Three Kingdoms: A Million Soldiers Grown from the Fields

Chapter 172 Lu Zhi
The workshops outside Jinyang City remained busy, with the constant clanging of hammers and chisels.

But Zhang Xian's mind wasn't entirely on those intricate gears and levers today.

He stood at the entrance of the workshop of mechanical experiments, looking at the newly sprouted willow branches on the banks of the Fen River in the distance, tender green like smoke, shimmering softly in the sunlight.

"Is Your Excellency waiting for someone?" Wang Lie's slightly amused voice rang out from behind.

He happened to be here advising farmers, and when he saw the magnificent black horse, he naturally understood that his lord had also come here, so he came over to take a look.

Zhang Xian turned around and saw Wang Lie looking very pleased. He didn't hide his feelings and spoke frankly.

"I had a great discussion with Miss Ma about the use of water power the other day. She mentioned that we could go and see the water level of the Fen River during the spring flood season and think about some new methods of diverting water to irrigate the fields. Judging by the time, it should be time."

Just then, the light sound of horses' hooves approached from afar.

At the end of the official road, two riders came side by side.

The first rider to mount up was Ma Yan.

Today, she wasn't wearing her usual sharp indigo Hu-style dress. Instead, she wore a light blue, narrow-sleeved ruqun (a type of traditional Chinese dress) with a pale yellow half-sleeved jacket over it. Her long hair wasn't tied up in a high ponytail, but rather styled in a simple bun with a plain hairpin inserted at an angle.

This outfit has lost some of the heroic spirit of the craftsmen and gained more of the delicate beauty of a young woman.

Sunlight fell on her smooth forehead and straight nose, and her bright eyes curved into crescents when she saw Zhang Xian.

"Your Excellency has been waiting for a long time!" She reined in her horse, her movements swift and decisive.

Ma Jun, standing behind her, tilted his head and waved to Zhang Xian.

"I just arrived a moment ago." Zhang Xian stepped forward, his gaze lingering on her for a moment before naturally turning to look behind her.

"Has Mr. Ma not arrived today?"

"Father's been dragged off to figure out the spring of that new water hammer. He says he's determined to settle the score today—whether bronze or fine steel is better," Ma Yan said with a smile, her tone tinged with helplessness.

"He told me to bring Jun'er out for some fresh air, so he wouldn't be bothered by the fire in the workshop."

"That's fine then." Zhang Xian nodded, his gaze falling on Ma Jun.

"Jun'er, would you like to go to the Fen River? The water is warm in spring, and there may be fish and shrimp there."

Ma Jun's eyes lit up, and he nodded vigorously.

"Then let's go." Zhang Xian flipped onto his Mo Ying, which was exceptionally swift and majestic.

After mounting his horse, he bowed to Wang Lie and said, "Your Highness, we shall go and admire the water."

"Hahaha, go ahead, go ahead." Wang Lie stroked his beard and laughed with satisfaction. He wasn't entirely a block of wood after all.

The three men, on two horses, slowly made their way down the Fen River along the newly built, flat official road.

The spring breeze caressed her face, carrying the fragrance of earth and grass, and also stirred the stray hairs at Ma Yan's temples.

She squinted slightly, enjoying the rare warmth.

Far from the oil stains and noise of the workshop, in this open space, even breathing seems a little easier.

“Spring in Bingzhou is more refreshing than in Fufeng.” Ma Yan looked at the open fields in the distance. The newly turned soil was dark brown in the sunlight, and a few farmers were already busy in the fields.

"The wind is a bit strong, but the sun is shining brightly." Zhang Xian rode alongside her, pointing ahead.

“Look over there, the irrigation canal that was newly built last year was tested this spring and the results were excellent. The village heads of several downstream villages all said that it saved half the manpower compared to previous years.”

"Shall we go take a look?" Zhang Xian asked.

Ma Yan showed some curiosity and nodded: "Then let's go take a look."

The receiving point is located on the eastern foothills of the Taihang Mountains, east of Weize Pass.

The huge soup kitchen was steaming, the aroma of the soup mingling with the sweat and dust of the crowd.

The long queue moved slowly, each face etched with weariness, fear, and a deep longing for a bowl of hot porridge.

Xiahou Lan, clad in thick iron-plated leather armor, stood on a slightly elevated earthen platform, his hawk-like gaze sweeping over the order.

Behind him, dozens of soldiers dressed in standard armor stood with their hands on their swords, silent yet exuding an invisible deterrent.

"Those who have received the porridge and number, please register on the right! Please state your name, place of origin, and the cooking skills you have! Elderly people and children, please go to the warm shed on the left, where there is hot soup!"

Guo Tang's voice was clear and powerful, penetrating the noisy crowd.

As more and more refugees gathered at Weize Pass, the demand for literate people also increased. Left with no other choice, Xiahou Lan asked Guo Tang, the young lady of the Guo family of Zhending, to come out and help.

She sat behind a simple wooden table with a dozen or so literate women from the Guo family, a thick register and a pile of small wooden plaques engraved with numbers spread out in front of them.

"Next!"

A gaunt old woman stepped forward shakily, holding a child with a weak breath in her arms.

“I…I’m from Boling County, Anping Prefecture, Jizhou…My surname is Zhao…I don’t know any crafts, except…I only know how to sew shoe soles…” The old woman’s voice was as thin as a whisper, and her eyes were cloudy.

Guo Tang quickly took notes and handed over a wooden plaque engraved with "Nong Bing" and a smaller wooden plaque with characters engraved on it.

"Take Aunt Zhao with you to the greenhouse, have some hot soup with the children to help them relax. Making shoe soles is a skill, and we'll call you when there's work to be done."

The old woman took the wooden sign as if grasping at a straw, tears welling up in her cloudy eyes. Holding the child, she staggered toward the greenhouse.

"My name is Zhou Tie! I'm from Nanhe County, Julu Prefecture! I'm a blacksmith! I can forge knives and plows!"

A muscular man with a full beard stepped forward. His voice was loud and clear, with a Hebei accent. His eyes showed not only exhaustion but also an unyielding fierceness.

"A blacksmith?" Guo Tang looked up and examined him closely, glancing at his hands covered in calluses and burn scars, before nodding in agreement.

"Alright! Register! Craftsman Ironsmith B! Someone will take you to the workshop area later! Have a good meal first!"

Zhou Tiezhu took the wooden plaque from Craftsman Tie Yi, grinned, and clasped his hands in a deep fist salute: "Thank you!"

The procession moved slowly, with a middle-aged scholar in a tattered scholar's robe, looking pale and listless, standing in the middle of the line.

When it was his turn, Guo Tang asked, "Name? Place of origin? Can you read? What are your skills?"

The scholar's lips moved, his voice dry: "I am... Hu Yong, a native of Ganling in Qinghe State... I have a rudimentary understanding of literature and a little... a little knowledge of mathematics."

Guo Tang kept writing: "Wen, Suan, Bing, can do accounting?"

"Yes... I... I was once a granary official in the county..." Hu Yong's voice lowered, carrying a hint of shame that he found hard to say.

When the Yellow Turban rebels breached the city, he was nothing more than an ant who abandoned his account books and fled for his life.

Guo Tang didn't ask any further questions and handed over the wooden plaque: "Take this. There will be an assessment later. If you are truly talented, you will be given appropriate consideration." Hu Yong took the wooden plaque and looked at the clear engravings on it. His numb eyes flickered slightly.

Just then, a commotion and a child's shrill cries came from the back of the group!
"Mine! That's my cake! Give it back to me!" A seven or eight-year-old boy, as thin as a bean sprout, clutched the half-eaten grain cake in the hand of a taller and stronger boy, crying his heart out.

The burly boy, with a fierce expression, shoved the boy to the ground: "Get out of the way, you brat! Whoever gets it keeps it!"

The boy's forehead struck the gravel, drawing blood instantly, but ignoring the pain, he got up and lunged at it again, like a small animal driven to the brink: "That's what my mother saved for me! Give it back!"

The surrounding crowd watched indifferently, some numbly, others whispering amongst themselves, with no one stepping forward.

Hunger has long since extinguished compassion.

"What are you doing!" A sharp shout rang out like a thunderclap!
Xiahou Lan strode through the crowd, appearing before the two boys like an iron tower.

The armored soldiers behind him quickly surrounded him, and the chilling aura instantly silenced the surrounding noise.

The burly young man was intimidated by Xiahou Lan's imposing manner, and his hand trembled, causing half of the cake to fall to the ground.

Xiahou Lan didn't even look at him. She bent down and helped the little boy, whose forehead was bleeding, up. Her movements were not gentle, but they carried a kind of strength.

He took off a leather pouch from his waist, pulled out a piece of dried meat wrapped in oiled paper, about the size of an adult's palm, and stuffed it into the boy's hand.

"Here, eat this."

The boy was stunned. He looked at the heavy, tempting, salty jerky in his hand, and then at Xiahou Lan's cold, hard face. For a moment, he forgot to cry and the injury on his head.

Xiahou Lan then turned to the burly boy who was stunned, her voice icy: "Every place has its own rules! Robbery is not allowed here! And bullying the weak is not allowed either! Considering this is your first offense, get back to the back of the line and start queuing again! If you do it again, you'll get thirty lashes and be expelled from the Taihang Mountains!"

The boy shuddered at the chill in Xiahou Lan's eyes and dared not utter a word. He didn't even dare to pick up the pancakes on the ground and slunk into the back of the line.

Xiahou Lan swept his gaze across the silent, trembling refugees. His voice, though not loud, reached everyone's ears clearly: "Listen up! Here, as long as you follow the rules and work hard, you won't starve! Magistrate Zhang is kind enough to give you a way to survive, not to let you tear each other apart like wild dogs! Anyone who dares to bully the weak or disrupt order will be dealt with according to military law!"

After a brief silence, the line regained some order, but the atmosphere became even more oppressive.

Guo Tang walked over, took out a clean strip of cloth, and carefully bandaged the boy's forehead wound: "Don't be afraid, child. What's your name? How old are you? Where are your family?"

The boy clutched the piece of jerky tightly, as if it were the most precious thing in the world, and whispered, "I...I'm called Acao...I'm eight years old...My father...my parents were killed by the Yellow Turbans on the way..."

As he spoke, large tears rolled down his cheeks, but he bit his lip tightly to keep from crying out loud.

Guo Tang felt a pang of sadness and gently stroked his dry, yellow hair: "Good boy, go to the greenhouse first, eat your fill first, then we'll talk."

She gestured to a woman to take A-Cao to the greenhouse, then looked at Xiahou Lan and whispered, "Xiahou Clerk, this can't go on. The number of people is increasing, the food consumption is getting bigger and bigger, and it's hard to maintain order. Some people... their eyes are not right."

Xiahou Lan frowned as he looked at the endless, winding queue: "...How long can our supplies last?"

Guo Tang quickly did some mental calculations: "At the current rate of inflow, the grain reserves are sufficient, but... what about Jizhou..."

She didn't finish her sentence, but Xiahou Lan understood.

The main force of the Yellow Turbans is engaged in a fierce battle with Lu Zhi's army in the heart of Ji Province, while more and more refugees, like a flock of sheep scattered by fright, are pouring into the Taihang Mountains.

Jizhou, Julu Commandery, Guangzong City.

The continuous military camps, like a crouching giant beast, completely surrounded Guangzong City.

Inside the central command tent, the atmosphere was as heavy as the leaden sky outside.

General Lu Zhi, the Northern General, a scholar-general renowned for his classical studies and known for his integrity, was currently facing several military reports spread out on his desk, his brows furrowed and his fingers unconsciously tapping the table.

His face was thin and gaunt, and his long beard was already frosted with gray, which made him look even more tired.

"General!" A dusty-looking quartermaster practically rushed into the tent.

"We can't delay any longer! The food reserves in the camp are only enough for ten days! The soldiers have already started cooking porridge with bran and wild vegetables! The fine feed for the warhorses has been cut off for a long time! If this continues, we'll collapse on our own before Zhang Jiao even has a chance to fight!"

The faces of the officers standing in the tent were extremely grim.

A burly captain couldn't help but say, "General! When will the imperial supplies arrive? We've been locked in a stalemate with Zhang Jiao's main force for over a month, fighting more than a dozen battles, large and small. Our soldiers are exhausted, and we've used up a huge amount of arrows! Now we can't even get enough to eat. How can we continue this battle?!"

"Yes, General! Those eunuchs control the transport and embezzle rations! The clerks always say the rations are on their way, but we haven't seen a single grain cart!" another captain said indignantly.

Lu Zhi raised his hand, silencing the crowd's complaints.

His voice remained calm: "Regarding the matter of provisions, I have already sent an urgent report to the court and requested assistance from neighboring prefectures and counties."

Complaining now is useless. The most urgent task is to tighten our belts, stabilize morale, and issue an order to all battalions to halve officers' rations and distribute them to wounded soldiers and frontline scouts, effective immediately.

"Warhorses... if absolutely necessary, slaughter some, prioritizing the archers and vanguard soldiers for their meat."

Kill the warhorses?!
The generals in the tent were all shocked. Warhorses were the lifeblood of cavalrymen. Unless they were in dire straits, who would be willing to kill their horses?
"General!" The quartermaster's voice was trembling with tears.

"Even if we kill the horses, they won't last more than a few days! And without concentrated feed, the remaining horses won't last much longer either..."

Lu Zhi closed his eyes, took a deep breath, as if he had made up his mind.

He walked to the desk, picked up his brush, dipped it in ink, and began to write quickly on a blank piece of silk.

"Send this letter to Jinyang in Bingzhou as quickly as possible, and present it in person to Zhang Xian, the General of the Envoys to the Xiongnu!"

He carefully sealed the silk and handed it to a trusted captain standing beside him.

The captain was taken aback: "General? Zhang Xian of Bingzhou? He... he would lend us grain?"

"Besides, even if they were willing to lend us the food, the roads in the Taihang Mountains are treacherous and difficult to traverse. Can we hold out until the food arrives?"

Lu Zhi cast his gaze toward the gloomy sky outside the tent, his voice low: "Although Zhang Zixu is nominally only the General of the Xiongnu, his power has already swept across Taiyuan."

The ministers in the court could see clearly from his series of arrangements last year that he was determined to control the military and political affairs of Bingzhou. Such a person would naturally not let go of the opportunity of the great chaos in Jizhou to recruit a large number of refugees.

There must be passes in the Taihang Mountains where he stored grain to recruit refugees, and what we need are the grain supplies in these passes.

This letter is not an imperial order; it is a personal request from Lu to temporarily borrow 20,000 shi of grain to alleviate our immediate crisis! Once the imperial grain arrives, we will repay you double the amount!

He paused, then emphasized, "Tell Magistrate Zhang that this grain is a matter of life and death for tens of thousands of soldiers under the walls of Guangzong. Lu Zhi... thanks you!"

The captain solemnly accepted the letter, which seemed to weigh a ton, with both hands and said in a deep voice, "This humble general will travel day and night to personally deliver this letter to Magistrate Zhang! General, take care!"

He turned around, strode out of the tent, mounted his horse, and led a few personal guards, rushing out of the camp like an arrow, galloping towards the Taihang Mountains in the northwest.

The sound of horses' hooves faded into the distance, raising a trail of dust.

Lu Zhi gazed at the receding dust, his face revealing undisguised exhaustion.

(End of this chapter)