I liked Xin’an.
This concerned me.
The room Father had arranged was smaller than mine in Luoyang.
The bed was harder.
The wine was worse.
And several thousand soldiers apparently believed sunrise was something that needed to be shouted at.
Still.
Nobody wanted me to command anything.
This compensated for many faults.
By the time Xu An entered, I had already decided Xin’an possessed considerable potential.
“Young Master, General Duan is waiting.”
I looked toward the window.
The sun was barely above the wall.
“Does he always begin military affairs this early?”
“I believe that is common.”
“That explains why generals look so unhappy.”
Xu An set down my outer robe.
I continued eating.
“He asked that you inspect the defenses with him.”
I stopped chewing.
“The defenses?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Xu An considered this.
“Perhaps because you are here.”
Terrible reason.
I looked at the robe.
Then at breakfast.
One of them required considerably less walking.
Unfortunately, Father would eventually hear which I chose.
I stood.
“Fine.”
Xu An handed me the robe.
“This place was much better ten breaths ago.”
General Duan began with the walls.
This was already disappointing.
I had been sent to inspect stores, roads and transport.
Walls were famously difficult to transport.
Still, I followed.
Duan Wei pointed toward a section of packed earth reinforced with timber.
“That portion weakened during the rains last season. We rebuilt it two months ago.”
I looked at it.
Large.
Brown.
Very wall-like.
He waited.
I suspected an opinion was expected.
“Does it remain standing?”
“Yes.”
“Then I support the repairs.”
Duan Wei looked at me.
Xu An coughed into his sleeve.
We continued.
Below us, soldiers drilled in the yard.
Hundreds of spears rose together.
Turn.
Advance.
Withdraw.
Again.
The sound of boots struck the ground hard enough to travel through the wall beneath my feet.
Duan Wei stopped.
“These men came down from the northern posts.”
“They look busy.”
“They have seen combat.”
“That explains the enthusiasm.”
He looked at me again.
Perhaps that had been the wrong conclusion.
One officer nearby appeared to be waiting for me to comment on the formation.
I gave him nothing.
Eventually Duan Wei asked:
“Young Master has trained with spear or halberd?”
“No.”
“Sword?”
“Technically.”
His eyes moved to the weapon at my side.
I touched the hilt.
“I own one.”
A very different achievement.
The officer looked away.
We moved on.
The cavalry yard was worse.
Much worse.
There were horses everywhere.
Large ones.
Loud ones.
One turned its head toward me.
I distrusted the expression immediately.
Duan Wei noticed I had stopped.
“Would Young Master like to inspect the cavalry?”
“From here?”
“You would see more from the yard.”
“I already see enough horses.”
He studied me.
“You do ride?”
“I am capable of riding.”
“Then why did Young Master arrive by carriage?”
I looked toward the nearest horse.
It stamped one hoof.
Exactly.
“A carriage has walls.”
Duan Wei waited.
I elaborated.
“A roof.”
Still nothing.
“A floor.”
The officer beside him finally lowered his head.
I suspected this was becoming enjoyable for everyone except me.
Duan Wei said:
“I see.”
He absolutely did not.
But he mercifully turned away from the cavalry yard.
My opinion of him improved.
Then we reached the stores.
Finally.
Something I had been sent to look at.
The quartermaster produced three registers.
I opened the first.
Grain.
Good.
Simple.
Boring.
Safe.
Perfect.
Registered amount.
Actual amount.
Spoilage.
Daily consumption.
What could be moved.
How quickly.
The quartermaster answered every question while looking at General Duan first.
After the seventh time, I stopped.
“Is he going to answer for you?”
The man blinked.
“No, Young Master.”
“Then why do you keep asking his face for permission?”
Duan Wei said nothing.
The quartermaster swallowed.
“I meant no disrespect.”
“I know. I am trying to save your neck muscles.”
Xu An's shoulders moved.
We continued.
Twenty-eight carts were recorded.
Twenty-three could move.
“Where are the other five?”
“Under repair.”
I looked down at the register.
“Then you have twenty-three carts.”
“Twenty-eight in total, Young Master.”
“Can the broken ones carry grain?”
“No.”
“Can they move soldiers?”
“No.”
“Can they travel west?”
“No.”
I tapped the number.
“Then you have twenty-three carts and five wooden ambitions.”
Silence.
General Duan's mouth moved.
Very slightly.
Good.
At least somebody appreciated administration.
The oxen were worse.
Forty-one listed.
Thirty-six healthy enough to pull loaded carts.
I changed the number.
The quartermaster looked alarmed.
“But Young Master, the five are still alive.”
“I am delighted for them.”
I wrote thirty-six.
“This register is for moving things, not celebrating survival.”
The man stared.
Duan Wei finally stepped closer.
“The five may recover.”
“Then when they recover, they may rejoin society.”
Xu An made a small sound.
I looked at him.
“Are you ill?”
“No, Young Master.”
Suspicious.
By the third storehouse I was tired.
There were grain sacks stacked along one wall.
I sat on one.
The quartermaster froze.
I looked down.
“Is this sacred?”
“No.”
“Then we are fine.”
Outside, soldiers shouted in rhythm.
Inside, I remained seated on government grain.
The contrast apparently bothered the quartermaster.
He glanced toward the door.
Then at me.
I knew what he was thinking.
Thousands of men were training.
Dong Zhuo's son was sitting on millet.
Correct.
General Duan entered a few moments later.
He looked at me.
Then at the grain sack.
Then at the register in my hand.
I raised it.
“Your eastern storehouse is short seventeen shi.”
The quartermaster stiffened.
Duan Wei's attention changed.
“Short?”
“According to this.”
I passed him the register.
“Either the last issue was recorded incorrectly or somebody has discovered a new way to feed soldiers without reducing grain.”
The quartermaster went pale.
Much better.
Now everyone had stopped caring that I was sitting.
Duan Wei read the figures.
“Check it again.”
The quartermaster bowed quickly and left.
Duan Wei remained.
“You noticed that?”
“There were numbers.”
“Yes.”
“They disagreed.”
“Yes.”
I looked at him.
“What else was I supposed to do with them?”
He said nothing.
I returned to the next page.
A minute later he left too.
Good.
Perhaps I was finally teaching military men that if they left me alone with paperwork, everyone benefited.
The soldiers learned who I was by midday.
This became obvious because conversations developed strange illnesses whenever I walked past.
Men would be talking normally.
Then see me.
Silence.
Then I passed.
Talking resumed.
Very subtle.
At one point, Xu An and I walked behind a storage building.
Two soldiers were standing on the other side.
One said:
“That is him?”
“The Young Master?”
“Yes.”
I stopped.
Xu An stopped with me.
“He came in a carriage.”
“I saw.”
“I heard he refuses horses.”
“That cannot be true.”
“It is.”
A pause.
“Why?”
Excellent question.
The second soldier lowered his voice.
“I heard he fell off one.”
I frowned.
Xu An looked at me.
“That is false.”
“I know.”
“I have never fallen off a horse.”
“No.”
“I simply hate them.”
“Yes.”
Important distinction.
The first soldier said:
“His Excellency really sent him to inspect grain?”
“Apparently.”
“What else would you give him?”
I considered this.
Fair.
Then:
“I heard he drinks all day.”
Unfair.
Sometimes I slept.
Xu An's shoulders moved.
I looked at him.
“If you laugh, I will replace you.”
“With whom?”
Good question.
I continued walking.
Behind us, the soldiers suddenly stopped speaking.
They had probably finally realized the person they were discussing had been standing six steps away.
I felt generous enough not to turn around.
That afternoon, General Duan showed me the western road.
This was more useful.
Carts were already moving through in both directions.
Military wagons.
Supply wagons.
Private carts.
Officials.
Servants.
Animals.
People preparing for an evacuation that officially had not begun yet.
I watched for several minutes.
Then pointed.
“That cart stopped.”
Duan Wei looked.
One wagon had halted near the gate while another tried to pass.
The second became stuck behind it.
Then a third.
Then two riders tried to squeeze between them.
Within moments, an entire section of road had stopped moving.
Duan Wei frowned.
I pointed again.
“That.”
“Yes.”
“That is going to happen with several thousand frightened officials.”
“Yes.”
“And their wives.”
“Yes.”
“And their servants.”
“Yes.”
“And every chest they suddenly decide contains the ancestral dignity of their family.”
Duan Wei looked at me.
“That may be less exaggerated than Young Master intends.”
Wonderful.
Government remained my enemy.
I watched two soldiers finally pull the first wagon aside.
The road began moving again.
“How many carts can pass the gate in an hour?”
Duan Wei called for an officer.
The officer gave a number.
I looked at the road.
Then at him.
“That many?”
“Yes, Young Master.”
“While empty?”
He paused.
“When loaded?”
A different number.
“During normal traffic?”
Another pause.
Duan Wei's expression flattened.
The officer corrected himself.
I sighed.
“Why does everyone keep giving me the number they wish were true?”
Nobody answered.
Probably because that question extended beyond military logistics into philosophy.
By the following morning, General Duan had stopped escorting me everywhere.
Success.
He had officers.
I had clerks.
We had both discovered peace.
Several captains gathered around a military map while I sat at the opposite end of the room with transport records.
They discussed patrol routes.
Scouting.
Cavalry screens.
Approaches from the east.
Nobody asked me anything.
I almost smiled.
One captain glanced toward me once.
Perhaps he remembered who my father was.
Perhaps he thought he should include me.
General Duan continued speaking without looking over.
The captain relaxed.
So did I.
This was exactly how authority should work.
Competent people performed difficult tasks.
I sat far away from them.
Everyone prospered.
By midday, I understood General Duan's opinion of me.
Not because he said anything.
He was too disciplined for that.
But yesterday he had explained every military detail.
Today he no longer bothered.
An officer brought news about cavalry patrols.
Duan Wei handled it.
Another reported repairs near the eastern approach.
Handled.
A captain requested additional archers.
Handled.
I continued calculating how many carts could reach Xin’an before the western route clogged itself to death.
At one point, Duan Wei looked toward me.
I looked back.
He looked at my registers.
Then returned to his officers.
Perfect.
He had finally understood me.
I was useless to him.
This was perhaps the first professional relationship in my life developing exactly as intended.
The horn sounded in the afternoon.
Once.
Then again.
The room changed immediately.
Three officers stopped speaking.
Duan Wei stood.
Footsteps approached from outside.
Fast.
A scout entered, dusty and breathing hard.
“General.”
Duan Wei moved toward him.
“Report.”
“Large enemy movement east of the approaches.”
“How large?”
“Still counting.”
That sounded inconvenient.
Another scout arrived not long after.
Then another.
The estimates grew.
Twelve thousand.
Eighteen.
More banners behind them.
Multiple contingents.
The officers moved to the map.
I remained where I was.
There was little reason for me to contribute.
Eventually Duan Wei looked over.
“Young Master.”
Unfortunately.
I joined them.
He pointed east.
“Coalition forces are concentrating here and here.”
I nodded.
“How many?”
“Latest estimate is close to thirty thousand.”
I looked at the marks on the map.
Then at him.
“Thirty thousand?”
“Yes.”
That was significantly more soldiers than I preferred existing nearby.
“Can you hold?”
“Yes.”
He answered immediately.
Good.
I stepped away from the map.
One younger officer stared at me.
I noticed.
“What?”
His eyes flicked toward Duan Wei.
Then back.
“Nothing, Young Master.”
That answer I understood.
General Duan said:
“The enemy may test the defenses by tomorrow.”
“All right.”
The officer looked even more confused.
Perhaps he expected me to make a speech.
Or draw a sword.
Or ask for command of the cavalry.
Idiotic ideas.
I pointed toward Duan Wei.
“He said he can hold.”
The officer said carefully:
“Yes.”
I pointed toward myself.
“I cannot.”
Silence.
“So I think we have identified the correct man.”
General Duan looked at me.
Then, unexpectedly, one of the older captains laughed.
Only once.
The younger officer looked horrified.
I returned to the transport table.
By evening, Xin’an had changed completely.
More men occupied the walls.
Cavalry patrols returned.
Weapons and bundles moved toward designated positions.
Messengers crossed the courtyards constantly.
The joking I had heard among soldiers disappeared.
General Duan seemed to exist everywhere at once.
I remained near the stores.
A quartermaster came asking which wagons could be emptied if military supplies needed immediate transport.
This was at least a problem I understood.
We worked through the list.
Three carts carried cloth.
Empty them.
Two carried pottery.
Empty them.
Two carried wine.
I looked at the quartermaster.
He looked at me.
I looked at the register again.
“Military necessity is a terrible phrase.”
He waited.
“Empty one.”
He bowed.
Cruel.
Night came.
The eastern walls remained crowded.
Torches moved along the fortifications.
Beyond them, somewhere in the darkness, thirty thousand enemy soldiers were settling into positions.
I stood outside for a while.
Not because I suddenly cared about military affairs.
The room was hot.
That was all.
Xu An joined me.
“Do you think they will attack?”
“Probably.”
“You do not seem concerned.”
I looked toward the walls.
Ten thousand soldiers.
Fortifications.
Officers.
Duan Wei.
Then I looked at Xu An.
“Do you know how to command ten thousand men?”
“No.”
“Neither do I.”
“That has never stopped important men before.”
I looked at him.
That was disturbingly profound.
“Do not become interesting. I rely on you for simpler things.”
He bowed.
“Of course.”
I returned my attention to the walls.
Thirty thousand men outside.
Ten thousand men inside.
A professional general responsible for all of them.
And me.
Responsible for carts.
For once, the world had divided responsibilities correctly.
Somewhere beyond the eastern darkness, men were preparing for battle.
I went inside to finish counting oxen.