Chapter 1188 - Buying "Goods"

The threshing ground outside the stockade had become the market. Ramshackle sunshades sprouted in chaotic disarray. Bare-chested rebel soldiers swaggered through in groups, some already drunk. Groups of refugees were driven onto the open ground like livestock. Those brought to market were mostly women and children—rebel officers and soldiers had plenty of women and young boys to slake their lusts on, but some wanted sons to carry on their family lines after years without, or wives if they had none. Kong Youde himself, though a general for years, had been wifeless until only recently, acquiring a wife after the Dengzhou Mutiny.

Young women with passable looks received better treatment; fearing sunburn would lower their price, they at least had a shed over their heads. Ordinary coarse-handed farm women could only kneel by the walls awaiting selection. Each was disheveled and filthy, sallow and emaciated.

Here there were both "public goods" and "private goods." The latter were mostly young women, typically looted by soldiers and officers, used until the novelty wore off, then brought out for resale.

Beyond the human market, piles of miscellaneous goods occupied even more space. Stalls spread across the ground overflowed with objects—everything was for sale here. From tattered clothes stripped off piles of corpses to gold and silver toys, jade ornaments... farmers' tools, merchants' abacuses, actors' wardrobe chests and instruments, even coffins prepared by wealthy families. Anything found in homes, yamens, shops, or temples had been looted and displayed. Some items even bore mottled earth stains—burial goods dug up by bandits who had raided wealthy graves amid the chaos of war.

Those who came to buy included not only rebel soldiers but all manner of daredevils thriving in these chaotic times—rascals who would snatch coins from a boiling pot—gathering like flies on a corpse to scrape up advantages. Recently, a batch of human traffickers had risked the sea journey from South Zhili, currently buying up young women in bulk.

Buyers and sellers alike clutched clubs and swords—there was no order here. Disputes over price leading to drawn blades were frequent. As for theft and robbery, they were commonplace. Just a few steps from the market's edge, one could see bloated corpses covered in flies. Rows of blackened heads hung inevitably from wooden poles.

Huang Ande frowned. Like Cao Qing and Zhu Si, he wore a Lingao-made pig-snout mask as instructed by the medic. Even so, the stench of corpses constantly drilled into his nostrils. Their strange appearance occasionally drew gawkers, but no one dared make trouble—the rebels were a rabble, and even Li Jiucheng couldn't effectively control every stray soldier, but the consensus was clear: people under the "Qimu" brand were not to be trifled with. The rebel commander guarding the market knew that if he provoked Master Lu, this place would be slaughtered from top to bottom, so he had strictly ordered his subordinates: anyone showing disrespect to Qimu Island visitors would be dragged out and beheaded immediately.

"Master Huang!" A sturdy man wearing a ragged military vest with chest exposed approached and clasped his fists. He was the head guard of the market, originally a servant by Kong Youde's side, who had also taken the surname Kong. Now that Kong Youde was Vice Marshal, he had naturally risen with the tide, scrounging a "Guerrilla" rank and specifically leading a squad to run the market here.

After exchanging greetings, the squad leader asked: "How about it, Master Huang? The usual rules, or...?"

"The usual rules, of course," Huang Ande replied. "Three hundred able-bodied men. You count them first—last time you cheated us, stuffing in so many old, weak, and sick. Over forty died before we even arrived, not even worth the grain they ate on the way! If anything like that happens again, Master Lu won't give a single grain." Saying this, he produced a blue stamp and handed it over.

"Look at you." Though Kong Guerrilla was servant-born, he seemed self-taught in the art of business, smiling profusely as he made excuses. "That last batch was definitely not me deceiving you—how would I dare? They were all genuine able-bodied men. It's mainly that they stayed in the human pen too long, didn't eat enough, and the weather's been hot—walking all that way, how could a few not die? If you ask me, had I not picked especially strong ones for you, at least half would have died before reaching the island. Never mind them—when the Marshal marched a few days ago, men collapsing from heatstroke littered the entire road! This sun is poisonous."

"Let's set that aside. This time you have to select properly—if too many die on the road, next time we'll ask you to deliver the goods yourselves," Huang Ande said.

"Good, good. I'll go prepare the goods right now. Will you inspect the women and children yourself as usual, sir?"

"Yes. Everything according to the usual rules."

Kong Guerrilla immediately summoned a personal attendant, instructing him to lead "Master Huang" to the human market to select people.

This wasn't Huang Ande's first time on this errand. Born a refugee himself, he understood the importance the Elders attached to population. And he knew the Chiefs differed from other powers, valuing women and children especially—often prioritizing their evacuation first. The first batch evacuated from Qimu Island had been women and children. He had also vaguely heard that the Chiefs were particularly interested in Shandong girls—especially those tall women with broad shoulders and long legs suited their preferences best. So when selecting, he couldn't help sizing them up carefully.

He walked along choosing; those he fancied he pointed at, and Zhu Si and Cao Qing would stamp their arms with the carved blue stamp. Nearby rebel soldiers would bring the person out and corral them separately.

For those stamped—whether women personally selected by Huang Ande or men casually swept up by Kong Guerrilla—the stamp meant having a life. As long as they survived to the transit station. If they had children or family, one stamp saved the whole family. By rule, the entire family could follow. Thus people frequently begged those stamped to falsely claim them as kin. If a single man was stamped, women would immediately offer themselves as wives.

In the past they had used hanging wooden tags, but somehow everyone learned that following these men meant eating full meals. Tags were quickly snatched or stolen, causing fights and cries of injustice, even resulting in deaths. Eventually, they switched to stamping.

Master Lu's instructions were simple: prioritize natural feet, height over 1.5 meters, healthy women under forty. Whether they had children didn't matter. As for children, as long as they weren't disabled, all were wanted.

The natural feet requirement proved harder to satisfy. Shandong's foot-binding customs differed from Jiangnan's—in Jiangnan, rural women worked the fields, so they generally didn't bind their feet. But in Shandong, foot-binding was widespread; even farm girls rarely had unbound feet. Thus the natural feet prerequisite wasn't mandatory. Other conditions were relatively easier to meet.

Huang Ande walked and selected. In the human market, women and children stared at them with wide eyes. Though rebel soldiers prevented rushing, whenever Huang Ande's gaze turned their way, they involuntarily wanted to stand and lunge forward—until forced back by rebel swords and spears. This terrifying, desperate gaze, this begging for life, sometimes made Huang Ande afraid to look.

Especially seeing the orphans in the market—miserable beyond words. They were unclad, lying or sitting, extremely weak. Small and frail, with no one to care for them, they occupied the very bottom of the human pen's food chain. Huang Ande sighed while trying to take every child who looked reasonably healthy.

Every person he took from here meant one more life saved. But reception capacity in Zhaoyuan and on the island remained limited. The special service boats could only carry a few hundred people each trip, so Lu Wenyuan had given him a quota of maximum one thousand people per journey.

Finally, he went to the "small sheds." Sold in these sheds were generally women of better appearance or from middle-class families and above. Although buying such women couldn't be done at "bulk price" and required paying silver cash, inside they often found women matching the Chiefs' aesthetic preferences. Chief Zhu allocated him twenty taels of silver each time specifically to purchase such women. The guide price given was three taels per person.

Special guards watched outside the shed. Only those displaying silver to demonstrate sincerity could enter to "inspect goods." Huang Ande had visited a few times before; the guards knew his background and didn't question him. Zhu Si, however, was entering for the first time and couldn't help looking around curiously. Suddenly his whole body shivered, and he tugged at Huang Ande's clothes.

Huang Ande turned and saw Zhu Si blushing crimson, head lowered, afraid to look. Huang Ande recognized the signs—the lad was likely still a virgin, unable to handle the "spring scenery" within this shed.

The shed wasn't large but was packed with people. Under the sunlight, the smell of sweat hung overpowering in the air. In the center was an empty space cordoned off by rope, entry strictly forbidden. The women for sale were stripped naked one by one and pushed inside for buyers to inspect. Looking from outside the rope was permitted, but touching was strictly forbidden. Otherwise, swords and spears would provide enforcement.

Huang Ande knew some buyers from out of town were extremely particular, rejecting even those with slight scars on their skin. A young woman with excellent figure, looks, and skin sold for at most five taels—not merely a tenth of the purchase price in Jiangnan, but in Jiangnan, buying a girl would never permit such inspection. No wonder traffickers from South Zhili risked their necks to come here for "goods."

Under ordinary circumstances, Huang Ande might have teased the lad. But the "spring scenery" here was a tableau of boundless misery. These women had first lost homes and families, then suffered repeated rape and abuse by rebel soldiers. Tortured into stupor, they appeared dull-witted. Doing whatever told, acting with complete shamelessness even under the gaze of a crowd of men, letting people critique them—even someone experienced like himself couldn't muster interest for jokes.

(End of Chapter)