it might not be a guaranteed victory, they should have at least a seventy to eighty percent chance. So why haven’t the Western Liao launched a large-scale attack on the Xianbei territory?”

“Most likely because they don’t want to confront the Jie tribe directly. Of the four hundred thousand, after accounting for the elderly and infirm, those fit for mounted warfare number about a hundred thousand. The Jie tribe, however, probably exceeds a million strong. Twenty years ago, General Ding reclaimed the Hebei Circuit, killing over fifty thousand, but in the two decades since, the young warriors who have come of age far outnumber that. Moreover, the Huns west of the Jie tribe are also extremely powerful. Were it not for the need to guard against a Hun incursion, the Jie might have launched a full-scale offensive,” Cao Li said in a measured tone.

Cao Li continued, “What I say is true. Right now, the Huns and Jie are evenly matched, keeping each other in check, allowing the Great Xia to enjoy some stability. But if the two were to unite, it would threaten not only the Hebei Circuit but also Shanxi and Guanzhong Circuits.”

Zhao Bin tapped the table with one hand. “Enough. I didn’t call you here to discuss this. The main matter today is to talk about purchasing livestock.”

Cao Li, curious, asked, “Your Highness, was the carriage that returned yesterday from the seaside? I heard ten carriages entered the western courtyard of the mansion.”

“Yes. The salt has been brought back. Now I intend to trade with these tribes. At present, the Xianbei seem most suitable. But having only one Xianbei tribe is not enough. Lin Jingtang, Cao Li, over the next few days, try to establish contact with the Western Liao. At the very least, find a Western Liao messenger for me,” Zhao Bin said, looking at them.

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“Furthermore, Wei Xiang, send two men with my letter to the Xianbei tribe in the north. Tell them I wish to meet their tribe leader and ask him to come to Yancheng within the next two days,” Zhao Bin instructed Wei Xiang.

“Yes, Your Highness. I will send men immediately,” Wei Xiang replied.

Zhao Bin asked a few questions about the current autumn harvest. Hearing no reports yet of Jie raids, he felt somewhat relieved. After some final instructions, he dismissed the three to leave.

Soon after, two government clerks rode swift horses out the north gate...

Within the Xianbei tribe’s camp, a man of about fifty sat solemnly at the center of the tent, listening as subordinates reported the livestock counts for the year.

“Report to the chieftain: this year, our tribe harvested two thousand horses, three thousand cattle, and twenty thousand sheep. Of these, eight hundred mature horses, one thousand cattle, and ten thousand sheep can be offered to the Khan’s tent. The rest will be kept for the tribe’s needs and next year’s offerings,” a middle-aged man wrapped in sheepskin stated one by one.

Another man in his thirties said angrily, “Hmph, the Khan’s demands increase every year. It’s infuriating.”

The elder wore a worried expression. “The Jie raid us annually. The grasslands west of the Xianbei Mountains have been seized by the Jie. If this continues, our tribe’s extinction will not be far off.”

While they spoke, a sword-bearing Han man entered the tent and said, “Chieftain, two Han men are outside, requesting to see you.”

“Han men? Are they from Yancheng?” the elder asked.

“Yes. They claim to come by order of the Prince of Yan to deliver a message,” the Han man answered.

“Prince of Yan?” The elder was puzzled. His tribe had lived here for many years, and some members occasionally went to Yancheng to trade. Many had learned basic Han speech, but they had never heard of a Prince of Yan in Yancheng. The two middle-aged men exchanged glances.

“Let them in,” the elder said slowly.

When the two clerks entered the tent, the elder ordered some roasted meat and sheep milk tea served. After a brief communication, the elder learned that the Prince of Yan was the third prince of the current Great Xia dynasty, who had been in Yancheng for about a month. The letter contained only customary pleasantries and said there was an important matter to discuss but did not specify what.

Upon understanding the purpose, the elder hesitated. His tribe numbered only a few hundred, mostly elderly and weak. Being so close to Yancheng, refusal to meet might offend the Prince of Yan. Yet, without knowing the prince well, going unprepared might bring unforeseen trouble. Although the two had not clashed in recent years, the risk remained. Seeing the elder’s hesitation, the clerks seemed to recall something. One pulled a small wooden box from his chest and handed it to a middle-aged man nearby, signaling him to present it to the chieftain.

The elder opened the box, revealing a small sealed cloth pouch embroidered with the character for “salt.” He opened it and, seeing the fine white granules inside, was both surprised and dubious. His tribe had received salt in Yancheng before, but that salt appeared yellowish and dark, mixed with impurities—not like this fine sand-like substance. The middle-aged man also examined it and asked in Xianbei, “Chieftain, what is this?”

“The pouch says ‘salt,’ but it doesn’t look like the salt we’ve seen before,” the elder said, reaching in to pinch some for tasting. The middle-aged man stopped him.

“Chieftain, let me try it.” The elder looked at him without objection. The man carefully took a pinch, glanced at the two clerks, and then tasted it.

Having not eaten salt in a long time, his face lit up excitedly. “Chieftain, it is salt—high quality salt, not bitter.”

After a moment, seeing the man was unharmed, the elder cautiously tried some himself, his face showing delight. Holding the pouch, he seemed to realize something. He then said to the clerks, “The sun is setting and traveling is inconvenient. If you don’t mind, you are welcome to stay overnight. At dawn, Suhe and Tuoyuan will accompany you to meet the Prince of Yan.”

The two clerks exchanged a glance. “Thank you, Chieftain Suhe, but we have orders and must return to report. We cannot stay.”

They wanted to leave quickly, partly because they dared not spend the night on barbarian land fearing danger, and partly because the overwhelming smell of sheep was unbearable—the tent was soaked in it, as if greased with mutton fat. Without delay, they rose and departed under the fading light of dusk.