Chapter Seven: A Hundred Strings of Cash
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Zhao Huai’an and his group continued their journey.
Zhao Liu kept his head down, sulking. Xianyu Yue and two others were chatting with Zhao Huai’an, while Aqi Mo and ten other local tribesmen carried heavy loads.
The armor and weapons of the six Tibetan soldiers they had defeated earlier were all confiscated and now carried by Aqi Mo’s group—these were Zhao Huai’an’s spoils.
Especially the armor of the Tibetan warrior Zhao Huai’an had hanged barehanded; such armor could fetch a high price anywhere.
Zhao Huai’an certainly loved money. Before, when fleeing for his life, he couldn’t carry those battlefield spoils and had to leave them behind reluctantly.
Now, with Aqi Mo and his people joining them, Zhao Huai’an was eager to strip every inch of the land clean.
Upon learning that Aqi Mo and the others were local tribesmen nearby, Zhao Huai’an immediately decided to hire them as guides.
At first, they all shook their heads, even pretending not to understand Zhao Huai’an.
They were terrified and just wanted to go home quickly; who would want to take on such a tough job?
But Zhao Huai’an promised them ten times the usual travel expenses if they could escort them safely to Qiongzhou.
Poor Aqi Mo and the others had long been enslaved by the Tibetans and had never seen so much money; they were instantly tempted.
They also understood that judging from the appearance of the Tang soldier, if they refused, they wouldn’t be able to leave.
But this man seemed trustworthy, so they decided to follow him. After all, it was just a mountain path.
Wasn’t that as simple as eating and drinking?
Thus, Aqi Mo and his group joined Zhao Huai’an’s team, agreeing to guide them to Qiongzhou for ten strings of cash per person.
...
When Zhao Liu heard the price, he was struck dumb, stunned for a long moment.
Then he jumped up, grabbing Zhao Huai’an’s hand, shouting:
“Zhao Da, you fool, do you know how much ten strings of cash is?”
Zhao Huai’an, of course, didn’t know—he wasn’t from here—but he knew that price was expensive.
He wasn’t stupid; when he agreed to Aqi Mo’s price, Old Deng couldn’t help but smirk.
Still, Zhao Huai’an did not bargain.
In his heart, no amount of money was worth more than his life.
Now the Nanzhao soldiers were blocking the only way back ahead; without the help of these locals, they simply couldn’t escape.
But he was too lazy to explain this to Zhao Liu, just pulling his hand away and shrugging:
“What? Got a better idea? Besides, didn’t you just make a killing on dead men’s money? Liu, money like this must be spent, or it’s disrespectful to our ancestors.”
For some reason, Zhao Huai’an added:
“Oh, by the way, it’s not ten strings, but a hundred—they’re ten people.”
This utterly crushed Zhao Liu, who wailed:
“Disrespecting the ancestors, then I’d rather die! I won’t give that money, not even if you beat me to death!”
Seeing Zhao Liu in such torment, Zhao Huai’an felt a thrill from head to foot:
“Feels good, making your old self the scapegoat all the way.”
Thinking this, Zhao Huai’an stroked his chin beard, looking smug.
But the next moment, he froze, incredulous, as a strong smell of urine hit his nose.
At that moment, Zhao Huai’an could no longer hold back, grabbing Zhao Liu and pounding him while scolding:
“You bastard, don’t you wash your hands after peeing?”
...
In the end, Zhao Liu agreed.
Not because he had changed his mind or been beaten into submission, but because Xianyu Yue, who came over to mediate, volunteered to pay the hundred strings for the guides.
Not only that, when they arrived in Chengdu, Xianyu Yue would also present Zhao Huai’an with ten taels of silver.
Xianyu Yue said this ten taels were not repayment for saving his life, but a pure token of gratitude.
Later, Xianyu Yue said something to Zhao Huai’an, which was beautifully phrased:
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“In the face of life and death, it was you, Lord Zhao, who disregarded your own safety and saved me from great peril. In the past, Han Xin repaid a meal from a floating mother with a thousand gold pieces. Now, you have given me the grace of rebirth, a debt I can never forget even if I bleed out my liver and brain.”
Zhao Huai’an rarely heard such flattering words, but while modestly denying, he felt inwardly pleased:
“This ancestor is not only polite but also straightforward. Seems everyone here talks like this—I’d better learn well.”
Perhaps because of Xianyu Yue’s extravagant generosity, Zhao Huai’an found himself liking this broad-browed, keen-eyed man more and more.
Just then, Zhao Huai’an noticed Song Yuan looking at him and smiling slightly.
That smile made Zhao Huai’an feel his life was frail and uncertain.
He dared not meet his gaze and quickly let Aqi Mo and the others lead the way.
...
Aqi Mo and his people were indeed local experts.
The narrow mountain path they took lay between two mountains, flanked by dense vines and forests, impossible to find without local guides.
No longer worried about encountering Nanzhao soldiers, Zhao Huai’an took off his bright armor and had the tribesmen carry it.
He soon realized the advantage of these tribesmen: though lacking fighting spirit, they were born beasts of burden.
Lean as they were, carrying dozens of pounds on rugged mountain trails was as easy for them as walking on flat ground.
But Zhao Huai’an also realized he was no different—a beast of burden himself.
Though he didn’t know his original identity, it was certainly nothing special; otherwise, he wouldn’t be cannon fodder.
Though his tooth-shaped badge said “Tooth General,” his boss fled without him—wasn’t he just a pawn?
Along the way, Zhao Huai’an chatted with Xianyu Yue and gathered much information, learning that the current year was the first year of Qianfu.
When Xianyu Yue’s sudden troops left Chengdu, imperial envoys arrived to announce the new era name throughout the city.
Called Qianfu, signifying Heaven’s bestowed symbol to the new emperor, promising favorable weather and great peace.
Thus, the former 14th year of Xiantong was officially renamed the first year of Qianfu.
The Tang Dynasty was beginning a new chapter.
Unfortunately, Zhao Huai’an still didn’t know when exactly the first year of Qianfu was, nor much about the Anshi Rebellion, only some famous figures.
Who knew when Qianfu began? When would the Tang fall?
Blame those online writers, all obsessed with Ming, Qing, Han, and Tang dynasties but ignoring late Tang.
If no one writes about it, how could he learn history?
Zhao Huai’an grumbled to Xianyu Yue all the way, perhaps aided by the fresh mountain air, his spirits improved considerably.
Well, he’d take it one step at a time. Every hurdle can be overcome, right?
At worst, he still knew about the Huang Chao Rebellion—though maybe at this time, Huang Chao hadn’t been born yet?
He’d think about that when they reached Chengdu.
But even then, he was a stranger in a strange land, so he’d better cling to Xianyu Yue’s wealthy coattails.
Hence, Zhao Huai’an grew more friendly with Xianyu Yue, offering emotional support all along, and by nightfall, the two were like sworn brothers.
Aqi Mo and the others found a sheltered mountain hollow to camp; one of the tribesmen sprinkled some powder nearby, claiming it repelled snakes and insects.
Zhao Huai’an didn’t understand but distributed the dry provisions from his pack and assigned night watch duties.
He himself didn’t keep watch, letting Zhao Liu and Ren Tong each take a tribesman to guard while he finished the bamboo tube meal from the Nanzhao people and rested.
The first day in Tang was truly exhausting.
Wrapped in the Tang army’s banner, Zhao Huai’an fell into a deep sleep.
...
Zhao Huai’an woke up drenched in sweat, startled from the ground, only relaxing when he saw Zhao Liu and the others busy nearby.
For some reason, seeing Zhao Liu gave him a sense of security.
Just before, Zhao Huai’an had a nightmare of being beheaded by the tribesmen, dying as miserably as Old Zhang.
Thankfully, it was only a dream.
He saw Song Yuan packing nearby, who glanced at him. Zhao Huai’an composed himself, tightened his armor, and stood up.
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He really deserved to die for being so naive—those tribesmen had drawn their knives on him yesterday, yet he dared to sleep soundly now? He might be killed without even knowing it.
At that moment, Zhao Huai’an felt genuine fear. He realized that the knowledge and habits he brought from the modern world might be both a gift from fate and a death sentence.
No longer see himself as a doomed modern man—this was Tang China!
As Zhao Huai’an rose, a few nearby tribesmen smiled and nodded at him.
This confused him; yesterday, they were so timid, and now they greeted him first?
What happened? Did a night’s sleep make them smarter? Did they realize old Zhao was a good guy?
Puzzled, Zhao Huai’an walked over as Zhao Liu and Aqi Mo busied themselves preparing food.
...
When Zhao Huai’an arrived, he overheard Zhao Liu bragging to Aqi Mo that he had killed more than a dozen Nanzhao soldiers along the way and ultimately rescued Zhao Da.
Since he was carrying Zhao Huai’an, he hadn’t noticed Zhao Da approaching and continued to boast.
You have to admit, Zhao Liu was indeed a skilled storyteller—his tale was dramatic enough to captivate even Ren Tong.
Zhao Huai’an had been listening quietly behind until he heard Zhao Liu fuss about washing hands after peeing.
That instantly reminded him of the urine smell on his hands yesterday, and he couldn’t help but kick Zhao Liu to the ground.
Then Zhao Huai’an took the seat Zhao Liu had just vacated.
Zhao Liu, kicked down, was about to curse but upon seeing Zhao Huai’an, gave an embarrassed smile and quickly offered a handful of fruit.
Yet his mind kept nagging:
“You fool, only know how to take advantage of old Liu; I won’t stoop to your level.”
Zhao Huai’an wasn’t angry, and since Zhao Liu smiled and offered fruit, he let him sit.
Looking at the fruit Zhao Liu offered, Zhao Huai’an thought they looked familiar—were they chestnuts?
So he asked:
“Who gathered these?”
Aqi Mo pointed to a lean young man nearby and said:
“Master, Black Sheep went nearby this morning to pick them; they’re edible.”
Zhao Huai’an recognized Black Sheep, possibly a Qiang man, sharp-eyed.
Black Sheep shyly smiled at Zhao Huai’an, then muttered something to Aqi Mo, who explained:
“Master, Black Sheep offers these to you.”
Zhao Huai’an felt a bit embarrassed, having neither kept watch nor worked, yet eating others’ food.
After thinking, he took out two pieces of dried yak meat from his pack.
These were loot from the Tibetans; Zhao Liu wanted to hide them, but Zhao Huai’an took them over.
He then called everyone together to share the chestnuts and dried meat, enjoying a high-calorie breakfast.
Clearly, food could indeed foster camaraderie.
With the mixed group, laughter became more frequent.
Encouraged by the tribesmen, Black Sheep finally mustered the courage to say something to Zhao Huai’an.
Zhao Huai’an didn’t understand and looked to Aqi Mo, who smiled and said:
“Black Sheep wants to learn martial arts from Master—the kind that killed the Tibetan warrior yesterday.”
But after saying this, Aqi Mo froze.
Not only him, but Zhao Liu, Xianyu Yue, Song Yuan, and Ren Tong all fell silent.
The laughter abruptly ceased, and the atmosphere instantly turned heavy.