Chapter 57: Countermeasures in Lingao

"The reward is manageable." Magistrate Wu allowed himself a bitter smile. Compared to the fifty taels of silver he had already dispatched, thirty shi of rice was a pittance. "Thank you for your trouble, Vice-Magistrate."

"With the entire city at stake, how could I speak of trouble?" Wu Ya was nearing forty, portly and well-maintained—he looked considerably younger than the magistrate. A minor official by background, he lacked the ambitions of those who had climbed through the proper examination track, and lived quite comfortably as a result. "Commander Li drove a hard bargain, though. I exhausted every courtesy before he would spare us thirty men. As for the gunpowder and shot—if we don't use them, fine. If we do, we must return double."

"One can hardly blame him," Magistrate Wu sighed, head bowed. "Everyone from court to countryside knows the state of the garrison system. Where would he find capable soldiers? Any men he has are just the old, the sick, and the lame who couldn't escape."

Wu Ya nodded his agreement. As they spoke, a doorman announced that the county's registrar and educational supervisor had arrived. The chief constable was still on patrol and couldn't attend yet; the education commissioner had gone to summon the local gentry. In Ming Dynasty governance, the gentry wielded considerable power and often influenced local administration—consulting them on major matters was always prudent.

The "gentry" were a complex class, encompassing everything from court ministers and regional governors down to officials' families, local strongmen, and landlords. Their ranks included those who had returned home for mourning, dismissal, or retirement, as well as examination-qualified juren and jinshi who had not yet assumed office. Through various connections they maintained close ties with provincial authorities and the court; some even had direct access to the imperial palace. County officials of the seventh, eighth, or ninth rank could lord it over common people easily enough, but before these gentry they had to exercise far greater circumspection.

Lingao, being a remote and minor county, had few gentry to speak of. Those whose estates lay beyond the pirates' threat did not bother coming. Those who had built village fortifications and recruited militia to defend them could not afford to leave. Only gentry from the county seat and nearby districts—whose interests were directly at stake—troubled themselves to appear.

Seeing that most had arrived, Wu Mingjin quietly asked his advisor, "Hasn't Master Liu arrived yet?"

"Returning to Your Honor—Education Commissioner Feng personally went to fetch him. He should arrive soon."

The magistrate nodded and surveyed the assembled gentry. Over a dozen sat in the hall—some arrogant, some meek, some affecting profundity while stroking their beards in silence.

"Gentlemen," Wu Mingjin dispensed with formalities and came straight to the point. "Here is our situation: a powerful pirate force has occupied Bopu and shows no sign of leaving. Giant ships and fast vessels choke the harbor. Tomorrow they will surely move upriver, pillaging as they go—the situation is dire. Vice-Magistrate Wu risked his life venturing beyond the walls for reinforcements today. Tomorrow, thirty garrison soldiers will arrive, but garrison troops are good only for show—completely unreliable."

This blunt speech set everyone murmuring uneasily. Wu Ya recognized the tactic immediately—standard intimidation, exaggerating the danger twelvefold to pressure the gentry into donating grain and silver. As senior county vice-magistrate, he knew the court's finances were utterly ruined. Last year's typhoon and flood had destroyed most of Lingao's autumn harvest, yet the court's triple levies had not been waived. The county treasury was strapped—months behind on militia and archer pay. Now, facing pirates, they needed reinforcements and had to recruit militia. All of which required money.

Seeing everyone sufficiently anxious, Magistrate Wu adopted a more measured tone. "This official has been entrusted with this post and bears responsibility for this land. If the city survives, so do I; if it falls, I fall with it. All of you—whether from families long favored by the court, or local gentry, or examination graduates—defending this city is your duty. I ask that you join hearts and hands with me to repel these pirates and keep officials, gentry, and commoners safe. What suggestions do you have?"

Everyone hastened to rise. "We follow Your Honor's lead!"

Seeing the atmosphere favorable, Wu Mingjin revealed his plans. "Though this is a small county, the walls span over six hundred zhang. Currently we have barely a hundred soldiers and militia defending three gates. Meanwhile, many commoners have flooded into the city—we cannot guarantee that pirates have not planted agents among them. Runners alone cannot maintain order. I propose recruiting two hundred additional militia to assist in defense."

(Note: Ming-era Lingao originally had four gates, but the north gate was long blocked—common in Hainan's Ming-era fortifications, attributed to both defense against pirates and feng shui.)

One gentleman spoke up. "Your Honor's loyalty truly blesses us all. However, the pirates remain at Bopu without advancing inland. Recruiting militia—might this cause undue alarm?"

Another quickly added, "Recruiting militia for defense is a fine strategy, but after last year's typhoon and flood, the people are impoverished. Unless truly urgent, such measures that disturb the populace should not be taken."

These slippery gentry all wore troubled expressions, pouring out grievances: the court's levies were burdensome, last year's disaster had caused tenants to starve or flee. Some argued that the Qiongya Regional Commander's patrol boats would reach Bopu within three days; once government forces arrived, the pirates would flee of their own accord. Surely General Tang, responsible for the territory, would dispatch troops from Baisha Naval Station.

Wu Mingjin's expression darkened. Then, from outside, came a voice cutting through the murmurs: "The city is in imminent danger, and you gentlemen haggle over a few coins!"

Education Commissioner Feng entered with two attendants carrying a middle-aged man in a rattan chair. Everyone rose to pay respects, very deferential. Even Magistrate Wu hurried forward, repeatedly calling, "Elder Master."

This paralyzed middle-aged man was the famous Liu Dalin, courtesy name Mengliang—Lingao's first jinshi since the county was established in the Tang Dynasty, having passed in the forty-seventh year of Wanli. But paralysis had struck immediately after his success, and he had never served.

Now just over forty and in the prime of his life, though unable to walk, he remained devoted to local affairs. His home lay inside the city's west gate. Upon receiving Magistrate Wu's invitation, he had come without hesitation.

"Elder Master," Wu Mingjin said, "what counsel do you offer?"

"Militia must be recruited," Liu Dalin declared. "Just because the pirates have not moved yet does not mean they will not tomorrow. Would a large pirate force come merely to occupy Bopu? The town is only thirty li from here—they could depart at dawn and arrive by noon. When they reach our gates and the devastation begins, will your fortunes still be safe?"

He shifted his body; a household servant helped adjust his position. "With the military in such decay, do you still count on Regional Commander Tang's forces? Have you not heard the scouts' reports? The pirates sail giant iron ships that move without sails or oars. Even if Baisha Naval Station deployed everything it had, what could they accomplish?"

Every face in the hall grew another shade grayer. One gentleman muttered, "If even government forces are useless, what can militia hope to accomplish?"

"Throughout history, militia and local forces have often outperformed regular soldiers! The former merely seek their pay; the latter defend their homeland. How can they be compared?" The jinshi spoke eloquently. "The current strategy is to rely on ourselves, not others." He bowed to Wu Mingjin. "Your Honor, recruiting militia is just one aspect of what must be done." Then he presented the countermeasures he had devised throughout the day:

1. Send messengers to every village and district, instructing local gentry to recruit militia, build earthen walls, and prepare for self-defense.

2. Implement a scorched-earth policy: evacuate population, property, grain, and livestock from undefendable small villages and market towns—especially those along likely pirate routes—into the county seat.

3. Register all residents and enforce a strict curfew to prevent pirate spies from infiltrating.

4. Station scouts to monitor Bopu pirates day and night.

5. Dispatch a capable fighter with several dozen militia to waylay isolated pirates on major roads. Denied supplies for long, they will eventually withdraw.

6. Recruit more militia and do not abandon positions outside the walls—establish stockades at each of the three gates for better defense.

He then added, "I personally donate thirty shi of grain."

With the county's only jinshi making such a statement, others had no choice but to follow. Soon they had pledged: this one ten shi, that one five taels. Within moments they had collected three hundred shi of grain and one hundred taels of silver. Wu Mingjin, seeing the jinshi so public-spirited—offering both strategy and resources—heaped praise upon him and invited him to stay at the yamen as advisor. Liu Dalin did not decline, settling in at once. The gentry departed to gather their contributions.

Vice-Magistrate Wu Ya organized all able-bodied male refugees between sixteen and sixty into teams of ten, assigning them to the four gates to repair walls and transport bricks, stones, and rolling logs. County-school students took responsibility for wall-sector defense. Young and vigorous, burning with patriotic fervor, they donned aged armor from the county armory—rusty helmets and rusty swords—and strutted impressively along the battlements, shouting commands. Unfortunately, the weapons from the armory were so rotted that blacksmiths and carpenters had to work frantically on emergency repairs.

Originally, each of the four gates had possessed two "tiger-squat" cannons dating from the Zhengde era. Fortunately, they had been test-fired during the Wanli period, confirming they still functioned. Even a civilian like Wu Mingjin knew these were only for morale—completely unreliable in actual combat.

The officials conferred: with so many refugees crowding the city, any misstep could trigger unrest. They ordered the registrar and education officials to set up gruel stations at the Confucian Temple, also serving bitter-herb tea for the sick. The chief constable led runners through the streets to maintain order. Magistrate Wu had considered executing someone to establish authority, but Jinshi Liu dissuaded him—killing now might spark rebellion rather than deter it. Beatings, however, became more frequent. The crack of bamboo on flesh and the victims' cries echoed through every street and alley. The commoners huddled silently in the cold autumn night.

---

Meanwhile, inside the city near its northern end, behind the county yamen in a narrow alley, a courtyard glowed with dim lamplight. The yard was silent. A lantern sat by the well; beside it, several iron chests. A man and woman sat on the well's stone rim, staring blankly at a tall kapok tree, neither speaking. The autumn night had turned cold; both wore felt cloaks.

The man used a rope harness to lower the chests one by one into the well. When each hit water, he shook loose the rope loop; with a splash, it vanished into the depths.

The woman stood at last, shaking out her long skirt. "Is this safe? It makes my heart pound—this is our family's accumulation over generations..."

The middle-aged man gave a cold laugh. He bent to adjust the lantern and whispered, "Even if pirates breach the city, draining this well is no quick job. It is extremely deep. Without this hook-and-rope rig, only immortals could retrieve them."

He removed the metal hooks, hid them beneath the kapok tree, and recoiled the rope. "Tomorrow at first light, take everyone in the household back to your parents' home. Chengxuan and I will stay in the city."

"And you? What will you do?"

"What is there to fear? With the brothers backing me, escaping with our lives even if the city falls won't be difficult. Chengxuan is a county-school student—he cannot leave. Magistrate Wu has long looked unfavorably on our family. If Chengxuan flees, Wu will certainly use that as an excuse to strip his scholarly status."

He stood and dusted his hands. "Earlier, I sent the Lai brothers to deliver money to Magistrate Wu. I'm donating twenty taels, plus another ten in personal gifts..."

"Thirty taels!" The woman cried out, distress plain on her face.

"Ha, do not worry, wife." The man's expression was confident. "If the city does not fall, on the strength of this thirty taels' goodwill, the contract for collecting county-district autumn taxes will fall to me again—big profits. If the city does fall..." He chuckled darkly. "I have dozens of brothers. Amid the chaos, we grab what we can and slip out through the confusion. Not difficult at all."

He gazed up at the starless, moonless night sky. "Hmph. I, Gou Dahu, am hardly one of those panic-stricken common folk."

(End of Chapter)