The soldiers received their reward money and were all in high spirits.
The two-thirds who had time off came streaming into the makeshift market street to treat themselves.
"Boss, serve me up a plate — I want this, this, and this."
"Coming right up — two vegetable dishes, one meat, that'll be one yuan."
The soldier pulled out a crumpled one-yuan note and handed it over. The boss took it without complaint, smoothed it flat to check for missing corners, then tucked it into his money pouch.
That pouch was already stuffed with a fat wad of cash — the man was making a killing.
Satisfied that the boss had pocketed his money, the soldier quickly found a table, ladled himself a bowl of bone broth, and dug in, eating and drinking at the same time.
"God, this is good — beats anything my wife makes back home! The cooks in camp serve us slop fit for pigs!"
"Got to come here for a decent meal more often. One yuan a visit — can't argue with that."
The queue behind him was long, soldiers clutching coins in their fists, more or less to a man.
Since marching out from the Central Plains, they'd been using paper notes, and most of them had a little money to their name.
That crisp new hundred-yuan note they'd just been issued — surely a man was entitled to admire it for a few days before spending it?
A young soldier was waiting in line for the boss to dish out his food when someone clapped him on the shoulder.
"Little Zhou, forget the queue — come with me. Big Brother's buying drinks for the boys today!"
"Feng-ge, I don't know about that…"
"What's there to know? This is reward money, not our regular pay. Regular pay I save — reward money's for spending. Come on, stop dawdling!"
Feng-ge grabbed Little Zhou and headed off with three others to a stall where a cook was firing up a wok.
"Boss, four dishes — two meat, two veg — and five jin of rice wine. If the boys need more, we'll call for it."
"Right away, gentlemen, please have a seat."
The cook worked fast; the food and drink arrived in no time.
The five of them ate, drank, and talked. Five jin of low-proof wine wasn't enough, so they called for five more.
When they left: four dishes at nine yuan, wine at ten yuan, nineteen yuan total.
Feng-ge pulled out his crisp new hundred-yuan note; the boss counted back eighty-one in change.
Food and drink combined — four yuan a head.
"That hit the spot. Still enough reward money left for a few more meals like that. Life is good."
"Feng-ge, let's come back tomorrow — my treat!"
Little Zhou's head was spinning from the wine, but he pushed through it and made his way to the bank's stall.
"I… I want to send… send some money home."
"Of course. Fill out this form."
"I… I can't… can't read."
"That's all right — you tell me, I'll write it down." The bank teller didn't let the smell of liquor on him try her patience. She carefully wrote out the address, confirmed it several times, and only then took the crisp hundred-yuan note.
Overseas transfer, five percent handling fee. Little Zhou fished out a crumpled five yuan.
She watched him sway off into the crowd and let out a quiet sigh. The boy couldn't be more than fifteen or sixteen.
So young, and already so responsible.
In this line of work — you never knew what day might be your last.
She hoped heaven would look after him and let him find his way home someday. It would be such a waste otherwise.
I'm lucky to live in Dragon City — truly lucky. Our whole family applied to come out here to work together.
Mother and Father cook and clean at the fast-food shop.
My elder brother is on a construction crew, drawing a first-grade wage.
My younger brother runs errands at the mahjong parlor.
I work at the bank on a first-grade wage myself, with good benefits on top — there's always some bonus or another.
Now this is what I call a life.
Just beside her, the mahjong parlor had set out its tables, and she could see her brother darting back and forth among them.
Every one of those twenty or thirty tables was already packed with soldiers, with more men standing around watching from the sidelines, unable to find a seat.
A crowd of people living for today with no thought for tomorrow.
The stalls here buzzed and roared with noise.
Half a li away, things were just as feverish — five or six thousand workers had already broken ground on the construction.
Before long, a new Taoyuan Township would rise up on this very spot.
"Commander Wu, please, come in."
"Mayor Song, what can I do for you?"
"It's like this — we're in the thick of construction, but we're short on hands. I wasn't sure whether your men had any assignments at present. If they're free, I'd like to hire them to help with the building."
"That…" Commander Wu's instinct was to refuse. He was a man of the imperial court, after all — helping Dragon City with their construction project might not sit well with His Majesty if word got out.
And besides, they were soldiers. Doing construction work felt like…
A bit beneath their station.
"As for wages — anyone who meets the standard workload gets three yuan a day. There's also one yuan per man in management fees, which we won't ask questions about, but the soldiers' three yuan must not be docked."
"Oh, there's really no need to be so generous—"
"The wages go directly to the soldiers. The management fees go directly to you. Only myself and the bank manager will know about the arrangement, and we won't breathe a word."
Commander Wu understood perfectly. His weathered face flushed a shade. "Well… in that case, just tell me each day how many men you need, and I'll have them ready."
"Good. But I must be clear — the soldiers' wages cannot be withheld. If I find out that's happening, we'd rather end the arrangement altogether."
Within Dragon City's own community, such things rarely came up, but out here it was best to adapt to local customs and spell things out plainly.
Commander Wu rose to his feet and thumped his chest with a resounding boom. "Mayor Song, rest easy. Anyone who dares touch a single coin of my brothers' wages — I'll wring his head clean off his shoulders!"
He no longer felt it was beneath their station at all.