Chapter Sixty-Two: A Plan for Settling Down

Zhen Qian was troubled about how to address Yan Ming, so he quickly changed his tone and said, "My name is Zhen Qian. You may call me Zhen Lang or Da Lang. Since Yan Brother is a few years older than I, I shall address you as Yan Brother. Shopkeeper Song told me that you are a veteran from Anxi, sent back to your homeland after being discharged. I wonder what brings you to the mountains..."

Song Yi had not told Yan Ming that Zhen Qian was the secret owner of the Drunken Immortal Tavern, though whether Yan Ming could guess it was uncertain.

Yan Ming took the bowl of chilled grape wine offered by Zhen Qian and drained it in one gulp, mocking himself, "Thank you, Zhen Lang, for saving my life. To tell the truth, three months ago I returned from Anxi to my homeland. With a hundred strings of cash for settling down, I entrusted someone to purchase a few acres of poor land for me. But for someone like me, who only knows how to wield a blade, how could I possibly know how to till the earth? In the end, most of my settlement money was spent, and soon my household didn’t even have firewood. So, I thought to enter the mountains to chop some wood and sell it for a little money, but unexpectedly, I suffered heatstroke and was rescued by Zhen Lang. It’s hard to explain in a few words!"

Listening to Yan Ming’s story, Zhen Qian could not help but smile bitterly, though he was still confused, "Yan Brother, was there some fault you committed in the army, or did you simply not wish to stay? Why not remain in Anxi?"

There were things Zhen Qian ought not to ask, but he had recently heard of the Battle of Talas and was deeply curious. By all rights, after the Tang army’s defeat and the appointment of a new commander, it should have been a time to stabilize morale. Why would Yan Ming return home at this moment? Was there another reason?

Yan Ming seemed to have a bellyful of grievances with nowhere to voice them. He sighed deeply and said, "To be honest, I didn’t want to leave the Anxi garrison. Have any of you heard of the Battle of Talas?"

As expected, it was related to the Battle of Talas. Zhen Qian perked up his ears and nodded, "I heard that Marshal Gao led twenty thousand Anxi troops, allied with the Karluks, to attack the Stone Kingdom. Unexpectedly, the Stone Kingdom betrayed us and secretly allied with the Arabs, bringing twenty thousand Arab soldiers to attack the Tang army. When the battle was at its height, the Karluks suddenly rebelled and struck at us from behind, causing the Tang army’s disastrous defeat. Marshal Gao was then recalled to the court. These reports I read in the imperial bulletins."

Yan Ming wore a complex expression, his gaze sweeping the faces around him, but he said nothing. Instead, he reached for the wine jug chilled on ice, poured himself a full bowl—four or five taels—tipped it back, wiped the wine from his mouth, and slammed the bowl on the table. "Something like that!"

If it is, then it is; if it isn’t, then it isn’t. What did he mean by 'something like that'?

Zhen Qian understood that Yan Ming was in no position to comment. Whether on the causes of defeat at Talas or Marshal Gao Xianzhi’s command and character, it was not for a common soldier to judge.

"Then why did you leave the Anxi army?"

"That’s a long story," Yan Ming deftly avoided the sensitive topic, "After Talas, Marshal Gao was recalled to the court, and Marshal Feng took over the Anxi Protectorate. He began to reorganize the army. We old veterans, each bearing wounds, were no longer fit for the service. Fortunately, Marshal Feng took pity on us, granting each man a discharge payment so we could return home to spend our old age in peace. But what can men like us do besides wielding swords and spears? And so we ended up like this!"

Zhen Qian knew that after a great battle, whether victory or defeat, countless stories lay behind the scenes—rewards, blame, intrigues above, and unknown happenings below.

Yan Ming was sparing with words, but his meaning was clear. Zhen Qian found himself sympathizing with these veterans. As Yan Ming said, after being soldiers for decades, what else could they do besides fight? Whether the hundred strings of discharge money or settlement funds, it was neither much nor little. Giving a man fish is less useful than teaching him to fish. These men, now in their thirties and forties, past their prime and bearing old wounds, what use was sending them back home? There was no pension or retirement fund in the Tang dynasty...

Though Yan Ming hadn’t described his difficulties, one look at his coarse gray linen clothes revealed he didn’t know how to make a living. His future would be spent in hardship.

"Yan Brother, have you never thought of any other way to earn a living?"

Painful memories surfaced, and Yan Ming replied disinterestedly, "What use is thinking? I hoped the discharge money could buy a few more acres, but I learned upon returning home that it could hardly buy any land at all. Besides, I don’t know how to farm, and hiring help leaves me unable to even feed myself. Thinking I still had some strength left, I went to the mountains to cut wood and sell it in town. Who would have thought I couldn’t even manage that? If not for meeting Zhen Lang, these old bones would be left in the mountains!"

Wang Peng, worried that Yan Ming drinking so much after illness was unwise, switched his bowl for a small cup and personally poured him a drink, "Yan Brother, forgive me for saying this, but after serving as a soldier for so many years, why not become a guard for some household? Even gatekeeping is better than chopping wood in the mountains."

Yan Ming was clearly one of those who couldn’t hide his thoughts and replied, "You’re not wrong, old brother. Others have said the same. But these old bones—if not looked down upon, I’m simply used as a brute by the master. I can’t stomach it. I’d rather live freely as I do now."

Song Yi, standing nearby, tensed and nodded in agreement, "Yan Brother is right. How many of those wealthy families are truly good people these days..." He glanced awkwardly at Zhen Qian, offering an apologetic smile, as if to say he wasn’t speaking of Zhen Qian.

Zhen Qian had heard much about the secrets of wealthy families—besides extravagance, their arrogance grew ever stronger. For someone as upright as Yan Ming, it would hardly suit him.

At that moment, Zhen Qian felt a mix of emotions, unable to voice his thoughts, but a vague discomfort gnawed at him. The early Tang system of conscripted troops had long since been abolished; now it was a system of recruited soldiers. Because of this, these old soldiers were left without support in their later years. Though not necessarily dangerous to their neighbors, if dissatisfaction brewed, they would become a destabilizing factor.

Suddenly, Zhen Qian asked, "Yan Brother, do you know how many men were discharged from the Anxi army this time? And how many from Henan Circuit?"

Yan Ming pondered for a moment, "I’m not sure about the overall numbers, but I know a bit about Henan Circuit. About three hundred old soldiers returned home with me, and six of them came from Hengzhou alone..."

Just as Zhen Qian was subtly coaxing information from Yan Ming, Wang Qun entered through the back door, whispered something in Zhen Qian’s ear, and then sat down with a cheerful grin.

Zhen Qian was pleased. Wang Qun had just told him that he had met a blacksmith at the slave market—his skills were average but his experience rich. He bought the whole family for sixty strings of cash. Now, with both a carpenter and a blacksmith, many things were possible. With that thought, Zhen Qian quietly leaned toward Wang Peng and whispered a few words, after which Wang Peng excused himself to leave the table.

Afterward, Zhen Qian, like a curious child, continued chatting with Yan Ming, probing all sorts of customs and anecdotes from Anxi.

Yan Ming, though unlettered, had lived in Anxi for over a decade and knew much about the Western Regions. He described the music and dances of Kucha, the features and habits of the Hu people, the wandering poets who roamed Anxi, the women of Kucha, the harsh weather of Shule, the jade of Hotan, and the merchant caravans passing through Suyab.

When the group heard that some of the small western countries truly possessed blood-sweating horses, their breath quickened. Yet, when he spoke of palaces built of jade and gold, skepticism flickered in their eyes. Yan Ming licked his lips, recalling those days in the Western Regions.

"Far upriver the Yellow River climbs the clouds, A lonely fortress stands amidst a thousand peaks. Why should the Qiang flute mourn the willow trees? Spring wind never passes Yumen Gate."

Everyone was suddenly moved by Zhen Qian’s recitation of Wang Zhihuan’s “Song of Liangzhou,” and felt a quiet awe for those soldiers fighting in distant lands. Their respect swelled, and they raised their cups: "Yan Brother, you have fought for the nation across a thousand miles, braved death, endured hardship, and never regretted it. Think how many sons and daughters of the Tang are buried in Anxi, their bones unyielding, their spirits unwavering. We salute you!"

Yan Ming did not decline, downed his cup in one gulp, and his spirits soared. "The Anxi army numbered only twenty thousand soldiers and a hundred officers, yet their presence made the Western countries fear the Tang Empire as a fierce tiger, never daring to rebel. But the court grew ever wary, and our sacrifices earned nothing but scars and tears..."

"Careful!" Wang Qun covered Yan Ming’s mouth, nervously glancing around. Seeing only two or three scattered tables far off, he relaxed, "Yan Brother, best not to discuss state affairs. Words can bring trouble!"

Yan Ming sobered instantly, realizing he had spoken recklessly under the influence of wine. He quickly raised his cup, returning to tales of his experiences in Anxi.

At that moment, Wang Peng entered through the front door. No one noticed the matter at hand. Wang Peng apologized, then leaned in to whisper to Zhen Qian, falling silent.

Yan Ming, now somewhat drunk, was full of regrets that he hadn’t worked hard when young, now lamenting his fate. He spoke of how, upon returning home, his old friends were long gone, and tears came unbidden.

Wang Qun and Zhen Qian exchanged glances, then whispered a few words in Zhen Qian’s ear. Suddenly, Zhen Qian’s eyes lit up, barely able to contain his excitement. He suppressed his emotions and said, "Yan Brother, do you intend to live like this forever? Have you considered your future? I cannot promise riches and glory, but I can at least offer you a life free from want. Would you be willing to hear me out?"