Chapter Forty-Six: Overstepping the Bounds

“Straw sandals?”

Feng Changqing was taken aback. The object in his hand did indeed resemble footwear: a sole woven from straw, fastened to the foot with a few straps, leaving most of the top of the foot and toes exposed.

“That’s what Liu Guoyi called it,” explained the adjutant responsible for camp logistics, who had brought Feng this peculiar shoe, seeing the confusion on his face.

“It’s woven from straw rope. The ropes are twisted from fodder taken from the rear stables. The officer in charge reported it to me, so I went to the camp to find Guoyi and asked him. He said he intended to use them as shoes. According to his men, these days they march nearly a hundred miles daily, wearing out countless pairs of shoes. The camp artisans are at their wit’s end. That’s why they devised this method—no leather, no sewing required, simple to learn, and any soldier can pick it up immediately.”

Feng Changqing listened, half amused and half exasperated. Liu Ji and his hundred men seemed to bring forth a new novelty every day. First, they bought a sheep daily, then two—though that was his own stipend, so it mattered little what others thought. After all, military law did not prohibit a commander from supplementing his men’s meals.

As for the sheep, Feng understood why. Their physical exertion increased daily: sixty miles there and back, plus scaling a formidable mountain in between, totaling nearly a hundred miles. With such wear and tear, it was no wonder shoes didn’t last. Feng had wondered why Liu Ji hadn’t come to him with complaints, but now he saw they’d already devised a solution.

“So, what brings you to me?” Feng asked.

“I tried these straw sandals myself. They look crude, but they’re surprisingly comfortable—light, easy on the feet, even more so than leather boots.”

“Oh?”

Now intrigued, Feng slipped off his boots and stepped into the straw sandal. The sole was soft beneath his foot; he pulled the straps snug at his ankle and took a few steps. Immediately, he understood what the adjutant meant.

It was already May—summer was nearly upon them. These sandals, though lacking in protection, were comfortable and breathable, and most importantly, cheap.

“Wearing these, I walked from the rear camp to the central command without the least fatigue.”

Feng glanced down and saw the adjutant was indeed wearing a pair.

“If it’s not too much trouble, handle this as you see fit. Is there anything else?”

Having begun his career in logistics, Feng knew all the tricks. If it was just this, it was hardly worth coming in person—did they think a commander had so much time to spare?

“You are most wise, Commander,” the adjutant flattered him, not realizing his praise had missed the mark.

“It’s only temporary; don’t call me Commander. Speak plainly.”

“Yes, sir. It’s still about Liu Guoyi. Every day, their unit slaughters at least two sheep. Besides the meat and bones, all the skins are sent to the rear camp for the craftsmen to tan. He says he wants to make fur robes.”

“Fur robes?” Feng was startled. Straw sandals made sense for the army—but what were fur robes for?

Though they were near the glaciers, the climate here was not truly cold. In summer, it was even hot. Preparing fur robes now was pointless. Did Liu Ji plan to sell them out of season to merchants and make up his pay shortfall?

“Not ordinary fur robes. He wants to line them with white fluff.”

“What?” Feng could no longer contain his surprise. This region abounded in mountain goats with thick pelts, excellent for warmth. Typically, the army would use a patch for armor lining—shoulders or helmets. Liu Ji wanted to make full-length robes, already a luxury, but he found even that insufficient and wanted to add a lining of white fluff.

White fluff—known in later times as ‘cotton’—was a rarity in this era. It was full of seeds, and hand-cleaned, making it precious. Though not hard to grow, weaving it into cloth was laborious and expensive, more costly than silk.

Silk itself was used as currency; the “tribute textile” in official levies referred to this very material.

“Did he say what it was for?”

“No. But he ordered dozens at once. I had to muster over ten workers to work day and night. It’s a big undertaking, so I had to report it in advance, so I can explain if anyone asks.”

So many, and in such a hurry—Feng pondered. This did not seem like business, but rather something secretive. With Liu Ji’s recent string of oddities, Feng’s suspicions were aroused; he sensed a pattern.

“What else?”

“There’s also something called wooden-soled boots to go with the fur robes—one pair for each robe.”

“What are those for?” Feng asked, giving up on guessing.

“Not ordinary clogs, but boots with wooden soles and leather uppers, this long.” He gestured, indicating boots that reached nearly to the knee.

Such tall boots? Feng’s suspicions only deepened.

“The wooden soles are strange, too—deep grooves carved all the way across, almost like ornamentation. Isn’t that odd?”

“Whatever he wants to do, accommodate him as best you can. Anything you can’t decide, bring to me. All expenses, if he’s short on funds, can be advanced from the accounts—I’ll sign for it.”

“Yes, sir.”

The adjutant showed no surprise; everyone in the camp knew that the young Captain Guoyi was the son-in-law of the newly appointed military governor. For small matters or even larger ones, who would dare complain? Only a fool would risk their career.

After the adjutant left, Feng handled a few more official matters in his tent, but found himself increasingly restless. What was that boy up to? Was it as he suspected? He had to see for himself—his curiosity was unbearable.

No sooner thought than done, he pushed aside the desk and rose from his folding stool, but before he could move, hurried footsteps sounded outside. A guard lifted the tent flap and entered.

“Sir, there’s trouble in the camp.”

At the moment, Feng only held temporary command as acting marshal, without an official decree, so he didn’t want to be addressed too formally.

“What has happened?” he asked calmly. All the troops here were loyal to him—unless the Tibetans attacked, nothing should go terribly wrong.

“Liu Guoyi’s men and those of Commander Li Fei have come to blows.”

“Did the two leaders personally take part?”

Feng didn’t ask for the cause; the messenger likely didn’t know.

“They did.”

At that, Feng’s head ached. Yet another incident. Would they ever let him have peace?