027. The Ambitious Young Man

Opening, closing, and guarding the gates were the duties of the gatekeepers, and keeping the entrance clear was a responsibility they could not shirk. If it were anyone else blocking the way, the gatekeepers would certainly come out to persuade them to move. If it happened to be some farmer from the countryside, they might even extort a little something from him. Country folk didn’t have much money, so whatever they had—jujubes, cabbages, scallions, eggs—would be taken home to improve the family’s meals.

In these past two years, the cost of living in Chang’an had soared relentlessly. The meager salary provided by the authorities was no longer enough to feed a whole family. If one didn’t find a way to supplement it, putting food on the table became a genuine worry.

Still, everything required a discerning eye. Looking at these high-spirited young men in their fine clothes on horseback, one could only be grateful they didn’t cause more trouble. Who would dare intervene in their affairs, even if one wished to?

Since nothing could be done, the gatekeepers simply let them be. After all, they were only blocking the gate; it wasn’t as though they were committing murder or arson. Let them make their commotion as they pleased.

“In former days of the Kaiyuan era’s great prosperity, even the smallest town housed ten thousand families. Rice gleamed with fat, millet shone white, public and private granaries alike were bursting with abundance.”

Old Hu Bayi, the gatekeeper, always found time to reminisce with others about the glory days of the Tang dynasty. Speaking of the Kaiyuan era, when grain rotted in the granaries, cattle and horses roamed in great herds, and both officials and commoners prospered in a world where foreign envoys thronged the imperial court—Hu Bayi could talk for three days and nights without tiring. As long as there was someone to listen, he would not stop until he was foaming at the mouth.

“Now is not as good as the past,” was his constant refrain. Some said it was this very saying that led to his current sorry state. In his youth, he had been a minor clerk at the Censorate. Though only a lowly official, the pay was generous, the position respectable, and in no way inferior to those blue-robed petty officials in far-off counties. There was promise in it, too—the Censorate was a prestigious office, and after passing certain examinations, one could hope to rise to an inner post.

Thinking of past glories and comparing them to his present misfortune, the contrast was as stark as heaven and earth. With such a fate, it was no wonder he uttered his complaints—no one found it surprising. For all his grumbling, Hu Bayi was a kind man, well-liked in the neighborhood and never truly at fault for anything.

Besides, having served in the Censorate, Hu Bayi knew when to keep his grievances to himself. He would complain in private, but never in front of the county magistrate—not even under threat of death.

“Now is not as good as before, tsk tsk.” Hu Bayi glanced at the group of young lords wrestling and chasing one another in the open space outside the ward gate, shaking his head repeatedly.

“Back in the days when Emperor Xuanzong reigned, the imperial gates swung wide to nine heavens, and envoys from all nations paid homage. Borders expanded, the Huns were defeated in the north, the mountain tribes subdued in the south, and military might unified the lands—what majesty that was! In those days, sons of noble families vied to join the army and win glory and noble titles. Look at these foppish youths today—besides wrestling, playing ball, cockfighting, and consorting with courtesans, what serious business can they do? Why has our great Tang come to this, its mountains and rivers fallen, its golden age vanished? It’s all because of these idle wastrels. In the time of Taizong, everyone longed for progress, sovereign and subject were of one heart, the people were reliable, the Huns were struck in the north, the mountain tribes pacified in the south—what grandeur! Now, look at these fellows. Alas, truly things are not as they once were.”

Hu Bayi muttered these same old words over and over. As the sun set and everyone went home, with no one to answer, he found himself bored, shook his head, and dejectedly returned to the porter’s room.

Inside, seventeen-year-old gatekeeper Li Shisan was dozing on a Hu-style chair. Hearing the door creak, he lazily opened his eyes and muttered weakly, “Uncle Hu, you spend all day remembering the past, remembering the past—aren’t you tired? No matter how good the past was, it’s gone now. If you keep comparing then and now, how’s anyone supposed to live?”

Hu Bayi ignored him, strode over, grabbed the back of the chair, and gave it a sudden shake. Li Shisan leapt up in fright, breaking into a cold sweat and instantly wide awake.

Hu Bayi plopped down, crossed his legs in a relaxed pose, grinned, squinted his eyes, and asked with a sly smile, “Having trouble managing your young wife at home, eh? Don’t think just because you’re strong you can go at it day and night. I’m telling you as someone with experience: go slow and steady, there’s a long road ahead. Even the tastiest food will kill you if you eat too much.”

Li Shisan rubbed his eyes and retorted impatiently, “It’s not as bad as you say. I—I was practicing with Liang Fuhai and the others last night. Sure, it went on all night, but our efforts were put toward the right path.”

“Right, practicing? More like practicing with your wife in bed.”

“Believe it or not. In this world, if you’re born without good parents, everything’s a struggle. If your family’s poor, you can’t study. If you don’t study, you can’t read. Without literacy, you can’t become an official. And without becoming an official, how do you get ahead? Tell me, if we commoners don’t train ourselves, what else can we rely on? Should I end up like you, Uncle Hu, spending a lifetime stuck here as the king of the mountain?”

Hu Bayi cursed, “Get lost! Keep spouting nonsense and I’ll give you a thrashing.”

Li Shisan still wore a cheeky grin. He poked his head out to look at the crowd beyond the ward gate, then turned back, clicking his tongue in admiration. “Quite a gathering! Isn’t this what they call ‘ten years of silent study, one day famous throughout the land’? These young lords must be here for the Old Yang family in the northwest corner. Look at them—gone to the northwest for only two years and already come back as adjutants, proper ninth-rank officials. Uncle Hu, even at your best, you only ever made it to an outer clerk, didn’t you?”

Hu Bayi grabbed the teapot as if to strike him and barked, “Keep bringing up the past and I’ll give you a beating.”

Li Shisan feigned fear, “I wouldn’t dare, wouldn’t dare. Say no more.”

“What do you know, you brat? Do you have any idea how treacherous the world is? You see someone go away for two years and come back in glory, and you’re jealous, aren’t you? Not to discourage you, but if you went, you’d be lucky to have your bones brought home, let alone return in glory. How does that poem go? ‘Pity the bones by the River Without Rest, still the dream of a maiden in spring.’ Hey, don’t pout at me—I’ll explain it to you today.”

Hu Bayi often mangled poetry, and Li Shisan couldn’t be bothered to correct him. He waved his hand dismissively, “Enough, enough. ‘A general’s success is built on ten thousand bones’—you’ve said that… one, two, three, four… since this morning, you’ve said it four times! ‘What does it mean, a general’s glory is built on the corpses of foot soldiers? All you see is the general parading on horseback, never knowing how many widows weep at night, how many parents shed tears, how many orphans cry for food behind the scenes.’ Uncle Hu, doesn’t it tire you out, repeating this? Since ancient times, wealth has come with risk. You want expansion and another golden age, but fear death so much that you won’t even set foot on the battlefield. Aren’t you just contradicting yourself? Four times a day and you never get bored—what’s the fun in that?”

“You little rascal!” Hu Bayi couldn’t help but laugh.

“Well, you’re right there, Uncle Hu, and I know what you’re thinking—wealth comes with risk, that saying isn’t wrong. But plenty say it, and how many get rich? For this northwest campaign, do you know how many from our ward joined the army?”

Li Shisan blinked with feigned indifference.

Hu Bayi held up four fingers. “Four. Four lively lads! You want to know how the other three are doing now? I’ll tell you—Zhu Lao Jiu’s fourth son from West Inner Gate: dead. Manager Hu’s sixth boy from Pickle Shop at Cross Street: dead. Little Fan from Aunt Ge’s in North Alley—the one who could write with both hands—lost an arm and a leg, crippled.”

“Ah.” Li Shisan’s face turned grim. “Well, war always means death, doesn’t it?”

“Of course it does. But do you see who dies?”

“Who? Just common folk. Didn’t Old Yang’s eldest survive?”

“What? Yang the eldest? You think he’s a commoner—open your eyes! His father is the Marquis of Defending the Border! Don’t you know?”

“What? The Marquis of Defending the Border? I thought…” Li Shisan vaguely recalled hearing that Yang Zan, eldest of the northwest corner’s Yang family, had a father who’d been a battalion commander in Hebei, later killed in chaos and branded a traitor by the court. Though the family was eventually cleared, they were utterly ruined.

“How could his family be connected to a marquisate? If he really was ennobled, then he’s no commoner,” Li Shisan muttered, half believing.

“He was also made Lord of Pingshan by imperial decree—you know that?”

Li Shisan was still digesting the previous revelation when Hu Bayi dropped another bombshell.

“What?! He has a noble title too?” Li Shisan’s mouth nearly dropped open wide enough to fit an egg.

“Surprised? And that blind old woman is a third-rank county lady. Bet you didn’t know that, either.”

Li Shisan was dumbfounded, thoroughly shaken. He’d lived in Fengyi Ward for eighteen years, thinking he knew every nook and cranny, yet had no idea there lived a titled lady and a viscount of the court among his neighbors.

He raised his right hand, hooked two fingers as if to gouge out his own eyes—what use were they if he was so blind?

But a moment later, he laughed, his nose and eyebrows scrunched together. “Heh, Uncle Hu, you’re just making fun of me, right? Don’t take me for a fool. The court has the privilege system—sons of nobles inherit their fathers’ rank, can become officials without having to hang themselves from beams or prick themselves with awls or get up at dawn to practice. Like the saying goes, so long as you’re born well, good things come your way.”

He winked. “So, Uncle Hu, according to you, Yang the eldest must be a fool. His parents paved the way—why bother joining the army? Oh, I heard the battlefield’s dangerous. A great man once said, ‘A general’s success is built on ten thousand bones.’ Every successful general stands atop a heap of dead foot soldiers. How tragic, how desolate, utterly heartless! If even blockheads like Yang the eldest can become officials, then truly the present is nowhere near the past.”

He made a show of beating his chest, then grinned, “Isn’t that so, Uncle Hu?”

Hu Bayi shot him a look and clicked his tongue, “Oh, not bad, you even know about the privilege system. Promising, promising.”

Li Shisan kept up the act, “I don’t know much—please, Uncle Hu, teach me more.”

Hu Bayi snorted, “Then let me tell you—why did he go to the border? Nothing strange about it. It’s quicker to earn merit in the military. He enlisted at fourteen, came back at sixteen, and now he’s a ninth-rank official. If you took the regular route and waited for the Ministry of Personnel to appoint you, you’d be waiting until the end of time.”

“Even so, isn’t it still a case of ‘a general’s success is built on ten thousand bones’? Swords and arrows have no eyes—what if he dies?”

“Die? That’s you. Do you know his station? Son of a noble, titled by the emperor himself. He won’t die!”

“He won’t die? Clay pots break at the well, generals die in battle. Swords and arrows are blind, Uncle Hu!”

“Generals die in battle? What a joke! Houses collapse on people at home, and even drinking cold water can choke a man. You can’t take plays for real life. These days, it’s good enough if a general leads from the rear—who still charges into battle? That masked commander in the ‘Lament of Lanling King’—that’s just theater, meant to deceive the naive, my silly boy.”

“All right, all right, so generals are cowards and ‘Lanling King’ is just drama. But Yang the eldest isn’t a general—he’s just a foot soldier. Don’t foot soldiers have to charge? Or does everyone just sit around playing drinking games, and the one with the worst tolerance loses?”

Hu Bayi snorted with disdain, “You’ve got some brains, but too little experience. You don’t understand, but won’t admit it! I’ll tell you this: there are foot soldiers safer than generals. Some generals still get hit by stray arrows, but there are soldiers who can’t even be wounded by those. They never go anywhere—just stay in the central camp with the commander-in-chief. As long as the commander is safe, so are they. Don’t try to argue that the commander can die—the emperor himself can die, too. If a battle gets to where the commander is killed, that’s total defeat and the state will be surrendering territory, marrying off princesses, even the emperor is doomed.”

Li Shisan seethed inside. He found Hu Bayi’s words deeply unsatisfying—what sort of army was this, with soldiers who never fought? If that were true, could the Tang dynasty be saved?

After fuming for a while, Li Shisan’s eyes suddenly lit up as he found a counterargument.

“No, Uncle Hu, that can’t be right. Think about it: if you can join the army without fighting and earn merit quickly, why aren’t all those young men out there doing it? Why hang around Chang’an playing with roosters and dogs? If they could just serve a couple of years on the frontier and get the same, wouldn’t they all go?”

Li Shisan felt he’d raised an unanswerable point: if being a soldier was so safe and rewarding, why didn’t everyone take the shortcut? It didn’t make sense.

Hu Bayi glared at him, “Didn’t I say you don’t understand? The army, no matter how good, can’t compare to the comfort of Chang’an! No central camp is as warm as a lover’s bed. If someone can sit at home, drink wine, listen to music, and hold beauties in his arms, why would he endure hardship in the army? Only families like the Yangs, who’ve had terrible luck and fallen on hard times, are forced to seek a way up.”

Li Shisan’s bravado vanished—this time, he was truly convinced. Having served in the Censorate, Hu Bayi’s insight was beyond ordinary. None of Li’s family or friends could have explained things this way.

In their world, landing the job of gatekeeper was enough to boast about to the neighbors.

“Ahem, Uncle Hu, I’ll go make you some tea.” Li Shisan hopped out of the porter’s room.

At the street corner was a deli run by Honest Zhao, who sold sesame cakes, cooked meat, and pickles, while his wife, Qin Fourth Lady, sold brewed tea.

The glow of the evening sun reddened half the sky and the little Zhao shop. The door was half open, and the iron kettle whistled with steam.

“Are they busy together again?” Not seeing the couple, Li Shisan muttered to himself, grabbed the kettle, and covered the stove.

From the dark crack in the door came a burst of laughter. Having recently become “experienced,” Li Shisan immediately understood.

“They’re at it again, shameless pair.” He pressed his ear to the window, stepping as lightly as a cat. Inside, alongside the laughter and moans, came a rhythmic thumping.

Li Shisan poked a hole in the paper window and peeked in: by the dough table stood a man, holding up two white legs, trembling.

Stifling his laughter, Li Shisan tiptoed back to the street, cleared his throat, and shouted, “Mother Qin, make me a bowl of tea!”

Instant silence in the shop.

“Got it—!”

A woman’s powerful voice rang out, unseen.

“Less ginger, more salt,” Li Shisan called, both teasing and kindly reminding them—salt prices had risen again, and lately Qin Fourth Lady’s tea had more ginger and less salt, making it barely drinkable.

“Got it—!” This time it was Honest Zhao’s voice, much less forceful than his wife’s.

“Zhao, take it easy—slow and steady, there’s a long road ahead,” Li Shisan called, unable to hold back his laughter.

Bang! Something crashed to the floor inside the shop.

Having educated the Zhaos on the proper way of married life, Li Shisan snickered as he returned to the porter’s room.

The crowd outside the ward gate had grown, more young lords in fine clothing and on spirited horses, bored and forming a ring to play ball, raising clouds of dust and shouts like thunder.

Li Shisan cursed inwardly. After Hu Bayi’s “lesson,” his outlook had shifted, the world seemed grayer, people more treacherous, and he found himself full of pent-up resentment.

“Uncle Hu, the tea’s on its way. Honest Zhao and his wife… heh heh…”

“Don’t mock them. This time next year, if your wife’s belly isn’t swollen, just wait—your mother’ll lock you up every day.”

“Oh please, next year I won’t even be in Chang’an. I’ve lived here eighteen years, and I’m sick of it.”

“You rascal!” Hu Bayi smacked Li Shisan on the head. “All my talk wasted on you. Joining the army isn’t something families like ours can afford. If your family were starving, I wouldn’t stop you from enlisting—might even give you some travel money. But your lot is better than some, worse than others—be content.”

“Better than some, worse than others—is living just about filling your belly? I want to go out and make something of myself. I’m the thirteenth, and no one’s counting on me to carry on the family line.”

The Li family, in Fengyi Ward, was considered well-off: many members, a hundred acres of land outside the city, several shops inside, and relatives working as petty officials. All in all, quite a respectable family.

———