Dawn of the Empire

Chapter 18: Manager Qin

The room wasn’t very large, and its decor was quite simple. There was almost no furniture—just a large rectangular table in the center of the room. At each end of the table stood a steel coal-burning stove, with pipes connected to radiators mounted on the wall, warming the entire room to a cozy temperature. On either side of the table were three wooden armchairs covered with woolen blankets. The scene closely resembled the small conference rooms he’d often seen in his previous life, and discussing business in such a setting gave Ou Yang a strange sense of comfort. But the moment he saw the person inside, that illusion vanished without a trace. It wasn’t that she was unattractive—on the contrary, there was only one beautiful young woman in the room, with bright eyes and delicate eyebrows. When Ou Yang entered, she was leaning against the window, gazing out at the small, bustling square where slaves were being sorted and selected. The young woman appeared to be in her early twenties, standing a full 1. 7 meters tall—a figure that would have made her a leggy beauty even in another world. She wore a plain brocade jacket over a white tunic, paired with long pants and boots, dressed much like a man, her hair simply pulled back into a ponytail and tied at the nape of her neck with a red silk ribbon. Hearing a noise behind her, the young woman turned in surprise to look at Ou Yang and the others. In an instant, a faint blush spread across her face. She glared angrily at the cat girl who had so brazenly led Ou Yang inside and clicked her tongue in exasperation, “Xiao Miao, you…” “Meow?” The cat girl tilted her head, looking at her mistress in confusion, her face a blank question mark. The Empire did not prohibit women from working; there had even been a precedent of a princess leading troops during the great war against the Tatars. Since textile factories were equipped with steam engines, factories employing female workers on a large scale had long been commonplace in the interior. Encountering female managers at major trading houses in the frontier regions was, in fact, nothing out of the ordinary. But the influence of feudal ethics was still very much a reality, especially given that the Confucians also wielded magical power. If Ou Yang barged into a room occupied solely by a stranger without even knocking, word of it would inevitably lead to him being mocked as a man of loose morals. After all, he was still a scholar. The fact that this young woman had asked Hu Lanshan to act as an intermediary and then directly invited Ou Yang to her home to discuss business—a practice that would be considered extremely impolite in the interior—was typically reserved for superiors or elders summoning subordinates or juniors. For a merchant to act this way would give the impression of abusing power and forcing a deal. However, this was, after all, the frontier, where people tended to be more laid-back, especially among soldiers; it was not uncommon for them to be direct and invite someone over to discuss matters. On top of that, Hu Lanshan had never mentioned that the so-called Manager Qin was a woman, so when Ou Yang arrived, he imagined Manager Qin to be a burly, bearded man who had just retired from the military—perhaps even a pirate captain with an eye patch over one eye and a hook for an arm. The fact that the little cat walked right in without knocking or announcing her presence seemed to confirm this image in Ou Yang’s mind, so he followed her right in. He never expected to find nothing but a young woman inside. “What an unwarranted predicament.” No matter how many reasons there were, this was clearly an act of overstepping on his part, and there was simply no way to explain it. The young woman, however, did not reproach him; she obviously knew her female servant was unreliable and that Ou Yang’s entry had been an unintentional mistake. Fortunately, aside from Hu Lanshan, there were no other outsiders present. Like the cat, Hu Lanshan had absolutely no idea what had happened; even if he did, he would never dare to say a word. Ou Yang shook his head and exchanged a smile with the young lady. With both of their servants being unreliable, they were, in a sense, in the same boat. Ou Yang stepped forward and bowed deeply: “I am Ou Yang, of the Eighth Unit, Headquarters of the Anxi Garrison. May I ask your name, young lady?” The woman gave a soft chuckle. Ou Yang had patiently recited his military rank, clearly hoping to downplay the fact that he held the qualification of a Xiu Cai. While a soldier’s brash behavior might be praised as bold and straightforward, a Xiu Cai would simply be criticized as lacking in propriety. She folded her robe and curtsied deeply in return: “This humble maiden is Qin Qing, manager of the SF Express in Anxi Garrison.” She then gestured invitingly: “Please take a seat, Officer Ou.” Her voice was clear and melodious, like a nightingale singing in a valley. Once both had taken their seats, Qin Qing instructed the cat girl, “Xiao Miao, please serve Magistrate Ou some tea.” After the kitten had left, she smiled at Ou Yang and said, “I haven’t trained her well enough; please forgive her, Magistrate Ou.” Ou Yang replied with a wry smile, “Not at all. I was the one who was rude just now; I hope you’ll forgive me, Miss.” The two continued to exchange polite pleasantries back and forth until the cat named Xiao Miao brought in two cups of hot tea and some pastries. However, Ou Yang still vividly remembered that pot of sweet mutton soup, and he had absolutely no desire to touch any sweets at the moment. Only Hu Lanshan’s throat moved with hunger at the sweet aroma, but as a commoner, he didn’t dare even sit down, let alone reach out to take a bite. With the tea and pastries served and the pleasantries concluded, Qin Qing raised her teacup and smiled. “I offer my congratulations to Magistrate Ou on your victorious return.” Ou Yang thanked her. He lifted the cup and took a sip; it wasn’t good tea—it tasted like the low-quality compressed tea the Han people dumped on the grasslands. Still, the scalding hot tea sent waves of warmth through him from the inside out—prices were sky-high in the border regions, and any tea at all could be considered a luxury. As a lowly military officer, he didn’t expect anyone to entertain him with any famous teas. “I’ve heard, Magistrate Ou, that you captured nearly a hundred captives on this expedition?” Since they were both struggling to make a living in the harsh, frigid frontier, Qin Qing decided to skip the pleasantries and get straight to the point: “Our SF Express Trading Company has recently begun mining operations on the Tartar Grasslands, and we’re in urgent need of laborers. I was wondering if you might be willing to sell us some?” “Buying captives?” Ou Yang pondered this for a moment. As a representative of the SF Express, it wasn’t surprising that Qin Qing knew in advance how the spoils of war would be distributed—which was why she’d come straight to him. But Ou Yang had no intention of selling the captives. Mainly because he believed war was about to break out, and having a few extra people—even if only as auxiliary troops—would greatly benefit his security. Furthermore, he believed that furs alone would be enough to arm his men; there was no need to trade people for combat strength—weapons could only be effective when there were people to wield them. So he replied, “The 8th Armored Unit was only established early this year. Right now, our total population—men and women combined—is just over two hundred. We’re in desperate need of manpower… If you’re interested, young lady, I happen to have some furs I’d like to sell…” Qin Qing raised her eyebrows in surprise, feeling somewhat puzzled. It was already snowing; keeping these captured people around would prevent them from farming, and they’d need housing arranged. They wouldn’t have much energy left for logging or gathering firewood, and since there were no factories in Anxi Garrison, why on earth was Ou Yang keeping so many captives? Was it to boost his performance evaluation? That didn’t make sense either—evaluations took place before the snow fell and after taxes were paid, and this year’s evaluation period had long since passed. Besides, Pai Jia Village—which has only two hundred residents—still belonged to the Imperial Household. Come next spring, the Empire would certainly prioritize replenishing its population here. Although those people couldn’t be bought or sold, how they were utilized was entirely up to the village head. These slaves were the very metrics used to evaluate the village head’s performance; no matter how many private slaves he owned, they simply didn’t count toward the assessment. Moreover, those slaves would surely be more docile than these newly captured Di people, who were still so close to their homeland. Qin Qing temporarily set aside her doubts and said, “Since these are furs, Magistrate Ou, might I be permitted to inspect the goods first?” “Of course.” Qin Qing immediately summoned a private slave of the Yi people who was standing guard at the door and instructed him to follow Hu Lanshan to inspect the deer and sheep hides that Ou Yang had prepared. Typically, seasoned hunters possess a keen eye for assessing the quality of furs, and the Yi people have a natural advantage in this regard. After Old Hu had left, Ou Yang asked again, “Manager Qin, would it be possible for you to transport some merchandise from the interior?” “You jest, Magistrate Ou. Of course I can—but what exactly would you like to purchase?” Ou Yang pondered for a moment before asking, “How much is a one-shi bow?” He only intended to equip his men with bows and arrows. For close-quarters combat with bladed weapons, axes worked quite well; but if long-range firepower was needed, his Di Yi subordinates simply couldn’t handle muskets properly—on the contrary, they were all skilled archers. Besides, Ou Yang couldn’t afford muskets anyway. “Are you looking to buy weapons, sir? How many?” Qin Qing’e furrowed her brows, wondering to herself, ‘What is he up to?’ Officers from the border had asked her to buy grain; some wanted tobacco, alcohol, sugar, and tea; others even sought silk, brocade, and various high-priced luxury goods; occasionally, there were requests for axes and farming tools, but it was rare for anyone to ask for bows and arrows—aside from a few enthusiasts, Han soldiers had long since ceased to be equipped with them. For Di Yi slave soldiers, having an axe and a soft bow was considered quite good; using a hard bow was too extravagant, so there was simply no demand for them. Besides, hadn’t Huang Qianzong given him bows and arrows before he set out? Qin Qing had extensive connections; she had already thoroughly investigated Ou Yang’s previous circumstances before discussing business, so she naturally knew that Huang Qianzong had given Ou Yang ten sets of war bows. Ou Yang ran the numbers in his head—Company 8 currently had seventy-three able-bodied men and thirty-and-a-half semi-able-bodied men. Huang Qianzong had already given him ten sets of powerful bows, and there was no need to equip all the semi-able-bodied men and the few able-bodied men with poor archery skills. “Fifty sets, then—each set consisting of a bow, twelve heavy arrows, and twelve sharp-tipped light arrows. How much do you estimate that would cost, Manager Qin?” Ou Yang still remembered the awkward scene when the archers had run out of iron arrows and ended up using bone arrows to merely tickle the lions. ‘That many? Does he want to equip every able-bodied man with a powerful bow?’ Ou Yang had previously owned only one personal slave, Takurai—a fact Qin Qing was naturally aware of. Why would he spend his own money to upgrade the equipment of slaves belonging to the Imperial Household? There was only one possible explanation for this. “Lord Ou…” Qin Qing didn’t answer Ou Yang’s question but instead asked in a measured tone, “Could it be… do you think Lingxi is about to go to war?”