Chapter 34: Exceptional Merits

Xianyu Yue informed Zhao Huaian that the main army would set out for battle in three days, and brought him good news: his military merit had been officially recognized.

As it turned out, the moment Zhao Huaian arrived at the Qiongzhou encampment, he had reported the severed heads of the Tibetan soldiers he had captured. The Central Military Commission had since verified the claim and granted him a reward. At first, Zhao Huaian did not feel particularly happy, thinking it was only natural—after all, one should be rewarded for meritorious service. However, realizing this was a good opportunity to boost his small team's morale, he shared the news with them. As expected, they erupted in cheers. Even Lu Zhongyuan and his fellow soldiers-at-arms cast sidelong glances at him, more convinced than ever that Zhao Huaian possessed a deep and powerful background.

Zhao Huaian, busy enjoying his wine, paid little attention to these reactions. It was only that night, when Xianyu Yue stayed in his tent, that he realized how difficult it had been to push this matter through. Xianyu Yue was a man of great worldly wisdom; he knew that when helping someone, one must ensure the recipient understands the effort involved, or the favor would go unnoticed. Seeing that Zhao was completely oblivious to the complexities of the situation, Xianyu Yue explained it in detail as they lay talking late into the night.

Zhao had initially misunderstood the situation, assuming that because the Tang and the Tibetans were mortal enemies for generations, any Tibetan head taken would be counted as military merit. He was unaware that fifty-two years ago, in the second year of the Changqing era, the Tang and the Tibetans had erected a monument and formed an alliance to cease hostilities and promote kinship. Initially, the Tang did not take the alliance seriously, as the Tibetans were known for their fickleness and lack of credibility. Yet, no one expected that this would be the final alliance, and for fifty-two years, no large-scale warfare had occurred between the two.

Upon hearing this, a thought flashed through Zhao Huaian's mind: "No wonder when we raided Tongshan Pass, those Tibetans acted like fools. They rashly exited the pass, slept soundly at night, and didn't even post sentries. I thought it was just the incompetence of that fat Tibetan commander, but it turns out this was the reason." Since the Nanzhao army were their allies and the Tang had not fought the Tibetans for decades, those Tibetan troops had simply dismissed Zhao and his men as local mountain bandits, leading to their fatal carelessness. Zhao muttered to himself that perhaps he had been the one to "violate the martial code" by attacking them.

Xianyu Yue continued to explain the intricacies of military merit. Because of the long peace, the Ministry of Personnel had decreed twenty years ago that, except for the autumn defense period, heads taken from Tibetans would not count as military merit. In principle, the hundred-odd heads Zhao had taken at Tongshan Pass were worthless. The subtlety lay in the word "principle." Had Zhao reported this himself, he would have received nothing and likely been punished by military law for being a straggler. But because it was Xianyu Yue who reported it—backed by the Scout Commander Song Jian, and subsequently the Regional Commander Niu Cong—the merit was forced through. The justification was clever: although Zhao had retreated from the Dadu River battlefield, he had not deserted and was actively returning to the Qiongzhou camp, thus rendering him innocent. Furthermore, he was credited with great merit because the Tang had discovered Tibetan forces on the front lines, making the Tibetans official enemies again. Though Zhao hadn't killed them on the front line, Tongshan Pass was considered the rear of that Tibetan force, allowing his deeds to be evaluated under wartime standards.

Just like that, Zhao Huaian transformed from a guilty deserter into a hero. According to the Tang military system, merit is divided into nine grades based on the scale of the battle and the percentage of enemy casualties. Defeating a larger force is an "upper battle," an equal force a "middle battle," and a smaller force a "lower battle." Capturing or killing forty percent of the enemy is an "upper yield," twenty percent a "middle yield," and ten percent a "lower yield." Zhao had annihilated nearly a hundred Tibetans with fewer than twenty men, qualifying for the highest grade: an upper battle with an upper yield.

Zhao was initially impressed, thinking his ancestors had rightly dominated the East for two centuries. But then Xianyu Yue added a "but." He explained that in reality, such merit rarely reached the hands of those who earned it. The number of high-merit slots was strictly limited; unless one defeated ten thousand enemies, there were no more than ten slots for "extraordinary merit." Usually, these were snatched up by those with connections. Furthermore, as Zhao had observed, the Tang army was divided by status. The "upper class" were those who were or had been officials; the "middle" or "lower class" were the sons of minor officials; and commoners were "non-classified." Zhao’s records listed him as "non-classified." Even with the same merit, the rewards differed drastically. Xianyu Yue told him that even with his top-tier achievement, he would likely only receive a low-value honorary title, and promotion would be a long way off.

Zhao Huaian clenched his fists, enraged. It was pure bullying of an honest man. To make matters worse, his remaining fantasies—that he might be a scion of a noble family on a secret trial—were shattered. He was, in reality, a commoner, the lowest of the low in the Tang army. If this was the system, all his hard work would be for nothing. He interrupted Xianyu Yue, unable to bear the cynicism, and asked directly what he had actually been granted.

Xianyu Yue, sensing he had been too harsh, softened his tone. He explained that because the Qiongzhou camp had already submitted its list of meritorious service, Zhao would not receive a promotion. Zhao cursed, "Damn it! Is the military this corrupt? We were in a standoff; the only engagement was when Commander Song crossed the river to challenge them. Where did this 'extraordinary merit' come from?" Xianyu Yue smiled without explaining.

Zhao, his drunkenness replaced by fury, paced the tent. He realized the game was rigged—they were reporting merit before even winning the battle. Xianyu Yue then delivered the final piece of news: "Brother, do not be angry. With Commander Song looking out for you, you will not suffer. You haven't received a promotion, but you have been granted the formation of a local militia unit. That is the most important thing."

Zhao Huaian’s face darkened. He knew the status of the local militia—they were treated worse than dogs, forced to provide their own equipment and supplies, with no compensation for the dead. They were essentially beasts of burden for the Tang. He grabbed Xianyu Yue’s sleeve, pleading, "My dear brother, do not push me into a fire pit! Look at those men outside—they have less armor than I do. If war starts, they are nothing but cannon fodder. Is it reasonable that I, having earned such merit, am still assigned to such a unit?"

Xianyu Yue realized that Zhao was using the term "brother" only because he needed a favor. Zhao, now with tears in his eyes, sobbed, "Brother, take me back to the Lizhou Army. I heard the old commander is there. Let me meet him, and I will lead my brothers to rebuild the Lizhou Army." He wanted the safety of the regular military.

Xianyu Yue looked at him with a strange expression. "Brother, if you know Governor Huang is in the camp, why hasn't he summoned you to his unit yet?"

Zhao Huaian froze. It was true. Why hadn't he?