Because all the tents were full, that night, the two brothers hugged their beddings and chatted idly in the carriage.
"Why is the northern border so poor?" Zheng Ruqian voiced his doubts, "You are fighting for the country, shouldn't you be strongly supported?"
The prominent families of Fengjing feasted extravagantly, spending hundreds of taels of silver on a single meal, which, converted to ordinary pork, would be enough to feed the Fifth Platoon for three days.
"Because the rich are the prominent families, not the national treasury," Fang Heng rested his head on his crossed arms. "The Previous Emperor was tyrannical and warlike, leaving the national treasury empty for years. It’s good enough that they can provide food for the soldiers, how can they possibly afford meat every meal."
"Moreover, the northern border is so remote that ordinary pork would rot before it could be transported here."
The south of the Yangtze River and Fengjing were prosperous, but this prosperity did not extend to the border regions.
Fang Heng heaved a long sigh, pushed aside the carriage curtain, and gazed at the stars outside, chuckling softly, "Second brother, we and eldest brother, younger brothers and sisters are looking at the same night sky."
Who knows what they were doing, if they were thinking of him.
Zheng Ruqian did not answer, only stared blankly at the carriage roof.
After a long while, Fang Heng's breathing slowed as he fell asleep in exhaustion.
Zheng Ruqian tucked his blanket corners for him as he had done at the dilapidated temple, and smoothed his long hair to one side, before lying down on the other side and drifting off to sleep.
In his dream, they had fast-moving vehicles that could reach the border in just three or two days, and could even transport pork from Fengjing.
Trip after trip they went, until the vehicles made clanging noises and completely broke down.
Zheng Ruqian had no time to grieve when he jerked awake to find the bedding beside him already empty. From outside came the clash of blades and the powerful shouts of a youth, forming the most wonderful winter sound.
Pushing open the door, he saw the previously lazy soldiers, all wearing the thinnest clothes, wielding blades with the most resolute gaze.
Fang Heng led by example at the forefront. Though still a slender youth, every muscle was full of explosive power.
He demonstrated the Fang family sword techniques over and over, hiding nothing and imparting the key points.
The six personal guards assisted in teaching and correcting stances.
Zheng Ruqian didn’t want to disturb them. He sneaked to the water vat, scooped out a ladle of water and rinsed his mouth with salt.
The cook who had taken away the salted meat yesterday walked over foolishly with a kept-warm meal. "The captain told us to save this for you."
It was yesterday's stewed salted meat and cabbage. After repeated heating, the cabbage had softened to mush, too ugly to behold.
But it tasted even better in the mouth, sliding easily down the throat without needing much chewing.
Perhaps he was too hungry, or perhaps he had figured things out. Zheng Ruqian finished the entire bowl of cabbage and salted pork, licking it as clean as the bowls outside their second courtyard gate that were often licked clean by stray cats and dogs.
After washing the bowls and chopsticks spotless, he strode to the tent sheltering the people of the northern border and lifted the tent flap. Inside were several men exercising.
Too weak or unsuited for martial arts, they were arranged with the women to wash vegetables and make noodles, and tidy beds.
Some accepted calmly, others strongly unwilling.
After finishing their chores, this unwilling group would sneak into the tent to exercise, thirsting to become stronger, yearning to wield long blades, eager to join the fight and avenge their miserably deceased elders and countrymen.
To be part of the army, they encouraged each other and made progress together.
But still to no avail.
After gasping for air and crashing painfully to the ground, a youth curled up in anguish. "Why am I so useless, why can’t I join the fight and kill the enemy? I’m really trash."
As he slackened, the others doing handstands and pushups also lost heart, closing their eyes in distress.
"Eldest brother, can we not avenge father and mother anymore?" the youth choked up. "I’m so useless I can’t even join the fight to kill. I deserve death for not dying with father and mother."
The others lay in despair, no one speaking.
It was then Zheng Ruqian lifted the tent flap. Cold air and sunlight streamed in together, making the sobbing men shiver involuntarily.
"Cold?" Zheng Er squinted condescendingly at them. "Good that you feel cold. There are many ways in this world to prove your usefulness. Only death is truly useless."
"Those who can’t join the fight should support those who do. Whatever you do is better than dying cowardly."
A slightly older man struggled to sit up and yelled angrily, "Don’t spout nonsense. Washing vegetables and making noodles needs no extra hands. We want to do something truly useful. What’s wrong with that?"
"You’ve done no wrong," Zheng Ruqian remained frosty. "Dislike washing and cooking if you must, but don’t look down on those jobs. Without them, you won’t even have meals. You’ll only starve."
The older man fell silent, hanging his head in shame.
"But washing and cooking really needs no extra hands," the youth struggled up. "We can’t do it either. Look at my hands—I’d break a radish into three pieces cutting it."
In the end, the injured recuperated into eating white rice.
They were so unwilling.
Backlit by the rising sun, wearing dirty padded jackets, Zheng Ruqian smiled. Like a sunbathed immortal, or an almighty mountain spirit, "If you dislike washing and cooking but can’t train in martial arts either, then transport goods with me."
All in the tent were shocked.
The youth exclaimed in surprise, "Trans...transport what?"
"Transport supplies from Fengjing to the borderlands. We may encounter Tartars on the way and suffer much hardship." Zheng Ruqian said slowly. "But what you transport can give the warriors extra rations, let them eat and rest well, help their wounds heal quicker. Are you willing?"
If you can’t be the ones on the battlefield, then be the ones supporting them from behind.
Not washing vegetables or making noodles, but transporting lifesaving goods.
The men’s eyes lit up. They clambered up from the floor, vying to agree. "Good, I’ll go!"
"I’m willing, even if I meet Tartars."
"I can drive a carriage, take me, me!"
"I know the way and have an excellent memory. I want to go too."
What matter an empty national treasury, or pressing war affairs? Most vital was the united hearts and efforts of the people against foreign enemies.
Zheng Ruqian turned and saw Fang Heng walking over bare-armed, the youth’s body covered in scars big and small, his gaze forever bright and resolute, only showing some confusion upon hearing the odd sounds from the tent.
He quirked his lips, telling the foolish younger brother with action: Second brother will accompany you through every hardship.
