Chapter 13: Fundamental Interests

With the plan for the confrontation finalized, Zhao Ji ended his night watch and returned to the barracks early to rest.

Since Ruidan’s departure, the barracks suddenly felt much more spacious.

Even the straw mat Zhao Ji slept on had become thicker and warmer. Without hesitation, he lay down and fell asleep.

But as soon as he closed his eyes, the image of Ruidan’s wide-open eyes at the moment of her death flashed in his mind.

Besides Ruidan’s expression and gaze, there was also Pei Xiu’s indifferent, casual demeanor and natural expression.

And then Wei Xing, whose fierce gaze gradually overlapped with Ruidan’s look of resentment. The two merged together, both staring fixedly at Zhao Ji.

Zhao Ji simply adjusted his breathing; Ruidan could not possibly crawl out of the earth, nor could her hands reach up from the soil to strangle him.

Wei Xing could not break in to assassinate him either. Even if Wei Xing wished to murder him, he would use others as proxies, leveraging circumstances to his advantage.

Calming his emotions, Zhao Ji gradually drifted to sleep, but then thought of poor Alan.

Did they have feelings for each other?

No.

She merely sought someone to rely on. Whether she liked him or not was uncertain.

With a secure life, adequate food and shelter, and freedom from humiliation, she could marry anyone.

But she dared not marry the eldest brother as a concubine; she feared her sister-in-law and also dreaded Axi’s torment.

Alan’s fate was relatively simple. Though she seemed to have many choices, in reality, only two or three were truly suitable.

Alan’s fate was like that; Ruidan’s as well. Zhao Ji’s was the same with Pei Xiu, Wei Xing, Hu Ban, and Wang Zhi.

Only their experiences were more complex, seemingly offering more options, but in truth, stable and good choices were few.

Ruidan was a typical example. Stirred on by others, she rashly stole his boots.

At its mildest, this mistake could have been resolved if she had sincerely apologized, corrected her attitude, and called him “Brother Ji.”

But then what?

He was just a squad leader who couldn’t even protect his own boots. If subordinates could take whatever they pleased, how would others view him?

If Ruidan could freely use his boots today, tomorrow someone might dare to gamble with Wei Xing’s or Pei Xiu’s personal items.

If they won, fine. But if they lost?

Setting a precedent with someone’s life would establish a rule beneficial to all.

Unless leaders like himself began to actively steal or appropriate others’ belongings, Ruidan’s death would serve as a meaningful lesson for collective discipline.

As for Wei Xing, the things he and Zhao Ji fought over were looked down upon by Pei Xiu, Jia Kui, Wang Zhi, and Guanqiu Xing—they had better official careers ahead.

Their volunteering to become Tiger Warriors was driven by loyalty, morality, and public sentiment.

Not only them, but soon the Wei, Fan, and Ma families—three powerful clans—would also join, alongside the Xiang, Jing, Yin, Shangguan, and Xue clans from various counties.

These elites looked down on Tiger Warriors, but with traitorous ministers rebelling and the emperor’s authority compromised, they had to cultivate the willingness and action to sacrifice themselves for the country.

Humble families faced arduous official careers.

Even as bandits, one had to build reputation and strengthen the group step by step.

Since external assistance was unreliable, they had to muddle through first.

From bandit to official was too difficult; becoming a bandit from official and then redeeming oneself was easier because of the different backgrounds.

With these thoughts weighing on him, Zhao Ji’s sleep was shallow.

At dawn, he rose and noticed the various sleeping postures of his comrades before beginning to wrap his feet and put on his boots.

He took out some dried venison to chew and carried a lacquered wooden bowl with a black base and red pattern out of the barracks.

Seeing no one guarding the campfire and a clay pot hanging above it, he sat cross-legged by the fire.

There was no visible flame or large charcoal chunks.

He fanned the embers and added fine dried grass and twigs. As the morning wind blew, a faint flicker of flame appeared in the rising smoke and soon burst into fire.

Adding more wood, Zhao Ji put a handful of dried meat, dried wood ear mushrooms, blanched and dried vegetable scraps, and salt into his bowl.

When the water in the clay pot showed signs of boiling, he poured it into his bowl.

Today, he had to compete in martial contests with others and needed to fortify himself well.

As he drank the venison vegetable broth, Wei Xing staggered out of the barracks, loosening his belt as he walked.

Seeing Zhao Ji, Wei Xing nodded in greeting, and Zhao Ji smiled back.

Wei Xing then went toward the stables and urinated on a pile of manure.

After finishing, he tightened his belt, wiped his thighs, and walked toward the campfire.

He was clearly still half-asleep, and as he sat beside the fire, he let out a big yawn.

“Brother Ji, you won’t hold a grudge, right?”

“No, Brother Zi’ang, did you stay up late last night?”

“Yeah. Seventh Brother also explained the camp’s upheaval to me. We can’t let Jia Kui or Wang Zhi run amok. How could those two kids understand military matters?”

While speaking, Wei Xing reached out and took a few pieces of dried meat from Zhao Ji, placing one in his mouth.

“But I worry about accidentally harming Wang Zhi and causing trouble.”

If Wang Zhi dared to turn hostile, they had to control him immediately. During that process, Wang Zhi’s loyalists would resist fiercely, and Wang Zhi himself would fight back.

In such a situation, who would dare to hold back?

Zhao Ji poured hot water into his bowl again, his face expressionless.

“We are both from humble origins. Behind us is a sheer cliff. Do we really have a choice?”

“I can’t compare to you, Brother Ji. You are Pei’s grandson and can flee to Jishan. If things go wrong, Seventh Brother will help you.”

Wei Xing’s expression softened, and he looked at Zhao Ji with watery eyes.

“I can’t drag my family into trouble. If disaster strikes, I can only pay with my life.”

Zhao Ji remained silent. If things spiraled out of control, he wouldn’t voluntarily take on more blame or hatred.

His own escape was one matter; bringing trouble upon his family was another.

With Pei Xiu around, Wei Xing couldn’t hesitate or decide on his own.

And because Pei Xiu was present, Zhao Ji couldn’t gain Wei Xing’s friendship merely by taking blame and attracting enmity.

Friendship between Zhao Ji and Wei Xing could exist, but it would inevitably be shallow.

Perhaps from Wei Xing’s perspective, Zhao Ji was well suited to take the fall since Pei Xiu would surely intervene, or at worst, he could flee to Jishan.

Truly, for the group, Zhao Ji was the perfect scapegoat.

Seeing Zhao Ji not commit to anything, Wei Xing’s face twisted with worry.

Once they fell out, no one could control the situation.

Such unpredictable chaos was a calamity Wei Xing wished to avoid.

Having earned a martial reputation across the prefecture, he knew exactly whom to provoke and whom to avoid.

In the silence, Pei Xiu rubbed his face and stepped out of the barracks.

At the entrance, he placed his hands on his hips and twisted his waist to loosen up before sitting by the fire.

Noticing the piece of meat protruding from Zhao Ji’s pouch, he smiled and said, “Brother Ji, make me a bowl.”

“Sure.”

Zhao Ji rinsed the bowl and chopsticks in boiling water and then prepared a bowl of venison vegetable broth for Pei Xiu.

By now, Wei Xing’s expression had normalized.

Pei Xiu blew on his bowl and studied Zhao Ji and Wei Xing.

“Are you two afraid?”

Before waiting for an answer, he said, “I fear accidentally killing Wang Zhi and ruining Uncle’s and the court’s affairs. Wang Zhi himself fears my misfortune. If we suffer casualties and go to Henei, what’s the point?”

Zhao Ji said nothing.

These young men had heard of the Yellow Turban Rebellion and the Western Liang insurgency in the Three Borders since childhood; as they grew and learned, they witnessed the coalition against Dong Zhuo, the burning of Luoyang, the White Wave army’s chaos in Hedong, the unrest in Guanzhong, and last year, the emperor’s eastward journey with waves of loyalist and Guanzhong troops engaged in brutal battles.

They had seen firsthand how chaos was born and grew.

Such an upbringing instilled a peculiar sense of mission—an urge to end the era of disorder.

Whether it was the chaos at the end of the Qin dynasty or the Xin dynasty’s turmoil, it was always resolved within one generation.

Thus, driven by this ingrained belief, Pei Xiu was anxious, fearing missing the last chance.

People of all ages and genders harbored noble hopes.

They attributed the root of chaos to treacherous ministers holding the emperor hostage and corrupting governance—the nation’s turmoil flowing from the top down.

Now that the emperor had fled and was no longer under Li Jue and Guo Si’s control, theoretically, with a bit of stability, the court could quickly mend and end this chaos.

Pei Xiu’s gaze settled on Wei Xing.

“If one must die, Brother Zi’ang, who would you want to die?”

“I understand, Seventh Brother. Rest assured, if fighting breaks out, Brother Ji and I will fight with all our might. We won’t let Wang Zhi escape.”

In a violent clash, capturing Wang Zhi was essential to gaining the upper hand.

Though Wei Xing said this, perhaps he thought so too, but when the moment came, how much strength could he truly muster?

Pei Xiu only smiled and did not ask Zhao Ji’s opinion.

He knew Zhao Ji’s family situation well: the things Wei Xing dared not do, Zhao Ji would do without hesitation.

A man who never wanted to enlist and who fled to Jishan after causing trouble was perfectly suited to Brother Ji’s temperament.

As for the county magistrate Wang Yi’s revenge?

With the county unwilling to cooperate and local officials indifferent, Wang Yi certainly wouldn’t personally come to arrest anyone.