Dawn of the Empire

Chapter 32: The Credit Is Secured

In the large room of the 11th Army’s Audit Department, the auditor had finished reading the audit results. The rest was up to the counselor. “You have all guarded the Empire’s frontiers with the utmost vigilance, detecting the presence of danger well in advance for the Empire.” Zuo Hengbai stood up and pulled a sheet of kraft paper from his bosom—the paper commonly used for official documents issued by the Empire these days—and read aloud to the eight platoon sergeants who had risen to attention: ““The Commander-in-Chief of the 11th Army is deeply gratified by this and has therefore decided to award Company Commander Huang Dexia two merits, and each of the eight squad leaders one merit. Squad Leader Ou Yang, who personally beheaded the enemy’s so-called prince on the battlefield, will receive an additional merit. The above will be recorded in your respective registers.” The so-called “registration ledger” was a kraft paper booklet measuring 64-ka in size and thirty pages thick. Its function was equivalent to a combination of an ID card, household registration booklet, and Ming Dynasty travel permit from his previous life; every adult Imperial citizen of the commoner class or higher, regardless of gender, possessed one. It contained information such as the holder’s date of birth, gender, physical description, and educational background, and would gradually accumulate records of meritorious service, awards, crimes, and punishments. These records were kept in duplicate: one copy was retained by the individual, and the other was managed by the relevant local authorities. According to the law, anyone who has reached the age of eighteen but does not possess a household register is prohibited from leaving the jurisdiction of their home county on their own. Those who lose their household register must immediately apply for a replacement; the register must not be altered, and violators will be severely punished. When a holder of a household register moves to another location to register, the local authorities will specifically retrieve the official copy of the register for comparison with the copy held by the individual. Take Ou Yang, for example. His original household register was in Xintai County, Tai’an Prefecture, Qi Province. After arriving in Lingxi—where there were no prefectural or county administrative divisions—his household register was transferred to the official academy of Lingxi Road. When he was awarded two additional merits for his recent campaign, while others could have the entries processed on the spot at the General’s office, Ou Yang’s record required a special notification from the 11th Army to the Education Commissioner to have the merits added. “The application to establish the 9th Unit in Anxi Garrison has also been approved.” Zuo Hengbai turned his head slightly, and an auditor handed an iron plaque to Huang Qianzong’s son: “This plaque officially appoints Huang Junxian as the head of the 9th Unit in Anxi Garrison. Congratulations.” With that, he led the applause. The newly appointed unit leader was taken aback; it wasn’t until Liu Chenyong nudged him that he snapped out of it and bowed to accept the appointment. This was truly a pleasant surprise. Based on what he and his father had speculated beforehand, they would have considered it a great return on investment if they could secure even ten merit points from this operation. After all, without concrete evidence, establishing a new village wasn’t something the military could decide on its own; it required the approval of the civil administration as well as the allocation of personnel and supplies for the new settlement. Therefore, whether they could actually establish the new village would depend on whether they managed to capture that orc merchant caravan. The fact that they had immediately approved the establishment of Village Jia showed that the high-ranking officials of Lingxi Road—both civil and military—were eagerly anticipating the opportunities this war would bring. With that, the official procedures for entering the city were complete. Everyone had obtained what they sought, and the rest was up to them to handle on their own. Zuo Hengbai held too high a military rank; continuing to mingle with the “Pai Jia” was neither necessary nor appropriate, so he left immediately after the formalities were completed. The group from Anxi Garrison, on the other hand, emerged from the Commander-in-Chief’s office thoroughly satisfied. Huang Junxian, who had reaped the richest rewards, kept grinning傻笑不停 as he looked down at the iron badge in his hand. Liu Chenyong nudged him again, snapping him out of his daydreams about a bright future. “Hehe~~~ Ahem~~~” The young rookie officer struggled to suppress his inner elation. With a total of ten merit points this time—two of which Huang Qianzong had taken, plus the fact that he’d earned himself a military badge—he could safely say he’d come out on top. Naturally, he needed to show his appreciation to the influential figures in his garrison. Huang Junxian bowed his hands to his companions beside him and said, “Three seniors, we’ve secured our merits and completed the mission. Why don’t I treat you all tonight? Let’s go to Yingchun Tower to celebrate.” The Yingchun Tower was the largest hotel and entertainment venue in Junwei—perhaps even the largest in all of Lingxi. Spending money there wasn’t exactly a matter of throwing money around, but it was quite common for four people to spend a hundred yuan. In a place where soldiers make up the majority of the population, there’s no shortage of drinking spots and women offering “special services” in the surrounding area. Having lived two lifetimes, Ou Yang had seen only one exception to this rule: the PLA. If the army he so deeply admired—one that rose from weakness to strength and faced the world’s most powerful military bloc with rudimentary weapons yet suffered almost no defeats—were to score a perfect ten in this regard, then, by contrast, the army of the Huaxia Empire in this reality would likely not even reach the passing grade. A review of the Huaxia Empire’s military history reveals a record replete with the massacre of entire cities, the mass burial of tens of thousands of prisoners, the abduction of hundreds of thousands of captives… and other such horrifying accounts—all of which were widely publicized as military achievements. This has little to do with military discipline, as military regulations do not prohibit soldiers from inflicting brutality on their enemies. Furthermore, given the high pay and benefits enjoyed by Imperial soldiers, it is not considered a problem at all for officers and soldiers—who have disposable income and no dependents—to spend their free time drinking and carousing; in fact, such behavior is sometimes even viewed as evidence of a soldier’s valor. For example, the last time the Anxi Garrison overran a Di-Qiang village, the Imperial colonization troops massacred numerous prisoners and raped nearly all the young women. Consequently, Huang Junxian’s proposal not only met with no opposition but also suited the tastes of Liu Chenyong and his associates perfectly. Even Song Wenmu—who had always maintained the reserve of a scholar and secretly looked down on military men like Huang Qianzong and Liu Chenyong—smiled and nodded in agreement. In all of Lingxi, only the Yingchun Tower offered both the shao dao liquor that Liu Chenyong favored and women who would accompany him for a price, as well as the Fenjiu liquor and the pretentiously refined courtesans that Song Wenmu preferred. But a visit to a place like the Yingchun Tower—to enjoy a fine meal, drink a pot of good liquor, and have two young women keep them company—would cost nearly four months’ salary for a first-rank soldier. The monthly salary of a squad leader in the Military Colonization Corps was only half that of a deputy lieutenant in the field army of the same rank—approximately eight yuan and five dou of grain. Other income mainly came from hunting or war booty, but without major battles, the spoils weren’t all that substantial. This was because the most valuable spoils in the Lingxi Road were actually slaves, but during the summer and fall—when farming and harvesting were required—no one had time to capture slaves. Come spring and winter, once the snow fell, the hiding places of the Shengdi and Sheng Yi tribes became very hard to find. The last time they had a bountiful haul was because Anxi Garrison had received support from informants, and the Di and Qiang tribes had foolishly built fortified settlements. Under normal circumstances, when a squad leader led a hunting party alone, they’d be lucky to capture a few unlucky souls who’d come out in desperation to find food; it was not uncommon to come back without a single slave. Therefore, this was simply not something Liu Chenyong and his men could afford on their own. Even for Huang Qianzong, treating three people to a meal was a financial strain that stung for a long time. But since the patrolmen had all contributed significantly to the previous operation—which was the primary reason Huang Junxian had been promoted to squad leader and become a full-fledged officer—he naturally couldn’t be stingy about treating them. Besides, the haul from the last mission had indeed been substantial. Unlike Ou Yang, Huang Qianzong hadn’t rushed to arm his own slaves, so he’d effectively made a tidy profit. Liu Chenyong and Song Wenmu both happily agreed, but Ou Yang declined, saying, “I still have to go see Murong, the School Supervisor; my merits need to be recorded there. Besides, when I came here, Murong, the School Supervisor, asked me to deliver a letter to Wei Xuezheng, the Provincial Education Commissioner.” Huang Junxian, having been politely turned down, seemed a bit embarrassed, but Song Wenmu came to his rescue: “Recognizing merit is a major matter; the sooner it’s settled, the sooner we can put our minds at ease.” He then added self-deprecatingly, “It’s no wonder Magistrate Ou holds the qualification of a Xiu Cai—the fact that Magistrate Murong actually asked Senior Student Ou to deliver a letter to Magistrate Wei… that really is something to envy.” Wei Zhongxue, the Education Commissioner of Lingxi Road, ranked among the top three civil officials in Lingxi Road and fifth overall when all civil and military officials were included. Moreover, he was about to be promoted and was heading to the capital to assume his new post. It was said that his successor would be Murong, the School Supervisor of Anxi Garrison. At present, neither of their standing was within reach of a low-ranking officer in Anxi Garrison. By having Ou Yang deliver the message, Murong, the School Supervisor, was effectively issuing him a letter of recommendation—a clear sign of his intention to mentor this junior colleague. Hearing this, Huang Junxian naturally wasn’t upset at all; on the contrary, he laughed: “Senior Ouyang is truly remarkable. I, too, once attended the academy, but unfortunately, my scores in both literary and mathematical subjects during the Xiu Hui examination were abysmal.” Liu Chenyong chimed in from the side: “That’s something we can only envy. It’s just a shame to miss this opportunity—getting to the Yingchun Tower isn’t easy.” Just as the group was about to bow in farewell at the entrance to the Commander-in-Chief’s quarters, Zuo Hengbai unexpectedly strolled out once more. By then, he had changed out of his military uniform and was wearing a blue-collared robe, looking every bit the refined gentleman in a turbulent age. “Brother Ou, please wait a moment.” Even from a distance, Zuo Hengbai’s resonant voice could be heard—truly befitting someone from a military family. The junior officers from Anxi Garrison turned in surprise. Ou Yang saluted and asked, puzzled, “What are your orders, Captain?” Zuo Hengbai, however, walked out beyond the main gate, clasped his hands in a bow, and said, “Brother Ou, I’m reporting that the mission has been completed. Now that you’ve stepped outside the Commander-in-Chief’s headquarters, you’re no longer within the camp grounds. Please feel free to call me by my courtesy name, Zhengming.” This left everyone momentarily speechless; it seemed entirely unnecessary for a Captain-level officer to address a lowly soldier in such a manner. Ou Yang glanced at Zuo Hengbai’s attire and began to understand a little. He bowed solemnly and said, “Brother Zhengming.” “My teacher is inside and has asked me to invite Brother Ou for a chat.”