Chapter 607: - It’ll Cost Extra

Fengxin City now contained two places where security was tightest and status highest.

One was the small courtyard where the Prince of Jingnan presently lived.

The other was the temporary residence of the Marquis of Pingxi.

At this moment, Marquis Zheng was sitting inside the signing room of his residence, separated from a group of storytellers by a curtain, giving them some final guidance.

Prestige was something one could never have too much of.

Marquis Zheng was not afraid of excess.

Nor did he possess that many taboos.

He had no fear that his achievements might overshadow the sovereign.

Deliberately smearing his own reputation was not something he knew how to do.

He had climbed this far. Whatever soldiers came, send generals to block them. Whatever flood came, build earthworks to stop it.

In the old days, he had occasionally kowtowed and said pleasant things because he needed to survive.

Now he was already a Marquis.

Surely he could not live more timidly the higher he climbed.

A small number of these storytellers had been selected from among the refugees.

Some had not originally made their living as storytellers at all, but had worked as masters of funeral rites.

That did not matter.

A good mouth was enough.

The remaining majority had come from Yingdu.

In any era, anyone capable of earning silver without relying on family blood was almost certainly clever.

The owners of teahouses and wine shops naturally knew whose stories had been most popular with customers these past few years.

They knew whose romanticized exploits helped wine go down most smoothly.

So many storytellers who had originally been regular performers at particular establishments had their travel expenses paid by their employers and crossed the Wang River into eastern Jin.

Originally, they had believed merely seeing the marquis investiture ceremony would already satisfy them completely.

At the very least, once they returned, they would have something tremendous to boast about.

Their teahouses and wine shops could even hang signs at the entrance or send people through the streets announcing that their resident storyteller had only just returned from the investiture ceremony and had brought back firsthand information.

Who could have imagined things would go so unexpectedly smoothly?

So smoothly even they found it difficult to believe.

One by one, they were found.

Gathered together.

Then escorted into this temporary Marquis of Pingxi Residence.

Afterward, every one of them sat kneeling in neat rows on cushions.

Each man had a cup of tea.

A plate of snacks.

And brush, ink, paper, and inkstone.

Seven or eight clerks stood at the front holding booklets and began reading aloud the “life story” of Marquis Zheng.

At first, the professional storytellers, amateur storytellers, and newly minted storytellers were all somewhat bewildered.

But very quickly, they understood what was happening.

Then they lowered their heads and began writing furiously.

Anyone who could make a living in the jianghu with nothing but his mouth could not possibly be stupid.

Besides, most of these men were literate.

How could a storyteller who could not read study a script?

How could a funeral master who could not write compose elegiac couplets for a family?

What none of them knew was that beyond the curtain, Marquis Zheng himself was sitting in a grand chair, drinking tea.

The front line of public opinion and propaganda was something Marquis Zheng valued greatly.

Truthfully, even if there were no practical benefits at all, simply having his own story spread farther and farther still felt wonderful.

That point alone already matched the fundamental Demon King standard of conduct.

And beyond that, he could use public storytelling to polish and enrich the persona surrounding himself.

The Marquis of Zhenbei Residence had a century of accumulated foundation.

Li Liangting could sit there without moving and still live off old capital.

The Marquis of Pingxi Residence had only just been established.

As the first-generation Marquis, there was truly too much Zheng Fan still needed to do.

The clerks recited all the military merits and achievements Marquis Zheng had accumulated across the years, from first earning merit in the civilian-labor camp all the way to being made Marquis.

None of these deeds were secrets among the people.

Especially not to these storytellers.

For the past few years, the most popular stories in teahouses and wine shops had been those concerning Marquis Zheng.

But after everyone gathered here and listened from beginning to end again, even though the overwhelming majority of them already had white in their hair and beards, their blood still inevitably stirred.

No embellishment was needed.

No additions.

No exaggeration.

Simply recounting the facts exactly as they happened already sounded more like a story than a story did.

Once the clerks finished, the storytellers below began whispering among themselves, exchanging impressions and comparing notes.

Some wrote quickly.

Some slowly.

Omissions were inevitable.

And whatever they accidentally omitted might cost them an entire day’s reward money later.

They could not allow that.

At that moment, Marquis Zheng set down his teacup behind the curtain and coughed once.

The storytellers immediately fell silent.

They had known someone was sitting beyond the curtain.

They assumed it was probably some steward of the Marquis Residence.

Not one of them seriously imagined that the Marquis of Pingxi himself, whose power shook all beneath Heaven, had been sitting there with them while they listened to a complete retelling of his own life.

Come on.

Would the Marquis of Pingxi really be that bored?

Well.

Marquis Zheng genuinely would.

Now that their “capital” was being transferred to Fengxin City, there were mountains of things to handle.

Every Demon King had been assigned work.

Ironically, Zheng Fan, as Master, could only watch the Demon Kings run themselves ragged because there was no specific line of business he could personally take over.

So he found something to amuse himself with and came to listen.

“Gentlemen.”

Marquis Zheng spoke.

The storytellers immediately sat straight and listened.

“Our Marquis has campaigned for the state. He has rendered merit to the realm and virtue to the common people. The reason we gathered all of you here is not to sing praises of Our Marquis. It is because stories about Our Marquis are constantly repeated among the people. As one man repeats what another says, mistakes and falsehoods inevitably appear. In order to avoid damaging Our Marquis’s wise reputation, we invited all of you here. I hope that when you practice your trade in the future, you will exercise caution and care. That way, you will not have eaten the Marquis Residence’s tea and snacks today for nothing.”

The gathered storytellers immediately rose and bowed.

“We understand.”

“We understand.”

Zheng Fan nodded.

Then he continued:

“As for storytelling itself, that is your profession. You understand its tricks better than I do. Still, I do have one suggestion. If it is useful, listen. If it is useless, treat it as a joke. When telling a story, if the original material would take one day to finish, you can stretch it into two days...”

At that moment, one impatient young storyteller called out:

“My lord, how can a one-day story be told across two days?”

The other storytellers immediately looked at him with envy.

He had beaten them to the supporting line!

These days, most established storytellers brought disciples onto the stage, and the disciples handled the supporting remarks.

They had gotten rusty.

Rusty!

Behind the curtain, Marquis Zheng took another sip of tea.

Then he said unhurriedly:

“That is easy. Mix things into it. Naturally, you cannot mix in nonsense. You cannot randomly fabricate things. But butchers figured this out long ago. They inject water into pork to increase the weight. We can learn from them. Call it padding.”

“May I ask, my lord...”

“May I ask how to pad it?”

Now more men understood how to offer the supporting line.

Professionals after all.

“At the beginning of each story, first talk about the political situation in the various states. Talk about the Four Great Swordsmen. Talk about the local customs and scenery of each country. Then lead into the story. Once the story begins, review the earlier story again. Talk about the Marquis’s past. Talk about what came before. Then talk about the scenery at the time. Finally, leave off a piece. Control the timing well. Tell some of the actual story. But remember to leave a cliffhanger.”

For a moment, the whole hall filled with responses:

“So that’s how it is.”

“We have learned much.”

“Like being awakened by a blow to the head.”

“Truly enlightening.”

Marquis Zheng merely smiled.

He did not seriously believe he had taught them anything extraordinary.

Given the speed and range of information transmission in this era, if these storytellers did not already know tricks like that, the contents of their bellies would have been emptied long ago.

Then what would they use to earn grain?

He stood and left through the back door.

This residence was not large.

A new one was already being planned.

In fact, all of Fengxin City required another round of construction.

Put simply, after the campaign against Chu, Marquis Zheng had dug up so many aristocratic ancestral graves that the amount of hard currency in gold, silver, and jewels now sitting in his hands was truly enormous.

Distributing silver directly was impossible.

So according to the Blind Man’s plan, they intended to launch large-scale infrastructure construction and substitute work for relief.

That way, the newly arrived refugees would have silver in their hands.

With such a large market of demand, merchants would naturally chase profit and come.

That would, in turn, stimulate local prosperity.

Marquis Zheng truly did not possess much interest in gold and treasure.

He was not some lizard dragon that enjoyed building a nest out of coins.

To a certain degree, the reason the soldiers and civilians of Snow Sea Pass enjoyed such a high standard of living was precisely that the upper structure centered on Marquis Zheng possessed very little desire to hoard and preserve wealth.

A thousand pieces of gold spent can always be earned again.

With soldiers and grain, what the hell could I fail to obtain?

Did I not steal myself a Princess too?

If I ever became interested later, I could even steal the Empress Dowager back.

Yet in this age, buying fields for descendants, preserving family property, and burying hidden treasuries for later generations was the mainstream way of thinking.

All one could say was that Marquis Zheng and the Demon Kings had never thought that far ahead.

Even the words “century-long Marquis Residence” in the Emperor of Yan’s decree had not particularly moved Marquis Zheng.

Otherwise, why did everyone constantly joke that if things went badly, they could simply find somewhere to open an inn?

Their mentality was fundamentally one of sitting on a boat drinking wine while watching the flood drown everything beneath them.

“Master, the guest has been waiting for quite some time.”

Zheng Fan nodded, indicating that he understood.

The guest had arrived.

The guest had been waiting.

Marquis Zheng had known all along.

He had simply chosen to finish listening to his own story first.

He pushed open the door and entered the study.

Jing Renli immediately stood from his chair.

Then he knelt before Zheng Fan and saluted.

“This humble subject greets the Imperial Son-in-Law.”

Zheng Fan gave a quiet “Mm,” walked behind the desk, and sat down.

By habit, he reached toward a small covered dish on the desk, intending to take a sweet date and toss it into his mouth.

He hesitated.

Then covered it again.

Jing Renli rose and said:

“Imperial Son-in-Law, my King heard you were enfeoffed as Marquis in Yan and was extremely happy for you. This humble subject has also brought several congratulatory gifts.”

“Heh.”

Zheng Fan laughed.

This was genuinely amusing.

He had been enfeoffed as Marquis of Pingxi by Great Yan.

And yet the Regent of Chu still wanted to send him rewards.

“Rewards and such are not important. We’re family, after all.” Marquis Zheng spoke with exceptional warmth.

“Yes, Imperial Son-in-Law. Exactly.”

Zheng Fan tapped his fingers lightly against the desk.

“Family shouldn’t speak like two different households. Talking money hurts feelings.”

“Yes. Yes. Exactly.”

“Since we’re family, coming over and mooching a meal shouldn’t matter either, right? I’ve never heard of a decent household where a poor relative visits and they cannot even bear to spare him a bowl of rice. Isn’t that so?”

“Uh...”

“Tell that elder brother-in-law of mine that I’m short on grain. That is the one mouthful I’m lacking. Ask whether he can help me out a little. I’ll remember his kindness.”

“This...”

Jing Renli raised his head and looked toward the “Imperial Son-in-Law.”

The Imperial Son-in-Law’s expression was completely serious.

For a moment, Jing Renli became confused.

Which family had won this war?

“Imperial Son-in-Law, we... Great Chu has no grain either. It was you who led those troops...”

Originally, if the war front had remained around Zhennan Pass, Chu would certainly have struggled somewhat to supply grain and fodder, but it would not have been an impossible burden.

Squeeze a little harder and the front could still have been supported.

If the war had stopped there, Chu could have squeezed a little more and still spared some grain in order to maintain good relations with this “Imperial Son-in-Law.”

After all, the scale of Great Chu was far beyond that of eastern Jin.

The problem was that the flames of war had not remained at Zhennan Pass.

In fact, Zhennan Pass had been one of the places least affected by actual fighting.

Even at the end, when the armies of Yan and Chu withdrew from the Zhennan Pass line, neither side had fought any true siege or defense battle there.

Hundreds of thousands of Yan iron cavalry had entered Chu territory.

They had brought no grain supplies.

So they burned, killed, looted, ate as they went, carried away what they could, and burned whatever they could not carry.

By the time the Yan withdrew, northern Chu was almost entirely devastated.

Ying Capital itself had been destroyed in a sea of fire.

If one truly wanted to compare who lacked grain more, Chu was presently worse off than Yan.

Still, everything had two sides.

Yan proper and the Jin lands were northern regions. Over the next two years they might encounter extremely severe natural disasters.

More accurately, this year had already seen disasters begin.

And after year after year of war, the reserves had long since been emptied.

Now everyone had effectively folded their hands and begun waiting.

Waiting for what?

Popular uprisings.

Bandit suppression.

Or perhaps relief and pacification.

Chu, meanwhile, would face a very difficult year if the Regent were given a stable period to recover and reorganize.

But after next year, it would begin catching its breath.

Recovering its full strength was impossible.

But at least the trajectory would finally move upward from its absolute lowest point.

“No grain?” Zheng Fan asked.

“Imperial Son-in-Law, it is absolutely true. This winter, no one knows how many of Great Chu’s people will freeze or starve to death.”

“Tsk.”

Marquis Zheng held his forehead in deep helplessness.

Then sighed:

“That really is tragic. The common people are so innocent.”

“...” Jing Renli.

If this were not Fengxin City, if there were not armored Yan soldiers everywhere nearby, Jing Renli genuinely wanted to point at the man before him and roar:

“And whose fault is that?!”

Marquis Zheng drew a deep breath and raised his head.

Truthfully, his earlier words had not been intended purely as teasing or deliberate humiliation toward Jing Renli.

Because although the Blind Man had said eastern Jin would not suffer widespread starvation this winter, the diet of the people under Zheng Fan’s rule would probably become: potatoes in the morning, potatoes at noon, sweet potatoes at night.

Fine.

All the same damned flavor.

If nothing else, importing some grain from Chu to improve their diet would still be useful.

Eating the same starchy staple every day, especially mashed into paste, would make the quality of life rather depressing.

Even some rice would help.

Then at least they could make spicy shredded potatoes over rice?

Mm.

That still seemed like starch on starch.

Jing Renli saw Marquis Zheng suddenly begin frowning and assumed he had become angry.

So he hurriedly revealed his bottom card.

“The Empress Dowager is exceptionally fond of the Princess. She truly cannot bear to see the Princess suffer.”

Marquis Zheng’s attention immediately sharpened.

Ah.

Here came the real meat of the matter.

Marquis Zheng immediately smiled.

“Fine. This Marquis will arrange for the Princess to return home for a family visit immediately.”

“...” Jing Renli.

If this had happened in the past, once the Princess returned home to visit family, she definitely would never have been allowed to come back.

Her situation had been a humiliation to Chu.

A humiliation to the Qu Clan.

Now, however, Zheng Fan had already become Marquis and gained a frontier domain.

The Qu Clan had been reduced to half a breath.

And Chu people knew how to calculate business.

Was it more profitable to detain the Princess at home, or to let her continue serving as wife to the Marquis of Pingxi?

“Not that, Imperial Son-in-Law. My King’s meaning is that Great Chu still has the southern frontier. Grain can be transferred from the south.”

Zheng Fan’s gaze immediately darkened.

No matter how one dressed it up, Great Yan was still poor!

Its geography was bad.

Its land was not fertile enough.

Look at Qian.

Four years ago, Yan beat it half to death.

By the second year, the damned country had already recovered enough to rebuild the Three Frontiers defense line.

Look at Chu.

Its southern frontier still contained many Shanyue powers, yet Chu could still squeeze a considerable amount of resources from the region.

That was what it meant to possess deep foundations.

That was strategic depth.

Great Yan had huffed and puffed its way through swallowing the Three Jin lands.

Where was the strategic depth?

Where were the deep foundations?

After so much warfare, Yan had effectively gained another impoverished brother to support.

“What do you want?”

Zheng Fan’s voice turned cold.

Jing Renli hesitated.

Then said:

“Warhorses.”

Chu did raise horses domestically.

Otherwise, after Jing City burned, Liang Cheng could never have seized warhorses from the Chu and used them himself.

But in reality, if one wanted to maintain a large, organized cavalry corps, ten or twenty thousand horses barely even counted as something to fill the gaps between one’s teeth.

And terrain differed.

Climate differed.

The cost of horse breeding differed.

Even Qian’s entire horse-administration system, setting corruption aside, was barely enough to keep up appearances.

Twice now, once at Yupan City, then again in the campaign against Chu, the Chu had been bullied by Great Yan’s enormous cavalry formations.

So Chu now desperately wanted to build a cavalry corps of its own.

The lands of the Three Jin were relatively well suited for raising horses.

The Three Jin cavalry tradition itself had grown from that foundation.

And farther north, beyond the Tianduan Mountains, stretched the vast snowfield, which produced excellent warhorses.

The problem was that Zhennan Pass, Snow Sea Pass, and eastern Jin were all in the hands of Marquis Zheng.

In effect, Marquis Zheng had completely blocked the Chu from obtaining warhorses through outside channels.

Seeing the Marquis’s expression flicker, Jing Renli hurriedly added:

“Imperial Son-in-Law, my King said the price for warhorses can follow the old market rates. Payment can also be converted into grain, craftsmen, and anything else Great Chu possesses that the Imperial Son-in-Law requires.”

Truthfully, when Jing Renli first received this assignment, he had thought his King had gone mad.

Imperial Son-in-Law, Imperial Son-in-Law.

Were they truly treating Great Yan’s Marquis of Pingxi like their own family’s son-in-law?

Calling him Imperial Son-in-Law was nothing more than giving themselves a layer of dignity.

It let them tell themselves this was family fighting family.

And it made kneeling before him feel slightly less humiliating.

But had the man lost his mind?

Why would he ever trade warhorses to Chu?

Yet the Regent had been absolutely certain.

Certain enough to order Jing Renli to negotiate.

Marquis Zheng leaned back slightly.

Then said:

“This Marquis is a loyal subject of Great Yan.”

Jing Renli’s entire body sagged.

His face filled with disappointment.

Zheng Fan frowned.

Then helplessly rubbed between his brows several times.

Jing Renli was not Little Sixth Ji.

Little Sixth Ji understood the meaning hidden behind those words.

Jing Renli clearly did not.

With no better choice, Marquis Zheng sighed and added:

“It’ll cost extra.”

[End of Chapter 607]