Chapter 56: Reporting to the Military Camp

Illegitimate Son of a Noble House

The military camp in Sheng'an was far superior to those in the commanderies and counties—the barracks here were six-person dormitories.

Song Shi'an went wearing his official robes. As a young Rank 7 civil official, he was immediately recognized as the Magistrate of Shuofeng County. Without even checking his letter of appointment, he was led to a single-person room meant for a Centurion.

The room was about seven or eight square meters, with an uneven dirt floor. It had basic living necessities and a small lamp.

And this was already the best military barracks conditions in the entire nation.

The reason the meritorious nobility could suppress the aristocratic clans for so many generations wasn't just because of their status as founding contributors. If you really made those pampered, delicate young masters from aristocratic families mix with filthy, slovenly soldiers reeking of sweat, they wouldn't be willing either.

Even for battles they could win, where they could earn military merit—just the experiences along the way would be enough to discourage those privileged young lords born with golden spoons in their mouths.

What made certain meritorious nobles different was that they maintained vigilance even in peacetime.

It was said that the Duke of Li's household only ate coarse grain. One of his younger sons merely snuck a small meal of white rice, and that very night he was hung in the stables and whipped with a horse whip like a spinning top.

Of course, some meritorious nobles had been corrupted by the aristocratic families' luxurious lifestyle, becoming somewhat decadent and no longer striving for improvement.

Take that Zhao Xiang, for instance—people called him the "Fragrant General." His carriage absolutely had to carry scented sachets. His armor had to be polished to a brilliant shine, and the red robe beneath couldn't have a single speck of dust on it.

Of course, before he lost this recent battle, the reviews had all been positive.

The aristocratic families in the capital even praised him for having the bearing of a scholarly general, saying he was different from those crude, careless meritorious nobles.

But public opinion was an extremely fickle thing.

Praised when winning, silent when losing.

Normal. Perfectly normal.

"Laoye Song, the military camp is crude—my apologies," said a Chief Clerk from the army with a smile after leading Song Shi'an in.

"On military campaigns, the ground is your bed and the sky your blanket, decaying grass becomes fireflies—to have barracks to sleep in and still complain would be too much," Song Shi'an replied.

Hearing this, Chief Clerk Qin Kuo laughed. Sensing the other's interesting character, he agreed, "Good, good. Then Laoye Song will definitely adapt very well to the military life he's expecting."

Song Shi'an laughed as well.

After the two exchanged courtesy, the other party left.

That bastard is being passive-aggressive with me.

Song Shi'an could tell—the clerk thought he was the type of privileged rich kid who considered "not sleeping on silk quilts" to be hardship and loved to self-indulgently move himself.

During the truly harsh march ahead, he'd be waiting to laugh at Song Shi'an's expense.

Song Shi'an was fully aware of this.

Born in rural Shandong, graduating with a master's degree from a 985 university, he had passed the provincial targeted selection exam and gone to Guizhou, where he had two years of grassroots service experience. Someone like him who was brilliant at exams and also wrote excellent reports—if he just worked steadily, mixing in a proper bureau-level position before retirement would be no problem at all.

But the comfortable path made him feel guilty.

Have you ever seen the Dong'e Experimental High School at four in the morning?

Of course, military marches were at least ten times harder than that.

And faced extremely high risks too.

But he had one ability—self-adaptation.

Put him in a harsh environment, and he would become the most driven, most resilient person there.

Fall behind and die.

After he'd been tidying up his sleeping quarters for a while, a knock sounded at the door.

"Enter." Song Shi'an completely embraced his status.

Then a soldier about twenty years old entered—thin and dark-skinned, but with particularly well-defined, sinewy muscles. Upon seeing Song Shi'an, he immediately became nervous and started to kneel: "This lowly one greets the county laoye..."

"Hey, we don't do that in the military."

In the Great Yu, common people had to kneel when appearing before a county magistrate in court, but this was the army. This guy didn't know what triggered his conditioned reflex to kneel before Song Shi'an.

Seeing Song Shi'an say this, he became less anxious and stood up, fists clasped together: "I'm called San Gou. I've been sent to serve as Laoye's bodyguard."

"Who sent you?" Song Shi'an asked.

"Captain Zhu sent me," San Gou said.

Since my father paid money, why did they find someone this skinny, and only about 1.7 meters tall at that?

Song Shi'an was a bit suspicious.

Took the money and still half-assed it like this?

"San Gou, where's your hometown?" Song Shi'an asked with a smile.

"Replying to Laoye, I'm from Fu Commandery."

"Oh, that's also in Si Prefecture—counts as half a fellow townsman then."

As he spoke, Song Shi'an pulled out a silver ingot from his bundle and tossed it to him.

San Gou hurriedly caught it, his face showing delight but also asking nervously, "Laoye, this is...?"

"This journey to Shuofeng will be fraught with hardship and danger. Take this and leave it for your family," Song Shi'an said.

"Thank you, Laoye!"

San Gou knelt on one knee again, clasping his fists in salute. Then he polished the silver ingot until it gleamed and tucked it into his pocket, muttering gratefully and happily to himself: "Today is truly lucky—they just said we'd get extra rations and pay, and now I've received silver from Laoye too."

"Extra rations and pay?" Song Shi'an asked, puzzled.

"Replying to Laoye." San Gou explained, "Yesterday, a large batch of military supplies entered the camp from outside. Rice, cloth, and money—nearly a hundred boxes in all. Today the Centurion told us that the court is rewarding the army, everyone gets a share, sent directly to their homes. And it doesn't conflict with death pensions either—if you die, your family will get another payment."

Hearing this, Song Shi'an fell into thought.

"Oh, Laoye also gets a share," San Gou added.

"Mm." Song Shi'an, unconcerned about that, raised his hand and asked further, "Is distributing pay like this reasonable?"

"This is the first time we've encountered it," San Gou shook his head and said. "I heard that last night, Commander-General Zhao personally escorted it in."

Zhao Yi.

Isn't he one of the Prince of Wu's people?

The court is so poor it's barely managing to pay military salaries and pensions—that already counts as treating people like humans. How can there be extra rewards for the army?

Could it really be the Prince of Wu paying out of his own pocket?

If that's truly the case, this move is brilliant.

In outsiders' eyes, this relief force going to Shuofeng was a death sentence. So this donation isn't at all about trying to win over the Sixth Prince or form factions.

What's the point of winning over dead people?

This is purely political theater to earn reputation, and it doesn't make people resentful at all.

After all, it's real silver and gold.

And the most impressive part is, if after going there, the Sixth Prince actually comes back alive—

Although this money isn't enough to make him a partisan, since it didn't go into the Sixth Prince's hands and the Prince of Wu has already earned his reputation—still, his relationship with the Sixth Prince will definitely be closer than the Prince of Jin's, right?

Looking at it now, if the Prince of Jin doesn't have some hidden depths, the Prince of Wu is stronger than him.

Prince of Jin—the eldest.

Prince of Wu—the virtuous.

The gap in their strength doesn't actually look that large.

"With Laoye's reward, plus the court's bonus, after we finish this battle and return, I'll be able to find a wife back home and..."

"Shut up!"

Just as San Gou was smiling and fantasizing about the future, Song Shi'an suddenly cut him off sternly. Then he lectured him severely: "In the future, don't ever say things like 'after I finish this one battle I'll go home and get married,' 'when I get back I'll build a big house for my family,' or 'if I survive I'll definitely bring my mother to live with me'!"