The Wushen tribe leader looked utterly lost.
"We can already use sheepskin and wool to make clothes ourselves, can't we?" he asked, scratching his head. "Why do we need to send them to some textile factory to process them again? What exactly is the point of all this?"
Zao Ying answered bluntly, without the slightest hesitation, "Don't ask me. I only know how to fight."
The Wushen tribe leader truly didn't understand.
However, when he read the final lines of the letter, those words at least made sense to him:
"My sworn brother has already prepared a batch of supplies and asked General Zao Ying to help deliver them home, to be given to Father, in exchange for some sheepskin and wool. Please, Father, make the arrangements. Your son will surely use these items to accomplish great things."
The leader looked up, still puzzled.
"Supplies?"
Zao Ying nodded. "They'll be here soon."
Sure enough—
Not long after, a caravan slowly appeared on the steppe. It carried essential supplies the Mongols desperately needed: grain, large iron pots, tea, salt…
The quantity wasn't particularly large.
But on the grasslands of that era, Han Chinese goods were exceedingly rare. Even a small amount was enough to exchange for a great deal of sheepskin and wool.
One ox could be traded for one shi of rice and beans.
One sheep could fetch several dou of coarse grain.
The Wushen tribe leader said nothing further.
He immediately mobilized his people, gathered a massive quantity of sheepskin and wool, and handed everything over to the Han caravan.
In truth, trade between the Mongols and the Ming had always existed. Since the early Ming, official "border markets" had been established for precisely this purpose.
However, as conflicts between north and south intensified, and as disasters brought on by the Little Ice Age worsened year by year, the legitimate border markets had long since collapsed.
What remained were only small, secretive exchanges conducted in the shadows.
Now, with a Han caravan openly returning to the steppe once more, it was—at least for the Wushen tribe—a moment of genuine joy.
Once again, the Wushen tribe felt the benevolence of the Han people.
These Han were not only powerful—
They also brought supplies.
Supplies that could help them survive the merciless winter.
Forming an alliance with such people was truly the right choice.
As the Wushen tribe leader happily put away the supplies, Zao Ying approached him again.
"Oh, right," she said casually. "There's one more thing I need to discuss with you on this trip north."
The Wushen tribe leader instantly straightened, his tone becoming respectful.
"My dear Han friend, please speak freely. If it is within our power, we will certainly do it."
Zao Ying spoke plainly. "We've received intelligence. The Ordos tribe is preparing to surrender to the Jiannu."
Hearing this, the Wushen tribe leader couldn't help but let out a long sigh.
He knew well that the "Jiannu" the Han spoke of were the Jurchens—what they themselves called the Later Jin.
The Later Jin were terrifyingly strong.
They constantly trampled over the Mongols. Many tribes in the northeast had already defected to them.
And here in the west, the Ordos tribe had recently been ravaged by the Manchus. They had even driven Ligdan Khan into such despair that he fell ill and died.
The Wushen tribe leader spoke slowly.
"My dear Han friend, I know you are also fighting the Jiannu. My son mentioned in his last letter that you fought them at Xuanfu and Datong—and utterly routed them."
Zao Ying nodded. "Good that you know. The Jiannu are enemies of our Great Ming. We don't want to see the Ordos tribe surrender to them."
The Wushen tribe leader pondered for a long moment, then nodded.
"So… you want me to influence the Ordos' decision?"
"Exactly." Zao Ying grinned. "Don't let them surrender to the Jiannu. Make them surrender to you instead. Wouldn't that be better?"
"To me?" The Wushen tribe leader was stunned. "You want me to absorb the Ordos tribe? That… I don't have that kind of strength."
"You don't," Zao Ying replied calmly. "But we'll make sure you do."
She continued, speaking as if reciting casually, "According to our intelligence, the Ordos tribe is actually composed of many smaller tribes—the Khokhote, Xiba Guchin, Urad, Tangut, Otog, Dalat, Khangjin, Bersud, Wushen, Batejin, Khaliguchin, Khogit, Kriyas, Chahar, Minggat, Khorchin, Khuyaguchin…"
She waved her hand.
"Ah, there are too many. I can't remember the rest."
Zao Ying shrugged.
"Anyway, the Ordos is just a pile of tribes stitched together. To make the Ordos listen to you, you only need to…" She laughed softly. "Hehehe…"
The Wushen tribe leader's eyes lit up.
"I understand. You mean—I only need to make sure that more than half of these tribes listen to me."
"Exactly," Zao Ying said. "If someone refuses, you beat them. If you can't beat them, call me. I'll help you beat them. Once more than half of these messy tribes submit, the rest will naturally follow."
She smiled coldly.
"Then the Ordos won't surrender to the Jiannu. And wouldn't it be even better if, in the end, we beat the Jiannu until they surrender to us?"
This was no small matter.
Yet the Wushen tribe leader felt no fear at all.
The blood of the Mongols did not allow fear in such affairs—only excitement.
To absorb other tribes.
To grow stronger.
To expand one's own people.
This was the nature of the Mongols. Their way of life. Their lifelong pursuit.
Before, he wouldn't even have dared to imagine it.
But now—
With the overwhelmingly powerful Han flintlock cavalry at his back—
He absolutely could.
The Wushen tribe leader clenched his fists.
"Understood! Several tribes already listen to me. I'll gather them all, organize an army, and absorb them one by one. I will strive to make the entire Otog belong to me."
Zao Ying smiled.
"Go for it. I'm rooting for you."
Not long after, Zao Ying escorted the caravan—now loaded with massive quantities of sheepskin and wool—southward to Wangjia Fork Fortress.
This small fortress, now under the control of Gao Family Village, had already been transformed into a formidable military stronghold.
Shi Jian commanded a militia unit stationed there.
On one hand, they watched over the Wushen tribe to the north.
On the other, they dealt with bandits in northern Shaanxi.
After safely escorting the caravan here, Zao Ying did not continue south.
The goods were handed over to infantry escorts, who continued onward. Before long, the caravan arrived at Gao Family Village itself.
All the sheepskin and wool were then delivered to a small textile factory.
Its name was—
Warm and Sleepy Textile Factory.
Liu Maopao held eighty percent of the shares.
Zhebu held twenty percent.
The sheepskin and wool were piled up like small hills in front of the two boys.
Although Zhebu was technically a shareholder, he understood nothing about business. He could only stare in confusion and ask,
"Brother Bubbles… how are we supposed to use all this sheepskin and wool?"
Liu Maopao laughed and clapped him on the shoulder.
"Don't worry, Little Arrow. Even if you don't understand anything, your big brother understands everything."
He puffed out his chest proudly.
"I'll lead you straight to wealth and success. First, we'll buy textile machines. Then we'll hire women workers. And then—"
He burst into laughter.
"—then we start making big money! Hahahaha! As our factory grows bigger and bigger, all the wool from your tribe will come here for processing. Your tribesmen will get rich selling wool, and we brothers will also make a fortune. Wouldn't that be perfect? Everyone wins!"
Zhebu replied earnestly, "Thank you, Brother Bubbles. You help me with everything. You're truly too kind to me."
Liu Maopao laughed even harder.
"We're sworn brothers. No need for formalities!"
He waved his hand.
"Come on! Let's go buy the textile machines first. After that, we'll put up notices to hire women workers."