Chapter 13: A Constant Stream of Visitors (Part I)

"Why aren't you at the Directorate for Arms today keeping an eye on things? You've run over to my place again so early in the morning." Zhang Qian retracted his fist with a smile after having used Ren Cong as a "human punching bag" for a while. He poured a cup of tea for both himself and his guest before asking with a grin.

"Everything is mostly packed up. I've arranged with Li Fengyu of the Bureau of Imperial Carriages to officially begin the move tomorrow. That's why I came over to report to you, Senior Brother." Ren Cong took the tea with a cheerful expression. As he sipped it, he wore a playful look, deliberately keeping him in suspense. "Senior Brother, guess who I ran into at the courtyard gate just now?"

"Who?" Zhang Qian paused, a look of surprise immediately crossing his face.

In this day and age, officials stationed in the capital usually lived within the walls of Chang'an. For someone like him, who held the rank of Junior Supervisor of the Fifth Grade yet still kept his home outside the city, it was a rarity. This meant his social circle was very small; aside from his two junior brothers, the only people who visited were his three elders—He Zhizhang, Zhang Ruoxu, and Sun Anzu. As for those three, they no longer needed to wait at the gate to be announced; they were always escorted directly to the main hall by the second steward, Old Cui.

"Wang Maobo!" Seeing that Zhang Qian was indeed thoroughly bewildered, the little chubby fellow, Ren Cong, looked even more smug. "He's standing there with gifts, waiting respectfully for Steward Cui to let him in. Heh, people like that..."

"Didn't I already give instructions that the farm rent and debts for his family were all to be waived? Why has Steward Cui turned a deaf ear to me again?" Zhang Qian was anxious upon hearing this. He immediately set down his teacup and strode toward the door. "Come with me and see what's going on! If Steward Cui..."

"No, no, Senior Brother, don't be so anxious. Listen to me!" Fearing that Steward Cui might be wrongly punished, Ren Cong hurriedly chased after him and grabbed his sleeve. "It's not what you think. Would Steward Cui dare to disobey your orders? It's about something else—it's about how you previously asked Wang Maobo to come to the estate as an instructor to teach you martial arts!"

"Martial arts?" Zhang Qian paused again, then recalled that on the night he had released Wang Maozhong, he had indeed extended an invitation to his elder brother.

The reason he had invited Wang Maobo to work at his home was twofold: first, to study the difference between fighting on horseback and hand-to-hand combat on foot; and second, because of Wang Maobo's father and his connections to the Tang military.

Later, because Wang Maobo had been too ill to leave his bed, and Zhang Qian himself had been swamped with the combination of toilet water, windmills, and wells, he had forgotten all about it. He had not expected that, after more than two months, Wang Maobo would actually take the initiative to come and honor the commitment.

It seemed that this man was a person of his word, a hero worthy of meeting. As for Steward Cui’s deliberate delay in announcing him, it really was a bit snobbish...

"I knew it, Senior Brother, you forgot all about it!" Perhaps guessing that Zhang Qian would be angry at Steward Cui for giving Wang Maobo a hard time, Ren Cong quickly added, "I suspect that Ren Quan saw how busy you were and didn't want to bother you with such trivial matters. That Wang Maobo is quite stubborn. The day after he returned from the estate, he used the money his younger brother gave him to pay off the rent and famine debts he owed you. Then he stayed home to recover until now. Senior Brother, you are now a Junior Supervisor of the Fifth Grade. If every villager who wanted to see you could just walk in, wouldn't your courtyard become a vegetable market?"

He thought he had explained it very clearly, but Zhang Qian was only more confused as he listened, frowning in bewilderment. "My courtyard becoming a vegetable market? Why would the villagers have nothing better to do than come see me? I'm not their local magistrate, am I?"

"Senior Brother, you're much higher-ranking than a county magistrate!" Ren Cong stomped his foot, finding the situation both laughable and exasperating. "In the Tang Dynasty, only the magistrates of Jingzhao, Henan, and Taiyuan prefectures hold the Sixth Grade. You are three grades higher than any magistrate in the Jingzhao Prefecture! Even if you don't govern the locals, they feel that if they can get into your courtyard, it’s a blessing. Besides, once they've seen you, they can brag outside that they are bosom friends with Junior Supervisor Zhang of the Directorate for Arms. They won't have to be intimidated by the clerks at the county office anymore!"

"Ah—" Since his promotion, Zhang Qian had only been focused on how to save Yang Qingxing from her plight and had no time to think about anything else. Hearing Ren Cong’s increasingly exaggerated claims, he was left momentarily speechless.

Seeing that Zhang Qian was skeptical, Ren Cong simply produced the evidence. "Furthermore, Senior Brother, you are a Fifth Grade Junior Supervisor, and the Emperor has also bestowed upon you the honorary title of Grand Master for Thorough Counsel of the Fourth Grade. According to official standards, not only are your own lands exempt from taxes, but the government should also supplement you with 700 mu of official land, plus the wages and food expenses for seventy servants!"

He took a large gulp of tea, his face filled with obvious envy. "Although there is no spare land near the capital, the official land will surely just be converted into millet for you. But as for the quota of seventy servants, all the laborers and slaves on your estate currently don't even add up to that. In the last few days, people coming to sell themselves into service or wanting to join with their own land have been lining up at the back door. It’s thanks to Ren Quan and Old Cui knowing the gravity of the situation that they haven't opened the gates to anyone; otherwise, you'd wake up one morning and find a crowd of strangers in your courtyard!"

"This..." Not to mention that he hadn't even been a student leader in the 21st century, even if he had been a bureau-level official back then, Zhang Qian would never have enjoyed such treatment as a Tang official. His mouth hung open, his eyes widened, and for a long moment, he couldn't form a complete sentence!

No wonder in the old stories, Fan Jin went mad with joy after passing the imperial examination. In the Ming and Qing dynasties, passing the examination meant qualification for office. And once one became an official, the benefits were far better than those of a 21st-century civil servant!

Thinking about the state paying for seventy servants for him in the future, Zhang Qian suddenly felt immense pressure. There were only one and a half people in his household right now—why would he ever need so many servants? Besides, the estate housed the toilet water workshop and the medicine furnaces, and he had just been planning to manufacture a batch of black powder as a precaution. With so many people around, it would be impossible to keep secrets... (Zijuan: How can I be counted as half a person? Even a washboard has human rights!)

While he was distracted, the voice of Ren Cong, full of excitement and pride, reached his ears again. "You asked that Wang Maobo to be an instructor, but he kept using his illness as an excuse to avoid coming. Now that he's finally willing to offer up his family's skills, surely not just anyone can be an instructor for a Fifth Grade Junior Supervisor? Senior Brother, if you just drop a word with the human traffickers, you'll have skilled warriors lining up to sell themselves into slavery within half a day. Their skills would only be higher than his, never lower. Steward Cui leaving him to wait shows that he knows you are kind-hearted and doesn't want you to earn a bad reputation for looking down on villagers once you've achieved success. If it were anyone else's house, he would have been beaten away with a stick long ago. He wants to enter through the front side gate? Hmph, keep dreaming. At any other house, they wouldn't even open the back door for him!"

"No, no, let him in! At least I know him, and he lives nearby." Hearing Ren Cong becoming increasingly carried away, Zhang Qian quickly forced himself out of his shock and interrupted. "Besides, what would I do with a bunch of skilled warriors? I just want to understand the basic techniques of mounted combat. Wang Maobo is just right; if I hired someone else, I’d be worried about bringing trouble upon myself!"

"That's true, people from the outside are a mixed bag after all!" Ren Cong thought for a moment and nodded in agreement. "If we really need to guard the house, the workers in our workshop are much more reliable than outsiders."

"Yes!" Zhang Qian nodded with a smile, then quickly turned his gaze toward the study door, preparing to call the servant Zhang Gui to notify Steward Cui to let Wang Maobo in. Unexpectedly, his sleeve was tugged again by Ren Cong. "Senior Brother, Senior Brother, I have something else to discuss with you. Don't be in such a rush to summon Wang Maobo; if he can't even handle this much, there's no need for you to keep him!"

"Something else?" Zhang Qian ignored the latter part of Ren Cong's sentence and looked back in surprise. "If you had something to say, why didn't you just say it instead of beating around the bush? Ren the Fifth, are you really wanting to learn martial arts from me?"

"No, no, spare me, Senior Brother, spare me!" Terrified, Ren Cong covered his head with both hands and quickly retreated to the corner of the study. "I'll be satisfied if I can master one or two of the sect's ultimate techniques in this lifetime. As for the hand-to-hand combat, please, teach that to the Second Senior Brother. I really won't learn it; greed leads to indigestion, greed leads to indigestion!"

"Tell me, why did you come over so early in the morning?" Zhang Qian moved two steps closer to him, his knuckles cracking as he rubbed his hands. "If you dare to beat around the bush again, don't blame your Senior Brother for 'cleaning house'!"

"I'll tell you, I'll tell you, spare me, Senior Brother!" With nowhere to hide, Ren Cong kept bowing with his hands over his head. "I... I went back to my own home last night, right? My mother, my mother asked me if I could look after my brother. It just so happens that there are a few vacant positions for low-ranking clerks in the Directorate for Arms. I wanted to ask, ask if you, Senior Brother, could grant my second brother one of those spots..." (Note: 'Low-ranking officials' in the Tang Dynasty refers to those below the Ninth Grade. They were divided into nine levels, equivalent to having an official status and eating from the public pot, but without any diploma requirements. If they did well, they could be promoted into the ranks of regular officials.)