Chinese New Year

Chapter 1483: Poor Mountains and Bad Waters
The chill of late autumn seeped into my clothes with the sea breeze.

At the confluence of the river and the sea, the turbid Pae River, carrying silt from upstream, violently merges with the grayish-yellow waves near Liekou, forming a unique body of water.

The reeds on the bank had withered and turned yellow, looking quite desolate.

The air was thick with a strong, salty smell, not only from the sea, but also from the countless salted fish hanging outside the beacon towers on the shore.

The beacon tower was newly built, and several children stood on top of it, drying seafood and burning firewood.

Perhaps it had rained, for thick smoke billowed inside and outside the beacon tower, and children coughed as they crawled out, breathing in the fresh air.

A muffled horn sounded in the distance. The men and women who were harvesting wild grass packed up their tools, tied up the hay, and then drove their horse-drawn carts and oxcarts toward the manor.

They didn't seem to be in a hurry, because landing wasn't a simple matter. Even if it really was the enemy, it would take them half a day to get ashore.

The sound of scattered hooves could be heard.

More than twenty riders rushed out of the manor and sped toward the coast.

To be fair, Liekou is not a good harbor, mainly due to its many mudflats, shallow waters, and rugged underwater reefs. Therefore, the estate built several long wooden piers extending into the water to facilitate the docking of boats.

Dozens of people, all strong and fit men, had already gathered on the pier.

They were dressed in coarse linen clothes, barefoot, carrying baskets and wooden basins, looking at the sea with surprise and uncertainty.

The leader brought an oxcart and called everyone over to collect weapons such as large shields, bows, spears, wooden clubs, and ring-pommel swords.

Clearly, these dozens of people had been digging for shellfish and oysters on the beach and were hastily summoned here to monitor the fleet that was about to land—even though they were flying familiar flags and their ships resembled those from the Central Plains, no one should be complacent.

Fortunately, it was indeed one of our own people who came.

After drifting at sea for a while, a ship furled most of its sails, then launched a small boat carrying more than ten people, and rowed vigorously toward the pier.

Their figures were very small in the sea, like a pitiful fallen leaf, sometimes tossed up by the waves and then falling heavily back down.

The people on the pier breathed a slight sigh of relief; they must be one of their own.

After an unknown amount of time, the small boat was very close to the pier. Everyone could see it clearly. The leader was Cao Tai, the registrar of Cao Xian, the Right Attendant of the Prince's Palace. So he threw a rope over.

The people on the small boat took it and tied it to the bow.

People on the boat and on the pier pulled together and secured the small boat firmly.

Cao Tai was the first to be brought ashore. When his feet stepped onto the creaking wooden planks and he looked at the undulating, sparsely vegetated low hills in the distance, he immediately breathed a sigh of relief.

Unlike Cao Xian, as a distant descendant of the Cao family of Donglai, he had already moved his family to Liekou and acquired several acres of land in one fell swoop, laying the foundation for his family's business for generations to come—if it were not taken over by outsiders.

Yes, it does look a bit desolate here.

Especially in late autumn, the mountains are a mottled mix of gray and yellow, and the area below is deserted, but the land here can still grow crops, not much worse than Donglai, and that's enough.

"There are almost two thousand people here all at once. Quickly prepare hot water and food," Cao Tai waved his hand and gave the order.

A burly man stepped forward from the crowd on the pier, bowed, and said, "Registrar Cao, is it the same old routine?"

Cao Tai nodded and said, "Of course, it's the same old rule."

As he spoke, he glanced at a row of houses not far away.

Legend has it that this was the site of a barracks from the Han Dynasty, while others say it was built during the Cao Wei period. When they first arrived, it was already in ruins, with only the stone foundation remaining. The rammed earth on top had collapsed, and weeds grew rampant, silently telling the story of a long-forgotten past.

They transformed it into a temporary residence for new immigrants—as requested by the emperor—and called it a "quarantine camp."

Any new immigrant must stay in the quarantine camp for a sufficient period of time to ensure they do not develop the disease before they can be incorporated into the manor and become a servant of the King of Qi—though they are called servants, they will actually be granted land and registered as households in the future.

After looking away, Cao Tai looked up again and said, "Hurry up! The sky is so gloomy, it might rain."

"Yes," the people on the pier responded in unison, and then prepared to receive supplies and allow soldiers and civilians to disembark.

******
Cao Xian did not get ashore until the morning of the 24th.

As the person of the highest status in the area, he moved directly into the manor.

After walking along a winding dirt road, he saw another messy campsite and subconsciously stopped.

At some point, numerous mud-brick houses and semi-subterranean dwellings were built here. The roofs were covered with thatch or reeds, and figures moved among them. Thin wisps of smoke rose from the chimneys, making the scene look rather desolate.

As Cao Xian approached, the able-bodied men in the camp looked at him with wary, indifferent eyes.

Several emaciated, ragged children hid behind a low wall, occasionally raising their heads to timidly peek out.

The woman carried the babbling infant on her back, occasionally trying to soothe him with her words, which were difficult to understand and hard to hear clearly.

An elderly man with white hair and beard, dressed in a faded, old-fashioned Han-style robe, leaned on a wooden cane and quietly watched the new batch of immigrants arrive.

He was muttering something to himself, his cloudy eyes staring straight west, as if lamenting or sighing. "Who is this person?" Cao Xian couldn't help but ask.

The manor steward accompanying them reported: "The people who came from upstream say they are seeking refuge with the king."

"Have you investigated the details?"

"They are said to be descendants of convicts exiled at the end of the Han Dynasty. For more than a hundred years, they have lived among the local people, and few of them can speak Mandarin anymore."

Cao Xian was taken aback. Since the Wei and Jin dynasties, the two prefectures of Lelang and Daifang had been completely ignored.

But I can’t blame them.

With Liaoze blocking their way, it was difficult to connect with Liaodong and Xuantu, let alone Lelang and Daifang, which were practically enclaves. In the past, when Goguryeo marched south and occupied the two prefectures, although the Murong Xianbei repeatedly defeated Goguryeo, they did not try to control these two places. Instead, they took away the powerful clans who were willing to leave and established refugee counties in Changli and Liaodong prefectures.

Even the Murong Xianbei, who lived so close by, found it difficult to control Lelang and Daifang. Compared to them, the Central Plains dynasties had both advantages and disadvantages, and controlling them was not easy.

Lelang and Daifang counties were actually an "enclave".

"Has the Prefect sent anyone this year?" Cao Xian asked as he walked toward the manor.

"They came once this month, bringing 50,000 bushels of grain and a batch of equipment. I saw that the grain was new, but the equipment was old and mostly unusable."

Where did he get the food?

Upon hearing Cao Xian's question, the steward gave a wry smile and said, "I heard that it was raised from powerful clans."

"They agreed so readily?" Cao Xian was somewhat surprised.

"Indeed, it's been dragging on, and some people haven't even received their share," the steward said. "I have some acquaintances in the prefecture, and according to them, the local chieftains and warlords have never taken the prefect seriously. They say that since the Later Han Dynasty, killing them has been as easy as killing a chicken. If the emperor hadn't conquered the Murong Xianbei a few years ago, they probably wouldn't have received this 50,000 bushels of grain. I've heard that some chieftains are colluding with Goguryeo and Baekje, secretly communicating with them, and the prefect simply pretends not to know, which only fuels their arrogance."

Cao Xian sighed; the situation was very complicated.

Many scholars in the Central Plains said that it was unnecessary for the emperor to attack the Murong Xianbei, but they did not know that this costly war greatly shocked the counties of Pingzhou, the Yuwen Xianbei, Goguryeo, Buyeo, and various tribes living in this vast area.

In particular, he forced Goguryeo to hand over the two counties of Lelang and Daifang, which they had occupied for many years. The Gao brothers, Gao Zhao and Gao Wu, did not dare to say anything and handed them over completely.

This war can be described as a battle that turned the tide and rectified the chaos, and its impact is not as simple as it seems on the surface.

However, on the other hand, the impact of war diminishes slightly with each passing year. It's alright now; the deterrent effect remains, albeit slightly weakened. But what about ten or twenty years from now? That might not be the case.

"Is there any movement from Baekje?" Cao Xian asked, having already arrived at the manor gate.

"No, but I heard that the troops are being drilled very urgently," the steward replied.

"Greetings, Attendant Cao." Officials and heads of troops still inside the manor lined up outside the gate and bowed in greeting.

Cao Xian returned the greeting, then strode inside without saying another word.

******
After Cao Xian sat down, the first thing he did was to check the accounts.

After the autumn harvest this year, Liekou Manor received more than 30,000 hu of grain. Considering that many new people had arrived and there was not enough to eat, the county sent 50,000 hu of grain.

Besides grain production, animal husbandry is also lackluster, with only a little over a thousand sheep, a hundred cattle, a hundred horses, and a little over two hundred pigs raised to date.

There were plenty of hides, medicinal herbs, placer gold, and seafood, worth tens of thousands of strings of cash, but to be honest, it wouldn't even fill a single ship. In other words, the fleet about to return would have to make an empty trip—it was neither safe nor a waste.

Cao Xian also took some time to check out the shop.

This manor was built entirely according to the Middle-earth model, one of its key features being that it was a "closed-door market." Even today, some wealthy individuals and chieftains consign their goods here, as it is their only window for foreign trade.

All Cao Xian saw here were messy, poorly made goods.

For example, there is a kind of thing called "banbu", which is said to be the finest cloth in Japan. It was a tribute that Queen Himiko presented to Cao Wei. In fact, it was about the same quality as coarse cloth in the Central Plains. It was normal for ordinary people to wear it, but wealthy people didn't really care about it.

Upon inquiry, it was discovered that these bamboo cloths were actually stolen from Japan by tribal chiefs from the eastern mountains of Lelang and Daifang counties!
The beads and jade displayed alongside the bamboo were also from Japan, but they were far more valuable. However, the craftsmanship was inferior, resulting in a waste of materials, which was a great pity.

What's most baffling is that, according to the innkeeper, the Yemaek tribe sailed to Japan and brought back many women, whom they haven't yet used. If they aren't offered a price before the snow falls, the women will take them for themselves.

The shop owner vividly described how these Japanese women had "hair tied up in a bun" and "clothes like a single blanket," which was quite peculiar, and that it would be good to buy them to try something new.

Cao Xian was extremely annoyed by this.

The king's desire to make money grew stronger year by year, and his demands became higher and higher each year, but there really wasn't much to sell in Lelang and Daifang counties.

It had neither as many horses as Liaodong Kingdom nor the exotic treasures of Gaochang Kingdom. The local powerful clans and chieftains were arrogant and domineering, talking to themselves. The farmland and ditches were silted up and the field ridges were broken. Moreover, it was a hundred and eight thousand miles away from the Central Plains, and it was extremely poor.

This is probably the worst of all the feudal states ever established.

After sighing, Cao Xian had no choice but to order the goods to be collected as soon as possible and sent to the seaside. He also wrote several letters and instructed the fleet to take them back to Piaoyujin.

This place may take generations to slowly transform, if it doesn't get caught up in any war.

(End of this chapter)