Chapter Six: I Am Certainly No Gentleman

The gatekeeper cast a wary glance outside before hastily bolting the heavy front doors. Chaos had long since consumed the Southern Frontier, and it would be disastrous if word spread that the newly appointed Protector had arrived.

With a creak, the gates were slammed shut. Fang Han frowned; the Protectorate’s residence was in abysmal condition, lacking even a decent gate. Inside, the grounds were choked with weeds, and the large ceramic jars that once held decorative water features were now filled with nothing but dust. Moss blanketed the rockery, and spiderwebs draped over the eaves and corridors.

"Give me a report on the situation in the Southern Frontier," Fang Han said, his mind heavy with frustration. He had expected things to be bad, but he hadn't imagined the Protectorate itself would be derelict for years, let alone the state of the common people. The estimate that less than one in ten of the original population remained seemed all too true, perhaps even optimistic.

The old steward bowed low. "My Lord, the previous Protector vanished ten years ago. It is likely... likely he was killed."

From within the carriage, Princess Lin Qingwei interjected, "Why hesitate? He defected to the Southern Barbarians. What is there to be afraid of saying?"

The old steward turned pale with shock and immediately dropped to his knees. "Your Highness, please forgive me!" The other servants followed suit, trembling as they pressed themselves against the dirt. They were all remnants of the old staff; by law, they should have been executed for the former Protector’s treachery. Fortunately, the Imperial Court considered the matter a deep humiliation—that a high-ranking official could defect to the barbarians was a stain on the dignity of the Great Zhou—so even though everyone knew of the betrayal, no one dared speak of it aloud. The servants had survived only through this collective silence. Hearing the Princess bring it up, the old steward feared the Court had finally come to settle the score.

In truth, this was merely Lin Qingwei’s spiteful way of striking at Empress Lin Qingxue, determined to let everyone know that the Great Zhou had lost all its prestige under her sister’s reign. If Fang Han proved to be a man of true talent, then perhaps the throne of the Great Zhou wasn't something only Lin Qingxue could hold.

Fang Han was surprised that the Princess would cast aside Imperial dignity so readily to bring this up. It seemed her resentment ran deep, he thought with a faint, amused smile.

"Get up and continue," he commanded.

Seeing the Princess remain silent in the carriage—a tacit approval of the conversation—the steward stood up, still trembling. "Since the old Protector disappeared, the situation here has worsened by the day. Uprisings have broken out everywhere, and war is constant. Even within the capital city of the Southern Frontier, there are only twenty thousand people left."

"Twenty thousand?" Fang Han was stunned. No wonder the bandits they encountered on the road were so few in number; it seemed as if everyone had already perished. Twenty thousand people—a population that might fill a single neighborhood in his past life—was all that remained of this vast, sprawling province.

"My Lord, it isn't exactly just twenty thousand," the steward added sheepishly. "That is the number of those still loyal to the Court. Most of the others have turned to brigandage."

Fang Han cared little for the Court's standing at the moment; he only wanted to know how many people he could command now and how many he might have in the future. If the population was too small, development would be impossible in the short term. It appeared the people were there, but they were not yet his to command.

Seeing the sun setting and knowing his men were exhausted from the long journey, Fang Han said, "Liu San, I order you to compile a general report on the Southern Frontier within three days. Also, notify all local officials to report to the capital within ten days."

He then turned to another man. "Fang Da, I appoint you commander of the capital’s garrison. Recruit soldiers and intensify their training." Fang Da was one of the hundred elite soldiers Fang Han had secured from Liu Wanquan in Mingyue City. Having promised them families and homes in the South, these men had defended him with their lives throughout the journey and were now fiercely loyal.

"I shall not fail you, my Lord!" Fang Da replied, beaming.

Fang Han then ordered the courtyard to be cleaned, giving the steward money to hire help. The steward looked back with a bitter expression; he explained that the local markets had long since collapsed. People were either scraping by on their own or joining the bandits to survive. Buying servants was impossible; they couldn't even find firewood to buy.

Fang Han could only laugh helplessly. Having lived in this world for several years, this was the first time he had encountered a situation where money was completely useless. With no other choice, he ordered his soldiers to hunt in the hills while he prepared to cook himself.

As dusk deepened, Lin Qingwei emerged from the carriage. Seeing Fang Han holding a wild pheasant, she frowned. "Fang Han, what are you doing?" she asked sharply.

Fang Han turned to her with a smile. "Killing a chicken. You’re all too backward; you don't even know how to properly prepare one. You just skin them, wasting all the good parts."

"Do you not know? The Sage said, 'A gentleman keeps away from the kitchen.'"

Fang Han dismissed this. "What Sage? I’ve never read those books. If you can’t stand it, don’t come begging me for a bite later."

Lin Qingwei was about to reprimand him, but she realized there was nothing else to eat. Since entering the Southern Frontier, she had been surviving on dry rations, and she was sick of the sight of them. As the consort of the Great Zhou, watching him cook was beneath her, but her hunger forced her to compromise.

Fang Han dropped the prepared bird into a pot of boiling water. Fortunately, the previous Protector hadn't taken the iron pots, and the Southern Frontier’s abundant water sources made boiling water an easy task—a luxury that was usually reserved for the wealthy.

Lin Qingwei stifled her disgust at the raw smell of the meat, watching him work. His movements were skilled, as if he had done this many times. "No wonder Lin Qingxue looked down on you," she muttered.

Had he heard Lin Qingxue’s name before, he might have been angry, but now he felt nothing. Besides, if not for her, he never would have met a woman like Lin Qingwei. Unlike her sister’s overbearing nature, Lin Qingwei, though occasionally sharp-tongued, was never vindictive. She offered silent, steady support. Though he suspected her aloofness stemmed from being treated as a bad omen in her youth, this very sense of distance was exactly what he found most appealing.

"I actually want to thank her," Fang Han said as he deftly plucked the feathers. In moments, the bird was clean and skewered on a rack to roast.

Soon, the aroma of roasting meat filled the air. Lin Qingwei couldn't help but swallow, and the soldiers watched the fire with hungry eyes.

"Fang Han..."

Seeing the expectant look on her face, Fang Han laughed. "Didn't you say a gentleman keeps away from the kitchen?"

Lin Qingwei flushed slightly. "I was wrong. You are no gentleman."

Fang Han tore off a drumstick and handed it to her. "No, you were right. I am certainly no gentleman."