Chapter 654 - The Prisoners
The captured soldiers were held in several locations. All wounded were sent to the Army-Navy Hospital at Ma'ao, while identified civil and military officers were detained at a special concentration camp in Ma'ao. The mass of common soldiers remained in the temporary POW camp at Chengmai, awaiting disposition.
The camp was packed. The prisoners' heads had been shaved, and they had undergone preliminary "purification." Their armor and uniforms had been completely stripped; now each wore standard "purification garb" made from recycled cloth—poor quality, with the most minimal design: essentially a sack with three holes for arms and head. No shoes or socks, of course—just straw sandals for each man. Alphanumeric codes on both chest and back served as personal identification.
Fortunately, it was summer in Hainan; even stark naked, no one would freeze.
In such attire, any escape attempt—or even straying any distance—would be instantly noticed.
The camp was commanded by Yuan Qiushi, who had long served as Wu De's bodyguard and deputy, observing and learning how Wu handled prisoners, captives, and laborers. Though his labor-camp position had later been taken by Yang He, he was still an experienced hand—young, fearless, and the type who showed ruthless cruelty to enemies.
Wu De had specifically assigned him to command the POW camp with the intention of breaking the veteran soldiers' arrogance. The moment purification was complete, Yuan had a gallows erected in the center of the camp and regulations posted publicly.
Though constructed from nothing more than straw and bamboo, the POW camp's huts were arranged in neat rows, complete with all necessary facilities. The harshest discipline prevailed: prisoners had to obey every command of the guards without exception. Any defiance was punished by hanging. In the first few days, more than ten men were hanged daily. Then the executions suddenly ceased—the entire camp had fallen into line with regulations.
At first, rations were meager—more water than rice in the gruel—intended to prevent the prisoners from having the strength to cause trouble while grinding down their will to resist.
Now, visibly weakened, the prisoners formed long queues, entering a wooden building one by one for interrogation.
The interrogations were conducted by personnel dispatched from the Political Security General Administration. After several days of conditioning, the prisoners had become utterly compliant and answered truthfully.
The questions covered basic particulars: name, age, place of origin, family situation, education level, whose command they served under, year of enlistment, their role and position, what weapons they had used. Then came questions about specific skills: what had they done before enlisting? Could they do carpentry, blacksmithing, or other crafts?
Soldiers with artisan skills were separated. They could be excused from road-building labor and organized into special production teams. Yi Longwen had submitted a proposal arguing it was wasteful to send skilled craftsmen to break rocks on highways; better to organize them into specialized labor camps for professional work within the POW system.
Through interrogation, Yi Longwen also identified and separated all prisoners native to Hainan. Per policy, locals were to be released on the spot. The other prisoners watched enviously as Qiongzhou Prefecture's militia and garrison soldiers were gathered, had their personal effects returned, and each received one tael of silver as severance. Then they were released in batches.
Many prisoners, recalling how the local militia and garrison soldiers had shown little enthusiasm in battle and had been the first to collapse during the retreat, grew suspicious of collusion. Tang Yunwen's troops, though regular soldiers, were mostly locals—so his subordinates benefited significantly, all being released. This only deepened the belief among many prisoners that "Tang Yunwen was in league with the bald bandits."
This sentiment was picked up by informants planted among the prisoners and reported. Zhao Manxiong decided to exploit it with a divide-and-conquer stratagem—at least to ensure Tang Yunwen and his men would never again be trusted by the authorities.
After being captured during the breakout, LĂĽ Yizhong was recognized by fellow Ming prisoners and designated as an important captive, held at the temporary camp in Chengmai to await the first transport. Besides him, there were other captured secretaries. Some had been taken during the final breakout; others had been captured or killed elsewhere in the camps. About twenty-odd civilian prisoners were eventually sent to Ma'ao.
These twenty-odd captives, terrified and exhausted from a day of flight, could barely stand. Many had minor wounds. Yi Longwen, in charge of escort, worried that forcing them to march on foot might result in deaths along the way. He selected several dozen strong officers from among those also being sent to Ma'ao and made them carry the secretaries in palanquins—which were also captured. That they were made to carry their own kind to Ma'ao provoked great resentment among the captured officers. Some muttered that they would throw the "sour scholars" to their deaths along the way.
Of course, no one dared actually do it. The executioners with their great beheading sabers stood ready, clearly eager to demonstrate loyalty to their new masters. Just the day before departure, several officers had been dragged out and beheaded for "insolent behavior." The warriors might appear rough and reckless, but they were not fools—they quickly fell into line.
The secretaries and officers were housed ten to a hut. After Lü Yizhong and the others were "purified" and returned to their quarters, they sat staring at one another, looking utterly wretched. Lü Yizhong was older, had once held office, and was the representative dispatched by the Governor-General—his status and dignity exceeded the others'. Even as a prisoner, the others had maintained a certain deference toward him. But now his head was shaved bare, his dignified beard gone; he looked ten years younger, dressed in a sack like everyone else. Though no one burst out laughing, they could barely suppress their mirth.
Only Qian Taichong snapped indignantly: "What a disgrace to scholarship! What a disgrace!"
Qian Taichong had also been captured during the breakout. He could have escaped, but when Chang Qingyun's horse was shot dead, Qian happened to be passing by. He dismounted to help—only for someone else to steal his horse. So both became prisoners.
Facing the bald bandits' gleaming bayonets, Qian Taichong had drawn his saber to kill himself. As he raised the blade to his throat, the soldiers actually paused, seemingly willing to let him die with honor. But each time he brought the blade close, he thought of his parents, wife, and children at home—and could not go through with it.
After several hesitant attempts, the soldiers cursed, knocked away his saber, tied him up, and dragged him off.
Qian Taichong was consumed with shame. Before the retreat, he had vowed that if he could not break out, he would take his own life rather than suffer humiliation. But when death came, he had failed. Worse, a few coarse bandit soldiers had cursed him for it. His lips trembled. Seeing bodies and abandoned equipment strewn everywhere, watching strings of prisoners being herded along, he suddenly bolted eastward. He knew he could not escape—bandit soldiers were everywhere—but he hoped to be killed, achieving martyrdom.
He was caught, of course—after only ten paces, his bound arms threw him off balance and he fell. As soldiers moved to drag him up, Qian Taichong cursed them righteously, demanding a swift death.
But what came was not a blade but a riding whip. After seven or eight lashes, he could bear no more and obediently rose to rejoin the prisoner column. This time, he was roped to the others and driven ten li under whip and bayonet back to Chengmai.
They did not stay long in Chengmai before being transferred to Ma'ao.
"This is Ma'ao in Lingao County!" the bandit receiving them announced arrogantly. "You've arrived at Lingao—only as prisoners!"
This humiliation paled beside the "purification" that followed. Whether Qian Taichong, Lü Yizhong, or the other secretaries, all had imagined they would receive some preferential treatment as scholars. The palanquins had seemed proof of that. They had expected to be shown courtesy upon arrival: baths, fresh clothes, a modest but comfortable lodging—perhaps a small courtyard of a local wealthy family, or at worst, a temple. Some even fantasized that besides comfortable quarters, they might be entertained with beautiful boys or women. They knew the bald bandits had few men of letters; capturing so many at once, would they not treat them with the utmost hospitality to demonstrate their thirst for talent?
Instead of hospitality, they were subjected to extreme humiliation. When Qian Taichong stumbled into the barracks, his heart sank like a stone.
There was no "wealthy family's courtyard" or "temple room"—only a long rectangular wooden building, almost empty, with ten double bunk beds lined with straw mats. Nothing else.
Such crude quarters, combined with everything that had happened to them, left no trace of preferential treatment.
The captive secretaries sat miserably on the bunks, their shaved heads and sack-like garments matching everyone else exactly. Each man was steeped in despair, too despondent even for the usual courtesies. Though LĂĽ Yizhong's strange appearance had briefly provoked laughter, gloom quickly settled back over them.
"To have our lives spared is already a blessing beyond hope. What talk of 'scholarship'?" Chang Qingyun said dejectedly. All his former bluster had evaporated.
"The bald bandits insult us scholars in this way!" Qian Taichong raged. "We should..." He trailed off. What could they possibly do now? If they wanted to die as martyrs, they should have done so in Chengmai. Now they were prisoners at their captors' mercy.
LĂĽ Yizhong could not even speak. Already older, the purification had sapped what strength remained. Lying on his bunk, he bitterly regretted ever suggesting the "bald bandit expedition" and greedily accepting Wang Zunde's offer to serve as "monitor's secretary," hoping for gifts from generals and future spoils. Now he might lose his very life.
Worse, he knew his situation was bleaker than the others'. He was the mastermind behind the attack on the Guangzhou Station—a fact the bald bandits surely knew. Such a fortune destroyed—they must hate him to the bone. Now in their hands, he would be torn to pieces.
At this thought, his teeth chattered audibly.
"Master LĂĽ, have you caught a chill?" Qian Taichong, though contemptuous of him, was kind-hearted enough to ask.
"No... I am merely feeling a bit unwell. A little rest will do." LĂĽ Yizhong managed to reply.
"I wonder what the bald bandits plan to do with us?" someone mused.
"They probably don't want us to take false positions—otherwise they wouldn't humiliate us like this. And they probably don't want us dead, or they'd have beheaded us at Chengmai. My guess is they'll hold us as hostages to negotiate peace with the Governor-General."
"That makes sense." Chang Qingyun's spirits lifted slightly. "The Governor-General would surely not abandon us..."
"I beg to differ!" Qian Taichong spoke up again. "General He's entire army was routed at Chengmai. The Governor-General will struggle to explain himself to the court—how can he spare thought for us?"
This plunged the room back into despair. The food was awful, the lodgings terrible, and every day they were called out for roll call. How could they endure such a life? What pained them most was that as scholars, however poor they had been, they had always received some respect from those around them. Only here, among the bald bandits, were they treated no differently from any other prisoner. It was deeply unpleasant.
"Mealtime!" someone called from outside. By regulation, each barracks had to assign someone on duty to collect meals and clean. Once it was Qian Taichong's turn, but filled with regret at his own cowardice, he deliberately refused, planning to "curse the bandits and die" when punished.
But the bandits did not punish him. The result of his refusal was simply that no one collected food, and the entire barracks went hungry for a day. Qian Taichong did not achieve martyrdom—he was only resented by his roommates all night.
They had also refused to clean—such work was for servants. But the result was an unbearable stench. The bandits clearly did not care what the barracks smelled like, until the secretaries could stand it no longer and begged to be allowed to clean.
"Correct your attitude! You are prisoners, not lords!" the bandit officer in charge of this camp snarled. "Not sending you to break rocks on the road is preferential treatment enough!"
Sure enough, within days, they saw officers from their barracks being marched out in squads each morning and returning each night, exhausted and caked in dust.
Qian Taichong was not afraid—he came from a farming family and was accustomed to labor. But the others were terrified into submission. Most felt that since the bandits had not done anything too outrageous, there was no need to antagonize them.
"We're in the bald bandits' prison now—what standards can we expect? The government's jails are far worse!" remarked a secretary familiar with criminal law. "Those are truly black pits of despair!"
Chang Qingyun said: "I don't think the bald bandits are entirely without mercy toward prisoners."
He was referring to one particular barracks in the camp. The officers there were never sent out to work, and they seemed to eat well—the smell of meat and fish often wafted over.
"Those are all Tang Yunwen's men," another secretary whispered.
This was part of Zhao Manxiong's divide-and-conquer scheme. By his arrangement, captured officers from Tang's command had been segregated. They received better quarters and food—while ordinary officers barely got enough to survive, these men were allowed to recuperate. Guards treated them courteously, sometimes taking them away for "interrogation" that lasted hours. When they returned, they looked nothing like men who had been questioned—more like men who had been wined and dined.
"The bald bandits have been in Lingao three years, and Tang Yunwen did nothing about it. There must be something behind it!" Chang Qingyun said through gritted teeth. "If he had launched an expedition early, before the bald bandits spread their wings, we would not have suffered this defeat!"
Everyone agreed, and suspicions of Tang Yunwen grew—some even suspected that his escape before the rout was itself part of the plot.
LĂĽ Yizhong also perked up: "When General He ordered the full retreat, with Tang's troops and Qiongzhou's garrison as the vanguard, that column collapsed at the first engagement. There's something fishy here!"
"The bald bandits are overseas barbarians—we should have been the masters, they the guests. Yet in battle, we were on the defensive everywhere! Without traitors guiding them from within, how could the bald bandits have succeeded so easily?"
"It was all the traitors' fault!"
...
The fervent discussion once again confirmed the truth that "the enemy is not to be feared—it is always traitors who ruin everything." As for Tang Yunwen selling out the country, the verdict seemed sealed.
Some felt the logic did not quite hold, but at this moment, everyone wanted to find a scapegoat for the disaster—one unconnected to themselves. No one raised objections; instead, they racked their brains for suspicious signs of Tang Yunwen's "treachery."
Qian Taichong neither objected nor agreed. He did not think the accusation against Tang held water. Tang Yunwen was a regular military officer. It was possible he had accepted bald bandit bribes and deliberately avoided reporting or suppressing them. But deliberately ordering his men to collapse in order to disrupt the army? Highly unlikely. However greedy Tang might be, he would never sacrifice his own troops for money. And defecting to the bald bandits made even less sense—why would he give up his official Ming military position to serve some overseas barbarians? By common sense, it simply did not add up.
Note: "Recycled cloth" refers to fabric made by unraveling old cotton cloth into fibers and re-spinning it.