Chapter 40: The General of the Right Stirs the Winds and Raises the Tide

Jia Chang won the emperor’s favor through cockfighting, and this fact struck a deep chord among the ambitious but idle youths of Chang’an! Why should the Jia boy accomplish what they could not? Why should he enjoy privileges that were denied to them?

For those like Xiao Bailang, who had come from the provinces to seek their fortune in Chang’an, this was especially galling: what skills did Jia Chang possess, apart from a household registration in the capital? Had they themselves gained such a registration earlier, would Jia Chang ever have had such an opportunity?

Thus, it is clear that the importance of a capital household registration has been recognized since ancient times.

Xiao Bailang was not a man of virtue. Now, considering that, with a single idea from Ye Chang, he too might enter the emperor’s gaze and rise to boundless glory, he was ready to cast dignity aside for such a chance.

“Young Master Ye, I am but a rough fellow from the marketplace, unfamiliar with etiquette and lacking in propriety. I have often offended you—please, forgive me!” He returned and offered Ye Chang a deep bow.

Ye Chang watched him with a smiling, narrowed gaze, and to Shan Zhi, witnessing this, it was a clear sign that Ye Chang was up to his calculations again. Knowing Ye Chang as he now did, Shan Zhi instinctively edged away.

“Are you alone?” Ye Chang asked. “Do you intend to keep this opportunity for yourself?”

Xiao Bailang was momentarily stunned, then hastily turned to his companions. “Brothers, aren’t you going to apologize to Young Master Ye?”

Seeing their leader submit, the others followed suit—some with cupped fists, others bowing deeply as Xiao Bailang had done. Suddenly, Ye Chang was surrounded by a chorus of “Forgive us!” and “Pardon us!”

“Early birds are not as lucky as timely ones,” Ye Chang said with a grin. “Since fate has brought you here today, I’ll show you something new.” Turning to Tan Qinshou, he added, “Tan, would you mind preparing three tables of food and wine for us? This afternoon, I’ll drink with these brothers. Though my elder brother has lately passed and I should abstain, I’ll ask Brother Xiao to drink in my stead.”

Xiao Bailang, uncertain of Ye Chang’s true intentions, mumbled assent, his mind still turning over the gambling game Ye Chang had played and the opportunity he had hinted at.

“Brother Xiao, where is there a piece of open ground?” Ye Chang drew him aside. “It must be at least thirty-three zhang long and twenty-five zhang wide.”

“There’s such a place behind Qinglong Temple,” Xiao said, “but it’s by the street, and no one can linger after the curfew.”

“That’ll do. Have you played polo?”

“I’m not a skilled rider, though I enjoy polo—I’ve never played it myself.”

“What about cuju?”

“Of course! My brothers and I are the best cuju players in Baoning Ward!”

Ye Chang smiled at that—if they had such a foundation, all the better.

“I have a game that combines polo and cuju…” Ye Chang then explained the rules of football in detail. Since both polo and cuju were extremely popular in the Great Tang, there was no doubt football would take the city by storm. The likes of Xiao Bailang, who thrived on rivalry and spectacle, were certain to embrace such a fiercely competitive and entertaining sport.

Indeed, as Ye Chang described it, Xiao Bailang clapped his hands in excitement. When Ye Chang finished, his view of this outsider changed drastically: the ideas in this man’s mind were truly endless! The copper-coin game was one thing, but this football would soon become a sensation in Chang’an!

As an old hand of the streets, Xiao Bailang could fully appreciate the appeal: all those who loved polo or cuju in Chang’an would soon be drawn to football, whose rules were simpler, requirements lower, and organization easier.

“If this is handled well, Brother Xiao, your fortune could rest on this. Not just yours—your brothers here could all live in comfort forever.” Ye Chang smiled. “But it’s simple to copy, so we must act first. If you’re willing, gather thirty-six men, split them into two teams, let me train them for five days, and then we’ll organize a match.”

The two spoke quietly, so the others could not hear, but Xiao Bailang’s face flickered between wild joy and doubt.

This was fortune falling from the sky! The leap from polo and cuju to football was but a change in thought. Polo required horses and armor, and only the wealthy could play; cuju was more performance than sport, popular but rarely played. Football, by contrast, was far more accessible.

Xiao Bailang knew well the interests behind polo and cuju, and Ye Chang’s new game captivated him. His first impulse was to shake off Ye Chang and take the idea for himself. But meeting Ye Chang’s gaze, and recalling his endless bag of tricks—like the coin game just now—he put aside the thought.

“What do you want us to do?” Xiao Bailang struggled before finally asking.

“One thing, very simple. I want to know the real reason for the conflict between my late brother and Yang Fu, the steward of Princess Xianyi’s household.” Ye Chang’s tone was calm. “You and your friends, who know the city well, are best suited to investigate. There is little risk—just gather some information.”

“That’s all?”

“Of course. Why else would I ask?” Ye Chang smiled, adding, “If you doubt me, look into my eyes—the eyes are the window to the soul. If my intentions were false, my gaze would betray me. Can you see any deceit in such clear eyes?”

“Uh… do you take me for a fool?” Xiao Bailang wanted to retort, but staring at Ye Chang’s smile, he swallowed his words. Since they’d met, apart from the first punch he’d landed, he’d been led by the nose ever since. Ye Chang really could take him for a fool.

“Very well. Is there anything else?”

“Gather only those with some skill at cuju. Then send someone to fetch the following items—whatever you need, if you’re unwilling to pay, just come to me.” Ye Chang sounded utterly confident, and Xiao Bailang nodded, then called out orders for his men to fetch lime, wooden strips, fishing nets, even a carpenter. Only after giving orders did he realize: why had he so readily obeyed Ye Chang’s every command?

There seemed a strange force in Ye Chang’s words that compelled obedience. He had the manner of one accustomed to giving orders… could he be the direct descendant of one of the great Shandong clans?

Though their power had waned under several emperors, the Shandong aristocracy remained prominent, often intermarrying with the imperial family. But among all the great clans, none bore the surname Ye.

“I must look further into this man’s background,” Xiao Bailang thought to himself.

Tan Qinshou, meanwhile, was uneasy at seeing Ye Chang direct Xiao Bailang so easily. As if guessing his thoughts, Ye Chang turned and smiled: “This matter also concerns your folding fan business, Tan. Does your fan have a name?”

“A name?”

“Just as wines are called Sword South Spring, Sanle Brew, or Dragon Balm, so too should your fans have a name—say, ‘Tan the Craftsman,’ to distinguish them from the common sort.”

“Tan the Craftsman… no, that sounds too odd. Our family works with wood and bamboo, but we’re not carpenters. Why not… why not let you, Eleventh Young Master, choose a refined name for us?”

“Uh…” Tan handed the task back to Ye Chang, who scratched his head. A catchy brand name would be a boon for promotion, as Ye Chang well knew. He thought for a moment, then recalled a story mentioned earlier by He Zhizhang and Zhang Xu: according to the Book of Jin, Wang Xizhi once inscribed a poem on a six-sided bamboo fan for an old woman, raising its value from twelve to a hundred coins and rescuing her from distress. Smiling, Ye Chang said, “I have a name: the ‘Right General’s Fan.’ What do you think?”

Tan had heard the story earlier. Though not well-read, he knew of Wang Xizhi, the great calligrapher. Delighted, he exclaimed, “Excellent! From now on, our family’s folding fans shall be called ‘Right General’s Fans.’”

“We can even invent a tale: say the old woman was an ancestor of your Tan family, and the tradition of inscribing and painting fans has been handed down ever since.” Ye Chang suggested.

Tan only smiled, not replying—he understood that claiming such ancestry was not his prerogative.

Returning to the main topic, Ye Chang said, “In five days, we’ll hold a football match. Let’s call it the ‘Right General’s Fan’ Cup. Would you sponsor it, Tan?”

“Uh?”

“We’ll create a buzz these next few days…” Ye Chang drew him aside to explain, detailing plans to generate excitement and suspense, using every trick to publicize the first football match. The more spectators, the greater the fame of Tan’s folding fans.

Tan, himself a skilled businessman, was awestruck by Ye Chang’s strategies—just as he’d been by Ye Chang’s earlier suggestion to present fans to the new graduates. Yet for Ye Chang, such methods seemed trivial, tossed off at a whim and handed over with ease.

“If Eleventh Young Master turned to business, all other merchants would have to close their doors,” Tan could not help but praise.

“Wrong—I’d make it so there was endless business for everyone!” Ye Chang laughed. “Why should one man prosper alone, when all can be enriched?”

“That is your ambition?”

“I may never go into business. But if I had the chance and the ability, I’d rather see all merchants thrive. For instance, if I ran a restaurant, I’d make sure every related trade—farmers, herders, potters—prospered alongside.”

“Indeed—the tallest tree in the forest is the first felled by the wind.”

“Exactly. There’s no end to profit. The pie can be made bigger, so more people can share it. With shared interests and aligned goals, all become my supporters.”

Tan lowered his head in thought, frowning slightly. When he looked up again, his eyes were full of respect instead of surprise.

“Young Master Ye…”

“Yes? Is there anything else?”

“It’s not about business.” Tan bowed. “Since befriending you, I’ve witnessed so many marvels that I’ve been more astounded in these months than in the past thirty years. But now, I find I’m no longer surprised, only full of admiration. Truly, you are one touched by the immortals.”

Such praise made even Ye Chang, thick-skinned as he was, blush. “Ahem… do you think football has promise?”

“Tremendous promise!”

“Then, Tan, you should sponsor a league next—the Great Tang Football League…” Ye Chang said earnestly.

He now felt, more and more, that he had found his path in this world.

If nothing unexpected happened, he still had decades to live in Great Tang. In ten years, the empire would face a turning point, as the An Lushan Rebellion swept through the north; this golden age would boil over in chaos. Ye Chang did not wish to spend his later years fleeing or struggling, nor to die at the hands of barbarians or soldiers.

There were people he cared about, too.

It had been half a month since he’d left Xiuwu, and it would be months before he could return. He missed Xiang’er, his sister-in-law, and the others. So his current wish was to complete his arrangements in Chang’an, obtain what he needed most, and then return to them.

“Young Master Ye, what is it you truly want? When you brought water to Hongqu, you claimed no credit; with the folding fans, you let others profit; now, with football, you’re putting Xiao Bailang forward and again stepping back. What do you seek?” Tan asked again.

“What would credit do for me now? For the water project, even if the court took notice, the county magistrate would fob me off with a handful of coins, keeping the real merit for himself. The folding fans—my name is linked to the invention, but the profits go to your family, which might even cause resentment and cost me your friendship. As for football, where would I find dozens of players, and how could I keep troublemakers away? The truth is, what I’m cultivating now is connections—human relationships.”

“Please teach me, Eleventh Young Master,” Tan asked sincerely.

“You are only one among many Tan sons, sent to Xiuwu, I suppose, because of some setback. But if the fans succeed, your status in the family will soar, and you’ll handle tens of thousands in business. Then, if I ask you someday for a hundred coins, would you hesitate?”

“Not now, nor ever,” Tan replied without hesitation.

“And Xiao Bailang is just a petty ruffian, a fox among the rats of Chang’an, but if football takes off, his status may rival Jia Chang’s. If I ever needed his help, would he not give it?”

“So that’s your aim…” Now, at last, Tan understood completely.