Chapter 1285 Retaking Anping
Tong Tailang was dazzled by Qian Taichong's words. This Japanese samurai had never imagined that conspiracy and statecraft contained so many subtle maneuvers. His admiration for Qian Taichong deepened. Yet curiosity lingered.
"What are these ten major crimes?"
"As the defender of Anping, when the Kun bandits attacked, he ignored the safety of the mistress and young master above and disregarded the families and clansmen throughout the city below. He abandoned his post and fled without firing a single shot. This is the first major crime."
"Correct!"
"When the mistress and young master were in peril, he devised neither a plan to defeat the enemy nor a strategy for rescue. He sat idle, paying them no heed whatsoever. This is the second major crime."
"The General died on the battlefield, his corpse abandoned to the wilderness. Zheng Zhiguan did not shroud the body. He did not hold a funeral. He did not remove his celebratory garments. Instead, he drank and made merry each day, continuing his amusements as though nothing had happened. Such frenzied behavior is the third major crime."
...
Qian Taichong enumerated them one by one, reciting ten crimes in a single breath. Each constituted a grave offense by the standards of their era. If these charges were truly pursued, Zheng Zhiguan would be fortunate to escape with only his head.
"Are we going to kill him?"
"If he proves reasonable, we allow him to atone for his crimes." Qian Taichong had no intention of killing anyone—especially not one of Zheng Zhilong's clansmen. In a patriarchal society, that was an extremely serious matter. Moreover, he was essentially an outsider.
Zheng Zhiguan himself was insignificant. But killing him would make the rest of the Zheng clansmen wary and resistant, rendering future affairs far more difficult to manage. Though the Governor supported him, his faction remained the weakest.
"I shall have an audience with the young master now." Qian Taichong rose. "I must report these matters to him."
Though Zheng Sen was only eight, he had reached an age of comprehension and memory. And though Qian Taichong currently directed affairs, the young master would one day grow into a man. Since ancient times, the relationship between the powerful minister who assists and the monarch who ascends young had been fraught with peril. If not handled properly, he would be sowing the seeds of future calamity.
Yet he did not go directly to the young master. First, he visited a female servant who currently tended to Zheng Sen's daily needs.
This woman was a distant relative of the Zheng family, having served in the inner quarters of the Zheng Mansion. She knew the young master well. After Tong Tailang fled to Jinjiang with Zheng Sen, this servant—also a refugee here—had taken over his care.
"I shall have an audience with the young master shortly. How has he been in recent days?"
"His daily routine proceeds normally, but he rarely speaks. He sits silent the entire day. Also, the young master refuses to eat fish or meat. This servant fears his body cannot endure it." Anxiety lined her face.
So the young master bears a heavy heart, Qian Taichong reflected. Yet because his situation was so precarious, he chose not to burden those around him with his distress, and so remained silent. Such capacity for endurance exceeded that of ordinary children. His refusal to eat fish or meat was mourning for his father. The boy's filial piety was pitiable.
In this way, the young master was indeed worth cultivating.
"I wish to see him."
Zheng Sen was just eight years old. Like his father, he possessed handsome features. The repeated upheavals had made him preternaturally grave. When Qian Taichong came to pay respects, the boy understood that this was the "Mr. Qian" who had been working on his behalf. Though young, Zheng Sen knew Mr. Qian was laboring for his sake. Having returned from Japan only in 1630, his Chinese was still somewhat halting—yet he managed to offer a few words of encouragement.
After meeting the young master, Qian Taichong's confidence grew. He immediately set to work with Tong Tailang and the others, planning the operation to retake Anping.
The plan's core was suddenness. Though Qian Taichong did not wish to kill, he was prepared to strike with speed. He resolved to bring Zheng Sen into Anping City before anyone expected it, using the pretext of returning to the ancestral hall for ancestor worship on the day before the Winter Clothing Festival. Once inside, they would disarm Zheng Zhiguan and seize his troops.
The plan was not complex, and it contained an element of gamble. But Qian Taichong believed the probability of success was high. Though Zheng Zhiguan counted among the Eighteen芝, he was mediocre and lacked courage—as demonstrated by his panicked flight from Anping. Moreover, intelligence gathered by scouts over recent days indicated that upon returning to Anping, Zheng Zhiguan had done little but drink and make merry, rarely concerning himself with administrative affairs. Clearly, he was a man of limited ambition.
In terms of strength, Zheng Zhiguan was also the weakest, commanding only some four hundred personal soldiers and household servants. As for his thousand-odd hastily armed tenants, Tong Tailang judged them to possess little combat power.
So long as they acted decisively, Zheng Zhiguan's will would crumble, and Anping could be retaken without bloodshed.
In the days leading up to the operation, Qian Taichong deployed a feint to lull the enemy. He sent a messenger to Anping expressing the young master's hope to return for ancestor worship on the Winter Clothing Festival.
Of course, the request was refused. The excuse: the ancestral hall had been severely damaged and was still under repair; there would be no suitable accommodation if the young master came.
"Since that is the case, might the young master be permitted to send someone to deliver offerings in expression of his filial piety?" the messenger proposed in a tone of helpless supplication.
"Ten people are permitted. No weapons. Come and return the same day. No overnight stay in the city."
"Yes. Thank you, my Lord."
Qian Taichong believed this would focus Anping's vigilance on the day of the Winter Clothing Festival. And so, early on the morning before the festival, Qian Taichong at their head—Tong Tailang leading one hundred Japanese mercenaries, Cao Xiangjiao commanding fifty soldiers of the Governor's Standard, all clustered around the sedan chair bearing Zheng Sen, with yamen runners dispatched by the Jinjiang Magistrate clearing the way—the party set out from Jinjiang without warning and drove straight for Anping.
To ensure the element of surprise, they did not rest along the route. The sedan bearers rotated in shifts without halting the chair, covering thirty li in four hours to arrive at Anping City by noon.
The city wall remained unrepaired, still a ruin from the battle. With limited troops, Zheng Zhiguan had concentrated his forces around key points such as his own mansion and the approaches facing Zhangzhou Bay. Only the original city gate on the mainland side had been fitted with a simple gate tower, manned by soldiers who checked passersby.
When this sudden procession appeared, the guards were thrown into confusion. They had indeed received orders not to admit anyone associated with Zheng Sen—but the one who had arrived was Zheng Sen himself, the General's legitimate son.
"We are escorting the young master back to the ancestral hall to prepare for tomorrow's ancestor worship." Qian Taichong sat astride his horse, voice ringing with authority. "Anyone who obstructs the young master from honoring his ancestors is a disloyal and unrighteous traitor to the Zheng family. Who dares block the way?"
The Zheng soldiers at the checkpoint exchanged uncertain glances, at a loss. Every common soldier understood what status the General's legitimate son held—to say nothing of the government officials accompanying him. If fighting broke out, no one could bear the responsibility. Besides, only twenty or thirty men manned the checkpoint—no match for the Japanese mercenaries on the other side, bright tachi unsheathed, looking every inch like wolves and tigers.
As hesitation gripped them, Qian Taichong raised his riding crop. "Escort the young master into the city!"
The Japanese mercenaries and Governor's Standard soldiers drew their long sabers in unison, forced through the checkpoint, entered Anping, and drove straight for the Zheng clan ancestral hall.
Zheng Zhiguan, alerted in advance, turned pale with shock. He had not expected Zheng Sen to arrive in person without warning. He had expected even less that the boy would bypass any other target and drive straight on to the ancestral hall. The original Zheng family mansion—that was where he had made his arrangements, where he had stationed capable confidants. The ancestral hall, by contrast, was guarded only by servants assigned to sweep and watch.
For a moment, panic seized him. He possessed over two thousand men; armed resistance would be simple enough. But he dared not lay a hand on his nephew. The moment he harmed Zheng Sen, explanations to the Imperial Court would become impossible—and others within the Zheng Group would seize upon it as a justification for war.
He gathered his household servants and hurried to the ancestral hall. Offerings had already been arranged in the courtyard. The Japanese Guard and Governor's Standard soldiers stood solemnly within, their ranks radiating an air of menacing readiness.
"This is the Zheng clan ancestral hall. Soldiers are not permitted to enter!" A squad leader in gleaming helmet and armor barred his path at the gate. Zheng Zhiguan recognized the man at once: a proper regular-army officer of the Imperial Court—a Squad Leader of the Governor's Standard Battalion.
Zheng Zhiguan hesitated. He was not the type to risk universal condemnation. Zheng Sen had already reached the ancestral hall, attended not only by his own armed force but by government soldiers as well. The only solution would be to storm in, fight it out, and expel his nephew by force. That would destroy his reputation and doom him beyond redemption.
Besides, his few hundred household servants were probably no match for these tiger-like warriors. Observing how his men shrank back, Zheng Zhiguan yielded. "Very well."
On the first day of the tenth lunar month, Zheng Sen presided over the Winter Clothing Festival sacrificial ceremony in the ancestral hall at Anping as the eldest grandson of the eldest branch. Zheng Zhiguan was disarmed and placed under house arrest. The ships, troops, manors, and property under his control passed into Zheng Sen's hands.
"Sir, you are truly a man of godlike wisdom!" Tong Tailang's admiration knew no bounds. Qian Taichong had led them to capture Anping City and seize Zheng Zhiguan's forces "without shedding a single drop of blood."
"We still have much to do." Though Qian Taichong felt the gratification of having tested his edge, deep worries still troubled him. The sudden capture of Anping was certainly cause for celebration—but as a result, the other factions would now regard the young master with wariness. Future stratagems would not enjoy such advantage of surprise.
"Please instruct us, Mr. Qian!" Tong Tailang and the others were flush with excitement.
"First: we must hold a funeral for the General." Qian Taichong's voice was calm but resolute. "For this, I must visit His Excellency the Governor once more. I leave Anping in your hands."
Without pause, Qian Taichong set out for Fuzhou and reported the successful capture of Anping to Zou Weilian.
"...It was entirely owing to Your Excellency's prestige." As he spoke, he presented a gift list.
The list contained four categories of precious items—all rare foreign goods of considerable value. Zou Weilian nodded slightly. "Mr. Qian is truly a man of great talent. What do you intend to do next?"
"I beg Your Excellency to illuminate the path!"
"I would not presume. If you have something in mind, speak frankly."
"This lowly one is merely a commoner. Many things prove exceedingly inconvenient..."
Qian Taichong spoke without concealment: for his next plans to proceed, he required an official position.
(End of this chapter)