My hotel is full of emperors throughout history.

After the news of their surrender spread, the Han army camp became bustling with activity.

Within a few days,

Hunxie King and several tribal leaders were invited to the Han army camp.

They were trembling with fear, thinking that the plan was to kill those who surrendered to establish authority.

As a result, they were greeted with steaming hot mutton soup, steamed white flour buns, and—several huge iron pots.

Liu Che sat at the head of the table, with a bowl of soup in front of him, which he slowly sipped.

"Sit down, don't stand." He gestured with his chin toward the bewildered leaders. "Eat first, then we'll talk."

Hunxie Wang and the others carefully sat down in their designated spots, looking at the food in front of them, but not daring to touch their chopsticks.

Liu Che glanced at them, said nothing more, and continued drinking his soup.

He didn't speak until he finished the soup and put the bowl down.

"Eat. If I wanted to kill you, would I need to poison you?"

Hunxie Wang was taken aback, then gave a wry smile.

Yes, those tanks, those things that can flatten mountains, aren't they all easier than poisoning?

He took the lead, picked up his chopsticks, grabbed a piece of mutton, and put it in his mouth.

Then, his eyes lit up.

"This...this is..."

Liu Che smiled.

"What, have you never eaten salt before?"

Hunxie Wang was stunned.

Salt?

The Xiongnu people certainly ate salt, but it was coarse salt scraped from lakes, which was not only bitter but also often mixed with sand.

Salt as delicate and white as this, with a pure salty taste—

"This salt..." he murmured, "where did it come from?"

Liu Che did not answer, but simply waved his hand to the side.

Several soldiers carried in several large boxes, opened them—

The entire tent was white.

There were ten whole boxes of refined salt, shimmering in the sunlight.

Hunxie Wang's eyes widened in disbelief.

The leaders behind him even forgot to breathe.

Liu Che picked up his teacup, gently blew on the steam, and said casually:

"These are for you."

Hunxie Wang knelt down with a thud.

"Your Majesty...this...this is far too precious..."

precious?

Liu Che found it amusing.

In later generations, this kind of thing was sold by weight, so cheap it was practically free.

But in the eyes of the Xiongnu, this refined salt was more precious than an equal weight of gold.

"Get up." Liu Che raised his hand. "I have something else to show you."

He gestured to Wei Qing.

Wei Qing walked to another box and opened it.

Inside were rows of brand-new iron pots—not the heavy, rough pots used by the Huns, but thin, evenly coated, and highly conductive cast iron pots.

"Is this also...for us?"

A leader stammered.

Liu Che nodded.

"And this too."

Several soldiers carried in bags of grain—not coarse grains, but refined white flour and white rice.

"And this too."

Rolls of cloth—soft silk, thick cotton.

"And this too."

Bundles of hay—no, not hay, but a kind of grass I'd never seen before, emitting a peculiar fragrance.

"What is this...?" Hunxie Wang couldn't help but ask.

"Herbal medicine," Liu Che said calmly, "medicinal herbs for wounds and illnesses. These can cure the diseases that your shamanic magic can't."

King Hunxie was completely stunned.

Salt, pots, grains, cloth, herbs...

These things might not mean much to the Han people, but to the Xiongnu people who lived on the resource-scarce grasslands, each one was a coveted treasure.

But Liu Che just gave it to them so casually?

"Your Majesty..." King Hunxie's voice trembled slightly, "Aren't you...aren't you afraid that we'll take the goods and rebel?"

Liu Che looked at him and suddenly smiled.

"Rebel?" He stood up, walked to the tent entrance, lifted the felt curtain, and pointed to the tanks parked silently in the distance. "With them here, do you dare to rebel?"

Hunxie Wang remained silent.

Yes, with those monsters around, who would dare to rebel?

"But if you surrender willingly," Liu Che turned around, his gaze sweeping over the leaders, "there will be even more of these things in the future."

"I will ensure you have enough to eat, warm clothes to wear, medicine to treat your illnesses, and education for your children."

"Ten years from now, your tribe will be ten times richer than it is now."

He paused, his voice suddenly turning cold:

"But what if someone dares to have any wicked thoughts—"

He didn't finish his sentence, but everyone knew what he was leaving out.

Hunxie Wang took a deep breath and knelt down again.

"Your subject, Hunxie, wishes to lead his people to serve the Han Dynasty for generations to come!"

Behind him, the leaders also knelt down one after another.

Liu Che nodded, gesturing for them to stand up.

"Alright, get up. Go and distribute the goods, let your people see—following me is much better than following Yizhixie."

Hunxie Wang and the others left the tent with profuse thanks.

Inside the tent, Liu Che sat down again and picked up his teacup.

Wei Qing walked to his side and whispered.

"Your Majesty, these salt, grains, and cloth... I'm afraid it's not as simple as just winning people's hearts, is it?"

Liu Che glanced at him and smiled.

"Zhongqing, my thoughts can never be hidden from you."

He put down his teacup, his gaze becoming deep and thoughtful.

Why did the Xiongnu raid southwards every year? Was it because they loved war? No. It was because they couldn't survive there.

"There are only so many places on the grasslands where livestock can graze. In years of famine, large numbers of cattle and sheep die, and people can only starve to death. If you don't fight for them, you can only wait to die."

"But now—"

A faint smile appeared at the corner of his lips.

"I give them salt, grain, cloth, and medicine. They can survive without having to rob."

"Do you think they would still want to fight?"

Wei Qing remained silent for a moment, then suddenly understood.

This isn't about winning people's hearts; this is about undermining their very foundation.

This fundamentally cut off the Xiongnu's motivation to plunder.

"Your Majesty is wise."

He sighed sincerely.

Liu Che waved his hand, stood up, walked to the tent entrance, and looked at the Xiongnu people in the distance who were distributing supplies.

On their faces were surprise, gratitude, disbelief, and a hint of belonging—something they themselves were unaware of.

"Zhongqing," he suddenly said, "tell me, when those Xiongnu women who received their share of salt return home, using our iron pots to cook our grain and feed their children hot soup with salt—will they still teach their children to hate the Han people?"

Wei Qing did not answer.

Because he knew the answer was already written on the faces of those Huns.

Suddenly, a cheer erupted from afar.

Liu Che looked over and saw an old Xiongnu man holding a small bag of salt, tears streaming down his face, kneeling on the ground and kowtowing repeatedly towards the direction of the camp.

He smiled, turned around, and walked back into the tent.

"Issue my decree," he said, "that tomorrow the granaries will be opened and grain distributed, and all Xiongnu tribes within a radius of three hundred li may come and collect it."

"Tell those tribes that are still hesitating—those who submit will have food to eat; those who don't—"

He paused, his tone turning cold.

"Tanks, please."

Wei Qing accepted the order and left.

Outside the tent, the sun was setting in the west.

On the grasslands, the Xiongnu people who had received supplies were returning to their tribes in twos and threes.

The bags on their backs were filled with snow-white salt, fine grains, and thin, translucent iron pots.

Their faces no longer held the despair and fear of defeat, but rather an indescribable, complex expression.

Is it relief?

Is it gratitude?

Or is it—a vague expectation for the future?

In the distance, several children surrounded the tanks that hadn't yet driven away, cautiously reaching out to touch the cold steel.

One daring boy even climbed onto the running board of the armored vehicle, curiously examining the dark gun barrels.

A Han soldier walked over, but instead of chasing him away, he took out a piece of dry rations from his pocket and handed it to him.

The boy took it, took a bite, and his eyes lit up.

He jumped off the platform, ran back to his people, waved the dry rations, and shouted something excitedly.

Liu Che stood outside the tent, watching this scene, a slight smile playing on his lips.

"Send a decree to the Crown Prince," he said to his attendant, "tell him to prepare in Chang'an. I will be meeting with the tribal leaders when I return."

"besides--"

He paused, his gaze deep:

"Have the Crown Prince prepare more things, especially those..."

He lowered his voice.

The attendant hesitated for a moment, then accepted the order and left.

Liu Che turned around and looked south.

"My son," he murmured, "I have defeated the Xiongnu for you, but the cleanup is the hardest part."

"Whether the wolf on the grassland can become a guard dog depends on you."

The night wind blew by, carrying the songs of the Xiongnu people from afar.

The song was no longer the desolate and tragic long song of the grasslands, but carried a touch of joy that had never been heard before.

Liu Che listened to the song and suddenly smiled.

He laughed for a moment, then let out a soft sigh.

This battle was worth fighting.

It's totally worth it.