After a long and busy day, the soldiers finished work one by one.
"Everyone hit their quota today — come on, come on, payday!"
The soldiers lined up. This pack of swaggering roughnecks was now better behaved than elementary school children.
"Your wages. Take care of it."
"Thank you, thank you, my lord."
"I'm not your lord. Call me Captain."
"Thank you, Captain. Thank you, Captain."
Each soldier received a crisp new three-yuan note and walked away beaming, already mapping out exactly how to spend it. Round up a few friends who appreciated the finer things, pool everyone's earnings, and go get a proper drink together. Feng-ge would definitely have to be included.
Everyone had money in their pockets, and when the shift ended, most chose to treat themselves. A good meal, a round of mahjong, some street snacks, a curious little trinket or two — all perfectly appealing options.
A few diesel generators were rolled out, and no sooner had night fallen than the tall poles standing upright blazed with light. Soldiers who had never seen such things stared slack-jawed at the bulbs. Back when they were still under the court's rule, they had heard that the people of Dragon City could manufacture light. They'd never had a chance to see it before being shipped overseas, and yet here it was before their very eyes. Those bulbs — they were something else entirely.
The lamplight transformed what should have been a closing market into a night market, and everyone carried on eating and drinking. The revelry went on well into the night before people finally drifted away.
Wages were paid out daily, and so were the management fees. General Wu collected two thick stacks of bills, counted out six thousand, and sent it out for the various generals to divide among themselves. Then he returned to his tent, picked up the remaining fourteen thousand, and found his hands trembling.
"Damn it all. The court gave me ten thousand as a reward for half a year's work."
"And now I'm taking home fourteen thousand in a single day — every single day. I'm almost frightened to be holding this much money."
Town Chief Song had been raised on Dragon City's way of thinking and had no frame of reference for how the imperial court operated. He had assumed that the one yuan was being split among a vast crowd of high-, mid-, and low-ranking officers and minor officials. He hadn't anticipated that just a few dozen generals would take a modest cut, while the mid- and lower-ranking banner officers — did they even count as officers? — would cheerfully go off to earn their three yuan right alongside the common soldiers.
General Wu's hands would not stop shaking. He was both elated and terrified. The elation needed no explanation. The terror came from the thought that if the court ever found out, they might decide to slaughter him like a prize hog. This was no idle paranoia — the wealth was simply too staggering. Fortune nourishes the body and invites disaster in equal measure. And his emperor, it had to be said, had form in this department.
*The Ming Emperor: Are we really never going to let that go?*
General Wu lay awake at night, gnawed by worry. Yet he couldn't bring himself to refuse the money either.
In the days that followed, twenty thousand soldiers rotated daily into the new township to work on construction. The full thirty thousand cycled through on a schedule — ten days building, five days on patrol. Everyone was content.
But after some time had passed, General Wu began to sense something was off. Rumors were circulating through the ranks. Many soldiers were openly discussing a plan: for now, keep things as they were — draw the court's grain rations and collect Dragon City wages at the same time. Then, when the court eventually issued an assignment, simply ignore it, forfeit the rations, and keep only Dragon City's pay.
They had already looked into it. Dragon City had an insatiable appetite for construction. Even when this little township was finished, there would always be something else to build. Work would never dry up.
And there was more. You could apply for Dragon City residency. Pass a three-month probationary assessment, and you became a Dragon City citizen. Did anyone know what the regular pay was? Five yuan a day — and that was double what they were earning now!
Housing and meals provided free of charge, and the daily food was no worse than those one-yuan quick-service lunches with two vegetables and a meat dish.
Hearing all this, how could General Wu not be rattled? If the court issued orders one day, what then? If all the soldiers had already walked, would he go to war with just a handful of generals? The Emperor might very well dispatch an assassin to have him quietly removed.
After days of anxious brooding, he sought out Town Chief Song, his expression vacant and haunted. The sight of his old confidant in such a state gave Song a start.
"General Wu — what on earth has happened to you?"
"Town Chief Song, there's something I'd like to discuss with you."
"Go ahead."
"Here's the thing. I wish to join Dragon City. To become a Dragon City citizen and contribute what little strength I have to her development."
This blunt old soldier had spent enough time around Dragon City people that his manner of speaking had gradually improved — three curses per sentence had become a thing of the past.
"General Wu, the reason you earn so much right now is precisely because you belong to the old order. Once you enter the new one, there's no way to make that kind of money anymore. You need to think this through carefully."
General Wu's face went through a long struggle of conflicting emotions. Then his head drooped, and he said in a deflated tone, "I accept. But the two hundred thousand or so I've already earned — do I have to turn that in?"
"No."
General Wu's head shot up, his eyes lit with sudden relief, as if he had been brought back to life on the spot. Over two hundred thousand yuan — the equivalent of more than a hundred years of a Dragon City civil servant's salary. He would never need to earn another coin. He only needed Dragon City's status and identity to keep him safe for whatever years remained.
The Ming Emperor, vicious and ruthless as he was, would never dare offend Dragon City.
*The Ming Emperor: Excuse me??? However vicious I am, am I anywhere near as vicious as Dragon City people???*
"In that case, someone of your standing would fall under the category of specialized talent. I'll submit an application on your behalf and try to secure you a higher-tier classification, with continued command over these thirty thousand men — provided you operate strictly according to Dragon City's rules."
So this would be Dragon City's auxiliary force, then? Other powers' auxiliary troops were generally worth nothing. These ones, it seemed, actually had some fight in them.
Worth keeping around.