The Eighth pondered this, glanced at his son already fast asleep in the carriage, gently covered him with just his outer garment, and sighed, “Old Benson is truly lucky, to have such a grandson—what an anomaly. When it’s time for the younger generation to take charge, I fear the Eighth clan will have to look up to the Fifth clan!”

　　……

　　“Reading more books really is useful. Old Foster has always been cunning, but today he could only force a smile and go along, drinking wine as if it were urine—how satisfying.”

　　After watching the guests’ carriage disappear into the distance, Robert Benson turned around, looked at his grandson in amazement, but his doubts only grew deeper.

　　“Henry, the reason you let them study together, I’m afraid it’s not just to resolve the grudge between the Fifth and Eighth clans, is it?”

　　“Of course not.”

　　Henry Benson usually kept his plans close to his chest, but now, half-drunk, he let a bit of his pride show and said with a smile, “Grandfather, if in the coming years the world really falls into chaos, can our family alone, just one clan, one village, really protect ourselves in troubled times?”

　　Robert Benson shook his head. They lived together as a clan, built fortified manors, and could defend against small-time thieves. But if things turned out as Henry Benson suspected, and the world plunged into turmoil like at the end of the Qin and the rise of the Han, their mere two hundred able-bodied men would be far from enough—a single larger band of rebels could wipe out the Fifth clan.

　　“A fence needs three stakes, so our family needs allies.”

　　Henry Benson revealed his goal: “Grandfather, I want to make a name for myself and establish authority, to become the recognized leader among all the clans.”

　　In the night-shrouded Linqu village, each clan occupied a corner, their lights twinkling like scattered stars in the dark sky.

　　Henry Benson reached out as if to grasp them all, to gather them into a single mass.

　　“If I can do this, then should the world change, all I need is to raise my arm and call, and the ten or so clans within ten miles, three thousand able-bodied men, will gather at my command!”

Chapter 5: Even the Landlord’s Family Has No Surplus Grain

　　“Oh, gathering at your command—where’d you learn that phrase? Did the government school teacher teach you that?”

　　Henry Benson thought his bold words would earn his grandfather’s praise, but instead he got a sharp flick to the head, making his skull ache and sobering him up instantly.

　　Robert Benson might seem rough, but he was actually quite shrewd—after all, he’d lived a long time: “And after they respond, what then? All those people have to eat, don’t they?”

　　“Who’s going to feed three thousand able-bodied men? You? As the saying goes, ‘Before the troops move, provisions must be ready.’ The grain we have isn’t even enough for our own people. You really have never fought a war—gathering a crowd is not as simple as you think.”

　　After being mocked by the old man, Henry Benson was a bit unconvinced. The next morning, he got up early and, with the servant George Benson, began to take stock of the Fifth clan’s grain stores.

　　Because of Wang Mang’s complicated and long-winded economic policies, the currency system of the whole country was in chaos. Henry Benson had seen in the county town that, except for the government which still insisted on paying salaries in all sorts of new coins, the common people had basically reverted to bartering. In this era, there was only one truly hard currency: grain!

　　The Fifth clan’s granary was in the backyard, taking up quite a bit of space, with a four-eaved roof and two windows under the eaves for ventilation. Inside were large clay jars, each covered with a heavy wooden lid, filled with unhulled millet and wheat.

　　George Benson’s father, named Mark Benson, was in charge of managing the estate’s fields and grain. He told Henry Benson, “Young master, we just collected the field rent this month. All five granaries are full—about a thousand dan or so.”

　　With vegetables, fruit, and other side dishes, it was enough for the Fifth clan’s manor—over fifty people, including the masters, family, servants, and slaves—to eat for two years. This showed the Fifth clan was good at managing their affairs, unlike some families who squandered everything and often had no surplus grain.

　　But it was still far from Henry Benson’s goal—about… ten times short.

　　In Henry Benson’s view, his family needed to stockpile at least ten thousand dan of grain.

　　But when he went to see Robert Benson and proposed this plan, the old man laughed at him again.

　　“Ten thousand dan? Do you know how much grain is stored in the county granary? About that much. Our Fifth clan is just one small village, with limited harvests each year—where are you going to get so much grain?”

　　The granary manager, Mark Benson, didn’t know why the young master wanted to hoard grain, but this was a good chance to bring up a plan he’d been thinking about for a long time: “There’s no way to stockpile that much grain in the short term, unless…”

　　Mark Benson spoke coldly and decisively.

　　“Raise the rent!”

　　……

　　“The other local landlords mostly collect four out of ten as field rent. But the Fifth clan has always cherished its kin—relatives who work the land pay three out of ten, while ordinary tenant farmers pay four out of ten.”

　　Mark Benson still thought it wasn’t enough. In his view, with grain prices rising year after year, the field rent should be raised.

　　“In this way, we could collect an extra three to five hundred dan of rent each year.”

　　When Henry Benson first arrived in this era, he found it odd—the new dynasty’s official field rent was one in ten, and in the previous Han dynasty it was even one in thirty. Why did so many people prefer to sell their land and become tenant farmers under powerful clans, rather than be self-sufficient farmers paying rent to the government?

　　Later, he understood. The so-called one in thirty or one in ten sounded nice on paper, but what was even more deadly than field rent were the corvée labor and additional taxes. In Han times, corvée service could send you far to the Western Regions or the Southwest, taking years and risking death from disease or accidents along the way, with military merit a distant dream. The new dynasty was even worse, waging war on all sides and losing more than winning—no one wanted to go off and die.