Chapter 37: Changing Attire

Ren Conghai had originally wanted to drop the subject, as Zhao Huai'an’s mention of "benevolent governance" had completely shattered his composure.

The truth was that Zhao Huai'an was a complete bumpkin, ignorant even of the Jingyuan mutiny during the reign of Emperor Dezong. If not for those Jingyuan soldiers who had mutinied over trivial grievances regarding the quality of their grain and cloth, the imperial court would never have fallen into such a state.

While the realm was riddled with warlords, not all were created equal. The ones in Hebei were pure autocrats, while those in the Central Plains and the East had once been unruly but had been beaten into submission by the court, and thus followed orders, albeit reluctantly. The warlords of Western Sichuan and the South were different; though they were regional powers, they remained under direct imperial administration, and the court’s authority over them remained intact.

Consequently, a low-ranking soldier like Ren Conghai from a Western Sichuan commandery still held a modicum of loyalty to the throne. In his view, it was this "out-of-boundary" grain allowance that had spoiled the frontier troops, making them useless in battle while demanding extravagant treatment. To hear Zhao Huai'an call such a rotten system "benevolent governance" was the final straw.

Ren Conghai wanted to ignore Zhao, but Zhao Huai'an was insatiably curious and asked sincerely: "Old Ren, what exactly is this 'out-of-boundary' grain?"

Ren Conghai paused, looking at Zhao. So, this "Boss Zhao" really didn't know? Were the officers of the Lizhou garrison really this inept? He truly was the worst sort of soldier he had ever encountered. He smacked his lips and grunted, "That’s a long story. I'm thirsty; I need something to moisten my throat."

Zhao Huai'an knew exactly what these men from the main camp wanted. He immediately called out to Old Mo, who was busy nearby: "Old Mo, go to my tent and fetch the grape wine."

Old Mo, who was helping Old Liu with the ledger, scurried off and returned shortly with a jar of wine and two cups. Zhao Huai'an glanced at them and snapped, "Go get the gold cup!"

Old Liu hesitated, glanced at Ren Conghai, then ducked back into the tent. When he emerged, he held a gold cup—a prize Zhao Huai'an had seized from a Tibetan nobleman at Tongshan Pass. Zhao took the wine, thrust the cup into Ren’s hands, and filled it to the brim. "Old Ren, a gold cup for fine wine. I am ready to hear your expert opinion."

Ren Conghai caressed the gold cup, marveling at the intricate carvings. He couldn't put it down. He feigned a cough and said, "The cup is fine, but I fear this may be the only drink I get."

Zhao Huai'an put on a show of sincerity, draping an arm around Ren’s shoulder. "What are you saying, Old Ren? This cup is yours. Drink from it whenever you like."

The kid was alright. Ren Conghai laughed heartily, drained the gold cup, and declared, "Boss Zhao, I have high hopes for you. You are destined for great things."

Zhao Huai'an curled his lip. He had pegged the old man as greedy the moment he saw him, and he hadn't been wrong. He hadn't used the cup since he’d seized it; with current gold-smelting techniques, who knew how much lead or mercury was mixed in? Using it to drink water was just asking for an early grave. Since the old man liked it, he could have it; after all, this old fellow would surely have "great fortune" in the future.

***

Having secured such a windfall, Ren Conghai was in high spirits. He no longer looked down on Zhao Huai'an and answered every question with zeal. He explained that "out-of-boundary" grain was essentially the court providing funds and supplies to commanderies to mobilize troops for war. While stationed at home, troops were supported by their local warlord, but once they crossed the boundary, the court covered all expenses. Because the pay for such service was triple the usual rate, every commandery scrambled to send troops.

The Qiongzhou encampment currently hosted six frontier armies—the Yanjun, Shence, Boye, Chuandong, Zhongwu, and Fengxiang—all directly supplied by the court. The rest were supported by the Western Sichuan military headquarters, including Zhao Huai'an’s hundred-man unit.

Because of the gold cup, Ren Conghai offered a piece of advice: "If you want to supplement your military funds, recruit a few frontier soldiers and register them with your camp. They’ll draw pay from the court, and you can take an eighty-twenty split."

Zhao Huai'an blinked and asked a naive question: "I take eighty, they take twenty?"

Ren Conghai looked at him as if he were an idiot. "Eighty? You’re lucky to get twenty. That’s only because you have Commissioner Song’s backing and can leverage the Zhongwu Army’s connection. Otherwise, you wouldn't even get a single cent."

Zhao Huai'an finally understood the darkness within the Tang military. Ren Conghai, who had just been posturing as a patriot, was already teaching him how to embezzle from the court. Still, to Zhao, it sounded like a brilliant plan.

***

Just as Zhao Huai'an was pondering how to get another drink with Li Shitai to discuss this further, Old Liu arrived with Wang Duo. After checking the supplies, Old Liu couldn't hide his grin. He handed the ledger to Zhao Huai'an and pointed to Wang Duo, praising him: "Boss Zhao, this Master Wang is an honest man. The supplies he brought are top-notch. We must treat him to a proper meal."

Zhao Huai'an laughed. He loved hosting feasts; he believed that if the wine flowed and the company was right, everything else would fall into place. He ordered Old Liu to prepare a banquet, then opened the ledger. He only had to read the first few lines for his hand to tremble.

It listed: "Thirty sets of iron armor, forty sets of leather armor, forty robes, one hundred spears, twenty cowhide long shields, forty cavalry shields, twenty crossbows, forty bowstrings, two thousand crossbow bolts, one hundred horn bows, three hundred bowstrings, three thousand arrows, four hundred armor-piercing arrows, one hundred bow cases, eighty horizontal sabers, twenty long-handled sabers, twenty iron-bound wooden clubs, forty cavalry axes and maces, and twenty lassos."

Zhao Huai'an was stunned. This was for a hundred men? Were the ancestors of the Tang really this wealthy? He had struggled so hard to scrape together his own meager gear, and this single act of reorganization provided more than he had ever owned. *Wonderful! Old Song truly loves me, and Old Yue didn't lie; this is a massive gift!*

The ledger continued with flags, drums, and gongs—items Zhao desperately needed for training. Beyond weapons, there were enough uniforms and tents—padded coats, yellow shirts, headbands, straw sandals, cloth boots, cotton trousers, robes, and turbans—for a hundred men. There were also cooking pots, basins, grain bags, knives, files, pliers, drills, and whetstones, with four or five items per person.

The camp had even sent livestock—not warhorses, but twenty pack horses, donkeys, and mules to pull the twenty supply wagons. Zhao was slightly dissatisfied with this; he knew Western Sichuan wasn't short on horses, as they had traded thousands for tea over the years. He wondered why Old Song was being so stingy—if he was giving so much, why not a dozen warhorses?

***

Zhao Huai'an finished reading the ledger. The supplies covered every aspect of military life—food, clothing, shelter, and transport. It seemed the Tang army was truly like a family, living and working together.

Unable to restrain himself, Zhao ran to the wagons, threw off the hay covering, picked up a pair of boots, and tossed them to Zhao Wenzhong. "Come on! Everyone change your shoes and robes. We’ve struck gold today! Hahaha!"

Han Tong, Niu Li, and the rest of the Tongshan group had been watching hungrily, as they were the most poorly dressed, lacking even proper sandals. At Zhao’s command, they scrambled forward.

Old Liu, anxious, jumped onto a donkey cart and shouted: "Niu Li, Han Tong, Qian Tiefu, Wei Jingang—you four stand in front! Other sub-commanders, stand in front as well! Your men, line up behind them! One by one!"

Zhao’s team didn't have a formal structure yet, but they had divided into groups based on loyalty and relationships. Aqi Mo led Niu Li and the remaining twenty-five men from Tongshan, serving as logistics—cooking, gathering firewood, and tending the livestock. Old Liu acted as the camp steward, managing杂 affairs with six craftsmen under his command. Yang Mao, Sun Tai, Zhao Hu, Wang Li, and He Wenqin were Zhao’s disciples and members of the Justice Society; they stayed close to his tent. Zhao also kept his four adopted sons and the twelve youths he had bought in the market near him as non-combatants.

The core combat force was divided into three groups: the mountain bandits led by Zhang Dai; the original Baoyi soldiers led by Han Tong, Qian Tiefu, and Wei Jingang; and the former Tang soldiers. Lu Zhongyuan, Zhou Dexing, Chen Fahai, and Guo Congyun served as instructors, each leading their own squads of seven or eight men. Guo Congyun’s group was the most special, as he held the team’s four warhorses and the best riders among the former Tang captives.

Now that the camp had designated them the "Baoyi Battalion," they would have to reorganize according to Tang standards. With eight sub-commanders plus his own disciples, he had the perfect framework for nine combat squads and three logistics squads—just enough to build a hundred-man unit.

It seemed Old Song had a good grasp of his strength—not a man more or less, just the gear for a hundred.

Zhao Huai'an watched as his men lined up to receive their equipment—donning their crimson military robes, red capes, and headbands. A surge of pride swelled in his chest. *My boys are finally a well-equipped, formidable force!*