Chapter 1090 - South Gate Pillar
Senator LĂĽ's proposal aligned perfectly with his own ideas, yet under the current tendency of "engineers ruling the government," the odds of a proposal passing directly through the Senate were slim. The Finance and Economics Department's reputation ranked only marginally higher than that of the few "litigation tricksters" in the "Law Club." Better to take a roundabout path. LĂĽ Zeyang's plan was straightforward: he would go on field assignment to Shandong, leverage his local background to establish himself within Engine Action, cultivate strong relationships with the Intelligence Agency and the military, build the status and influence of the Finance and Economics Department within the Senate, and ultimately strike when the iron was hot. Yi Fan pondered this, then spent half a day planning with Cheng Dong before finally agreeing. Thus Senator LĂĽ was "borrowed" to the Foreign Intelligence Agency for two weeks of training. A few days after Sun Yuanhua reached Laizhou, he followed.
The Senate's guiding philosophy for Laizhou's defense was clear: hold the city, but not so successfully that the rebels despaired and abandoned the siege. The ideal outcome would see the rebels massing troops for a protracted investment while scattered bands plundered the surrounding countryside. When the court's main army finally arrived, finding the entire Three Eastern Prefectures in chaos and power in a state of vacuum, conditions would be ripe for Engine Action's expansion.
Under these circumstances, committing the Northbound Detachment's main force to the city's direct defense was out of the question. Local bureaucrats and gentry within Laizhou might not accept such an arrangement, and Sun Yuanhua certainly could not bear responsibility for it. However, positioning a small detachment carrying heavy firearms on the walls—prepared to strike the rebels decisively at critical moments—remained both feasible and necessary. This would prevent the city from actually falling and spiraling into chaos while simultaneously placing Sun Yuanhua deeply in their debt.
After deliberation, the Engine Forward Command decided to detach a company equipped with mountain howitzers and typewriters for heavy fire suppression, tasking them to ascend Laizhou's walls and provide direct support. LĂĽ Zeyang would command this unit, bearing full responsibility for Laizhou's defense and liaison operations.
For this mission, LĂĽ Zeyang had paid a personal visit to a village where the LĂĽ clan concentrated. Echoing the style of veteran soldiers returning to Taiwan to visit relatives in years past, he presented himself at the clan leader's home bearing a "genealogy" forged by the Great Library, establishing connections from the outset. With his authentic dialect backed by a round of silver-bullet diplomacy, he swiftly convinced the bewildered clan elder to acknowledge this "clan nephew." Special Reconnaissance Team members, disguised as household servants, then quietly took control of the entire households of the clan leader and the principal elders. Then, "holding the clan leader hostage to command the whole village," LĂĽ Zeyang was announced as "Deputy Regiment Commander." Just like that, LĂĽ Family Village fell into LĂĽ Zeyang's hands. He recruited a few local youths from the village militia, camouflaged the gun carriages with canvas, and the Laizhou Detachment of the Northbound Detachment transformed openly into "native" village militia from LĂĽ Family Village.
LĂĽ Zeyang followed the advisor to report to Zhu Wannian. The prefect knew of LĂĽ Family Village, and hearing the visitor speak pure local dialect, harbored no suspicions. He immediately registered the troop strength. Militia and soldiers entering the city received grain and fodder allotments per head, plus a reward of one tael of silver per person. Naturally, most arriving units inflated their numbers.
Zhu Wannian turned a blind eye to such practices. These were times when soldiers risked their lives; one could not be stingy with silver. Laizhou had been held in no small part because the city's gentry and wealthy households had opened their purses to lavishly reward the defenders at the outset. The original garrison had been tempted by rebel agents and was preparing to betray the city from within. Zhu Wannian had mobilized the local elite to generously reward the troops while conducting a purge of potential traitors—and so Laizhou had been spared.
Lü Zeyang had brought a company of men, plus gunners, Special Reconnaissance members, and Lü Family Village militia. The total came to over one hundred forty. He promptly reported one hundred fifty—a remarkably modest inflation.
Zhu Wannian immediately ordered his clerks to disburse silver and ten days' worth of grain and firewood for one hundred fifty men, issuing documentation for ongoing supplies. He inquired whether supplementary weapons were needed. LĂĽ Zeyang declined: their equipment was quite sufficient.
Hearing that this man had volunteered to defend the South guanxiang, Zhu Wannian's eyebrows rose in surprise. Holding an outpost beyond the walls was a perilous undertaking—essentially serving as an expendable pawn. Should the situation turn desperate, the gates would slam shut, and not one soldier in the outer garrison would survive. Yet observing this newcomer's calm composure and easy manner, Zhu Wannian could not help but admire him silently.
"So the LĂĽ family actually has such courageous and loyal sons. Truly, tigers and dragons hide among the common folk." Zhu Wannian offered his praise. Noticing that LĂĽ Zeyang wore no armor, he suggested providing a suit of cotton armor.
"Many thanks for the Lord's generosity, but this commoner has no need of it." LĂĽ Zeyang waved dismissively. "Armor restricts movement and hampers fighting."
Zhu Wannian praised him a few more times, then sent an escort to guide him to the South guanxiang to take over defensive positions.
The guanxiang had already been subjected to "strengthening the walls and clearing the fields." Civilians and valuables had been brought inside the city. Able-bodied men had been organized into squads under the direction of the South guanxiang paijia, the community head. The street entrances facing outward had been sealed with bricks, stones, and sandbags—a measure of limited utility, but enough to delay an enemy assault.
Firewood and vegetable oil had been stockpiled in various buildings, ready to be set ablaze should the guanxiang fall. Though the suburbs fell within the mandatory defense zone, no one truly believed they could be held for long. The able-bodied men and the paijia all wore grim expressions—as conscripts of the South guanxiang, their odds of retreating safely into the city were slim. Nine out of ten would likely be buried here alongside the soldiers defending the outer perimeter.
The advisor called over the local paijia, Fan Twelve, instructing him to follow "Strong man LĂĽ's" orders in all things.
Fan Twelve was the owner and cook of a small eatery in the South guanxiang, a man of modest means. He knew some rudimentary martial arts—enough to get along with the yamen runners and clerks—and had thereby landed the paijia position.
Being a paijia came with certain benefits, and Fan Twelve had inevitably engaged in some dirty work that earned him curses behind his back. Still, his transgressions remained within local tolerance. He was also willing to stand up for residents in official matters, so his reputation remained passable. He had made a little money on the side.
Then came the rebels threatening Laizhou. As reports of atrocities spread, Fan Twelve's heart fried in oil. He had a family—old parents and young children. Though they had been sent into the city, no one could guarantee Laizhou would hold. Moreover, should he die defending these walls, his son was still young, and whatever property remained would either be destroyed by war or seized by others. The family could easily end up as beggars and refugees. These thoughts had left him utterly dispirited for days.
Observing this paijia with his look of a man awaiting death, LĂĽ Zeyang offered a few words of comfort and boasted of his own capabilities, assuring the man that the South guanxiang would be absolutely safe.
"As long as my men are in the guanxiang, the guanxiang stands. We will fight to the death to ensure it is not lost!" LĂĽ Zeyang declared with soaring conviction.
"Since the strong man says so, this small one will trust it." Though Fan Twelve's expression suggested rather less than full trust, he managed to rally his spirits somewhat. Lü Zeyang's guarantee meant little to him—these hundred-odd men carried only one blade and one gun apiece. Though everyone bore a bird gun, not one wore armor. Their appearance hardly suggested elite, battle-hardened soldiers. Besides, they were merely village militia from Lü Family Village.
Still, they had been brought in under Governor Sun's personal authority. The officials in the city clearly attached considerable importance to them. Fan Twelve dared not be negligent.
"Take me on a tour of the guanxiang, inside and out," LĂĽ Zeyang instructed. "I need to survey the terrain."
Under Fan Twelve's guidance, LĂĽ Zeyang walked through every corner of the South guanxiang. In the end, he selected the Wang Family Cemetery of a prominent local household as his base of operations.
The cemetery occupied high, dry ground atop an elevated mound. It was divided into Yin quarters for the dead and Yang quarters for the living. Dense groves of tall trees ringed it on all sides, and a small river circled the base. The compound already possessed high walls. With minor modifications, it would make an excellent fortress. Moreover, its position directly commanded the road to the Moon City barbican. Any rebels hoping to assault the South Gate would find themselves caught in flanking fire from the Wang Family Cemetery—they would struggle even to penetrate the guanxiang.
Less than one li south of the South guanxiang flowed the Yenan River. Currently frozen solid, it offered no defensive value. LĂĽ Zeyang planned to ask the paijia to have his men dig a trench outside the guanxiang and erect chevaux-de-frise to slow the rebel advance.
Once arrangements were complete, Lü Zeyang led Fan Twelve back to the Wang Family Cemetery. A command post had already been set up in the ancestral hall. A large map of Laizhou hung on the wall. On the table, a sand table model of the Laizhou area—transported in cases—was being assembled: one large-scale model of the entire city and one small-scale terrain model of the wider region.
A fire crackled in the room, burning in a lightweight iron stove they had brought along. The tall, gloomy main hall of the ancestral temple was instantly warm as spring. Fan Twelve examined the stove with curiosity—what a fine-looking piece of equipment! So light, too! Where had it come from?
LĂĽ Zeyang invited him to sit. "We are in the same boat now. We must look after one another."
Fan Twelve leapt to his feet, his expression earnest. "Master LĂĽ! What are you saying? You are our backbone now. The commoners of this entire guanxiang are counting on you!"
"Not at all—I'm no court official." Lü Zeyang recognized these as flattering pleasantries, but such words always served their purpose. A smile crept across his face. "How many men are in your able-bodied squad?" His tone grew serious again. "This is essential for defensive planning. I need complete details on everything. You are the host here; I am the guest. I know my place in all matters."
Employing workers had its drawbacks in any era. LĂĽ Zeyang spoke deliberately to allay any suspicion.
Conscript squads composed of ordinary men between sixteen and fifty offered little combat power in a siege, but they made excellent labor.
"The exact number—I'm afraid I can't say precisely." Fan Twelve smiled apologetically. "Quite a few have run off these past few days. Let me be honest with you: three hundred twenty able-bodied men were reported to the county yamen, but in reality, we probably have about two hundred eighty."
Pocketing rations for forty men every day—Lü Zeyang thought this fellow had quite the dark side.
"...Please understand, Venerable Sir, it's not by choice..." Fan Twelve launched into a familiar litany of complaints. "Everyone knows there are benefits when a paijia manages an able-bodied squad. Which god or petty person from the various yamen dares to be offended? Everyone must get their share..."
"It doesn't matter," LĂĽ Zeyang smiled. "That was to be expected. Master Fan, put it out of your mind."
(End of Chapter)