Chapter Fifty-Eight: Changing Residence

Throughout the journey, whispers filled the air. Yang Hu found this odd and summoned someone to inquire, only to learn that the Ji clan intended to cede Fei City to the Meng clan.

“How could that be possible?” Yang Hu laughed and shook his head.

“My lord, the rumor is everywhere.”

What on earth was Ji Sun Si up to? Yang Hu ordered his men to hasten toward the palace.

“Grand Minister, is this true?” Duke Ji Song nearly rose from his seat, a question echoed by Yang Hu, who had just entered the hall.

Everyone looked at Ji Sun Si as though he were a fool.

“Of course it’s true. The Meng clan rid Lu of the notorious bandit Zhi, and such merit deserves a generous reward. My Ji clan, as one of the great families of Lu, ought to set an example,” Ji Sun Si replied smugly.

Seeing the astonished faces around him, he felt deeply gratified. Though he was one of the three chief ministers of Lu, neither his family nor the court had ever cared what he thought.

But today was different! He tried to maintain an air of nonchalance, but inwardly he was delighted.

Was it not merely Fei City? The Meng clan had promised to find him another piece of land near Cheng City, where he could start anew—was that not even better?

Most importantly, the current governor of Fei, Gongshan Buniu, was once his trusted man—yet years ago, Gongshan Buniu had joined Yang Hu in imprisoning him and even drove back his messengers. Ji Sun Si’s resentment toward Gongshan Buniu now exceeded that toward Yang Hu.

Since he had no power to reclaim Fei City, why cling to an empty title? Better to break with it altogether—let no one have it easy.

But whose side was the Meng clan truly on? Both Duke Ji and Yang Hu were puzzled.

“What does Master Yang think?” Zhong Sun Heji asked.

Ji Sun Si was nothing more than a reckless playboy, devoid of cunning; this must surely be the work of the refined and scholarly head of the Meng clan standing before them, Yang Hu thought to himself.

He was plotting to take command of Gongshan Buniu’s troops, so this move was like a pillow delivered to a drowsy man—at least it provided a pretext for action.

Yet Yang Hu disliked being led by the nose, especially if it allowed Meng Di to gain control over two cities, making future control difficult.

If he opposed it, he would fall into the Meng clan’s trap, immediately fracturing his own camp and earning Meng Di’s enmity.

He pondered back and forth, undecided.

Ji Sun Si, seeing his hesitation, grew even more pleased and called out, “Does Master Yang have a different opinion?” In truth, he didn’t fully understand why he should give up his fief—after all, the three Huan clans were as close as brothers, and he always did as the Meng clan wished.

This was a tricky situation, and Yang Hu, after some thought, decided to evade it, respectfully addressing Ji Song: “I leave it to your lordship to decide.”

Zhong Sun Heji also stepped forward. “We ask the Duke to judge.”

So they really take me for the sovereign? Ji Song lowered his eyes, knowing that with Yang Hu’s non-opposition, the matter was settled—his own wishes were irrelevant.

“I have no objection.”

No one raised the matter of what to do with Gongshan Buniu, nor what would happen if he refused to obey the order. In silent accord, everyone dispersed.

Ji Song sat alone in the empty hall, gazing into the vast space, and murmured, “Are the three Huan clans trying to draw the Meng clan to their side?”

“It’s surely not so simple—perhaps they intend to set the wolves upon the tigers,” replied Liu Xia Ji, who, though honest and loyal, was no fool and understood the ways of the court.

“If they’re all beasts, let them fight it out,” Ji Song sighed, sitting motionless as darkness fell, forbidding the lighting of candles. His eyes shone in the night, their thoughts unreadable.

Of course, Gongshan Buniu would not obey the Duke’s edict. In less than three days, the grain had already been delivered to Meng City, and he himself arrived with several thousand soldiers in tow, making it clear he would seize it by force if slighted.

The handover went smoothly. The Han soldiers, after removing their bronze swords, turned and left.

“My lord, why not seize the chance to wipe out the Meng clan and reclaim the grain?”

“If we strike now, we’ll be branded as oath-breakers by the world. The soldiers in Meng City are now unarmed—tigers without teeth, not worth mention. We’ll find another pretext later.”

Meng Di stood on high, watching as Gongshan Buniu led his troops away.

Those handling the handover were all former bandits and vagrants who had been won over. Two thousand elite Han soldiers, resplendent in armor, stood behind him. Had Gongshan Buniu acted rashly, Meng Di would not have hesitated to teach him a lesson.

“Zilu, if the Master were here, how would he handle this?” Meng Di asked.

Zilu, at Confucius’s behest, had come to assist and also to assess the situation.

“I do not know,” Zilu replied honestly. The Han army’s equipment surpassed his imagination, and even after giving away a thousand bronze swords, their strength seemed undiminished.

“The Duke of Lu has granted me the post over two cities, but now the arrogant governor of Fei, Gongshan Buniu, defies orders—what should I do?”

Though Zilu understood affairs of state, his nature was forthright and bold; without hesitation, he replied, “Since the sovereign commands it, then send troops to take Fei City.”

“This would not be right, Zilu. War brings casualties, and the people of Lu would suffer most. If the Master were here, he would not approve of settling this by force.”

Ashamed, Zilu touched his head. “You are right, Lord Meng. The Master often says I am too quick to resort to violence.”

Meng Di smiled. Confucius’s disciples all bore the mark of the gentleman—upright, if a little inflexible. But give them a grand cause, and they were easily led.

“Meng City is a settlement of a thousand households. The Duke once said its numbers could be filled out from the surroundings. Since you know the geography and the people, why not let you handle it?”

“No problem,” Zilu agreed cheerfully. After so long with Confucius, such a task was easy.

Liu Xia Zhi’s thousand men were temporarily put under Zilu’s command. Grain was plentiful in Meng City, and each relocated household was allotted enough to last a year.

“My lord, isn’t this a bit underhanded?” As Zilu departed, Ji Ran emerged from behind.

“Oh? In what way?” Meng Di feigned innocence.

“To have Confucius’s disciple play the villain while you reap the benefits—my lord is becoming more and more cunning.”

“Then perhaps I should assign the task to you,” Meng Di said, putting on a stern face.

“No, no, better for Lu men to handle Lu affairs,” Ji Ran replied, hurriedly bowing and making his escape.

Zilu was exceedingly efficient. In just a few days, he’d brought in over a thousand households.

In truth, it was simple. Gongshan Buniu, to gather grain for the exchange, had already stripped his territories bare.

Zilu simply had to walk through the villages with rice. In order to survive, the villagers came out on their own accord.

Later, Zilu, moved by pity for those who had no grain to survive the winter, kept accepting households even after exceeding a thousand.

When Fei City sent men to chase them, Zilu, bold as ever and backed by a thousand followers, easily routed the pursuers before returning to Meng City, still unsatisfied. What he didn’t know was that Meng Di had sent Han Zhan with a thousand Han soldiers to shadow him from afar, ensuring his safety even if Fei’s main force intervened.

Ignoring fatigue, Zilu returned to Meng City and immediately requested to settle the relocated households.

Perhaps he was so excited because he’d been stifled too long at Confucius’s side and now finally had the chance to act, Meng Di guessed, not without a touch of malice.

New to the state of Lu, it was not easy to find someone both capable and reliable, so Meng Di had no intention of dampening Zilu’s enthusiasm, and with a wave of his hand, entrusted the entire matter of resettlement to him.