Lu Xiangheng felt his head buzzing.
A subordinate beside him hurriedly handed over a pair of binoculars.
He had seen such things before. Nearly every major general serving Mister Li carried one. He took them, adjusted the focus, and looked carefully at the Mongol cavalry in the distance.
"…What?"
He blinked.
Those riders were not gripping bows, nor were sabers gleaming at their waists in battle readiness. The spare horses they led were not burdened with military supplies.
Instead, they carried… wool blankets.
Thick ones, clearly woven by Mongol women.
There were ox bone combs tied in bundles.
Sheepskin boots.
Handmade trinkets.
Lu Xiangheng lowered the binoculars slowly.
"What are these for?"
Qitan shouted back, "To trade for egg-yolk pastries, of course!"
For a long moment, Lu Xiangheng could not produce a single word.
So this enormous cavalry formation… was not a raid?
Just then, Qitan also seemed to realize the situation.
"You are not ambushing us?"
Lu Xiangheng snapped back, "Ambush you? You came forty li wide with cavalry. What was I supposed to think?"
Qitan snorted. "If I wanted to raid, would I bring my wives and children? Look again."
Lu Xiangheng raised the binoculars once more.
Now that he paid attention, he saw women riding spare horses. Children clung behind warriors. Trade goods were piled high, not arrows in ready bundles.
His raised hand, poised to order arrow fire, slowly lowered.
Qitan turned and shouted behind him, "The border market is open! Bring your best goods inside. Remember, Han merchants are clever. They will try to squeeze you for a bit more. Do not be fooled. Get as much as you can!"
Lu Xiangheng could only give a dry laugh.
"Our merchants are not cunning. They seek profit, that is all. And did you not just tell your people to get as much as they can? Is that not the same thing?"
Qitan paused, then barked out a laugh.
"Fair."
Minority tribes often complained that the Han were tricky and full of schemes.
The Han, meanwhile, often complained that the tribes were unreasonable and prone to bullying negotiations.
In truth, both sides were chasing benefit. No one wore a halo.
"Let the merchants handle the trading," Lu Xiangheng suggested. "Chief Qitan, shall we sit and speak?"
"That was my intention."
The two leaders dismounted and entered the market grounds. Tea was brought out. They sat facing one another, stiff at first, then gradually more relaxed.
Even if no major treaty emerged from their conversation, the mere sight of them drinking tea together signaled something important.
A shift.
Meanwhile, the horse market exploded into noise.
Mongols poured in like a flood.
The salt, tea, and large iron pots displayed at the entrance vanished first. Those were necessities, snapped up in moments.
Yet many Mongols were clearly searching for something else.
They rushed deeper into the market, scanning stall after stall.
Finally, in the innermost corner, they found them.
Egg-yolk pastries.
Not necessities.
Luxuries.
But even the poor crave sweetness.
A herdsman would lead forward a sturdy horse and exchange it for baskets of salt, bricks of tea, a heavy iron pot… and a bundle of pastries to take home for his children.
The market was an overwhelming success.
Within a single day, several hundred warhorses changed hands. In the following days, the number would only grow.
Lu Xiangheng, however, felt puzzled.
Warhorses were vital to the Mongols. Why were they selling them so readily?
He quietly sent spies to mingle among the tribes and gather information.
Before long, a report came back.
"The Mongols say that wars now revolve around the display of heavy armored cars. Warhorses only stand to the side and cheer. They are no longer decisive. So they are selling them."
Lu Xiangheng stared blankly.
Warhorses.
Obsolete?
The world truly had changed.
And it was not only horses whose prospects had dimmed.
Another creature had quietly fallen into economic despair.
Poultry.
---
At noon, Gao Yiye sat at her desk, eating while organizing her script for Gaojia News. She would record it later that afternoon for evening broadcast. Recently, Dao Xuan Tianzun had selected a male and female student from the News Department to gradually take over her duties, but she still oversaw the work personally.
She had just finished arranging her notes when Third Aunt Gao slipped inside, looking troubled.
"Yiye."
"Aunt, what is it?"
Third Aunt Gao lowered her voice. "You know I raise chickens, ducks, and geese. In recent years… their feathers have become harder and harder to sell. No one wants them anymore."
Gao Yiye looked up in surprise. "But feathers always sold well before, didn't they?"
"They did," Third Aunt Gao sighed. "Merchants used to collect them in large quantities. Even the government bought them. But now? No one in our area buys them at all."
It made sense.
For centuries, long feathers from chickens, ducks, and geese had been strategic materials. They were used to fletch arrows. During wartime, officials even assigned quotas to households, forcing villagers to hand over feathers. Families would scramble through hills catching pheasants just to meet requirements.
When Gao Family Village first formed its militia, hand crossbows were common. They consumed vast quantities of feathered bolts.
But ever since firearms had been introduced, and then upgraded generation after generation, crossbows gradually faded out of use.
Even factory militia units now carried old smoothbore muskets passed down from the regular militia.
Crossbows were no longer produced.
Arrows were no longer in demand.
Thus feathers piled up, unwanted.
Third Aunt Gao looked genuinely distressed.
"It feels wasteful to throw them away. Yiye, can you think of something? Some way to turn them into money?"
Gao Yiye clapped her hands suddenly.
"I have an idea."
"So fast?" Third Aunt Gao's eyes lit up.
"We can make feathered shuttlecocks. Children can kick them for fun. They should sell."
Third Aunt Gao hesitated. "How many toys can children buy? That will not use up mountains of feathers."
"Ah, true."
Gao Yiye paused, then brightened again.
"Feather dusters. We can make feather dusters."
"That uses more feathers," Third Aunt Gao admitted. "But who would buy so many?"
Gao Yiye smiled confidently.
"I know many merchants. I will find someone to sell them in the bazaar outside Xi'an. They will sell."
Third Aunt Gao's face finally relaxed into a smile.
"Yiye always finds a way."
Just then, another woman entered timidly.
"Saintess… at our poultry farm, the chicken, duck, and goose feathers have piled up like mountains. We truly do not know what to do with them."
Gao Yiye blinked.
Mountains?
She suddenly felt that shuttlecocks and dusters might not be enough after all.