Chapter 107: Gou Family Manor (Part 1)

While the salt-field work team was making excellent progress, preparations for the "hunting operation" against Landlord Gou were also well underway. Xi Yazhou wanted it done quickly—several villagers still languished in Gou Manor's private prison. But the Committee refused to rush. After all, the salt villagers were not their relatives, and everything required thorough investigation first.

Two or three days of inquiry revealed that the man was universally despised—even dogs hated him. "Local tyrant" described him perfectly. His elimination would satisfy everyone in the county. True, Landlord Gou had not actually provoked these transmigrators—at most, he had exploited their reputation to swindle a few people—but the transmigrators desperately needed to demonstrate their righteousness while also improving their diet. Thus was Landlord Gou's fate sealed.

The direct cause for eliminating him was his attempt to control the salt field, but the Committee did not assign this task to the work team directly. Instead, a separate group was formed under Wu De, who had extensive experience dealing with locals. Wu De's production team had already returned several bachelors—men with no attachments who had simply packed their meager belongings and walked away. Long-term laborers had quit their employers, who dared not refuse payment. Everyone knew these poor fellows now worked for the short-hairs. Badmouthing an employer to people like that invited trouble.

From among these men, Wu De selected several and disguised them as peddlers and laborers to gather intelligence on Landlord Gou and county affairs. He was not idle either—he rode directly to the county seat.

At the South Gate, he encountered Inspector Fu. This Bopu Inspection Station inspector was the only person openly dissatisfied with the current situation. His office had been abolished, leaving him unable to account for anything. He had been visiting Zhang Youfu constantly, begging him to negotiate with the Bairren Rapids gang—return the station, and they would split the gray income fifty-fifty. Zhang Youfu was far too clever for that. He kept claiming illness, refusing to go. Inspector Fu could not use force, so he stood gloomily at the county gate each day—a temporary assignment from Magistrate Wu.

Seeing the short-haired leader suddenly appear, Inspector Fu was startled. Fortunately, his Mandarin was passable. After much gesturing, he understood: this visitor wanted to see the magistrate.

A pirate leader wanting to see the magistrate—this alarmed Inspector Fu. But he did not dare delay. He rushed to the county yamen to report. Magistrate Wu Mingjin was terrified; his hands and feet went cold. He had already dispatched people to the provincial capital seeking a transfer. Before that came through, the pirates had arrived at his doorstep. What to do? Meeting them risked accusations of colluding with bandits; not meeting them left the county defenseless—exposed like a naked maiden. No militia, not even constables—all were out collecting autumn taxes.

He quickly summoned his secretary. The secretary's solution was simple: officially, a meeting was inappropriate. Let him, as a private representative, meet them first and assess their intentions. Secretaries were merely magistrates' personal employees—their status afforded more flexibility.

Wu De's requests were straightforward: assume responsibility for salt-tax collection and permission to form a militia. This troubled Secretary Wang. The salt village forming a militia was trivial—militias were everywhere in the county, and one more or less made no difference. The petition did indeed come from the salt-village villagers. But the Gou family would not be pleased. The county knew perfectly well what the Gou family was doing—but magistrates typically could not touch such local magnates. For this remote county, the Gou family not openly rebelling was already a blessing.

Salt-tax collection and a salt-village militia—anyone slightly informed about county affairs could see what this meant. These short-hairs were preparing to snatch the meat from Gou's mouth.

The problem was that neither the Gou family nor the short-hairs could currently be offended. Comparatively, the short-hairs were even more dangerous to cross. After consulting Magistrate Wu, Secretary Wang offered a flexible response: salt taxes were due on the first of the eleventh month. Whoever paid first would receive the collection franchise. The implication was clear: you two compete fairly; we officials will not interfere. Whoever wins gets the salt-tax prize. As for the militia—the county had no objection. Just form it.

After reaching this understanding, Wu De departed to prepare the assault on Gou Manor.

The most informative source on the Gou family was Zhang Xingjiao—he hailed from Gou Manor village itself. But the Committee did not fully trust his intelligence. Vengeful people often exaggerated or minimized certain things. Wu De wanted to verify the basics himself.

After dispatching his investigators, they learned that Gou Manor was not actually called that—its real name was Damei Village, located in Lingao's northwestern Gaoshan Ridge region. The Gou family were outsiders, but unusual ones: remnants of the Zhejiang-Fujian Japanese pirate raids, pacified generations ago. One should not assume the Gou family were Japanese descendants. Ming-era "Japanese pirate" raids were actually led by Chinese bosses—the Japanese were merely hired thugs, low-level ones at that, essentially cannon fodder. The Gou family ancestor had been a minor leader—not so lowly. He had fled with many confederates and found this place—near the county seat yet mountainous, easy to defend, close to the coast. They settled here, killed or drove out the original landlords, and brazenly took their place. Gradually expanding, they became county powerhouses; Damei Village became Gou Manor.

Mountain villages had little farmland—the Gou family only owned about a hundred mu. But through coercion, they had acquired nearly a thousand mu in forced land transfers. In recent years, heavy taxes had driven more tenant farmers to voluntarily register under their name—though exploited, at least they could eat.

The Gou family lived off these lands. They collected enormous rents, lent at ruinous interest, and accumulated considerable wealth. The manor housed over two hundred households, more than a thousand people. The village was built on a small hill—not precipitous, but it boasted numerous militia and household guards, mostly mainland fugitives—homeless bachelors. The manor was tightly defended with two layers of earthen walls. The outer wall housed ordinary villagers, tenants, and sharecroppers; the inner wall contained the Gou family's dozen core households, guarded by dedicated retainers. Outsiders could not enter the inner compound.

Even more impressive: the Gou family had maintained their ancestors' pirate traditions. They no longer participated directly but colluded with small pirate gangs. They could not climb high enough to deal with major figures like Liu Laoxiang, but small pirates were as numerous as ants on the sea. Even pirates needed shore bases—for water, fencing loot, recovering from injuries. Big or small, they all needed onshore dens. The Gou family was one such den, though they had principles: never fence goods in Lingao itself, to avoid attracting official attention. According to intelligence, stolen goods went to Qiongshan. This rural landlord unusually had business connections in Qiongshan—quite commercially minded.

Though Qiongshan was more prosperous than Lingao, it was merely the prefectural capital's principal county. Intelligence analysis concluded that the Gou family's Qiongshan business was simply a window for selling stolen goods to the mainland.

To clarify Gou Manor's specific situation and defenses, Wu De requested a professional reconnaissance team. Bei Wei was not at Bairren Fortress, but the recon team he had trained was already taking shape. Per Bei Wei's recommendation, Xue Ziliang led this reconnaissance—prompting protests from some Committee members about entrusting national matters to this "ABC." Fortunately, Bei Wei was a heavyweight military leader; otherwise, "foreign-agent" accusations would have been inevitable.

For Xue Ziliang, such reconnaissance was child's play. But his attitude was serious—this was his first time fully in charge, and only success was acceptable. Ye Mengyan also finally got his first real mission. He immediately donned all his personal gear: jungle BDU, American LC-1 infantry equipment. Whether genuine or replica, civilian or military—everything piled on. To someone like Xue Ziliang who had used the real thing, this hodgepodge of real and fake looked extremely amateurish. Add a Type 80 helmet and SKS rifle, and he resembled a South American guerrilla.

"We don't need all this equipment," Xue Ziliang said. "Our reconnaissance mission is very simple."

Though unpopular among nationalists, Xue Ziliang had high standing in Bei Wei's recon squad—capable people succeed anywhere. Unlike Bei Wei, who had solid recon fundamentals but zero combat experience, Xue Ziliang had actually served in the Middle East, executing real missions. In terms of combat experience, only He Ming—who had fought the Vietnamese—could match him. Military enthusiasts especially admired this. Xue Ziliang played to them, frequently sharing combat stories and American military anecdotes. Gregarious and American-raised, he had inherited the American penchant for chattiness. Lingao's nightlife was dreary; listening to his tales became the recon squad's only evening entertainment.

"Then what should we bring?" Little Ye was reluctant—all this gear, no chance to show off. Wasted.

"Regular equipment is fine." Xue Ziliang knew the key was finding a guide. Damei Village could not be found on any twenty-first-century map.

(End of Chapter)