Entering the Tiger's Den

The discord between civil and military officials has historically been a major malaise in local governance. The expectations placed on civilian and military personnel have always leaned heavily in favor of the former. Society has constantly demanded that "civil officials desire no wealth, while military generals do not cherish their lives." Yet, as everyone knows, it is easy to refuse money, but difficult to risk one's life.

The greatest demand placed upon a civil official is merely to forfeit some wealth without suffering any actual harm. However, for a military general to earn an equivalent reputation, he must stake his very life on the battlefield. Generals trade their lives to conquer the realm, only for civilian officials to sit comfortably upon the throne. Naturally, such an arrangement breeds resentment in the hearts of military men. It is hardly surprising that civil and military factions have been at odds since antiquity in China.

Presently, the friction between the civil and military factions in Hanzhong is severe.

Hanzhong was originally conquered by Yao Shuode of the Later Qin dynasty. Yet, as the old saying goes, while one can conquer an empire from the horseback, one cannot govern it from the saddle. This applies to empires just as much as it does to individual cities and territories. Yao Shuode understood well enough that relying on his military commanders to slaughter and fight was feasible, but when it came to handling internal administration, they fell far short of civilian officials.

Therefore, despite being a Hu tribesman himself and sharing the same proclivity for bloodshed, Yao Shuode knew that once a city was captured, it became his own territory, and he could not simply massacre everyone. Moreover, he still needed to lead his troops on campaigns; it was impossible for him to remain stationed in Hanzhong indefinitely. After careful deliberation, he decided to employ Han Chinese.

To be frank, he held a deep admiration for Han culture. Although the Han people were generally seen as timid and lacking a martial spirit, if one combined Han etiquette, breeding, and culture with the inherent fierce valor of his own people, would not the empire belong to his Qiang tribe sooner or later?

In truth, Yao Shuode was not alone in this thought; most Hu rulers entertained the exact same notion after establishing regimes in the Central Plains.

Most of these Hu tribes had originally been nomadic, subsisting on plunder and marauding across the Eurasian continent throughout history. They never had a permanent home, and it was precisely this nomadic existence that forged their rugged character and fearless bravery. Until the time they established regimes in the Central Plains, they had roamed the bitter, frozen lands between the deserts of Northwest China and the vast Eurasian steppes, struggling merely to survive. How could they possess a profound and ancient culture like that of the Han Chinese?

Consequently, ever since these ethnic minorities forcibly seized the Yellow River basin and established their regimes, they continuously studied the Han people, gradually and imperceptibly absorbing Han culture. Over generations of evolution, even their names eventually transformed into Han names.

Was not the name Yao Shuode itself an example of this? Even the very surnames "Yao," "Murong," and countless others were all the same.

Although Yao Shuode was bloodthirsty, he still desired a stable regime. Thus, after capturing Hanzhong and recognizing its vital geographical importance, he first left one of his trusted military commanders behind to garrison the city—this was military governance. At the same time, he intended to recruit one or two capable and virtuous men in Hanzhong to serve as the Grand Administrator—this was civil governance.

In his view, a dual approach of civil and military administration would surely guarantee peace in Hanzhong. Who could have foreseen that this joint rule by the Han Chinese and the Qiang tribe would instead foster a profound discord between the two factions?

While Yao Shuode was present, things remained manageable, with both factions merely paying lip service to each other. But once Yao Shuode departed, the conflict became increasingly glaring.

The military commander left behind to garrison the city was named Zhai Shiyan. He was indeed a brilliant tactician and battle commander who always led from the front and cherished his soldiers as if they were his own sons—these were his virtues. However, his flaws were shared by nearly all military men: a violent temper, boorishness, and rashness.

In particular, he utterly despised the Grand Administrator appointed by General Yao Shuode, a man named Shi Ke'an.

A military general like him had shed blood and labored bitterly to conquer Hanzhong, yet a mere scholar was appointed as Grand Administrator. This left Zhai Shiyan stationed as a garrison commander with absolutely no spoils of war to line his pockets. How could he possibly be happy?

The Grand Administrator, Shi Ke'an, was no Hu tribesman; he was a thoroughbred Han Chinese. He indeed possessed genuine talent and a deep understanding of statecraft, but unfortunately, he had encountered troubled times, forcing his grand ambitions to remain buried in the wilderness.

He often felt he was just like Zhuge Liang before his rise to fame—tilling the fields in obscurity. The only difference was that Zhuge Liang had been in Longzhong, while he was in Hanzhong.

After capturing Hanzhong, Yao Shuode sought out wise men far and wide, and ultimately succeeded in finding Shi Ke'an, inviting him to come forth and help the Later Qin govern Hanzhong.

Initially, Shi Ke'an refused because, after all, he was a Han Chinese; how could he consent to serve the Hu? In the end, however, he was persuaded by Yao Shuode’s arguments.

At that time, Yao Shuode had persuaded Shi Ke'an with these words: "How does Master Shi consider yourself compared to Wang Meng of the past?"

"The only fine prime minister of Guanzhong is Wang Meng, and all the suffering masses look to Xie An." In that era, who had not heard the name Wang Meng?

Throughout the entire Wei and Jin dynasties, one might say that only Wang Meng could stand shoulder to shoulder with Xie An. It was precisely because of Wang Meng’s assistance that the Former Qin flourished so brilliantly. And it was precisely because Wang Meng, on his deathbed, advised the elimination of Murong Chui and Yao Chang early on rather than launching a campaign against the Jin—advice that Fu Jian ignored—that the seeds of Former Qin's destruction were sown. When Fu Jian recalled Wang Meng’s parting instructions after the catastrophic defeat at the Feishui River, it was already far too late for regret.

Wang Meng was truly a prime minister of legendary renown, and Shi Ke'an held him in the utmost reverence. Using Wang Meng as an example, Yao Shuode had argued: "With a talent like Wang Meng's, you still found yourself unable to make an impact in Jiangdong. Back then, Huan Wen recognized his talent yet refused to employ him, for the Jin court was entirely dominated by aristocratic families. Even if Master Shi harbors loyalty to the Jin and wishes to serve them, your overflowing talent would still find no outlet."

What Yao Shuode said was true; the nine-rank arbiter system of the Wei and Jin dynasties buried an untold number of talented individuals.

"A discerning bird chooses the tree on which to nest, and a wise minister chooses the master whom to serve. Even Wang Meng understood this principle; why should Master Shi care whether the master he serves is Hu or Han?"

If one were to ask what the saddest things in the world are, among them are a beauty whose luster is dimmed by dust, a hero in his twilight years, and a man overflowing with talent who has nowhere to display it. The more talented a person was, the more disdainful they felt toward wallowing in worldly filth. After prolonged and careful consideration, Shi Ke'an finally accepted Yao Shuode’s invitation and assumed the post of Grand Administrator of Hanzhong.

Regrettably, being a Han Chinese, Yao Shuode did not fully trust him. Although he held the title of Grand Administrator, he was stripped of military command, and the Qiang general Zhai Shiyan was stationed in Hanzhong to keep him in check.

One can easily imagine how Zhai Shiyan felt: he and his fellow generals had endured grueling hardships to conquer Hanzhong, only for a complete unknown of a civilian official to govern it. How could he submit to that? As for Shi Ke'an, he constantly felt his hands tied, unable to execute his plans fully, which naturally bred a great deal of resentment in his heart.

Yao Shuode had originally intended for civil and military officials to jointly govern Hanzhong, but in doing so, he planted the hidden peril of their enduring discord.

...

Zhang Chi and Emei traveled through the night and had now entered Hanzhong.

Emei was as ethereal and graceful as an immortal, exuding an otherworldly aura. Her presence intoxicated Zhang Chi throughout the journey. Yet, enchanting as she was, beauty could not truly be eaten as a meal. Having ridden all night, both of them began to feel hungry, and their stomachs rumbled audibly.

Riding together with him and seated in front, Emei naturally heard it. She smiled and asked, "Is the young master hungry?"

Embarrassed, Zhang Chi replied, "It's fine. Attending to our business should come first."

While Zhang Chi was anxious, Emei remained unhurried. "There is no need for the young master to worry; I have already made meticulous arrangements. I have long heard that you are fond of wine. Now that we have arrived in Hanzhong, why don't we find a tavern, and you and I can share a few cups?"

Emei completely avoided mentioning her true purpose in insisting that Zhang Chi accompany her on this trip. However, since she had stated at the outset that she had everything arranged, Zhang Chi did not press further. After all, Emei would certainly not have dragged him to Hanzhong for no reason. Could it be purely for the sake of traveling together as companions?

If that were truly the case, it would be even better; if Emei harbored romantic intentions toward him, it was something Zhang Chi would be most delighted to hear.

Upon arriving at the tavern, the proprietor immediately came out to greet them. Like all businessmen, the owner looked exceptionally shrewd, with small eyes and a pointed chin, bearing a striking resemblance to a rat. With such distinct facial features, Zhang Chi was left with a deep impression of him.

Emei exchanged greetings with the proprietor and headed straight up to the second floor. The owner did not come forward to wait on them, suggesting he was already well acquainted with Emei.

Emei was clearly quite familiar with the establishment, leading Zhang Chi directly to a window seat on the second floor, which indicated she had visited this place before.

At that moment, the tavern was filled with numerous patrons, among them quite a few local Han Chinese.

"They always say the Hu are bloodthirsty, but seeing this now, they don't seem as cruel as the rumors suggest," Zhang Chi observed aloud, noticing how peacefully and contentedly the people of Hanzhong lived.

"This is Hanzhong, which is different from the Central Plains. The common folk in the Central Plains are the ones who suffer bitterly."

Puzzled, Zhang Chi asked, "Then why do only the people of Hanzhong live in peace and contentment?"

"The current Grand Administrator of Hanzhong is actually a good official," Emei said, nodding in praise. "This man possesses genuine statecraft, but unfortunately has long been unrecognized and underappreciated until Yao Shuode employed him as Grand Administrator of Hanzhong. If such a man were in your service, young master, he could certainly play a significant role."

"I already have quite a few talented people under my command," Zhang Chi smiled.

Indeed, he had Du Ximing and Qin Boh for military command, while Santong Hui, who previously managed horses and was now learning cavalry tactics, would certainly grow into a cavalry general in the future. Dao Xuan and An Ren possessed peerless martial arts, and in Ding Yizhi, he had a strategist capable of devising victories from a command tent. Truly, his camp was brimming with talent.

Emei smiled and replied, "Though the young master has many capable men, can one ever have too much talent? Moreover, most of your men are suited for conquering cities and seizing territories, yet you lack those capable of internal administration and statecraft."

That point was undeniably true. Zhang Chi's subordinates were all military talents, but he truly lacked administrative personnel. If he were to establish his own domain in the future, who would govern it?

Conquering an empire from horseback and ruling it from the saddle were unchanging truths through the ages; one needed talents of all kinds.

They always said that in the twenty-first century, talent was the most valuable asset. In truth, talent was precious in any era. No wonder the ancients said that thousands of gold are easy to acquire, but a single general is hard to find.

"But how many troops do I even have? He is already a Grand Administrator; how could he possibly come and throw his lot in with someone like me?" Zhang Chi possessed a realistic sense of self-awareness.

Emei abruptly changed the subject. "He is a Han Chinese."

Her sudden shift in thought left Zhang Chi struggling to keep up. What difference did it make that he was Han Chinese? After pondering for a moment, he asked, "The fairy maiden mentioned earlier that she had made arrangements in advance. Could it be related to this man?"

"Having traveled all night, the young master must be tired. Why not drink a few more cups of wine, rest for a bit, and then we can discuss our plans," Emei replied, dodging the question entirely. Abandoning the topic, she smiled and said, "Let me toast you first, wishing the young master an early realization of your grand ambitions."

Zhang Chi quickly raised his cup and offered a few modest remarks in return.

During the Wei and Jin dynasties, wine-drinking was a deeply fashionable practice, and women were no exception. Despite being a delicate maiden, Emei possessed an astonishing capacity for liquor, downing several measures in succession until even Zhang Chi began to feel a bit dizzy.

Given Zhang Chi's usual tolerance, this amount of alcohol should not have been an issue. However, having ridden through the night without sleep, his exhaustion severely impaired his alcohol tolerance.

Zhang Chi had come to Hanzhong intending to handle critical military affairs, yet unexpectedly, he found himself indulging in a heavy drinking session instead. However, since Emei kept insisting she had everything arranged and would certainly not disrupt his important matters, he was not overly worried and continued to exchange drinks with her.

Drinking in the company of a beauty, Zhang Chi unconsciously consumed a few extra cups.

Once they had eaten and drunk to their hearts' content, Emei arranged a guest room for him, assuring him that he need not worry about anything, that he should simply get a good night's sleep, and that all matters would be addressed upon waking.

There was no need to seek out a separate inn, as the tavern also maintained guest quarters; she simply selected a clean room for him to rest in. Strangely enough, although he had felt a general fatigue earlier, it was nothing severe. But after drinking the wine, Zhang Chi felt his eyelids grow immensely heavy, refusing to stay open a moment longer. Shortly after lying down, he slipped deeply into a dream.

When Zhang Chi finally awoke, it was not because his sleep had run its natural course, but rather because a bucket of cold water had been dumped directly over his head, jolting him awake.

Opening his eyes, he realized he was no longer in the tavern, but had somehow been thrown into a prison cell.

"Why am I in a dungeon? Could I have been captured by the Hu?" Zhang Chi was thoroughly startled.

He found himself bound to a wooden pillar. Before him, an official in full court attire was interrogating another prisoner. Looking around left and right, there was no sign of Emei anywhere.

Staring closely at the prisoner, Zhang Chi saw it was none other than the rat-faced proprietor of the tavern.

The official conducting the interrogation appeared to be in his forties or fifties, possessing a kind and benevolent visage. They said that a person's appearance reflects their inner nature, and at first glance, one could tell this official was not harsh at all.

The official had just begun questioning the tavern keeper in a remarkably gentle tone: "If you confess, I will naturally deal with you leniently. If you refuse, I will have no other choice but to resort to severe torture. In truth, this official has no desire to use torture, so as to spare you from physical suffering. You had better just confess."

This was the first time Zhang Chi had ever witnessed such an interrogation. Weren't interrogations supposed to involve stern shouting and fierce questioning? Why was this official rambling on so endlessly?

Zhang Chi assumed this approach would yield zero results, but he guessed wrong. The official had merely uttered the word "torture"—without even showing a glimpse of the instruments—when the rat-faced proprietor immediately blurted out, "I confess, I confess! My lord, please spare the torture, I'll confess to everything!"

He truly was a spineless coward.

"Then make your confession truthfully at once," the official said, his tone still scholarly and refined, bearing no resemblance to a cruel magistrate. In fact, he was secretly bewildered himself. People always told him he was unsuited for interrogating prisoners because his demeanor was invariably too gentle and lacked sternness. He could not understand why this tavern keeper had folded so easily, capitulating and offering a confession at the mere mention of questioning.

The proprietor turned, pointed straight at Zhang Chi, and said to the presiding official, "It is him!"

Zhang Chi was utterly baffled. He had no idea what crime they were investigating or why the finger was being pointed at him.