Dawn of the Empire

Chapter 30: The Commander-in-Chief’s Office

Upon entering the city, the first sight to catch their eye was the cross-shaped main street, paved with cinder and gravel, with the East, West, South, and North Gates leading directly off it. Rumor had it that on a clear day, if you stood at the West Gate and looked out, you could even see all the way to the East Gate (though that was, of course, impossible). Just like the city walls, the buildings within were almost entirely uniform: neat, square two- or three-story structures as far as the eye could see, with roads laid out in a grid pattern, and—surprisingly—neat rows of pine trees lining the streets! Overall, it gave Ou Yang the feeling of a small county town from the 1970s or 1980s in his previous life. Every time he came to Junwei, Ou Yang became even more convinced that this plane had once been visited by a time traveler. And that time traveler must have been quite fond of red aesthetics. Of course, from Ou Yang’s perspective, Junwei—this massive military camp—was rather desolate, not to mention when compared to the rapidly developing county towns of his past life, but even when measured against inland cities in this plane. However, as a provincial capital with a diverse population exceeding 100,000, in the eyes of Takurai and Tana, who had accompanied Ou Yang, it was already a place of prosperity they could never have imagined even in their wildest dreams. These two former tribal members had never even seen what it looked like when more than a thousand people gathered together. Perhaps it was the orderly arrangement that exuded a certain spirit, but Tana, the young Di-Qiang girl, seemed somewhat intimidated by the “towering” buildings lining the streets. As soon as they entered the city, she clung closely to Ou Yang’s horse, constantly glancing around with a look that said she wanted to look but didn’t quite dare—she looked more like a pet than a maid. It was nearly dusk when Ou Yang’s party entered the city. Aside from the field army soldiers, commoners, civilians, and citizens had all finished their day’s work. The city was bustling with people coming and going, giving this sole provincial-level city west of the Kongling Mountains a vibrant and thriving atmosphere. The sleigh and the two prisoners were left at the city gate, taken into custody by the auditor’s entourage, but Ouyang and his party entered the city alongside Zuo Shuijing. Their group had swelled to over thirty people, accompanied by more than twenty horses, making them a particularly conspicuous sight on the streets. Fortunately, the Zuo family had instilled good discipline, so there was no scene of them charging through the city center in flashy attire and on spirited horses. The slave soldiers led the horses in two rows behind the procession, and everyone kept close to the right side as they moved forward, appearing orderly and well-disciplined. Ou Yang glanced around. The riders were all gripping their reins tightly to control their horses’ speed, preventing them from bolting or colliding with others. Only the non-Han man in plate armor—known as Zuo Jia Nu—kept his hands in his sleeves, relying solely on his legs to keep his mount under complete control. He then glanced at the beautiful young girl beside him. Her hands were clenched tightly around the reins, her face deathly pale; her normally lively and spirited nature had now left her speechless. “Should I say these foreigners have it in their blood?” Ou Yang wondered to himself. His own riding skills weren’t all that great either; while galloping across open fields was fine, in the city he could barely keep his warhorse from running amok. Song Wenmu and Huang Junxian weren’t much better than he was; they used horses merely as a means of transportation. Only Liu Chenyong was a decent rider, capable of mounted combat, but compared to Zuo Jia Nu, he still fell short. In the end, it was Ou Yang who suggested, “How about we dismount and walk? With our riding skills, it’s easy to bump into people while riding here.” Riding a horse certainly looked impressive. But on this bustling street, putting pride before practicality wasn’t a good habit. Ou Yang and the others dismounted first. Zuo Jia Nu hesitated for a moment but didn’t insist. Only Zuo Shuijing hesitated, saying, “But Master said that if you’re not good at something, you need to practice more—whether it’s riding a horse or studying…” “That’s on the condition that you don’t cause trouble for others. Besides, you don’t have to dismount, young lady,” Ou Yang advised, stepping aside to let Zuo Jia Nu, the Zuo family servant behind him, step forward to help Zuo Shuijing hold the reins. The young girl seemed to feel a bit rebellious: “I can do it myself. My master said I shouldn’t always rely on others for help~~~” Ou Yang continued to persuade her, “Learning to accept help from others is also very important. Besides, with someone as skilled in horsemanship as you right by your side, you can ask for advice on horses and riding techniques whenever you like—there’s no need to rush things right now.” Zuo Jia Nu knew that the “expert rider” referred to him; he nodded expressionlessly at Ou Yang, accepting the compliment. Zuo Shuijing pouted but stopped objecting, allowing Zuo Jia Nu to help lead her horse. The group’s pace quickened considerably. Cross Street divided the entire city of Junwei into four districts. The northeast district was primarily home to the residences of civil and military officials, nobles, and the wealthy, as well as various government offices—it was also Ou Yang’s main destination on this visit to the city. The residents of Junwei were either military officers and soldiers, their relatives and servants, or merchants doing business with the military. Therefore, although the Provincial Governor’s official rank was higher than that of the Commander-in-Chief, within the city, the Commander-in-Chief actually had more authority. Since Ou Yang and his companions were now considered military personnel, they first reported to the General’s headquarters. The so-called “Commander’s Office” was, in fact, the headquarters for army-level field units and provincial-level military districts of the military colonization forces, as well as the residence of the Commander (equivalent to an army commander). Its full name was the Office of the Commander of the 11th Army of Lingxi; in formal settings, people customarily referred to it simply as the “Commander’s Office,” while in less formal contexts, the older term “Commander’s Yamen” was also used. The Imperial Army’s regular forces comprised thirty field armies, and the only differences among the various “Commander’s Offices” lay in their locations and designations. Each field army has a strength of around 20,000 troops. Junwei is the only location in all of Lingxi where regular troops are stationed; the remaining units of the 11th Army are stationed along the Lingdong Road and only cross the Kongling Mountains to provide support when incidents occur in Lingxi. Ou Yang surmised that this was primarily to minimize the consumption of military rations during transport; while Lingdong is connected to the interior by a horse-drawn railway, Lingxi has none. In other words, west of the Congling Mountains, the vast Lingxi Region—which Ou Yang estimated, if overlaid on a map from his previous life, would cover nearly half of Central Asia—had only 7,500 regular soldiers. Fortunately, the deterrent power of the Imperial regular army was sufficient, and the threat of war in the northwest had always remained minimal following the fall of the Tatars. Furthermore, the irregular military-agricultural colonists were, in fact, under the jurisdiction of the General’s Office. With over 1,200 Pai Jia Villages in the Lingxi Road, plus the forces directly under the command of the various Thousand Commanders, Assistant Generals, Deputy Generals, and the General himself, a force of 150,000 military settlers could indeed be mobilized in the event of a genuine crisis. The architecture of the Commander-in-Chief’s headquarters at Junwei had a distinct blend of ancient and modern styles—viewed as a whole, it was essentially a large compound with three courtyards. However, the main structures are all multi-story buildings. The northernmost section, housing the Commander-in-Chief and his family, as well as the areas resembling rear annexes and the main hall—which serves as the Commander-in-Chief’s office—consist of five rows of five-story townhouses. The east and west wings, the rear courtyard buildings, and even the areas resembling screen walls are three-story townhouses. In this sense, the entire Commander-in-Chief’s compound resembles a “tube-style apartment building” from a past era. Similar tenement-style buildings in this realm emerged around the same time as factories equipped with steam engines. Originally, factory owners built them as dormitories for workers above the working class to save on land costs, but for some reason, they have become increasingly popular. In recent years, most nobles and the wealthy have taken to living in high-rise buildings; three to five stories are quite common, and six or seven stories are not unheard of. Some buildings in the capital are even taller than the Imperial Palace; from their upper floors, one can look down upon the Imperial City! Someone once submitted a memorial stating that these structures were overly presumptuous and requested a ban on buildings taller than three stories. However, the Emperor and his chief ministers did not seem particularly concerned about this, even though they had issued regulations stipulating that building specifications must not exceed those of the Imperial Palace or the imperial academies. But “building specifications” do not refer solely to height. The nobility and the wealthy exploited a loophole by interpreting this standard as referring to usable floor area. As a result, it became completely impossible to “exceed” the boundaries of the Imperial Palace Forbidden City, which covered over three million ping; instead, the local government-run schools became the real hurdle. Nowadays, when the nobility and the wealthy expand their estates, the unwritten rule is to build a building for the local government-run school or donate a large sum of money to prevent being accused of exceeding the limits. Fortunately, Ou Yang had often seen this eclectic architectural style back in his hometown in Qi Province, so he had already grown accustomed to this peculiar aesthetic. Upon arriving at the main gate of the Commander-in-Chief’s residence, a handsome young man was waiting at the entrance. He wore a standard red field military overcoat, paired with a cowhide combat belt slung diagonally across his chest, and black knee-high leather boots. Tall and slender, he stood in the swirling snow, as upright as a cedar tree. “Thirteenth Brother!” As soon as Zuo Shuijing saw the young man, she jumped down from her horse—only to slip and fall forward. Fortunately, Ou Yang, who had been standing nearby, reacted quickly and reached out to catch her. The girl struggled slightly to stand up straight, then, blushing, bowed deeply to Ou Yang. She immediately turned around, seemingly fully reenergized, and began hopping about joyfully like a white rabbit: “Thirteenth Brother! Thirteenth Brother! When did you come back? Has Master returned? Did you come out to pick me up? Did you bring me a present~~~” She rattled off the questions like a machine gun, without even pausing for breath. “The eldest son of General Zuo.” Knowing that Ou Yang had little familiarity with the personnel and relationships in Lingxi Road, Liu Chenyong quietly reminded him from beside him. The young man smiled helplessly, ruffled the girl’s hair, but didn’t answer. Instead, he turned, clenched his right fist across his chest, and addressed Ou Yang and his party: “Zuo Hengbai, Staff Captain of the 11th Field Army Corps. Are you officers from Anxi Garrison?”