Chapter 47: The Returning People
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Wang Dayong and Ma Xiao rode out of the south gate. Ma Xiao himself didn’t know how to ride a horse; he had ridden a donkey before, but the rhythm of riding a horse was completely different from riding a donkey. Riding a horse was about speed, while riding a donkey was about conserving effort, just strolling along. Now that Ma Xiao had been assigned a horse, he could only amble along.
Wang Wǔ grumbled irritably, “You can’t even ride a damn horse? What a useless fool.”
Ma Xiao looked wronged and said, “Master, you can’t blame me. I want to learn, but there’s nothing to learn from.”
“Then how did you go out to capture slaves before?” Wang Dayong asked.
“There were mule carts at the trading house; we drove those.”
“Damn, you still want mule carts? Do you know the most expensive thing in our Yan Prince’s residence now is the carts?” Wang Wǔ replied sourly.
“Why are the carts so expensive?”
“Because there aren’t enough of them.”
“For what use?”
“Heh, selling salt. You know the fine salt sold in the capital? It all comes from our Yan Prince’s estate. From Yan City to the capital is at least eight or nine hundred miles. All the ox and horse carts in Yan City have been requisitioned by the Prince’s residence,” Wang Wǔ said proudly.
“Are you saying the salt sold in the capital belongs to the Yan Prince?” Ma Xiao asked in surprise.
“Exactly. Where else would it come from?”
“I’ve never even tasted fine salt.”
“Why are you in such a hurry? Once we get back to the capital, I’ll make sure you have fine salt every day. Ha ha ha.”
The two chatted all the way toward the capital.
Meanwhile, in the capital, although Emperor Zhao Wují had ordered no public mention of the assassination attempt on Prince Heng, the news spread rapidly. Several influential families had caught wind of it. Inside the Crown Prince’s residence, a few men sat around the hall with grim expressions.
Zhang Ju, Right Vice Minister of Personnel, said angrily, “Hmph, this is clearly a frame-up aimed at our Zhang family. It must be that old dog from the Dai family. The Dai have long resented our family’s expansion into Shu territory. Now they take this opportunity for revenge and slander. I hear they left no witnesses; the assassin took poison before the attack and died on schedule before interrogation. They really covered their tracks.”
“This matter is suspicious. Normally, injuring a royal would enrage the Emperor. Yet there has been no mention of it in court, nor any secret orders to the Ministry of Justice to investigate,” said Pan Ling, Left Vice Minister of Justice.
“Hmph, investigate? How can we? That old Dai dog is ruthless—no witnesses left,” Zhang Ju ground his teeth.
“Minister Zhang, don’t be angry. Over a hundred people were involved; it’s impossible no one noticed. Tracking them down will reveal where they came from,” Pan Ling said. He had experience with investigations.
The Crown Prince spoke to comfort them, “Uncle, we shouldn’t worry too much. Though the accusations point to us, without solid evidence, no one can harm us.”
“Perhaps their goal isn’t to actually pin this on us, but to sow doubt in the Emperor’s heart toward the Zhang family and the Crown Prince. Once suspicion takes root, it will be very unfavorable for the Crown Prince. I believe this is only the beginning; there will be more moves,” said a pale-faced scholar thoughtfully.
“Suspicion? The Emperor suspects everyone. He’s getting older, and the struggle for the throne is inevitable. Every prince is a suspect in his eyes,” Zhang Ju added.
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“That may be, but unlike the other princes who have little to lose, the Crown Prince is the heir apparent. If the Emperor’s suspicion deepens, and other matters damage the Crown Prince’s reputation, there could be a reappointment of the heir,” the pale scholar said.
“Mr. Huang is right. Although I temporarily hold the title of Crown Prince, before ascending the throne there are always risks. The Xue and Dai families will not let me succeed easily; they may even unite against us. Do you have any countermeasures?” the Crown Prince asked those present.
“My suggestion is to focus on tracing the origins of the assassins first, to dispel the Emperor’s doubts. As for Prince Qi and Fifth Prince, now is not the best time to act. Prince Heng was just attacked, and the blame points to us; stirring up trouble now would only deepen the Emperor’s suspicions,” said Mr. Huang.
The Crown Prince sat in thought, then said, “Very well. Follow Mr. Huang’s advice. Send people to investigate where these men came from and how they entered Hebei, tracing step by step.”
“Yes, I will secretly arrange for investigators,” someone replied.
“Also, the New Year festival is approaching. How is the gift for the Emperor coming along?”
Zhang Ju said, “Your Highness, rest assured. The New Year gift for the Emperor will arrive in the capital within these two days.”
“Thank you, Uncle.”
“You’re welcome, Your Highness. It is my duty.”
Wang Dayong and Ma Xiao hurried back. When Wang Dayong reached the capital, they happened to block Xiao Chu and his group at the city gate. After conveying Zhao Bin’s orders, Xiao Chu accepted the fifty thousand copper coins and left the capital contentedly. Xiao Chu ordered a quick march; with three days left until the New Year’s festival, it was uncertain whether they could arrive on time.
At the same time, outside Yan City’s walls, many tables had been set up, and numerous stoves lit. Over ten thousand miners would return at noon today. Zhao Bin stood atop the city wall, watching the busy crowd below. He wanted to hold a celebration banquet for the hardworking people over the past months. The Yan Prince ordered two thousand fat sheep slaughtered—some for the banquet, some cut into pieces to be distributed for the people to take home for the New Year. Additionally, each person was given three hundred wen in wages, though funds were tight, so the remainder would be paid after Xiao Chu’s return.
As noon approached, dust stirred not far outside the city walls. A large group marched toward Salt City. Zhao Bin waved vigorously at the dusty crowd, unsure if they could see him but eager to greet them. Nearby, Cao Li and others laughed, thinking the prince was still quite young.
Someone in the crowd said, “Look! Isn’t that the Yan Prince on the wall?”
“Where? Where?”
“The one waving up there! Doesn’t he look like the Yan Prince?”
As soon as the words were spoken, someone slapped the speaker on the back of the head and shouted, “You brat, what do you mean ‘that kid’?”
Another kicked him lightly and said, “Yeah, if you say another word like that, I’ll knock your teeth out.”
“It really is the Yan Prince! Look, he’s waving at us!” another shouted, and the crowd erupted, “It’s the Yan Prince! He’s welcoming us!”
The crowd quickened their pace, ignoring fatigue, rushing toward the city walls, many waving and shouting, “Prince, we’re back!”
The northern winter was dry, and dust swirled thickly. As the people ran, the dust rose higher, mixing with the air. The cook below, stewing meat, suddenly felt a rush of dirt and cursed, “Damn it! You lot have dirtied the lamb! Cao, wild boar can’t eat such chaff.” Though cursing, the cook was joking—he worried the meat might be dirty and the people might not eat well. Yet secretly, he was glad; since the Yan Prince’s arrival, Yan City seemed livelier, even the laboring folk appeared happier.
The people didn’t hear the cooks’ grumbles. Kneeling at the city’s base, they shouted, “Greetings to the Yan Prince!” Their voices were loud and chaotic but heartfelt. Zhao Bin looked at their dirt-streaked, coal-stained faces—the marks of mining work—and took out a large iron megaphone, calling out, “Friends, please rise, please rise.”
No one moved; they were grateful to the Prince, knowing he had provided many cattle and sheep, farming tools, and full meals during their labor. No one felt tired or bitter; their hearts were sweet. The Yan Prince’s arrival gave them hope.
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Zhao Bin turned and said, “Let’s go down to the city!”
Cao Li hurried to block him. “Prince, you can’t! Too many people are down there. What if—”
“It’s fine. These are my people; I trust them,” Zhao Bin said, brushing aside their concerns and headed toward the stairs, with Wang Wǔ and several guards close behind.
Outside the city, the people knelt again, “Greetings, Yan Prince.”
Zhao Bin reached out to help a middle-aged man in the front row, who quickly stepped back, saying, “Prince, please don’t. I am too dirty and fear I might soil your hand.”
Zhao Bin laughed and pulled him up by the arm. “Ha ha ha, what’s dirt? You wash it off afterward.”
The man laughed heartily, touched by the prince’s down-to-earth attitude.
“Everyone, please rise,” Zhao Bin called behind the man. The people slowly stood. Zhao Bin walked among them, dusting off their clothes. Some shyly stepped back, others smiled and thanked him. He stood amid them and said loudly, “From now on, Yan City is my home and yours. Together, we will rebuild and defend it. These meats beside you are for everyone. Eat freely. Afterward, before going home, each person may take three jin of mutton and three hundred wen wages.”
One man quickly objected, “Prince, we can’t accept your money. We all came here to serve labor. How can we take food and pay?”
“Yes, Prince, we mustn’t.”
“No, we won’t.”
Zhao Bin sighed at the pure-heartedness of the people. To revive Yan City’s commerce, he needed to increase their spending power. For that, they needed money in hand. Money locked away in the Prince’s residence was just worthless metal; only if currency circulated could the economy recover.
“If anyone refuses, then don’t come here again,” Zhao Bin joked.
The crowd was speechless at the threat of being barred.
“All right, let’s eat.”
The people flocked to the temporary tables, but there were too many. Many sat on the ground in circles, rubbing dirt off their hands on their clothes as makeshift washing. Holding mutton ribs, with bowls of offal soup garnished with cilantro—the vegetables grown in Zhao Bin’s greenhouses, though many were picked before fully mature—they ate happily.
Guards atop the walls watched the feast below. One soldier said to Qin Fang, “Commander, why don’t you ask the Prince to get us some mutton soup too?”
Qin Fang shot a sharp glare at the soldier.
Zhao Bin listened to the villagers’ stories about mining in the Western Mountains—who slept together at night, who injured their foot carrying coal, who slacked off and frequently visited the privy. After a long afternoon, all had received their meat and wages, and with contented faces, headed home.