The Blood Crown - Chapter 4

Yuan Nanyu’s leg injury wasn’t too severe, as the doctor had mentioned. With proper care, including splinting, herbal remedies, and resting, he would likely recover in a hundred days.

However, the challenge lay in the “resting” part. Yuan Nanyu was full of energy, naturally active, and typically started his days early with martial arts practice and studying. During his free time, he would roam the streets in search of entertainment. Forcing him to lie still for three months was practically a death sentence for his lively spirit. The family decided he might become mischievous, so they took turns keeping an eye on him and finally confined him indoors.

In the morning, Yuan Sikong supervised Yuan Nanyu’s reading, and it just happened that Xu Huo came to take him to the horse stable.

The stable within Guangning City mainly housed the horses of Yuan Mao and his subordinates, with only two or three dozen horses. Most of the horses were kept in an open field outside the city, where they could run freely. It was a place he frequently visited.

Four years ago, when Yuan Mao brought him home, he had voluntarily asked to learn about horse care. In reality, he knew nothing about it back then. He only initiated this request because he wanted Yuan Mao to think he could handle something useful. Initially, he couldn’t shake off the fear of being dependent on someone else, fearing that Yuan Mao might reject him. Whether Yuan Mao believed him or not, he truly started learning how to care for horses with Xu Huo.

Over these four years, he not only absorbed Xu Huo’s lifetime of knowledge but also collected official records and folk tales related to horse care. The more he learned, the better he became. Xu Huo was illiterate and relied on ancestral knowledge and experience for horse care. Now, Yuan Sikong often discusses various matters related to horse care with him.

In the past, Yuan Sikong had to share a horse with Xu Huo. Now, he could ride on his own, and Xu Huo watched the young man’s growth with great satisfaction.

They arrived at the horse field, and it was just lunchtime. A perfect time for a meal.

The owner of the horse stable was Zhao Dayou, Guangning’s wealthiest merchant. He had started from scratch as a stablehand but had amassed a fortune over the years. His horse stable housed over ten thousand horses in total, but only a small portion of them met the standards of warhorses.

Since the decline of the Great Sheng Dynasty’s power following the loss of the Hexie region, the imperial court had struggled to maintain horses. All the major and minor horse stables in the Central Plains had turned into private businesses. However, they were required to provide a certain number of warhorses to the imperial court each year. Good horses were hard to come by in the Central Plains, making horse merchants extremely wealthy.

Zhao Dayou was delighted to see Yuan Sikong and prepared a sumptuous meal. “Sikong, let’s have a hearty lunch. In the afternoon, we’ll select two thousand fine horses for King Jingyuan.”

Yuan Sikong nodded. “Uncle Shi, rest assured.”

“Oh, originally, the horses used by the Seal family’s army were the Qin horses from Huaixi. I went to see them yesterday, and they are truly excellent horses, first-rate!” Zhao Dayou couldn’t help but give a thumbs up. “I didn’t expect that our Liaodong horses could also gallop a thousand miles and fight enemies in all directions alongside the Seal family’s army. It’s a testament to our ancestors’ glory.”

Xu Huo flattered, “Master Zhao, it’s all thanks to your care.”

Throughout history, dynasties had a tendency to prioritize scholars over merchants, so merchants had a relatively low social status. However, their immense wealth often granted them influence and connections, making it necessary for officials like Xu Huo to maintain a good relationship with wealthy merchants like Zhao Dayou. After all, even a low-ranking official’s words could carry weight.

Yuan Sikong was curious. “Uncle Shi, what’s the price the Seal family’s army pays for horses?”

“It’s slightly higher than the Liaodong army’s prices, but I’ve heard that King Jingyuan offers additional benefits to the Liaodong army.”

Yuan Sikong worriedly said, “Since the imperial court is collecting horses, we can’t go against their orders. However, if all the good horses are given to Datong Prefecture, what will happen if the Jin invaders come?”

Xu Huo sighed. “That’s a concern, indeed. I’m not sure what the higher-ups are thinking.” He glanced around to make sure no one was listening and whispered, “While it’s true that Datong Prefecture is facing intense battles, and the Wa La rebels are a much larger threat than the Jin invaders, it does seem like the court is showing favoritism. First, they abandoned the seven northern Liaodong provinces, and now they’re giving this year’s warhorses to Datong Prefecture. They don’t seem to care about the lives of us Liaodong residents.”

Zhao Dayou placed a chubby finger to his lips and hushed, “Shh. Don’t spread this around. Right now, Datong is at war while Liaodong is not. The court must have its reasons.”

Yuan Sikong felt uneasy. Liaodong might be peaceful for now, but the Jin invaders were still a constant threat across the river. The court’s actions did seem unfair, but they had no choice.

After finishing their meal, Zhao Dayou called over some of the most experienced horse breeders from the stable to accompany them in selecting the horses.

The primary responsibility for horse selection remained with Xu Huo, while Yuan Sikong acted as his assistant. Yuan Southhedge was being groomed by Yuan Meo for this role, and he was indeed a capable assistant.

Evaluating a horse was both a technical and physical task. Not all tall and robust horses were good for war. A warhorse needed to be trained, not overly wild, and must possess endurance.

For instance, a large nose indicated larger lungs, which was good for long-distance runs. The structure of the back to hipbones determined if a horse could easily gain weight. Observing the horse’s mouth and nostrils helped detect any diseases, while examining muscle contours showed if the horse had strong bones. Even the size and shape of the horse’s hooves were important, as they couldn’t be too thick, thin, large, or small.

After looking and feeling, the horses would be made to run a bit to make the final assessment.

Horse evaluation was a complex field with many factors to consider, especially considering different origins and breeds. The teachers and Xu Huo, who had been working with horses for over a decade, dared to perform this task. Warhorses carried the lives of soldiers and the fate of Great Sheng, so they couldn’t afford to be careless.

Half a day had passed, and the sun was setting. It was time for them to return to the city. As they passed by the sick horse shed, Yuan Sikong noticed a horse less than half a year old, looking weak and frail inside.

One of the stable workers said, “Oh, this horse has been sick for over a month now. If it doesn’t recover soon…”

“I’ll take a look,” Yuan Sikong and Xu Huo entered the shed, examined the horse closely, and asked several questions. They could only deduce that the horse was suffering from a stomach ailment.

Many could raise horses, but few could treat them. Most horse healers relied on their experience, prescribing large doses of medicines, which often worked for minor ailments or minor injuries. However, when faced with difficult or lingering illnesses, the horse would often be put down to conserve resources.

This was an area where Yuan Sikong felt a deep regret. His mother was a skilled healer, and her medical knowledge was passed down from his grandfather. When he was young, he had been curious and wanted to learn medicine from his mother. However, his father didn’t allow it, adhering to the belief that academic success was the best path in a society that favored scholars above all else. While he did manage to learn some basic medical knowledge in his spare time, it was only superficial. Still, he understood medical principles and could treat common ailments to some extent. He always believed that treating horses wasn’t difficult. If he could understand the horse’s anatomy, muscles, blood vessels, and meridians just like human anatomy, many horse illnesses could be cured. He felt that the existing literature on equine medicine was not detailed enough.

Unfortunately, he never had the opportunity to explore this further.

Throughout history, pigs were raised for meat, cows for labor, and horses for transportation and warfare. Horses were invaluable in combat and essential for the nation’s mobility and trade. They were revered, and many dynasties forbade the consumption of horse meat. During the Sheng Dynasty, this reverence was heightened, and the government encouraged people to raise horses while strictly prohibiting horse consumption. Even dead horses had to be properly buried. Yuan Sikong had always wanted to dissect a dead horse to study equine medicine, but Yuan Meo would never have approved.

Seeing the sickly young horse that couldn’t be saved, Yuan Sikong felt a deep sense of sadness. If he could have treated it, perhaps it could have become a valuable asset for the soldiers in Liaodong.

In the days that followed, Yuan Sikong continued to assist Xu Huo in evaluating horses at the stable. As expected, the young horse quickly succumbed to its illness, and its carcass had yet to be dealt with.

After passing by the sick horse stall once again, Yuan Sikong’s determination was further strengthened. They were about to send the hard-raised two thousand fine horses to Datong, and his desire to learn equine medicine grew stronger. While Xu Huo was out tending to the horses, he approached Zhao Dayou, pleading with him to give him access to the horse carcass.

Zhao Dayou knew what Yuan Sikong intended to do, and this wasn’t the first time he had asked for it. However, dissecting a horse was considered disrespectful to the animal, and it was explicitly prohibited by the imperial decree. Zhao Dayou hesitated, “Sikong, you should abandon this idea. If your father finds out, how can I explain myself?”

“Sifu, this stable belongs to you. If no one sees it, and we don’t speak of it, who would ever know?” Yuan Sikong’s eyes sparkled with a brilliant intelligence. “My father is strict and sometimes lacks flexibility, but you, Sifu, are a resourceful person. This vast horse stable is all thanks to your resourcefulness. You lose one or two hundred horses to illness each year. If I can learn equine medicine and save even one, it’s like saving a sack of silver.”

Zhao Dayou’s eyes blinked rapidly as he pondered Yuan Sikong’s words.

If any other impertinent young boy had said such things to him, he would have likely chased them away. But Yuan Sikong was different.

Zhao Dayou had discovered this child’s exceptional talent long ago and had even inquired about his background with Yuan Meo, who had also conducted investigations. The results were far from ordinary.

In the vicinity of Taining, there was a child prodigy known for his exceptional abilities. He began composing poetry at the age of five, writing essays at six, and passed the child-level imperial examination at nine, earning the title of “Xiucai.” His surname was Yan.

(Note: “Xiucai” is a traditional Chinese academic title indicating success in the imperial examination system.)

Zhao Dayou knew that this child was extraordinary and that if he said he wanted to learn equine medicine, there was indeed a possibility that he could achieve it. He was a businessman, and how could he not be tempted by such an opportunity?

Seeing Zhao Dayou wavering, Yuan Sikong made another promise, “If by any chance, it is truly discovered, I will take full responsibility and not trouble you, Sifu.”

Zhao Dayou sighed deeply, “Sikong, to be honest, how could Sifu not want you to learn equine medicine? Sifu has worked hard to raise these horses, and it pains me to see them die of illness.” He pulled Yuan Sikong aside into a corner and spoke in a low voice, “That horse happens to be small in size and quiet. I’ll send someone away, and you can go dissect it in the sick horse stall. After you’re done, Sifu will arrange for someone to clean up.”

Yuan Sikong calmly replied, “Once I’m done, I’ll set the horse stall on fire. It will be clean and untraceable.”

Zhao Dayou twitched a bit, “Uh… yes, you’re right. Burn it, burn it clean.”

“Thank you, Sifu.” Yuan Sikong took a step back and bowed, “Sifu’s actions not only save a horse but also benefit the country in the long run.”

Zhao Dayou was overjoyed, “Good, good, go quickly. I’ll instruct everyone at the horse stable to stay away from that area.”

—

Yuan Sikong gathered a box of tools for treating external injuries, which he would use for the dissection. He looked at the small horse, realizing that his long-cherished wish was about to come true. His hands were trembling, partly from excitement and partly from a touch of fear.

As Yuan Sikong was deeply focused on the dissection, cutting and documenting his findings, a bucket of water for washing his hands quickly turned blood-red. Just as he was dissecting the horse, fully engrossed in his task, he suddenly heard a sharp child’s voice exclaim, “What are you doing?”

Yuan Sikong was so absorbed in his work that this shout, despite being childish, startled him so much that his heart skipped a beat, and the knife in his hand fell to the ground.

He turned around and saw a finely dressed young boy standing at the entrance of the horse stall. The boy had wide, furious eyes fixed on him. This was the most beautiful child he had ever seen in his life, almost like a celestial being. However, at that moment, he had no time to appreciate the boy’s beauty; his mind was filled with one thought: he had been discovered!

The boy angrily exclaimed, “You have such audacity to defile a horse carcass.” He turned to leave while shouting, “Guards!”

Yuan Sikong swiftly sprang to his feet and rushed out of the horse stall. He closed the distance with brisk steps and, with his blood-stained hands, grabbed the boy’s collar.