Every slogan was stirring. Going into the army was the highest honor.
And truly—if protecting their home and country wasn't honorable, then what was?
Even the soldiers themselves were choked with tears as they read them aloud.
If everyone feared death, where would the border troops come from? Without those soldiers holding the line, who knew how many bowls of Mengpo's soup they'd have drunk by now?
[Mengpo's soup (孟婆汤, Mèngpó tāng): a legendary soup served by the goddess Mengpo at the Gates of Hell in Chinese mythology, which causes souls to forget their past lives before they are reincarnated.]
If conscription had been done like this back in the day, would they still be stuck in the village? They'd have enlisted long ago.
Zhang Jiahui was still in Luoshan County "supervising" work.
The village roads were mostly finished, but the official roads still needed work, and the town itself required planning and renovation. The original county roads were only about two meters wide; now the village roads were two and a half meters. That still wasn't wide enough for two oxcarts to pass side by side, but since there were fields on either side, one cart could just pull over when they met. To let two oxcarts pass each other, at least three and a half meters of width was needed—and even modern villages did not have roads that wide.
But the town was different. With shops lining both sides, if the roads were too narrow, where would people go? Into the stores?
Fortunately, most of the county shops were set back a fair distance from the roadside—about three and seven or eight chi—so there was no need to tear down buildings or cause major disruption. Otherwise, it would have been another costly, labor-intensive project.
All this couldn't be wrapped up quickly. Zhang Jiahui hadn't yet returned to Anping County; he was still out in the cold wind inspecting the official road when a yamen runner he'd brought along came dashing over.
"Sir! Bad news, sir! Bad news!"
Zhang Jiahui frowned and scolded: "What's all the panic about? What happened?"
The yamen runner handed him a letter. He opened it—it was from his secretary, who urged him to come up with a solution quickly, or better yet, return in person. If he did not come back soon, Anping County might soon be left without a single scholar.
The county's seven scholars were from the town. They weren't wealthy, but they knew how hard it was to study and worked diligently. In Zhang Jiahui's view, they had real talent. He'd been hoping they'd advance—pass the county or provincial exams and add a bit of luster to his record. But now, Fang Zichen had not only put up red banners, he'd also sent soldiers everywhere to persuade people, speaking with such fiery passion and vigor that those scholars were now itching to drop their books and enlist.
Tomorrow was the registration day.
That morning, after breakfast, Guaizai played in the yard with Gungun and Dandan for a while, then shuffled over and snuggled up to Fang Zichen.
It was cold, and he was still bundled up like a little ball: "Father."
Fang Zichen pulled him onto his lap: "What is it?"
Guaizai nuzzled his face first, giving him two sweet kisses, then said: "Father, Guaizai wants to join the army too!"
You wish!
Fang Zichen gave him two light smacks on the head.
Guaizai rubbed his head: "Father, why'd you hit Guaizai? Guaizai really wants to go."
"Your hair hasn't even fully grown in yet—what are you going for?" Fang Zichen said impatiently. At such a young age, dreaming so big—this was practically delusional.
A seven-year-old soldier? Hezhou might be short on people, but not that short.
"It has grown in!" Guaizai patted his head. "Guaizai's hair is all long now. If it's not grown, Father, feel it yourself."
Fang Zichen was speechless: "I meant something else."
Guaizai remembered the time at Old Master Wu's place when everyone had laughed at his hair. A light bulb went off: "Father, you mean armpit hair?" Well, that's a real problem—I don't have any. What to do?
Fang Zichen choked a little, then pinched his cheek: "Whatever hair it is, you're still too young. You can't go."
Guaizai sulked: "But Guaizai wants to be a real man who protects his home and country too!"
"But you're too little! How would you manage? If you went, there'd be no chicken and no steamed buns, no toilet paper to wipe your bottom, and you wouldn't see Daddy or your little brothers anymore. Still want to go?"
"Huh?" That was utterly terrifying. Guaizai's eyes went wide, and he twisted his little fingers together. "It's... it's like that?"
Fang Zichen nodded: "Mm. Would Father lie to you? Father is a very honest man."
Guaizai said with righteous conviction: "Then Guaizai won't go for now. Little brothers need Guaizai to look after them—they can't manage without me."
Fang Zichen could tell he was really just unwilling to part with the chicken, so he held back a laugh and said deliberately: "But you have Father and Daddy here to take care of your little brothers!"
Guaizai scrunched up his little brows and looked at him: "Daddy's busy, and Father looks after little brothers. If Guaizai came back, there probably wouldn't be little brothers anymore. Dying young in the prime of life—that won't do."
Fang Zichen: "······"
This little brat.
Fang Zichen's slipped his ice cold hands straight under the boy's clothes. Guaizai kept wiggling his body and giggled, "Freezing people to death, baka yaro, let go of me~"
[八嘎呀路 (bā gā yā lù) — Japanese: "馬鹿野郎" (baka yarō) which means idiot!/you fool!]
Zhao Ger, standing by, breathed a sigh of relief. Guaizai had been all riled up lately, bouncing around the house for days, having no idea his own limits, and constantly clamoring to join the army. Fang Zichen doted on him terribly—giving him whatever he asked for—so Zhao Ger was genuinely afraid he might actually agree.
Fang Zichen played with Guaizai for a while, and then Guaizai took his two little brothers out for a stroll. On the way, he ran into some of his playmates.
"Guaizai, Gundan"
"Wang Dagou, what are you all doing here?"
Wang Dagou saw that he looked a little downcast and asked first: "Guaizai, what's wrong?"
Guaizai said glumly: "Guaizai can't be a real man anymore. Guaizai is sad."
"Huh?" Wang Dagou and his friends scrambled up from the roadside, brushed off their hands, and pulled a handful of fried corn from their pockets to give to Gungun and Dandan. This fried corn had been boiled, then sun-dried, so it would keep for a long time. When they felt like eating it, they'd just fry it up—crispy, fragrant, and a favorite snack for the village kids. Some old folks even liked to have it with their wine.
Gungun and Dandan couldn't bite through it. Usually, when they ate these things out and about, they'd just swallow them whole—and what went in came out the same way.
Still, the two little ones said their thanks: "Thank you, big brothers."
Wang Dagou patted their heads, then looked at Guaizai: "Your father won't let you join the army?"
Guaizai nodded. "Mm."
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