Chapter 165: Returning Grain, Bountiful Year

Chapter 165: Returning Grain: A Bountiful Year

Cong Lin had no real battlefield experience. He came from the relatively peaceful Ji County, and though he later became a constable and picked up some fighting skills, these were only enough to handle common folk.

Facing the fierce and battle-hardened Left Great Commandant of the Xiongnu, Cong Lin was outmatched within just a few exchanges.

At this point, Bing Wengu would jump in at just the right time. It didn’t take much—just a single slash or thrust—to instantly flip the tables on the Left Great Commandant, turning his advantage into a disadvantage.

After being defeated twice, the Left Great Commandant realized that this man, who seemed to weave through the battlefield with ease, was actually in complete control.

What was most terrifying wasn’t just his ease, but that beyond his effortless movements, he could still keep tabs on the whole fight, occasionally turning the tide for his men—that was the scariest part.

This was war, not a game.

Yet this Dayong official could achieve such mastery, showing his skills were way beyond his own. Reluctantly, the Left Great Commandant had to face the fact that he was no match for this Dayong prefect.

Suddenly, a thought struck him, and his expression changed drastically. "You deceived us, didn’t you? The First Prince and Third Prince were killed by you, not the Wusun! Even the burning of the granary last time was your doing—you framed the Wusun to incite war between our peoples, giving Fengzhou time to recover!"

Bing Wengu sighed. "Are all Xiongnu this thick-headed?"

The Left Great Commandant scowled. "We Warriors of the Steppe are straightforward and honest, unlike those scheming pretty-faced Dayong men. Besides, I’ve already uncovered your dirty scheme—who’s slow-witted now?"

"You see, that’s exactly where you’re not clever," Bing Wengu set him straight earnestly, as if instructing Cong Lin in battle.

"Even if you guessed the truth, you’re still a fool. How could you reveal such a secret in front of the very person responsible? Do you think they’d let you leave alive to expose their scheme?"

The Left Great Commandant’s face paled instantly.

Bing Wengu said casually, "Seems you’ve realized it now. So you understand—you must die."

With a single slash, Bing Wengu knocked the Left Great Commandant off his horse. Then Cong Lin kicked his horse forward to engage the fallen commander.

Though the Left Great Commandant was highly skilled, fighting on foot against Cong Lin on horseback left him vulnerable, and soon he was run through by Cong Lin’s spear.

The first lesson Bing Wengu taught Cong Lin was this: even if a crucial enemy is struck down, always make sure they’re dead.

Thus, the dead Left Great Commandant was beheaded by Bing Wengu, his head mounted on a spear and planted at the center of the battlefield.

This was a blatant provocation to the Xiongnu. They were itching to slaughter the entire frontier army, but in reality, the Xiongnu soldiers had been defeated, and their Left Great Commandant had been killed by the frontier forces.

When Chanyu Feiman heard the news, he coughed up blood, furious.

"Chanyu!"

"Father!"

The Second Prince rushed to his side. "Father, you mustn’t work yourself up like this! You must take care of yourself—the Xiongnu still need you!"

Chanyu Feiman felt a weight crushing his chest, unbearable and stifling.

"Father, let me take the field," the Second Prince pleaded.

Chanyu Feiman glanced at his son’s injured arm. "In this state? You’d just be asking to get killed. You couldn’t even beat the Left Great Commandant, and now he’s been killed by the frontier army. You? Might as well hang yourself—at least that’d be a dignified death!"

If he hadn’t been his only remaining son, Chanyu Feiman would have long since banished this useless heir.

Just then, a Xiongnu soldier rushed in to report: the frontier army had retreated.

After securing victory, Bing Wengu led his troops away. This wasn’t their territory—no point sticking around to get worn down by never-ending enemy attacks.

The Xiongnu had been dominating the frontier army for years, and their strength was undeniable—there was no denying that. Bing Wengu had never planned to defeat the Xiongnu in one fell swoop; his plan had always been to whittle them down over time. Weaken their forces, and then finish them off in one decisive strike.

Those earlier surprise attacks were just drills.

After returning victorious, Bing Wengu threw a big celebration with the frontier troops. Meanwhile, Shen Chengzhou, who had been worried sick this whole time, finally relaxed, thinking it was just a spur-of-the-moment thing from Bing Wengu.

But to his surprise, in the days that followed, Bing Wengu kept taking the frontier army out to battle—sometimes against the Xiongnu, sometimes against Wusun—stirring up trouble everywhere like a pest.

Though both Wusun and the Xiongnu despised Bing Wengu, they couldn’t team up against him because of the killing of two Xiongnu princes. No matter how much they hated it, they could do nothing but tolerate his constant meddling.

Amid all this, Fengzhou saw the autumn harvest come in.

Some villagers had borrowed grain seeds from the government—all second-gen hybrid varieties capable of boosting yields by at least fifty percent.

Even though the land in Fengzhou wasn’t particularly fertile, it still ensured a thirty to forty percent increase in production.

Although the villagers had already known these seeds would boost yields, they were still blown away when they actually reaped the harvest.

"The seeds the government gave really increased the yield?"

"Yeah. Your family’s grain was all stolen by the Xiongnu before, so you had to borrow seeds from the prefecture office."

The woman nodded.

"How much did your harvest increase this year? I remember they said it could go up by fifty percent."

"Not quite fifty—about thirty to forty percent."

"That’s still a lot. Maybe the seeds really can increase yields by fifty percent—it’s just that Fengzhou’s soil isn’t rich enough. Our production has always been low here."

"What did the government say about repayment?"

"Just return the same amount you borrowed."

"There’s more to it than that. When you borrowed the seeds, how much chaff was mixed in? When repaying, the government probably won’t take any chaff at all. After all, if the government’s seeds boosted yields this much, when dealing with officials, it’s usually the common people who get the raw end of the deal."

Shen Chengzhou had been keeping an eye on this matter. When his relatives wanted to borrow seeds, he had stopped them—he was afraid Bing Wengu might pull some trick.

"Prefect Bing," Shen Chengzhou went straight to Bing Wengu to ask, "the autumn harvest is done. How should the villagers repay the seeds they borrowed?"

"Just return what they borrowed," Bing Wengu replied. Then, as if recalling a detail, he added, "Tell the local officers—if the returned seeds contain less than thirty percent chaff, accept them no questions asked."

Shen Chengzhou was completely floored. "But Prefect Bing, the seeds you lent out originally had no chaff at all!"

He hadn’t expected Bing Wengu to give such an order. He had assumed Bing would find a way to play dirty during repayment.

After all, in his mind, both the Bing and Nan families were wealthy. And when an official’s own family and in-laws are rich, it often means he’s good at lining his pockets—another corrupt official bleeding the people dry.

But Bing Wengu’s corruption didn’t line his own pockets—it went the other way.

Bing Wengu said, "Don’t look so shocked. Why did Fengzhou’s people have no seeds to plant? Because of the Xiongnu—not because they were lazy or reckless. And why could the Xiongnu waltz into Fengzhou and raid it? Because the previous officials were useless and let their people down."

Shen Chengzhou had never heard anything like this before. He was stunned into silence.

"People pay taxes every year not to stuff the officials’ pockets, but as insurance—to protect them from bandits and bullies, to ensure justice. But the past prefects of Fengzhou pocketed the people’s taxes and did squat.

Think of that 30% as payback for the people of Fengzhou."

"The people of Fengzhou are too poor. In past years, they couldn’t even save grain after the harvest. This little something is my way of helping improve their day-to-day lives."

Shen Chengzhou came back to his senses, only to realize his eyes were unexpectedly wet with tears.

He felt ashamed for measuring a noble man by his own petty standards, yet he genuinely admired Bing Wengu’s devotion to ordinary folks.

"Prefect, I must apologize. I once harbored unkind suspicions, thinking you might try to manipulate the grain repayment for personal gain."

Bing Wengu scoffed, "My husband's loaded. We don't even care about the people's small change."

Shen Chengzhou held back at first but finally gave in to curiosity. "Sir, it's not that I doubt your honesty. I really want to learn from you—how do you get rich clean like you have?"

"Business," Bing Wengu glanced at Shen Chengzhou. "You don't know about my family's businesses? The glassworks—luxury stuff. A single glass ornament sells for tens of thousands of coins. And cement factories—cement's been flying off the shelves lately. I thought everyone in Fengzhou knew that already."

Of course Shen Chengzhou knew, but now he realized just how much money the Bing family was making. With those kinds of profits, the grain from Fengzhou's people really was peanuts.

Shen Chengzhou gave a bitter smile. "Thanks for the tip, but this method probably won't work for anyone else."

After all, he didn't have access to the secret recipes for glass or cement.

The officials collecting grain were blown away by the new instructions—the returned grain didn't need to be perfectly clean; up to thirty percent chaff was fine.

At first they thought they'd misunderstood and that people were supposed to return 30% more grain. But after confirming multiple times, they found out the truth and began cheering—they themselves had borrowed grain from the government.

When these officials went to collect grain, they had a plan. Seeing the clean sacks of grain without any chaff that the people brought out, they didn't take them directly. Instead, they looked around the households and took out some bags containing grain mixed with chaff.

"Weigh these," said one official.

The people stood there stunned. "Sir, this grain has chaff in it. It hasn't been properly cleaned. We were keeping it for ourselves to eat."

For once, the officials stood proud. "The Prefect is a good man. He issued an order saying that since Fengzhou's people have had it tough over the years, any returned grain with no more than 30% chaff will be accepted."

At first, the people couldn't believe their ears. But as soon as they understood, they broke down crying.

Some immediately knelt down to thank the officials, but the officials refused to accept their gratitude.

"If you're going to thank someone, thank the Prefect. Without his orders, we wouldn't dare do this."

Bing Wengu successfully won the people's hearts again. This time, the people of Fengzhou were completely sold on his goodness.

Meanwhile, the sheep that the people had taken home started having lambs.

Lambs usually wean after two or three months, which happened to coincide with winter when there was no grass to speak of. Raising sheep became expensive, so people weaned the lambs and returned the adult sheep.

Bing Wengu had anticipated this situation and told the officials not to give the people a hard time—he would accept all the sheep back without complaint.

He didn't blame the people for cutting corners. After all, the people of Fengzhou were extremely poor. That little bit of grain might actually be someone's winter meals.

The ewes that had recently given birth were thin and bony, so Bing Wengu ordered the officials to collect tofu lees from the Bing family and other tofu shops in the prefecture city to help nourish the sheep.

After all, next spring he planned to lend the sheep out again for free. If the sheep weren't healthy, they wouldn't breed well.

This year was a bumper harvest year for the people of Fengzhou—plenty of grain and many families even added livestock, real money in the bank.

They eagerly looked forward to the New Year.

But for the Xiongnu, this was a terrible year. Locked in endless battles with the Wusun, occasionally joined by China's frontier forces, they had consumed massive amounts of food and supplies.

The Xiongnu weren't any good at growing crops, yet they were running on empty from all the war-related consumption.

Chanyu Feiman scowled. "No food? Then we attack Fengzhou."

"Perfect timing—I heard Fengzhou had a great harvest this year and stockpiled lots of grain. That Prefect even had a program lending cattle and sheep for free—many households now have livestock. We can steal them back, slaughter them for meat, and celebrate the New Year in style. Oh right, I also heard their cotton crop did well too. Might as well grab that while we're at it for warm winter clothes."