"If there is a next life, live it well and don't do bad things."
On a frost-covered morning in October, Wu Qian led his auxiliary soldiers out to clean up the battlefield.
He had just seen the body of a thirteen or fourteen-year-old boy lying stiff on the ground, his face twisted in pain, which stirred a deep sense of sorrow in him.
After sighing, he bent down and, together with the auxiliary soldiers, loaded the body onto a cart.
The auxiliary soldier across from him was new, a remnant of the defeated Manfen troops who had only been enlisted for a little over four months and had only fought in one battle, which ended in a complete rout.
Seeing the corpse, his face turned pale, but that didn't stop him from quickly rummaging through the body's pockets.
Indeed, he found a few copper coins.
Wu Qian pointed to the bamboo basket on the cart, and the auxiliary soldier obediently tossed the coins into it.
The rule was clear: all spoils were to be handed over and distributed uniformly.
This was an ironclad rule established from the very beginning.
The veterans were used to it, and the newcomers, under their influence, had also come to accept it.
The cart creaked forward but soon came to a halt again.
Wu Qian flipped over another body and said, "All the wounds are on the chest. Why so stubborn? Your parents raised you with great difficulty. Next time, remember to surrender earlier."
The auxiliary soldier across from him picked up a spear and placed it on another cart.
As he walked over, he and Wu Qian skillfully stripped the leather armor from the body.
The armor was damaged in many places, but it could still be patched up and used.
Good leather armor wasn't cheap, after all.
Made from horsehide, cowhide, pigskin, or even deer hide, the value of leather armor varied depending on the material.
This particular set seemed to be made from layered pigskin—not the best, but still better than nothing for the soldiers.
On the other side, another cart was being loaded.
Two auxiliary soldiers, one in front and one behind, collected several notched ring-pommel swords.
There were specialists among the auxiliary soldiers who could repair weapons, and these swords would be reforged into good blades again.
Damaged horses and draft animals were also being processed.
Most were butchered on the spot, with the hides taken and the meat carried away to improve the meals for the soldiers, who were tired of their bland rations.
Even the tendons of the animals were collected by specialists, as they were useful for making bows.
Similarly, arrows that had been shot could be retrieved, carefully inspected, and most could be reused.
The joy of cleaning up the battlefield lay in this—the sense of abundant harvest.
The cart filled with spoils was soon overflowing, and Wu Qian led a group of men escorting over twenty carts back to the city.
The war was over, and there weren't many people on the post road, but a few well-informed individuals were already rushing into the city with their carts.
As they passed a stretch of farmland, they encountered a traffic jam, with many carts blocking the road.
Wu Qian had no choice but to order his men to stop.
He craned his neck to see what was going on and spotted a few scholars in tall hats and wide belts pointing at the farmland.
One of them looked familiar.
Wait, wasn't that Wang Yan? Wu Qian pricked up his ears to listen to their conversation.
"Yan Guo, you've been staring for a while. Have you figured anything out?" Wang Yan, sitting in his cart, asked impatiently.
"You old fool, stop bothering me!" Huwu Fuzhi scolded, continuing to gaze at the fields.
Wang Yan laughed heartily, unbothered.
Huwu Fuzhi was known for his eccentric behavior, a true scholar's demeanor.
His son, Huwu Qianzhi, wasn't as learned as his father, but both father and son loved to drink.
Once, Huwu Qianzhi saw his father drinking with someone and called out, "Yan Guo, you're getting old. You can't keep drinking like this. And if you drink every day, you'll leave me so poor that I'll have to face the neighbors bare-assed."
Huwu Fuzhi wasn't fazed and laughed, inviting his son to join him.
And so, the father and son "drank merrily."
"Yan Guo..."
Wang Yan waited for a while, growing impatient again, and urged, "Listen!" Huwu Fuzhi made a gesture, telling Wang Yan to calm down.
Wang Yan suspiciously leaned out, tilting his head to listen.
He had already seen that Shao Xun, the Commandant of the Eastern Sea Kingdom, was leading a group of soldiers in plowing the fields.
What was so interesting or worth listening to about that?
"Brother in the city, brother outside, bow without a string, arrow without a tip."
A faint, mournful song drifted from the distance.
"With no food left, how shall we live?" someone sang in response, their voice trembling.
"Save me!"
"Save me!"
Everyone in the fields joined in.
"Haha, wonderful!" Huwu Fuzhi exclaimed, dancing with joy.
He immediately had someone bring him paper and a brush, intending to record the song he had just heard.
Wu Qian chuckled.
He had heard this song before and even knew how to sing it.
It had started with Commandant Shao and later spread widely among the Silver Spear Army.
As for the plowing, it was indeed Shao Xun leading the effort.
As soon as the war ended, he had organized people to rush to plant wheat, not wasting any time, as it was already a bit late.
In fact, in Henan at this time, not many people planted winter wheat; millet was the main crop.
But Shao Xun believed that with the frequent wars in Luoyang, it was rare to have a moment of peace.
It was better to plant a batch of wheat, which could be harvested by May of the following year.
If there was still no war by then, they could plant another round of miscellaneous grains to fill up the granaries.
Since there was a severe shortage of oxen, and plowing with horses was too shallow—not to mention the lack of horses—Shao Xun led the soldiers in plowing the fields by hand, just as he would lead them in battle.
Wu Qian watched for a while, feeling increasingly moved.
Shao Xun had said, "There are no good people in Luoyang," and he himself wasn't exactly a saint.
But leading the soldiers in plowing the fields to ensure they had enough to eat, rather than just exploiting the common people—what was that called? Ah, yes, the "great benevolence" that the scholars spoke of.
Great benevolence and great courage—this was truly someone worth following.
"It's just a folk song. What's so great about it?" Wang Yan listened for a while and then lost interest, grumbling.
"Save me! Save me! Did you hear that?" Huwu Fuzhi laughed heartily.
Wang Yan thought he was just being eccentric.
Huwu Fuzhi came from a good family, but his childhood had been poor, and he had spent a lot of time around common folk, which made him a bit odd.
He had even turned down an official position in the Grand Commandant's office, perhaps because he was a bit unwell.
Now, as the Grand Tutor's Assistant and the Marquis of Yinping, he held a high status, yet he still enjoyed these vulgar folk songs sung by the common people.
Couldn't he appreciate something more refined?
"I've finished writing. Let's go."
Huwu Fuzhi swiftly recorded the song, then casually tossed his brush aside and climbed onto the ox cart, squeezing Wang Yan to the side.
"This trip was worth it, truly worth it."
"Yan Guo, have you forgotten the main purpose of our trip?" Wang Yan asked, displeased.
"Do you have any wine?" Huwu Fuzhi asked.
"No," Wang Yan replied bluntly.
Huwu Fuzhi clicked his tongue in disappointment and then said, "Ye City has fallen, and it fell hard."
"What about Liu Yuanhai? Where are his reinforcements?" Wang Yan asked, his expression serious.
"It was too late," Huwu Fuzhi shook his head.
"Shi Chao and Wang Bin suffered consecutive defeats, their soldiers fled, and the city was left with only fifteen thousand armored troops. It couldn't hold."
Wang Yan nearly choked on his own saliva.
Fifteen thousand armored troops, and they couldn't hold Ye City? Shao Xun had far fewer men, yet he dared to defend Luoyang.
"Wang Jun and Sima Teng have over a hundred thousand troops. Ye City was bound to fall sooner or later. Even if the Grand Tutor wanted to hold out, no one would stay to die with him," Huwu Fuzhi sighed.
"Moreover, the Grand Tutor no longer wanted to hold out. Ten days ago, he took the remaining defeated troops and fled south to Luoyang with the Emperor. It was a hasty retreat, and along the way... sigh."
"What happened along the way?"
"The Emperor and his ministers didn't bring any money," Huwu Fuzhi said.
"Only the eunuchs had three thousand coins hidden in their luggage. When this was discovered, the Emperor issued an edict to borrow money to buy food along the way. They didn't even have proper utensils and had to eat from clay pots. Sigh."
Wang Yan was speechless.
They had soldiers escorting them, yet they still had to "buy" food? The most absurd part was that the Emperor had to issue an edict just to borrow money for food...
"I followed them for a few days before coming ahead to Luoyang to make arrangements," Huwu Fuzhi said, as if he couldn't bear to recall the experience and didn't want to say more.
Wang Yan felt a pang of sympathy for the Emperor and his ministers.
It was truly pitiful.
The Emperor might have been used to it, but Sima Ying, who had grown up in luxury, was now truly in dire straits.
Coming to Luoyang, he was like a plucked phoenix—no better than a chicken.
If Mi Huang or Shao Xun wanted to kill him, it would be a matter of a single thought.
Thinking of this, Wang Yan couldn't help but sigh.
Even those who had once been mighty could fall to such a state.
"Who is in charge of Luoyang now?" Huwu Fuzhi asked.
"Mi Huang, the Supervisor of Luoyang Defense, is in charge of military affairs," Wang Yan said.
He only said half of it, but he was sure Huwu Fuzhi understood.
Military affairs were handled by Mi Huang, while civil affairs were managed by Wang Yan himself.
As for Cao Fu, although he was Sima Yue's military advisor, it seemed he had no intention of competing for power.
"What about Shao Xun?" Huwu Fuzhi asked, mentioning a name that surprised Wang Yan.
Wang Yan was surprised not because officials from Ye knew about Shao Xun, but because Huwu Fuzhi usually didn't involve himself in such matters.
He was the Grand Tutor's Assistant, holding an official position, but like Yang Zhun, the Military Advisor of the Prime Minister's office, he spent his days leisurely, not handling official duties.
He was either traveling or indulging in drinking and debauchery.
In fact, at least a third of the officials in Ye's government only drew salaries without doing any real work.
But Sima Ying needed them to maintain his prestige.
The more famous scholars he had, the more impressive his court appeared, and the more people would flock to him.
Keeping a few eccentric scholars around was a small price to pay.
"Shao Xun is the Commandant of the Eastern Sea Kingdom and has declared himself the General of the Central Army. Even He Lun, Wang Bing, and Miao Yuan dare not openly criticize him," Wang Yan said.
"Him?" Huwu Fuzhi pointed at the military officer plowing the field like an old ox.
"If he's second only to the Emperor and holds such power, why is he doing this?"
"Perhaps he has grand ambitions," Wang Yan said with a hint of sarcasm.
In a way, Shao Xun working in the fields was also a way of "cultivating his reputation."
Some people built their reputation through filial piety, others through scholarly debates, and yet others through their eccentric behavior.
Shao Xun's method of cultivating his reputation might only attract the common folk, not the refined scholars.
"Everyone has some ambition these days," Huwu Fuzhi muttered, then said seriously, "Since the Grand Tutor sent me here, even if I don't understand much, I still need to ask: is there any danger to my life?"
"No," Wang Yan said bluntly.
"Shao Xun is a man who follows the rules. He's not like Zhang Fang. Don't worry."
"Good," Huwu Fuzhi nodded and said no more.
The ox cart moved slowly, and the song could still be faintly heard: "Save me! Save me!"
Folk songs didn't need to be literary masterpieces.
The hard part was capturing the lives of the common people, talking to them, understanding their struggles, and knowing what they needed.
Only then could you create something that resonated with them.
When Huwu Fuzhi heard the words "Save me," he felt a powerful, stirring emotion.
It was as if he could hear the countless neglected common people of the Jin Dynasty crying out in despair: "Save me!"
He sighed deeply.
(End of Chapter)