Chapter 28: Distribution Plan

After consuming a wheat cake, Zhao Ji sat cross-legged for a while, feeling that it was nearly digested. As his strength slightly returned, the soreness in his muscles made itself felt.

The kitchen was soon filled with the aroma of wine. Zhao Ji rose and went to the well outside to wash, scrubbing his face, hands, and arms thoroughly. He cleaned under his fingernails with great care, as he would soon be responsible for cleaning and suturing the wounds of those severely injured. Some of the county soldiers had seen combat, but they had only watched others stitch wounds; they possessed almost no skill in treating them. Had they possessed such expertise, they would not have been reduced to mere county soldiers.

Finished with his personal hygiene, he returned to the kitchen, where a row of Huben soldiers who had been assisting him sat leaning against the wall, several already dozing off. Zhao Ji reached out to catch some of the liquid dripping from the bamboo tube; tasting it, he found the concentration acceptable and continued the distillation. Seeing a piece and a half of coarse silk remaining, he drew his sword and cut it into pieces, carefully cleaning them. With his sword serving as a blade, and with the help of a few Huben soldiers, he soon had strips and pieces of uniform size.

When the concentration of the distilled liquid began to wane, he dismantled the two wine jars, poured the residue from one into the other, and placed the cloth strips inside to steam. The distilled liquid was poured into an empty jar for a second round of distillation; this was likely the only way to produce alcohol that was barely usable.

As dawn broke, Hu Ban came to the kitchen, having inquired his way along. Seeing Zhao Ji distilling wine, he asked, "A-Ji, the pursuing force has not yet returned. Should we send scouts?"

"Sending only a few would be dangerous. We should send a larger group."

Zhao Ji glanced at Hu Ban’s waist pouch. "Brother, did you bring food?"

"I have some cakes left."

Hu Ban unfastened his waist pouch and handed it over. Zhao Ji took it and found it heavy—no less than four or five pounds of dense, hard unleavened cakes—and could not help but look at Hu Ban.

"Eat quickly. I saw some people boiling soup; I will go and get some for you, A-Ji."

"Thank you, brother."

Zhao Ji took out a cake and passed the pouch to the other Huben soldiers. Hu Ban merely patted Zhao Ji on the shoulder before turning and walking away briskly.

The sun gradually rose, becoming a full, orange-red orb. Zhao Ji brought the small, half-filled jar of barely usable, high-concentration alcohol and the strips of cloth steamed in the wine residue to the Xiangling camp. Upon entering, he saw five Huben soldiers lying quietly on the open ground. Looking elsewhere, Jia Kui was still assisting in tending to the lightly wounded, while the severely injured lay on piles of grass, waiting. The heads had been collected, and some men were carrying millet porridge, feeding the wounded. They were not merely comrades and fellow villagers; many were relatives.

With the help of several Huben soldiers, Zhao Ji removed his armor and wrapped himself in cloth, covering his hair, lips, nose, and chin, leaving only his eyes exposed. Under his command, the other Huben soldiers used two bolts of coarse silk, spears, and wooden rafters to construct a small, curtained-off partition. Inside the enclosure was a flatbed cart, now leveled.

After washing his hands, the first severely wounded man was carried in, biting down on a wooden bit, his left arm deeply gashed. Having lost too much blood, the man was deathly pale, though his expression brightened upon recognizing Zhao Ji.

"Lie still and do not move. I am going to clean your wound."

Zhao Ji knelt to examine the wound, where the bleeding had slowed and the blood had congealed into a blur. He used a wooden knife he had scraped into a blade to clear away the clots. Memories from his predecessor’s past—of butchering game—surfaced and merged with his own medical knowledge; he felt no discomfort at all. He only wished to debride the wound as thoroughly as possible, then suture it, wipe it with alcohol, apply a golden-wound powder containing lime, and finally bind it with the strips of cloth steamed in the residual wine.

Lacerations were easy to handle; it was the puncture wounds that were difficult. Especially for Guan Shang, who had been hit by an arrow that failed to pierce his leather armor, though another arrow had a bone arrowhead; Zhao Ji had to clean that wound twice more. The most severe case was a county soldier whose abdomen had been sliced open. Seeing that he was still breathing, Zhao Ji sutured the wound, cleaned it with alcohol, applied medicine, and bandaged it.

Only after finishing was he able to rest. Sitting in the corner in the morning sun, Jia Kui, also exhausted, came to sit beside him, leaning heavily against the wall. "A-Ji, you know how to treat wounds?"

"A little. I can also castrate bulls."

Zhao Ji eyed Jia Kui sideways. Jia Kui’s eyes lit up. "Truly?"

"What are you planning?"

"We have captured one hundred and seventy-two Xiongnu. Whether we kill them, release them, or sell them, there are risks. If we castrate them..."

As Jia Kui spoke, he saw Zhao Ji roll his eyes. Zhao Ji said curtly, "I only know how to castrate cattle, sheep, and beasts."

More accurately, he had only ever performed such surgery on sheep. He would tie the four hooves of a sheep, lay it flat, use a string to bind the scrotum, and expose the protruding part. A two-penny scalpel blade would gently slice through the skin and membrane, and after squeezing out the testicles, he would pour bottled veterinary penicillin into the cavity. With luck, the entire process would not shed more than a few drops of blood. If a blood vessel were cut, the binding string would keep the bleeding minimal, and it would soon congeal. If one had a bottle of veterinary penicillin and diluted it with water, it would be a miracle drug today. When castrating sheep, he would usually pour the whole bottle in just to save trouble. Never mind veterinary penicillin—even a batch of cheap eggs from an online marketplace would serve as a miracle drug. The protein was secondary; the key was that eggs contained natural antibiotics.

Watching the smile on Zhao Ji’s face, Jia Kui said, "If you treat them like beasts and castrate them, once it is done, they will surely fetch a high price."

Seeing Zhao Ji’s smile fade, Jia Kui’s expression grew serious. "The camp is short on grain. Every extra mouthful they eat is a mouthful less for us. Many of these men have families in the north; even if we sell them off, they will not be tamed, and no one will buy them."

"That is unwise."

Zhao Ji replied. Seeing others bring over wild vegetable porridge, he took a bowl. Once they had left, he said to Jia Kui, who was holding his own bowl, "Our comrades in camp will be wounded, and they will die. Relying solely on our comrades in camp will not suffice to drive out the Xiongnu. We must convert the Xiongnu’s manpower into our own people. Only in this way can we resist them for the long term."

Jia Kui stirred his millet porridge. "Does A-Ji mean to organize the captives as servants and auxiliary soldiers, or to distribute them to those who have achieved merit, to be taken as household slaves?"

"Both methods together. Those who understand our language should be distributed to those who have earned merit to serve as household servants. The pure Hu who do not understand our language should be organized as laborers in the camp for heavy, menial tasks. If there are border people or fellow villagers who were abducted by the Xiongnu, organize them as auxiliary soldiers."

Zhao Ji lowered his head to eat, letting Jia Kui consider this. The spoils of war had to be distributed properly. If they were sold, how much money would they fetch? To "sell" them meant to trade them to local powerful families for grain; these powerful families would either trade the captives to the Xiongnu for other goods or keep them as servants. The current dilemma in the camp was a lack of grain in the public stores, and the recruited Huben soldiers were generally the second sons of their families; they had the resources to support two or three extra servants or guards.

Jia Kui was not a second son—he was his family’s only sprout—but his family was truly poor. According to Zhao Ji’s plan, he would at least be able to claim one slave who understood the language. He might even be able to get an extra horse. A horse and a slave would directly improve his family’s standard of living. However, this conflicted with his family’s style of conduct; the poorer his family was, the more it demonstrated his father’s integrity as an official, which was a golden ticket for entering government service. Therefore, compared to a slave who could produce and create wealth, Jia Kui preferred a horse. It could be a stallion or a gelded horse; it did not even need to be a mare.

Jia Kui weighed the matter repeatedly and said, "This matter still needs to be discussed with Wei Zhongjian and the others."

"Very well, I will go call Brother Seven."

Zhao Ji rose, placed his empty bowl on the wall, and walked toward the Wenxi camp across the way. Entering the camp, he saw a pile of heads stacked in the shape of a pyramid. Yang Ji, who was standing nearby eating from a bowl, stood up. "Commander, I have collected twenty-seven heads."

Yang Ji then looked at him expectantly. "I saw A-Xing; he said the commander gave the head of the little prince to him?"

"Yes."

Zhao Ji glanced at the pile of heads. "Go and gather the men of the Third Team; I will distribute some to you."

"Are we really going to distribute them?"

Yang Ji was shocked, his face lighting up with joy, though he was also reluctant.

"Without you risking your lives to fight, how could I have achieved so many kills by myself?"

Zhao Ji urged him, then headed toward the quarters. Pei Xiu had already woken up and was eating with Hu Ban and Wuqiu Xing. Pei Xiu had a poor appetite and was forcing himself to eat. Seeing Zhao Ji enter, Pei Xiu said, "Wei Zhongjian came looking for you a moment ago, but seeing you were treating the wounded, he left."

Wuqiu Xing, even while eating, kept that head with him at all times and said, "Looking at him, it seems he wants to marry his sister to A-Ji. That is a good thing; the Wei sisters are beautiful, and their dowries are generous."