Settling Down and Making a Home

When a man encounters joyous events, his spirits soar, and with good spirits, his appetite improves as well. Ever since leaving Chang’an, Li Xi’s mood and appetite had been exceptionally good. With the official pass gifted by Chen Hongzhi, Li Xi spent his journey leisurely, traveling through mountains and waters. The Tang Dynasty was a land devoted to Buddhism and Daoism—there was hardly a prefecture or county without a temple or monastery.

After eating his way through four thousand miles, Li Xi noticed not just himself, but everyone in the party had grown rosy and healthy. Especially Cui Yingying, once slim and timid, had been nourished into a plump, adorable young lady. Mu Yaxin, knowing well that Li Xi disliked women with a heavy figure, purposefully controlled her diet throughout the journey; yet even so, she gained ten pounds, becoming curvier and more alluring, her beauty ever more radiant.

They stayed a few days in Chenzhou, during which Li Xi followed Li Haishan—whose official name was Li Lao San—learning the ropes of a new official’s responsibilities. Calculating the time, it was almost New Year, so Li Xi took his leave and continued south.

Upon assuming office as the new Chenzhou Training Officer, Li Haishan’s first directive was to assign a junior officer and fifty robust local soldiers to escort Li Xi to Shaozhou. One might think that after traversing four thousand miles, what trouble could arise over these mere four hundred miles? In truth, the further south Li Xi traveled, the more perilous the road became, and before reaching Chenzhou, the journey was already fraught with danger.

Before departing Chang’an, Li Xi had exchanged all his eight thousand coins for gold bars and silver ingots. Though still heavy, their compact size made them less conspicuous when split up for transport. To outsiders, he appeared simply as a regular official heading south for his post, not someone with riches to be plundered; thus, few targeted him.

In the Capital Circuit, the party took official routes and stayed at government stations, always within the empire’s core territory—tightly controlled, with little risk. Even when Li Xi occasionally flashed his seal as a Monastic Inspector to solicit tribute from nearby temples, he was prudent, never seeking out remote places for paltry sums, nor risking encounters with bandits.

Moreover, though the Guanzhong region had many temples, the spoils were not abundant. The large, prosperous temples were protected by high-ranking officials, and for a ninth-rank inspector like Li Xi, they showed polite hospitality, offering gifts and observing formalities, but little in terms of real profit.

As for the small temples, incense was sparse; even if you flayed the abbot, you’d barely scrape together a few pounds of spoils.

With little wealth on his person and under the emperor’s watchful eye, Li Xi traveled safely through Guanzhong. But once he entered the Shan’nan East Circuit, things changed. The south of Tang had been peaceful for generations, with less turmoil and greater prosperity among the people than the north. Temples here were numerous and busy with worshippers, and, being distant from Chang’an, the monks seldom had powerful patrons. Thus, they revered Li Xi, lavishing him with generous offerings.

With more goods in hand, Li Xi would sell off items he didn’t need or couldn’t carry whenever they reached a town, but even so, the load kept increasing. He had to add more carts and porters—two became four, four became eight, eight became sixteen.

Upon entering Jingnan, Li Xi hired thirty-five more porters and eight horses; by the time they reached Hunan, he enlisted another twenty porters. With people carrying, shouldering, and hauling goods, his party had grown into a grand procession.

This growing entourage brought greater danger. The southern regions were far from the capital, with fewer major cities and less strict law enforcement—accidents were frequent, and minor dangers constant. Fortunately, Li Xi, Li Haishan, and their companions were all seasoned veterans, unperturbed by petty thieves.

Additionally, Zhang Long, Zhao Hu, and Zhang Mo were skilled fighters; ordinary folks stood no chance against them. Especially Zhang Long and Zhao Hu—had Li Xi not strictly restrained them, who knows how many lives they would have claimed along the way.

Looking back, Li Xi felt grateful toward Guo Zhonggong; if not for his sending Zhang Long and Zhao Hu to accompany him, the journey would never have been completed. After his gratitude, Li Xi began to resent Chen Hongzhi; had it not been for his inspector’s seal, he would not have ended up so harried.

Still, complaints aside, Li Xi understood Chen Hongzhi’s intent: Chen was using him to amass wealth. Of the two hundred thousand coins Li Xi had collected along the way, he suspected at least half would have to be offered to Chen.

Did Li Xi dream of keeping it all for himself? Impossible. Chen was now the Military Supervisor of the Lingnan Circuit, a lofty figure. To kill a minor staff officer like Li Xi would be as easy as crushing an ant.

Understanding this, Li Xi realized that although he’d been manipulated, he’d also found a shortcut to promotion and fortune. With Chen Hongzhi shielding him from above, he could earn vast sums, and with the Military Supervisor as his patron, who in Shaozhou would dare cause him trouble? Nonetheless, Li Xi decided to curse Chen Hongzhi in his heart—how dare you use me as your lucky charm, making me worry and toil to collect wealth for you? That damned old eunuch, it serves you right to never find love.

With fifty sturdy local soldiers escorting him, and Zhang Long and Zhao Hu leading the way, the four hundred miles from Chenzhou to Shaozhou passed smoothly and safely. Along the way, a few minor bandit groups tried their luck, but seeing armored riders with bows, they immediately retreated and disappeared.

Southern bandits were generally weak; a group of thirty or fifty could dominate an area. If they had a few bows, they’d proudly paint “Pacify [Name]” on their banners, thinking themselves invincible. If only they knew that in northwest Jingxi, Linzhou and Xiazhou, the horse bandits numbered in the hundreds or thousands, equipped better than government troops, with dyed banners and thousands under their command, who could besiege cities and toy with tens of thousands of imperial soldiers—they’d be so ashamed they’d want to smash their heads against a block of tofu.

Upon reaching Shaozhou’s border, the prefect, Chang Huaide, sent staff officer Zhang Si and thirty local soldiers to welcome them. The group followed the official route, ensuring an even safer journey.

Shaozhou lay in the mountains, with 9,664 households. The prefecture stretched six hundred forty miles east to west and four hundred fifty miles north to south. It was four hundred ten miles northwest to Chenzhou in Hunan, five hundred miles west to Lianzhou in Hunan, five hundred fifty miles northeast to Qianzhou in Jiangxi, and five hundred thirty miles southwest, by water, to Guangzhou, where the Lingnan Circuit Commander resided. The Shaozhou government shared its city with Qujiang County; the city itself was small, located west of the Zhen River, with only four streets running east, west, south, and north, and fewer than ten thousand residents.

At the beginning of his appointment, Li Xi and his family were temporarily settled in the guesthouse under the prefectural office. Naturally, a new official had to go through the rounds of social engagements, knowing what to do and what not to do. Li Xi had already mastered these while shadowing Li Haishan in Chenzhou.

The rules and unspoken codes of the bureaucracy—Li Haishan, ever eager to teach, had explained them countless times during the journey. As for Shaozhou’s officialdom, Li Xi had already inquired about it thoroughly through contacts at the Lingnan Submission Office before leaving the capital.