Chapter Eight: The Elite Troops Arrive

Even if Fu Ru-Gui was willing, Fu Shu-Xun would turn hostile. The son of a high-ranking second-rank official serving as the head of a household guard for someone else—Fu Ru-Gui might swallow his pride, but Fu Shu-Xun would not stand for it.

Naturally, Zhu Ci-Lang had been troubled by this issue for quite some time, pondering how to compose a convincing story to prove the prince’s guard unit was under his command. With Fu Ru-Gui joining his team, he would also be inducted into the prince’s guard as an official.

Just as Zhu Ci-Lang was agonizing over the matter, Wang Cheng-En voiced the solution! It was as if a pillow had appeared when he was suffering from sleeplessness—an unexpected gift. Zhu Ci-Lang was instantly overjoyed; his gaze toward Wang Cheng-En brimmed with goodwill.

He gathered his composure and, with an air of secrecy, said, “The prince’s guard has been established. Although His Majesty has discreetly ordered the Ministry of War to issue the unit’s designation, banner, and seal, it is feared that publicizing this might provoke controversy in court, which would be detrimental to the strengthening of the troops. Therefore, it would be best not to spread word of these particulars.”

“Your Highness, I will remember your instructions,” Wang Cheng-En replied solemnly to Zhu Ci-Lang’s mysterious words.

Their exchange made Fu Ru-Gui wish he could lay bare his heart in declaration, just short of swearing an oath to the heavens. He spoke with earnest gravity, “I understand. What I have heard today shall never leave my lips!”

Li Jun stood by, bewildered, but seeing the seriousness of the moment, kept silent out of respect.

Seeing this, Zhu Ci-Lang smiled and said, “Although the military post is properly appointed, there is no need for undue grievance. Let Brother Ru-Gui enter the guard as a commander of a thousand. Is that acceptable? Of course, should others inquire, it must not be disclosed in such terms.”

“To serve the nation loyally is my duty! What does a little concealed hardship matter? I understand!” Fu Ru-Gui responded with solemnity.

Satisfied, Zhu Ci-Lang clapped his hands, signaling the matter was settled.

Not long after, a contingent of soldiers from the Divine Machine Battalion, summoned by Si En, arrived. About a hundred men, most appeared as ordinary soldiers—listless, malnourished, barely better than beggars. Only the leader and his ten men drew Zhu Ci-Lang’s attention; his brows arched in interest.

Ordinary soldiers, naturally, looked weary and underfed, barely a step above vagrants.

The leader, however, stood out. Unlike the others, his posture was straight, and his belly slightly protruded, more robust than even well-fed men of later generations. Yet his eyes were sharp—cautious and proud as he surveyed Zhu Ci-Lang and his group.

Before long, Zhu Ci-Lang learned their origins from a young eunuch at Wang Cheng-En’s side.

“These are artillerymen. In the ninth year of Chongzhen’s reign, Tang Ruowang was ordered to oversee the production of more than twenty cannons. Twelve are still operational, and these eighty-nine men are the artillery battalion. Their commander is Liu Quan,” the eunuch murmured.

Zhu Ci-Lang nodded, delight showing on his face. Artillerymen were highly technical soldiers, especially in this era. An experienced gunner was worth more than a squadron of cavalry, for those capable of handling cannons were far fewer than those who could ride and fight. Cannons themselves were rare, their training costly and time-consuming.

Introduced, Commander Liu Quan was clearly nervous, hastily bowing. Zhu Ci-Lang graciously helped him up, visibly content.

At this moment, the young eunuch shifted his gaze to the burly, barrel-chested man, hesitated, then said, “This is Commander Liu Sheng; those behind him are his men. He is a renowned warrior of the Capital Garrison.”

Upon being introduced, Liu Sheng betrayed no fear. He gave a crisp military salute and regarded Zhu Ci-Lang with wary eyes.

Zhu Ci-Lang suddenly smiled, “From the Divine Pivot Battalion in the Capital Garrison?”

With Old Seventeen pledging loyalty, Zhu Ci-Lang had become familiar with several notable figures in the Capital Garrison.

Wang Cheng-En spoke, “He’s accustomed to the brutal fighting in the Divine Pivot Battalion, quite spirited. Recently, I transferred him to the Divine Machine Battalion. Now, since Young Qin desires him, he should have a brighter future.”

Zhu Ci-Lang narrowed his eyes slightly—this was hardly a promotion. It was clear Liu Sheng was the troublemaker no unit could handle, kicked from the Divine Pivot to the Divine Machine Battalion before Zhu Ci-Lang even assumed command.

No wonder Liu Sheng was so cautious.

“Orders have been given; the future is not for anyone to choose. Thank you, Commander Wang—I’ll take this unit. Let them eat their fill, move the arms, and set out!” Zhu Ci-Lang declared decisively.

With a hundred men as laborers, Zhu Ci-Lang found his tasks much easier. With Li Jun, a military engineer, at hand, Zhu Ci-Lang no longer feared ending up with inferior equipment.

So, after three busy days in the Capital Garrison, organizing arms and troops, Zhu Ci-Lang finally returned home to handle personal affairs.

Chengqing Lane.

Si En, unexpectedly yet understandably, was left behind in the capital.

But Si En bore no resentment—instead, he cheerfully instructed a lively young man of eighteen or nineteen, whose features were keen and intelligent, endlessly advising him.

This clever youth was Si En’s only son, left behind before entering the palace—Si Qi. Unlike other eunuchs’ adopted sons, this one had endured much hardship since childhood, and only recently had his fortunes turned, allowing him a taste of better days. Zhu Ci-Lang took a liking to him, asking Si En if he would let Si Qi accompany Zhu Ci-Lang south, serving as the second steward of the Qin household.

“Is that even a question? With His Highness’s word, this boy wouldn’t dare refuse—even if it meant breaking his legs!” Si En exclaimed, delighted, and spent the days teaching his son how to conduct himself and manage affairs.

Following the prince south, Si Qi’s prospects were clearly brighter than guarding a few dozen acres at home.

As for Chief Steward Si En, Zhu Ci-Lang kept him in the capital to manage local affairs. After all, Si En, approaching fifty, was considered elderly in this era and ill-suited for arduous travel. More importantly, Zhu Ci-Lang needed Si En’s convenient palace access to accomplish tasks others could not.

This mattered more to Zhu Ci-Lang than the tens of thousands of taels invested in local enterprises.

Speaking of those businesses, they owed their origins to the one hundred thousand taels contributed by the Capital Faction clerks. Of course, Zhu Ci-Lang would not spend it all at once, believing that money only has value when circulated. He quickly invested fifty thousand taels: twenty thousand to purchase land for settling wounded soldiers unwilling to leave the capital, and thirty thousand to open shops—cloth stores, grain shops, general stores selling daily necessities, firewood, oil, salt, soy sauce, and vinegar. Clearly, Si En was especially mindful of the incident on Rice Market Street.