Section 6: The Jiangnan Garrison

After school in the afternoon, Wei Guangde left the private school with a sullen face. He had been slapped on the palm by the tutor again today. The reason? Of course, it was because his brush calligraphy hadn’t improved much over the past few days. Writing had almost become a torment for Wei Guangde, having been reprimanded by the tutor two days in a row.

“Fish Head, don’t take it to heart just because the tutor hit you with the ruler twice. Just focus on writing well tomorrow,” Zhang Ji, a fellow student, said as he watched Wei Guangde walk out of the school looking gloomy.

Before Wei Guangde could reply, someone nearby chimed in, “I don’t think it’s about the tutor. Fish Head’s probably mad at that Chen Youcai brat.”

“That kid’s really no good. He’s from the same hundred-household garrison, yet he’s become a servant to some rich local landlord family. What a disgrace,” Zhang Ji agreed.

Wei Guangde glanced around at his companions and shook his head silently.

Zhang Ji was the son of Zhang Dayong, the chief banner leader of the hundred-household garrison, a trusted man of Wei Meng since childhood. The other boys were similar—all sons of minor banner leaders, close confidants of their fathers.

As for Chen Youcai, mentioned earlier, he was from the chief banner family in the neighboring garrison. To these half-grown boys, everyone from the garrison should stand united, yet Chen Youcai was closely allied with several local wealthy landowners.

The conflicts between these military households and the local gentry were easy to understand—disputes over the boundaries of farmland were frequent, but fighting yielded no good results for either side.

The county magistrate of Pengze was just a temporary official who didn’t want to get entangled in conflicts between military leaders and local landlords. Both sides were influential in their own right, so the magistrate only tried to smooth things over, ending up pleasing no one.

Although the civil officials held power, when it came to land, the garrison would not tolerate any encroachment.

Military officers would pay respects to civil officials when they met; it was common courtesy. The military’s pay might be partially appropriated by the civil authorities, which was accepted since the money was in their hands. But the land was different—it was essentially military farmland. Any attempt to take advantage of it would not be tolerated.

The current garrison officers depended on the produce from those lands to supplement their meager salaries. To live comfortably, they had to rely on those fields.

Because of this, the Bengshan Hundred-Household Garrison had clashed several times with the local gentry.

Fortunately, these gentry families had produced only a few scholarly talents. If someone had actually passed the imperial exams and become a bachelor or even a jinshi, even Wei’s father would have had to yield.

Those gentry families hadn’t produced any notable talents, which was one reason Wei’s father dared to confront them.

Wei Guangde knew this from his older brother, Wei Wencai. Though he had some lingering memories from his previous life, he was still a child and paid little attention to such matters.

After crossing over, Wei Guangde thought about his future. In this feudal society, with rigid class divisions, he needed to be more mindful if he wanted a better life.

After resting at home for a few days and settling down, Wei Guangde became very attentive to the hundred-household garrison and its surroundings. He might spend his whole life here unless he could pass the imperial exams, becoming a scholar, a bachelor, or even a jinshi, entering the ruling class.

In his previous life, Wei Guangde had been lazy and unmotivated, careless with his studies and convinced he had no talent.

When the city expanded, his family became displaced tenants and he became even lazier.

He studied at a mediocre university—essentially a community college—then got a job and muddled through life, living on pocket money while saving rent.

In truth, the money wasn’t saved by him but by his parents for him. Now looking back, all that money would go to his older brother, along with the two apartments.

Walking through the town, passing a small food stall, Wei Guangde felt a bit hungry. Remembering the copper coins he had this morning, he bought a few tea cakes—one each for himself and his friends—and ate them as they walked.

Leaving the town, they retraced their steps along the riverbank.

At that time, the town had no entertainment venues; life was monotonous and dull for everyone.

The county seat had tea houses and restaurants where one could listen to storytellers or watch plays, and there were probably red-light districts too. But such vibrant lifestyles were still far from Wei Guangde’s reach; they were unrealistic for him at this stage.

In recent mornings, Wei Guangde had paid attention and, although a half-grown boy, his thoughts had been shaped by the information explosion of the future. He understood many things that his peers in this era did not—he had lived a real-life experience in another world.

Unfortunately, upon waking here, he found himself without a tent or support and lacked the confidence to do anything significant.

After all, he was only eleven years old.

Wei Guangde was also aware that the government forbade certain trades, but such trades had existed since ancient times—they had their reasons.

After walking about ten or so miles, the group of children chatted and laughed, meandering along until they finally saw Shibao in the distance—that meant they were almost home.

“Wow, so many boats! They belong to our garrison,” one of the children exclaimed.

Hearing this, Wei Guangde turned to look at the river and indeed saw a long string of warships, large and small, drifting downstream. The lead ship bore a large banner inscribed with the words “Imperially Mandated to Serve the King,” and beneath it was the name of the Jiujiang Garrison.

Merchant ships traveled the river in constant stream, but upon seeing such a formidable fleet, they all steered clear, unwilling to compete.

“Really, they’re from the Jiujiang Garrison,” the children excitedly chattered, captivated by the spectacle.

Wei Guangde suspected his father was among that fleet, though too far to be seen clearly. Still, his heart was astir.

How urgent could this be?

They had rushed back overnight to assemble, and this afternoon, they were already setting off. That meant Wei’s father had barely rested half a day before boarding the ships to depart.

Wei Guangde knew little about Ming Dynasty history and had never studied it carefully—only knowing what he’d seen in TV shows and novels.

He was completely ignorant of what had transpired in the capital in the 29th year of the Jiajing reign.

Dozens of warships soon caught up behind them and then sailed onward.

The children silently watched the fleet pass, their chatter ceasing, each lost in thought.

“At this hour, can they reach Anqing by nightfall?” Zhang Ji suddenly broke the silence behind them.

After a moment, someone replied, “I doubt it. At best, they’ll reach Wangjiang. It’s over a hundred miles from here to Anqing, and night navigation is risky.”

“Yeah, they probably won’t make it to Anqing.”

Anqing was the southern gate of the Southern Zhili province, while Jiujiang, where they were, was considered the northern gate of Jiangxi. Beyond Anqing lay Wuhu and then Yingtian Prefecture, from where the Grand Canal could be accessed.