Chapter 9

Under the cold moonlight, the men on the riverbank were filled with anger. Such a world-conquering hero was heavily suppressed by the cold and unfeeling laws of the world, with no way to escape. Watching the cowherd boy at the foot of the mountain grow from a child to an old man in an instant, the monkey could only look up at the eagles in the sky, yearning for freedom. Cheng Chumo clenched his fists and pounded the sand, unable to dispel the suppressed anger in his heart. "Why?" Cheng Chumo glared at Yun Ye, as if he were the one responsible for the monkey king's fate.

"Power needs to be restrained. Unrestrained power is a double-edged sword, hurting others and oneself. The monkey king's fate was sealed the moment he gained his power. Brother Cheng, it's just a story, no need to take it so seriously. The moon is bright and the night is clear, let's have a long talk. I've been away from the world for a long time and know nothing about human customs and laws. I fear I have no place in this world. I hope Brother Cheng can teach me."

Yun Ye's carefree smile left Cheng Chumo with no outlet for his anger. He waved his hand fiercely and then laughed, feeling embarrassed by his loss of composure. He lay down next to Yun Ye and poked his arm. "Tell another part, this story is so captivating, how can we sleep without finishing it? Ask the brothers if they want to hear more?" As soon as he finished speaking, the soldiers surrounded Yun Ye, their eyes gleaming. Yun Ye felt goosebumps all over his body, but had no choice. In a low, soothing voice, the story of the pitiful monkey continued, waiting helplessly for the monk from Chang'an to arrive.

Days passed, and the salt bags piled higher and higher. The story-telling time after dinner grew longer, and Yun Ye's Guanzhong accent became more fluent.

General Cheng Yaojin of the Left Wuwei Army had been smiling non-stop for several days, his laughter like that of a nightingale, echoing over the camp. Especially after sending off Changsun Wuji, who had pacified the young king of Changyue, his laughter was even more hearty. Five hundred pounds of salt had been exchanged for fifty fine horses from the Western Regions, a deal that was hard to come by, especially from the Qilin. Cheng Yaojin patted his belly contentedly, thinking about how he had been eating vinegar-soaked cloth for three months, which had made his teeth ache and his stomach churn. It wasn't that he lacked salt, but if the entire army was eating vinegar-soaked cloth, how could he eat salt alone? What about the morale of the troops? His son had good luck, picking up a fourteen-year-old boy who had accomplished a great task. The boy's teacher had died, leaving him as the only one. Once the imperial edict arrived, the boy's position would be secured, binding him to Cheng Yaojin's chariot. His son had a keen eye; anyone who could catch his attention wouldn't be bad. A person who could hand over a priceless secret formula without hesitation must have good character. For a soldier he had known for less than a day, the boy had even risked his life. If he didn't quickly bring the boy into the Left Wuwei Army, Cheng Yaojin's head would be kicked by a donkey. The boy had suffered, getting beaten every time he helped, but with time, this would change. The boy was full of strange and unusual things, none of which were ordinary. A boy from an ordinary family would be lucky to stand in the presence of an army, let alone argue logically. Once the boy had gathered ten thousand pounds of salt, he would be called in for a meeting. Cheng Yaojin couldn't stand those who only knew Confucian classics. A literate person who could solve big problems was a true treasure. Xu Maogong, now called Li Ji, was such a person, full of cunning and skilled in many things. Over the years, he had seen through the capabilities of his brothers, and the boy his son had picked wouldn't be simple. Starting as a seventh-rank military secretary, he would be tied down, and once his true abilities were seen, the Left Wuwei Army had plenty of room for him to thrive.

Cheng Chumo delivered salt to the camp every ten days, ten thousand pounds each time. This was his sixth trip, and he had four more to go to complete his father's task. Thinking about how the court had only allowed them to collect ten thousand pounds and that the salt field had to be handed over to the local authorities by the end of July, his heart ached. As he entered the tent, he saw his father sitting alone behind the desk, tapping his fingers rhythmically. Not knowing what he was thinking, Cheng Chumo quickly saluted. "Lieutenant Cheng Chumo reports to the General. This month's ten thousand pounds of salt have been delivered. I am now preparing to return to the salt field. Does the General have any orders?"

Cheng Yaojin looked up at his son, feeling something was off. His usually unkempt son was now clean and tidy, his features more pleasant to look at, and he exuded a sense of vigor. He was his son, after all, and he was spirited.

Seeing his father staring at him in silence, Cheng Chumo quickly took out an oil paper package from his chest and presented it to his father.

Cheng Yaojin opened the package curiously and found a large, golden-brown pancake, emitting a fragrant aroma of wheat. He felt a sense of comfort, knowing his son was showing filial piety. He took a big bite of the pancake, which was delicious, crispy, and fragrant, unlike the usual flatbread. Cheng Chumo poured a cup of tea and respectfully handed it to his father. After his father finished the pancake and drank some tea, he asked, "Father, how is the pancake?"

"It's good. The cooks in the camp should be fed to the dogs. This pancake is made by Yun Ye, right? Don't tell me, with the time you spend making food, you should be collecting more salt. The deadline set by the court is approaching. Every pound of salt we miss now means less benefit for the Left Wuwei Army. Why are you doing this? Am I your father, and do I need your tribute?"

Cheng Chumo quickly explained, "Father, this is a special military ration made by Brother Yun. When our army is on the move and in a hurry, there's no time to eat. The usual hard and cold pancakes cause bloating and stomach pain for many soldiers, weakening our forces before battle. So, Brother Yun made this pancake. In a hurry, you can eat a couple and drink some water to stave off hunger. It's the best military ration, and it can last a month without spoiling in July."

"What? Last a month without spoiling? Really?"

"Indeed, I tested it. It can last a month in a cloth bag without any odor."

"Is Yun Ye going to offer this method to the court? Does he have no demands?"

"Father, Brother Yun is my brother. He made this pancake when I mentioned that you have a stomach problem. He also said that everyone in the camp, except for their fighting skills, is a bunch of fools. They know the military rations are problematic but don't know how to fix them, and they deserve to suffer."

Cheng Yaojin fell silent, deep in thought. After a moment, he made a decision. "Pass my order. Command Yun Ye to come to the camp to see me."