That man, upon hearing Mengde admit her identity, smiled and gestured toward an empty seat nearby.
“Since you are Miss Cao Cao, you are an honored guest in my Xiongnu King’s Tent. Please, have a seat.”
“All right.”
Mengde nodded slightly and sat in the indicated spot.
The Xiongnu spent their lives among cattle and sheep, so their bodies were always steeped in the smells of dung and mutton fat.
While standing, Mengde could still barely tolerate the stench inside the King’s Tent, but as soon as she sat down, the thick, pungent odor nearly overwhelmed her.
‘Whose seat was this before?!’
‘How could it smell this strong?’
Liu Bei, who stood behind Mengde, couldn’t help but shake his head slightly in resignation as he watched the scene.
Letting Miss Mengde enter a Xiongnu camp—this was truly a form of torture for her.
After all, Mengde’s residence always had an Incense Burner lit throughout the day!
As for the outdoors, the wilderness in this era wasn’t badly polluted, so whenever Miss Mengde traveled, all she ever breathed was fresh air.
No wonder the air inside the Xiongnu King’s Tent nearly knocked her flat.
Liu Bei himself, however, was unfazed by the smell in the tent.
After all, he’d grown up dirt poor—what strange odors hadn’t he encountered? There was a time, when his family was short on money, that he even earned a living cleaning out latrines! And what kind of place was Youzhou? A land where Hu and Han lived side by side.
When Liu Bei was twelve or thirteen, he’d played in the Wuhuan camps, so he was long accustomed to the mixed stench of cattle dung and mutton fat.
But now, there was nothing Liu Bei could do to ease Miss Mengde’s discomfort.
He certainly didn’t possess Divine Power to instantly banish the foul air from the tent.
As for lighting an Incense Burner to mask the smell? The thought of incense mingling with the mutton stench was so dreadful that Liu Bei didn’t even dare to imagine the resulting scent.
It would probably be even more lethal.
So, at this moment, Miss Mengde could only grit her teeth and endure.
At present, the Chanyu of the Southern Xiongnu was Tut.
Historically, during his reign, his attitude toward the Han Dynasty was always quite respectful, with no sign of rebellion.
Unfortunately, he died in his early forties.
The Xiongnu had short lifespans—most died by thirty-four, and even the nobles were no exception.
Considering the harsh conditions of the grasslands, with poor food and water, how could anyone live long? According to history, Tut would die the following year, in 178 AD, and his son Huzheng would succeed him as Chanyu.
At this moment, Tut’s health was already failing.
***
After Mengde took her seat, he forced a wry smile and cupped his hands toward her.
“Lady of the Upper Country, you are kind and merciful, willing to save my Xiongnu people. Regrettably, my health has been poor lately, and I am unable to discuss business matters with you myself. Would you permit my son, Huzheng, to negotiate with you in my stead?”
“Of course.”
Mengde nodded in agreement.
As her voice faded, a young man in his twenties behind Tut spoke up.
“I am Huzheng. May I ask, Lady of the Upper Country, what other details of this business matter require discussion?”
“Certainly. First, how many people do the Xiongnu currently have?”
“This…”
Huzheng exchanged glances with the other nobles in the King’s Tent.
After a long silence, he gave a bitter smile.
“Apologies, my lady, I do not know. I fear no one else here does either.”
Mengde was surprised.
“How can you not know such a thing? If you don’t know how many people you have, how do you collect taxes each year?”
Huzheng looked a bit embarrassed.
“We simply collect as much as we need…”
“All right.”
Mengde nodded, speechless.
‘Collect as much as you need.’
‘If they collected less, it wouldn’t matter. But if they ever needed more, who knew how many of their people would starve or freeze to death in the winter?’
‘So this was the Xiongnu’s level of governance?’
‘Truly terrifying.’
Mengde couldn’t help but feel fortunate to be Han.
Granted, Liu Hong could be ruthless—levying taxes on the entire population to build his palaces right after the Yellow Turban Rebellion was barely settled.
But at least his taxes were based on household registers, so the burden was spread, and each family only felt moderate pressure.
The Xiongnu, on the other hand, taxed by feeling and need… They probably didn’t even know how much tax was appropriate.
The girl sighed softly.
“Even if you don’t know the exact population, you should at least have a rough estimate, right?”
Huzheng thought for a moment.
“We Xiongnu currently have about fifteen or sixteen wan tents. The total population should be between four hundred thousand and six hundred thousand.”
A tent was the dwelling of the grassland people; one tent meant one household, and in wartime, each tent could supply one cavalryman.
Fifteen or sixteen wan tents theoretically meant the Xiongnu could field as many as 150,000 or 160,000 cavalry.
Of course, theory and reality often differed.
Most wan tents weren’t full; having even eighty percent occupancy was considered good.
One wan tent might only have a little over six thousand households, with each household having three to six people.
Adding it all up, the Southern Xiongnu’s population was indeed between four hundred thousand and six hundred thousand.
It seemed the Xiongnu had prospered since submitting to the Han Dynasty.
When they first surrendered, they had only a little over 100,000 people.
Over the years, their population had multiplied several times.
Mengde rubbed her chin and asked, “Since the Southern Xiongnu have roughly this many people, I’ll report to my family and arrange to deliver enough grain for 200,000 people for four months. What do you think?”
“That is acceptable.”
Huzheng agreed.
The Xiongnu ate less than the Han people to begin with. Grain for 200,000 Han for four months would be enough to feed 400,000 Xiongnu for three months.
Although last year’s white plague had dealt the Southern Xiongnu a severe blow, it wasn’t as if they were completely out of food.
With the grain Mengde brought, plus what the Xiongnu already had, getting through the coming winter wouldn’t be a problem.
After settling the grain amount, Mengde asked Huzheng, “According to the previous negotiations with General Huangfu, how many livestock do you need to exchange for this grain?”
Huzheng cupped his hands and replied, “As agreed with General Huangfu, one fine horse can be exchanged for enough grain to feed five people through one winter. Since you can provide enough grain for 200,000 people for four months, you will require 40,000 fine horses.”
“Forty thousand… That’s quite a number.”
Mengde murmured softly.
Forcing the Southern Xiongnu to produce forty thousand fine horses at once wouldn’t cripple them, but when autumn came in a few months, their cavalry certainly wouldn’t be making any trouble in the border regions.
Still, this deal wasn’t a loss for the Southern Xiongnu.
After all, the food for 200,000 people was all being shipped from Jizhou, Yanzhou, Qingzhou, and Yuzhou—a long journey.
In ancient times, grain could only be transported by manpower, and the workers needed food along the way.
For every stone of grain delivered to the far-off grasslands, about four stones would be consumed in transit.
In the Han Dynasty, one person needed about two stones of grain per month; including the workers’ share, that’s ten stones per person for the journey.
To deliver enough grain for 200,000 Han to eat for four months, the Cao Family would need to procure at least eight million stones of grain from the Four Prefectures.
In the Eastern Han, one stone of grain cost about one hundred coins, so just buying eight million stones would cost the Cao Family at least 800 million coins.
If the Cao Family’s mass purchases drove up the price of grain, the cost would only be higher.
A fine horse in the Eastern Han cost about 5,000 coins.
Forty thousand horses would be worth 200 million coins, and that was the price after being transported from the border to the interior.
The purchase price at the border was only about 2,000 coins per horse.
That much money would only buy twenty stones of grain—enough to feed ten people for one month—even in the border regions.
Yet the grain Mengde was offering could feed ten people for two months!
So, far from losing out, the Southern Xiongnu were practically making a killing on this deal!
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