Chapter 1637 - The Anti-Bandit Gallants
Five men in Confucian scholar's robes squared off against Huang Binkun, their eyes round and seemingly dripping blood. The leader, wishing to demonstrate that his cause was righteous and that he was no mere brigand, thrust an accusing finger at Huang Binkun and proclaimed: "Traitorous dog! You and your kind bring chaos to Nanhai, slaughter the gentry, torment the common folk, and defy the Royal Army—"
Huang Binkun had no idea who these men materializing from nowhere were, but their hatred for the Hair-bandits and their eagerness to see them exterminated was beyond doubt. He hastened to interject: "Brother, you are mistaken. This humble one is no traitor..."
"Pah! If not you, then who? You have received great grace from the Imperial Court, yet in Lingao you allowed the Hair-bandits to flourish unchecked. Rather than devoting yourself to the Sages' teachings, you delved deep into Bandit Techniques. How can such a disloyal and unfilial wretch claim innocence? Dying is a small matter; losing integrity is a grave one. To fail in filial duty to the Court, to fail to die defending our country and share the Emperor's burdens—how is that not treason? Today, we shall eliminate this threat for the Court above, and below—"
Before the word "below" could leave his lips, the leader took a clod of earth squarely to the face. With a yelp of "Aiya!" he immediately covered his head and crouched down.
Perceiving that these men clearly mistook him for a Hair-bandit and meant to dispatch him swiftly, Huang Binkun had acted first on the principle that a wise man does not suffer the blow staring him in the face.
As the clod left his hand, he charged a shorter man on the right, wrenched the wooden club from his grip, shoved him aside, and took to his heels.
His opponents wore Confucian robes and headcloths—elegant attire, to be sure, but for chasing and fighting, long gowns only slowed one down. Not one of the five could outrun Huang Binkun.
Alas—Huang Binkun himself also wore a long gown, having dressed for visiting gentry. Running headlong, he failed to notice a stone underfoot. The fabric tangled around his legs and caught on the stone, sending him sprawling face-first. His right shoulder struck the wall on the way down, and the club flew from his hand. Before he could scramble upright, his pursuers were upon him. The one in the lead swung at his head, shouting: "Hair-bandit, receive your death!"
Years of suppressing bandits had given Huang Binkun rich combat experience. Seeing he could not dodge, he hugged his head with both arms and took the blow squarely on his back. The impact left his ears ringing, but fortunately the strike had missed anything vital. Seizing the fallen club, he rose to meet those who had caught up.
These scholars in Confucian robes were not as frail as the average bookworm—they swung their clubs with considerable vigor. But they lacked any real fighting skill. Huang Binkun defended clumsily, yet managed to hold them off.
Five against one, however, without a proper weapon—he was gradually losing ground. Just as he calculated how to break free, a shout rang out from the distance: "Over there! Hey—what's going on over there?!" The voice sounded like patrolling yamen runners.
Realizing the situation had turned against them, the scholars spun around and dove into an alley, vanishing swiftly. Only the one grappling directly with Huang Binkun had his shirt firmly gripped and could not break free in time. The runners rushed over and seized both men.
Pinned by the arms by two runners apiece, neither could move. Huang Binkun rose only to feel something warm flowing down his face. He wiped it with his hand and found it covered in blood—which gave him a great fright. A second wipe revealed his scalp had merely been scraped during the fall. Nothing serious. Only then did he feel relieved.
The scholar in the long gown, arms restrained, cursed incessantly: "Hair-bandit, corrupting the teachings of the Ming and poisoning people's hearts! Hair-bandit, what crime did my parents commit that you hanged them?! Hair-bandit, licentious and shameless—what crime did my sister commit?! Dragged away to be a slave! Hair-bandit! Greed and treachery, even seizing my family's ox—"
Hearing him rail against the Hair-bandits so loudly, a runner hastily cut in: "What nonsense are you spouting! If you're drunk, go sober up first!"
Both men wore scholarly attire, and the night patrol could not immediately discern their backgrounds. Fearing they might be degree-holders—xiucai or juren—causing a drunken disturbance, they dared not use rough force, merely restraining them from further commotion.
Yet the captive showed no concern whatsoever, struggling and kicking: "Hair-bandit! You violate heaven's laws and collude with the government. How much silver did you give Xiong Wencan—"
Two slaps, pa pa. Afraid the man would blurt out something "unanswerable," a runner dealt the scholar two swift strikes across the mouth. Family-honed technique rendered the blows ruthless and precise. Blood immediately filled the scholar's mouth, rendering him unable to speak.
The head runner, hearing these words, recognized this fellow probably had some connection with "Australians"—people who could not be trifled with. He hastened to smile apologetically and bowed to Huang Binkun: "Sir, you were startled. Are you all right?"
"No problem. You gentlemen have worked hard." Huang Binkun produced a visiting card. The runner's eyes flashed: The Liang Residence's card! His smile turned even more obsequious. "If you are uninjured, please return first. This madman—we brothers will help him sober up. To prevent further blathering..."
Huang Binkun felt no trace of surprise at this sudden street attack—nor was he frightened. Ever since organizing scholars to spy on military intelligence, he had been prepared at all times for a pack of vicious Hair-bandits to appear suddenly and fire those short-handled pistols at him.
Tonight's scene, however, left him caught between laughter and tears. He watched the runners seize the near-mad scholar and press him down—his headcloth fallen off, hair disheveled like a refugee's—while hoarse shouting poured forth, the words no longer discernible.
He smiled bitterly. Just as the runners prepared to take the scholar back to the county yamen, the man summoned strength from somewhere and lunged toward him. Fortunately, the runners had already bound him and pulled him back immediately. Yet in that instant, a mouthful of phlegm mixed with blood shot from the scholar's mouth, flying straight onto Huang Binkun's face.
He hurriedly used his sleeve to wipe it off, finding the fabric soaked with fresh blood mixed with phlegm—and also a tooth just knocked loose.
Huang Binkun did not rise until noon the following day. Though he had suffered no major injuries—the pageboy had fetched a doctor who applied cuttlefish bone powder, and the bleeding on his forehead had stopped—bruises covered his body. Thinking he might as well recuperate for a few days before making further plans, visitors arrived in an endless stream.
The pageboy had reported the attack to Scholar Lin first thing that morning. Yuyuan Society members came to visit one after another. Those who did not come personally sent pageboys bearing food and medicine.
Never before had Huang Binkun been such a center of attention. He was obliged to rise and receive guests. By day's end, his back ached and his mouth was parched. Finally sending off the last batch, he could sit down to rest.
The pageboy brewed a decoction for promoting blood circulation and clearing stasis. He drank a few mouthfuls, feeling soreness throughout his body. He had been running about these past days, visiting quite a few people and befriending scholars in the County School. Counting the days, he had lingered in Guangzhou City for over a month. He had not found leisure to read some of the Hair-bandits' miscellaneous publications. Relaxing now, his mind grew clearer.
Reflecting on his various schemes in Lingao, he could not say he had not exhausted his energy and ingenuity—yet the Hair-bandits had neutralized them without apparent effort. "Hopping clown" was probably just such a creature.
Having finally arrived in Guangzhou, these days had failed to give him the sense that "the sky in the liberated area is a bright sky." Instead, they had brought deep disappointment and doubt. The filth and chaos here, the poverty of the common people... everything seemed to contrast itself for him to witness. While the Hair-bandits did as they pleased inside and outside the city, the government stood idle—indeed, many profit-hungry villains curried favor with them in every way. Even the students in the County School lacked integrity.
Laughable to admit—his success in everything in Guangzhou was precisely because everyone believed him deeply versed in "Banditology."
Huang Binkun pinched the tooth in his palm. After being spat upon yesterday, he had carefully preserved it. Those in Guangzhou who shared his convictions were probably only these few obscure scholars.
Yes, I should speak with him!
He called the pageboy and instructed him to go to the Nanhai County Yamen to inquire about the man caught by the runners yesterday. The pageboy returned shortly.
"That scholar died yesterday," the boy said.
"What?!" Huang Binkun was deeply shocked. "Just one night, and he's dead?"
"Yes. The people inside said the night patrol locked him in the detention room last night. When they checked this morning, he had already hanged himself."
Huang Binkun's palm stung—as if pricked by the tooth. He hurriedly threw it aside. Then he asked again: "Was it truly suicide?"
"The head jailer said it was indeed suicide. And added that it wasn't his first time being caught..."
"What happened? Tell me everything."
"Yes." The pageboy explained that this scholar was originally the son of a grain-tax household in the Dongguan countryside, named Lei Lunfu. Years ago, when Hair-bandit troops passed through, his family had organized local militia to resist, resulting in the entire family being wiped out. Only a younger sister was said to have been abducted to Lingao. Lei Lunfu himself had been studying in the county seat and escaped disaster because Dongguan paid the city redemption fee.
"No wonder he hated the Hair-bandits so deeply," Huang Binkun nodded silently.
"Since then, he became somewhat deranged," the pageboy continued. "He spent every day distributing leaflets in Guangzhou City and filed lawsuits at the yamen several times. Seeing the government ignored him, he went to cause trouble at the Purple Treasure Studio. Being driven out by the armed escort agency wasn't enough—Manager Guo probably employed some means to have him stripped of his xiucai title and had the Nanhai County Yamen arrest and imprison him for half a month, making him suffer considerably in jail."
"And then?"
"Then he opposed the Australians even more intensely—" The pageboy recounted that Lei Lunfu had gathered a group of people who suffered similar fates and gone once more to cause trouble at the Purple Treasure Studio. He had just been arrested by Nanhai County days ago, beaten with dozens of strokes, and only recently released.
So that was the story. Huang Binkun felt a surge of respect. This is actually a righteous man! I wonder who the others were. If I can contact them, my Anti-Bandit Great Enterprise will finally have some helpers.
"Go to the yamen and inquire who his associates were—their surnames and names, roughly, and where they reside."
The pageboy laughed. "Master Huang, why go to such trouble? Just slip the head jailer a few taels of silver, and Young Master can deal with them however you please."
(End of Chapter)