Chapter Two: The Joyful Gentleman

The chill of late autumn had already swept through the valley of the Sanggan River, carrying a biting edge. Though the season of low water was yet far off, the river looked diminished compared to previous years, exposing broad stretches of its bed. Children laughed and joked as they rummaged for fish and shrimp along the banks.

The fields on both sides had been harvested thoroughly; not a single grain head remained, and only scattered bundles of wheat stalks dotted the dark soil. High on the southern bank stood a small village, enclosed by palisades and watchtowers—standard defenses for a border county facing the Turkic threat.

Xu Le stood atop the village wall, gazing thoughtfully at the harvested fields. He had just crossed the threshold from youth to young adulthood, nineteen years old, with a stature perhaps around one-seventy-eight or one-seventy-nine centimeters by modern standards—broad-shouldered, slender-waisted, agile in form.

At nineteen, his sword-like brows and bright eyes, softened by gentle lines, gave him a rare air of elegance and charm for a frontier youth; when he smiled, his lips curled up, hinting at a sophistication seldom found in these lands. Such a figure, placed in Chang'an or Luoyang, and born to a noble family, would surely haunt the dreams of countless ladies. Even in Shenwu County, the girls spoke of Young Master Le with a flush on their cheeks and dreamy eyes. Had Grandfather Xu allowed Xu Le to join the Eagle Guard or spent a little to buy him an official post, officials in the county would have gladly welcomed him as a son-in-law. Yet, fearing his grandson might be wronged by a rural match, Grandfather Xu had delayed such matters.

Footsteps sounded; a robust young man climbed the wall, shaking his head at Xu Le.

Xu Le frowned. “Han Yue, how did it go?”

Han Yue was the son of a servant Grandfather Xu had brought back years ago, growing up alongside Xu Le. He had followed Xu Le in evading Grandfather’s strict oversight and roaming the county, helping Xu Le earn his reputation as Young Master Le.

Han Yue shook his head. “It’s not good. Even if we halve the rations, we still can’t pay the taxes.”

He looked at Xu Le. “Does Grandfather have any reserves left?”

Xu Le shook his head. “For years the Turks have invaded, Grandfather stopped trading north and refused to deal with the authorities. Not a single coin of the required taxes and corvée has been missed, and with the bad weather these years, what reserves could possibly remain?”

Han Yue clenched his fists. “Then don’t pay! When disaster strikes, the Emperor opens the granaries; how can Prefect Wang still have the face to extort us?”

Xu Le smiled. “You want to argue with Prefect Wang? He’s famous for his stubbornness; his word is law in Mayi County. If you storm the prefect’s office, I’ll back you up.”

Han Yue waved his fist, somewhat sheepishly. “Who do the heroes of Hedong fear?”

Xu Le sighed, his brows drawn together. “Even heroes must provide for their families. I’m not worried for myself, but what about Grandfather, bedridden? Should he suffer ruin at his age? And what about all the villagers here?”

He patted Han Yue’s shoulder. “It’s time I shouldered this responsibility.”

Han Yue hesitated, looking at Xu Le, words on the tip of his tongue.

Xu Le laughed. “Don’t act so awkward—your size is intimidating… I know what you mean. Friends have come by lately, urging me to join the Eagle Guard or seek an official post; then everything would be easier. But do you think Grandfather would allow it?”

Han Yue shook his head. Bedridden, Grandfather Xu was as stubborn as ever, unwilling to give in even to Prefect Wang, who ruthlessly extorted during disaster years. Xu Le was forbidden from joining the Eagle Guard or serving any noble family, forced to linger in the countryside—a waste of talent, Han Yue thought.

Their friends dared only advise Xu Le, never Grandfather Xu—the old man who once swept the Sanggan River valley of bandits, bow and horse in hand!

Those of the older generation still remembered Grandfather Xu’s bearing—his good looks passed to Xu Le, his elegance even in old age, upright in the saddle, not outshone by younger men. Aloof and eccentric, yet fiercely protective of those around him. When angered, his brows arched high, sending chills through the onlooker.

Now, however, Grandfather Xu was just an old man struggling after a stroke.

Han Yue gazed at Xu Le, eyes pleading.

Xu Le smiled lightly, lips curling with a carefree air. “There’s nothing for it but to return to the northern trade route. Otherwise, we face ruin—Prefect Wang could send troops to destroy us. Grandfather guarded the village for so long; now it’s my turn.”

Han Yue nodded. “I’ll follow you wherever you go.”

Xu Le nodded. “It’s time for Grandfather’s medicine. Get the horses and supplies ready—we leave at dawn!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The little village of the Xu clan was peaceful, with few people in sight. At harvest time, most able-bodied men were busy in the fields. Only women remained, preparing meals, with wisps of smoke curling from every corner—a tranquil scene.

Scholars and poets, seeing these hills, waters, and this small village, would inevitably wax lyrical about harvest and prosperity. Yet only those living here, seeing the somber faces of the villagers, understood how hard life was on the verge of chaos, facing the Turkic threat.

Last spring, Shibi Khan led the Turks in a major southern campaign, besieging the Emperor of the Sui and Yanmen County. Mayi County, bordering Yanmen, was dragged into the turmoil. Armies marched endlessly, conscription urgent as wildfire.

That autumn, Lord Li Yuan of Tang, stationed at Jinyang, joined forces with Prefect Wang Renqiong of Mayi County to defeat the southern Turks, but local reserves were nearly depleted.

Since the ninth year of the Sui dynasty, Mayi County had suffered drought after drought. With the Turks ascendant, Prefect Wang doubled taxes and corvée; those not drafted as Eagle Guards paid ten times the exemption fee. Tax collectors, relentless for their quotas, carried out Wang’s orders with near-fanatical severity, obliterating many villages. The heads of “tax rebels” hung in rows at every city gate.

Now, besides the Turkic threat and natural disasters, Mayi County itself was in chaos. Before the Emperor moved south to Jiangdu, he had reshuffled officials everywhere.

Mayi County, with its strong army and Prefect Wang’s long-standing arrogance, prompted the Emperor to promote Liu Wuzhou, who had distinguished himself in the Korean campaigns, appointing him as Commander of the Heng’an Eagle Guard, to check Wang’s power.

Prefect Wang, in response, was expanding his army, strengthening the Mayi Eagle Guard, and sending troops north under the pretext of the Turkic threat to pressure Liu Wuzhou into submission.

Perhaps the Turks would not need to invade—Mayi County might erupt into civil war first!

At this time, Prefect Wang ruled with iron discipline, watching over taxes and grain with increasing scrutiny. Anyone caught in his grasp risked ruin—not once or twice, but many times.

Xu Le walked through the village, nodding in greeting to the villagers, surveying the now somewhat shabby settlement.

For nineteen years, he had been raised here by Grandfather, playing over the hills as a child, later learning letters and martial arts. In his rebellious teens, he often sneaked over the palisades at night with Han Yue to mingle with the heroes of Hedong.

Every household in the village had someone who watched him grow; every corner bore traces of his childhood mischief.

Perhaps he had once resented Grandfather for confining him to this small world, teaching him skills not meant for a simple village life. But when the steadfast old man suddenly collapsed from a stroke, Xu Le felt the responsibility fall naturally upon himself.

Grandfather, let me show you what I can do!

In no time, Xu Le reached his family home. At the gate stood Han Yue’s mother—one of the servants who had settled here with Grandfather Xu years ago. Han Yue’s father had died early, leaving his mother to do odd jobs for the Xu family. She was now taking advantage of the sunshine to dry vegetables for winter.

Seeing Xu Le return, Madam Han hurried forward. Xu Le asked quietly, “How is Grandfather?”

Madam Han, in her forties, coarse-handed and large-footed, had helped raise Xu Le, treating him like her own. She was the one who pleaded on his behalf after Grandfather’s scoldings, and often complained about the delay in arranging Xu Le’s marriage.

She lowered her voice. “He’s lying in the courtyard, sunning himself under a wool blanket. The medicine is heating on the stove, Xiao Liu is tending the fire… He’s calmer today.”

Xu Le nodded. Madam Han looked at him, hesitant.

He was all too familiar with these looks from the villagers since Grandfather’s illness and his decision to take the northern trade route.

After a pause, Madam Han spoke. “Young Master Le, if you can avoid it, don’t go. Times are chaotic; if anything happens… As for taxes, we’ll grit our teeth and pay, even if it means eating chaff and swallowing bran.”

Xu Le shook his head with a smile. “Auntie, it’s not about grain or silk—it’s the exemption fee!”

In Sui times, taxes were divided into three: land rent, corvée, and labor. Rent meant grain, corvée was local goods—mainly silk and hemp—covering the essentials of food and clothing. Labor was unpaid work for the government a certain number of days per year. The Sui military system counted as labor; those unwilling to serve could pay a fee instead—the exemption fee.

But now, Prefect Wang not only extorted rent and corvée, but had increased the exemption fee tenfold. Unable to pay, one had to serve.

Ordinary labor was one thing, but Prefect Wang had turned all labor into military service, expanding his Eagle Guard. Many commoners or heroes of Hedong, unable to pay or eager to make a name in chaos, were forced or tempted to join the rapidly growing Mayi Eagle Guard.

To keep so many soldiers, taxes had to be doubled. The expanded, chaotic Eagle Guard gave Wang plenty of men to conscript from his domain. Most of Mayi County lived under this pressure.

Some were bound to Prefect Wang’s war chariot, fighting for his ambitions. Others, struggling to meet demands, faced ruin if they failed.

“…The exemption fee was originally one hundred twenty coins per person; now it’s twelve hundred. Even with doubled grain and silk taxes, we barely scrape by. Tighten our belts, sell our grain—it’s still not enough. Our only option is to go north, trade grain for horses. Horse prices are high now; one trip will cover this year’s needs.”

Madam Han paused, eyes suddenly reddening as she wiped her tears. “How did the world become so chaotic? For someone like you, Young Master Le—counting every coin—how unfair it is… You shouldn’t have to suffer like this.”

Her tears made even the fearless Xu Le uncomfortable. He quickly said, “I’ll go check on Grandfather!” and slipped past her into the courtyard.

The Xu family home was a typical country dwelling—two rows of rooms, small houses with a spacious yard. The front yard doubled as a martial practice ground; the rear was a stable. Madam Han kept the place spotless.

In the front corridor, a boy of about ten watched over a simmering medicine pot, its aroma filling the air.

On a bamboo couch in the sun, wrapped in wool, half-reclining, sat the old man. Hearing Xu Le enter, he opened his eyes.

He was over sixty, his hair snow-white, but his features still showed traces of youthful vigor. Though his face was sickly, his gaze was cold and sharp.

This was Xu Le’s grandfather—the man who had once driven bandits from the eastern Sanggan River valley of Shenwu County, established the Xu clan village, and alone journeyed north, slaying more than ten Turkic riders with his own hand. Even the most daring heroes of Mayi County respected him as Old Master Xu Gan of the Xu clan village.