Chapter 293: Greed Clouds Judgment

China has always placed excessive emphasis on face. As early as during the reign of Emperor Yang of Sui, to showcase the glory of the Sui Dynasty, he sent his trusted minister Pei Ju to the Western Regions to lure the barbarian tribes to the court. Seeing profit in it, the barbarians flocked to Luoyang. The local counties along the way spent heavily to host and welcome them. Moreover, Emperor Yang ordered a grand spectacle of performances to be held on the streets outside the Duanmen Gate of the imperial city on the Lantern Festival, specifically for the people from the Western Regions. As many as 18,000 performers played music, their sounds audible for miles, and the lights illuminated the area like daylight—until the end of the festival.

The people from the Western Regions came to Luoyang’s prosperous markets to trade. Emperor Yang first ordered local merchants to decorate the markets lavishly and stockpile precious goods. Merchants wore splendid clothing; even vegetable sellers used dragon-hair mats to cover the ground. Taverns invited the Westerners to sit freely, letting them drink and eat to their heart’s content without charging a penny, under the pretext that the Sui Dynasty was so wealthy that food and drink should not be paid for.

Even more absurdly, the trees in the markets were wrapped in silk. The barbarians, not fools, mocked them by asking, “In the Sui Dynasty, there are countless poor people who can’t even cover themselves. If you have silk, why not use it to cover your own people, but instead wrap the trees to show off your wealth?” The merchants were left speechless.

Today, Li Longji is the same. The submission of Al-Mansur, the heir to the Caliphate of the Abbasids, greatly satisfied his vanity. When Al-Mansur hesitantly asked to release the Abbasid prisoners so they could return home to reunite with their families, Li Longji and his ministers immediately felt compassion and agreed without hesitation. They ordered Li Qingan to release the prisoners, almost forgetting that there were also over a thousand Tang prisoners in the Abbasid lands. It was Li Qingan who reminded Li Longji of this.

However, Al-Mansur made a regrettable mistake. After signing the peace treaty, he asked to learn Tang papermaking techniques so as to spread Tang culture to the West. Li Longji agreed. But Al-Mansur, lacking confidence, did not ask to learn Tang armor-making and bow-making techniques. Only later did he realize that he could have used the pretext of helping the Tang fight against the Western Turks to obtain these military secrets, since the Tang did not regard the Abbasids as equal powers but rather saw it as a favor—meaning they might well have taught these techniques to them.

Unfortunately, he did not make this request, wasting this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. By the time the Tang emperor’s enthusiasm cooled, he might not have agreed anymore.

The song and dance feast held at Xingqing Palace for the Caliph’s heir lasted until the afternoon before ending. Li Qingan left the palace with a cold smile in his heart. He had no idea how long that friendly treaty, personally signed by the Tang Dynasty’s Left Chancellor Chen Xilié and sealed by Emperor Li Longji, would hold. Even if the Persians didn’t want to break the treaty, he, Li Qingan, would tear it to pieces with his own hands.

The carriage moved slowly down the street. Li Qingan leaned back on the cushions with his eyes closed, resting. Suddenly, he heard several bodyguards whispering about the Tang Dynasty’s decision to release the prisoners of war.

“Just letting them go for free? That’s too generous. How can we face our comrades who died on the battlefield?”

“Yes, these civil officials in the court are too soft-hearted, all acting superior. The Emperor is also getting old and foolish. If he’s going to let them go for free, at least they should pay a ransom!”

Li Qingan knocked twice on the carriage wall with a loud “thud! thud!”, and immediately silence fell outside. When Li Longji ordered him to release the Persian prisoners, Li Qingan hadn’t raised any objections—under such circumstances, he couldn’t dampen Li Longji’s spirits. But he wouldn’t just release twenty thousand Persian prisoners so easily. As the old saying goes, the decision to release them lay with Li Longji, but how to do it was up to him, Li Qingan. Could they really be released so easily? Mansur was probably oversimplifying things.

As the carriage passed through Mingde Gate, Li Qingan suddenly remembered the refugees from earlier that morning. He pulled back the curtain and looked into the distance. Hundreds of tents had been set up on an open area several miles away, surrounded by several large porridge stalls, each with long queues. There had only been a few thousand people in the morning, but now it seemed there were tens of thousands.

Suddenly, he saw several people riding horses toward them—it was Cui Guangyuan, the magistrate of Chang’an County. He also spotted Li Qingan’s entourage and hurried over.

Since their last meeting in the military camp, Cui Guangyuan had been dreaming of becoming an official in Anxi. He was currently the magistrate of a county in the capital, but if he went to Anxi, he would at least become a prefect. With a bit of luck, he might even rise to the position of governor of a lower province. Cui Guangyuan’s greatest desire in life was to become a general in the army. Even in his youth, he had been a rebel in the Cui family, brave and aggressive, a well-known ronin in Chang’an (the Tang term for street thugs). Later, thanks to his family’s influence, he became an official in Jiannan. Though he never entered the military, he became a civil official instead.

Now that he had joined Li Qingan, he began dreaming again of becoming a great general. Cui Guangyuan rushed forward, dismounted, and bowed, saying, “I pay my respects to the Great General!”

Li Qing’an smiled and asked, “Cui Shijun, how is the resettlement of the refugees going?”
“Reporting to the Great General, there are now 18,000 refugees from Hedong. It is said that many more are arriving in Chang’an one after another. Currently, Chang’an County and Wannian County are each in charge of a portion. I have taken in nearly 10,000 refugees. We started distributing porridge this morning, and this is already the second round. I estimate that nearly 100,000 refugees will eventually come to Chang’an.”
“Is there enough food?” Li Qing’an asked again.
“There definitely isn’t enough. The granaries in Chang’an County hold 30,000 dan of grain, but the governor of Jingzhao only allowed us to use 3,000 dan, saying that military supplies must be reserved and cannot be used for disaster relief. We plan to submit a petition to the emperor, asking for his permission to use the grain for relief.”
This was indeed a difficult situation. Li Qing’an was not optimistic about the outcome of the petition. Li Longji was determined to go to war and could not afford to worry about these disaster victims. After some thought, Li Qing’an said, “Let me give you an idea. Encourage the wealthy families in Chang’an to set up porridge stations. Surely some will be willing to gain fame by doing this. Additionally, I have a manor in Weinan County where I’ve accumulated 8,000 dan of grain over the past two years. All of this can be given to you for disaster relief. Also, go to the Juhai Bank in the East Market and withdraw 3,000 guan, claiming it’s my order. Use that money to buy grain for relief as well.”
Cui Guangyuan was greatly surprised. At the market price of 60 wen per dan for the cheapest brown rice, those 3,000 guan could buy 5,000 dan of brown rice for relief. In other words, Li Qing’an alone was contributing 13,000 dan of grain—a truly generous gesture. He was deeply moved and quickly thanked him, saying, “Thank you very much, Great General, for your donation. This grain will allow me to support the relief efforts for a long time.”
“You’re welcome. Besides, I have another request for your help.”
“Please give your orders, Great General.”
After a moment of thought, Li Qing’an said, “I can buy another 10,000 dan of grain, but this time it’s not for relief. Instead, you need to recruit 10,000 refugees who are willing to settle in Anxi. This grain can be used as food for the journey. Additionally, I’ll give each family one guan. Tell them that officials will be there to welcome them once they arrive in Anxi.”
Cui Guangyuan was also aware of the court’s plan to relocate 300,000 people from the Central Plains to Anxi. Since the court had already given its approval, he could assist Li Qing’an in carrying out this plan. However, 10,000 refugees meant nearly 60,000 people, and it was unlikely so many would be willing to go to Anxi.
Cui Guangyuan was somewhat troubled. “I’m worried that we won’t have as many as 10,000 refugees!”
“It doesn’t matter. Whatever number we get, I’ll send people to assist you. Also, make sure to explain the benefits of going to Anxi to the refugees.”

At this point, seeing that the bodyguard beside him hesitated as if wanting to report something, Li Qing’an said to Cui Guangyuan, “Then go and get busy. I’ll send someone to contact you regarding the details.” Cui Guangyuan bowed and left. Once he was far away, Li Qing’an turned to the bodyguard and asked, “What is it?” “Reporting to the general, Master Chang from Rehaiju says he has important matters to report to you,” the bodyguard replied. “Chang Jin?” Li Qing’an was slightly surprised. What could he possibly want? “Bring him in!” A moment later, Chang Jin was brought in. Upon seeing Li Qing’an, he said, “Sir, this noon I discovered a major secret about the Arabs.” “What secret?” “Some officials in the court intend to sell military secrets to the Arabs.” … Yang Wang pondered for an entire night. The glittering gold finally persuaded him to take a risky gamble and sell Tang Dynasty’s most advanced armor-making and bow-making techniques to the Arabs. Logically, as the son of Yang Xian, one of Chang’an’s “Five Yangs,” he shouldn’t lack money. Yet he never seemed satisfied with his wealth. Despite having vast riches at home, the gold of the Arabs still tempted him greatly. He had already earned 200 taels of gold just from the paper-making technique, and that was only half—the other half would be given after the deal was completed. But that morning, Yang Wang heard that the emperor had agreed to teach the Arabs paper-making, meaning he would lose the other 200 taels. There was even a high possibility that the Arabs might demand back the 200 taels they already had. To keep those 200 taels and gain more wealth, Yang Wang ultimately decided to sell them the armor-making and bow-making techniques they desired. At noon, he found Saif, one of the three deputy envoys of the Arab delegation dining at Rehaiju near the Western Market, and told him he could obtain those techniques. Saif was overjoyed and immediately offered 1,000 taels of gold for them. If Yang Wang could also provide the formula for fire bombs, he would add another 2,000 taels. 1,000 taels of gold equaled 10,000 strings of coins. If this deal went through, Yang Wang would earn 3,000 taels of gold, or 30,000 strings of coins. Yang Wang was dazzled. If he really could get that much money, he wouldn’t hesitate to even sell his own father to the Arabs. Unfortunately, walls have ears, and their conversation was reported in detail by the singing Persian woman accompanying them to Master Chang Jin.

In fact, the Tang Dynasty did not have a strong sense of confidentiality. As early as the end of the Sui Dynasty, due to chaos in the Central Plains, many Han people fled to the Turks for refuge, bringing with them the techniques of bowmaking from the Central Plains, which greatly improved the Turks’ bowmaking skills. Among the common people, the Tang government did not ban bows and arrows; the Tang Dynasty valued martial arts, and there were countless people carrying swords and bows as they roamed the land. Anyone could learn the art of making swords and bows in a blacksmith’s shop.

But the Arabs wanted nothing ordinary—just bows, arrows, swords, and armor. When Saif showed Yang Wang diagrams of the sharp weapons captured from the Tang army, Yang Wang immediately understood that the Arabs wanted military crossbows and Mingguang armor, which could not be obtained among the common people; only the government possessed them. Moreover, the most advanced techniques for making crossbows and armor were kept only in the Weiwei Temple, the Military Armory Bureau, and several major military governorships.

In the afternoon, Yang Wang went to Zhao Xin, the head of the weapons department at the Weiwei Temple. This department was responsible for storing the weapons of soldiers who went on campaigns. Zhao Xin was just a minor official of the eighth rank, with a very low position, but he could obtain what Yang Wang needed.

Zhao Xin was an ordinary official with no family background or formal training. He had become an official through a clerical position and was already in his fifties. He had reached the top of his eighth-rank position and had no chance for further promotion.

Zhao Xin had three sons. Two of them had married, exhausting all his savings and leaving him in heavy debt. Now that his youngest son was about to get married, the family had no money left, and no one would lend them any more. Worse still, the creditors, fearing he might turn to usury, kept coming to demand repayment, leaving him in great distress.

His two married sons were unproductive, working as apprentices to earn a meager income to support their families, and they could not help him either.

His youngest son was troublemaker, spending his days vagabonding in the streets, stealing, fighting, and causing trouble. His wife was often sick, and the whole family relied on Zhao Xin’s salary to survive.

Zhao Xin’s monthly salary was tiny, and his allocated land had been given to his two sons. He used every penny of his salary to pay off debts. He, his elderly wife, and his youngest son barely made ends meet on the small amount of land allocated to his position. Occasionally, when damaged weapons were destroyed, a few would remain in the warehouse, which he would sell to earn a little money.

Every year, what Zhao Xin looked forward to the most was the salary distributed at the end of the year, which allowed him to live a comfortable life for a while. But to his great disappointment, it was already mid-February of the 11th year of Tianbao, and the salary from the 10th year of Tianbao, which should have been distributed two months ago, still hadn’t appeared. This left the minor officials in great distress. It was said that the imperial treasury was empty, and another war was coming on, so there was simply no money to distribute to them. Everyone was uneasy and had no mind for government affairs. Zhao Xin was under even greater pressure—in three days, he would have to send a gift to the bride’s family, but his family had nothing to offer.

The bell signaling the end of work rang, and the officials closed their doors and windows, preparing to go home. Zhao Xin also put away his keys, deeply preoccupied, as he prepared to leave.

“Old Zhao, come have a drink!” Old Sun, the supervisor of the palace, called out in the courtyard.

“He still has money to drink?”

Zhao Xin’s eyes lit up, and he rushed to the door, shouting, “Old Sun, I have something to discuss with you!”

“No! No! I don’t have any money.”

Frightened, Old Sun turned and ran away. At the courtyard entrance, he almost collided with someone. Zhao Xin hung his head in disappointment. Everyone feared him like a tiger—was it really that difficult to borrow some money?

At that moment, he saw someone coming from the courtyard. The person seemed quite young and vaguely familiar. He said, “It’s already after work. Come back tomorrow if you have anything to discuss.”

The person was naturally Yang Wang. He had already managed to find out about Zhao Xin’s predicament through various means. This was his chance.

“Supervisor Zhao, I am Yang Wang, the supervisor of the Honglu Temple’s Guest Affairs Department. I have a small matter to discuss with you.”