Chapter 1706 - The Deal

In the third round, both fighters' tempo clearly quickened. Their range of movement expanded markedly—the two men advanced and retreated across the field in great sweeping arcs. Attack and defense alternated between them; the wooden rifles clashed violently; war cries rose one after another in fierce confrontation. Everyone could see that Huang Xiong had stepped up the pace and force of his assault, driving Fu Fu back toward the spectators on one side. It looked as though Fu Fu would soon be stepping on the watching soldiers.

"Move back, move back—" someone warned the men behind, making room. Suddenly a crack! rang out like a thunderclap. They spun around to see Fu Fu standing at attention in rifle-ready position at the edge of the field, while Huang Xiong was sitting on the ground, still gripping his rifle—but the tip was gone. The broken tip lay on the ground, a good foot or more of it.

Another wave of tremendous applause.

The bout was over. Both removed their head guards. They looked like they'd just climbed out of the ocean—drenched in sweat. The collars of their protective gear were soaked through. Both kept wiping their eyes with their fingers. Under the late-morning sun, Fu Fu tilted his face skyward with eyes closed, his expression radiant, grinning like a fool.

The final result of the sparring went to the 1st Battalion. The companies fell back into formation and began hill-march training. A sea breeze blew, setting the banners rippling, as the song Fix Bayonets! accompanied them.

Fix bayonets! Rage burns in our chests, Advance orders sweep like storms— We stand at the vanguard! Our hatred runs deep, Our conviction runs high, If the usurper Ming dares block our way, Give him a bayonet!

Fix bayonets! Rage burns in our chests, Cold-star rifles forged by workers and peasants— We follow the Yuan Council's command! Pierce that Chongzhen lout, Root out the poisoned weeds, Aim straight at those pig-skin yellow-cap rebels— Give them a bayonet!

Kill!

Fix bayonets! Rage burns in our chests, Savage feudal reactionaries—

Most fear this move!

Our hearts embrace the world, Our rifles grip firm, Any enemy—

Under our blades—

Cannot escape!

Kill!

Guangzhou City.

In a private room at the top of the Ziming Tower, the "intimate performance" had just concluded. The half-naked Persian dancer gave a graceful bow and was about to step down to pour wine. He Xin waved her off gently. Understanding that the two gentlemen had business to discuss, she curtseyed again, threw on her cloak, and withdrew.

From somewhere in the room came the languid strains of stringed instruments, complementing the lavishly decorated surroundings—hidden from daylight—and the cloying scent of fruit. It all produced a sense of decadent, dreamlike unreality.

On the wide, soft sofa, a middle-aged man sprawled back with limbs splayed. Though ensconced in this den of drunken frivolity and sensual indulgence, his face showed little sign of enjoyment.

His attire was neither rich nor poor. His build was powerful and martial, his expression commanding—not the manner of a scholar, merchant, artisan, or farmer. He was clearly a military man.

He Xin beamed and reached for the wine pitcher to refill the man's cup. "Commander Liu, about that matter I mentioned last time—yes or no, you've got to give me an answer."

The man addressed as Commander Liu did not take the cup. He drew a deep breath. "This business... perhaps we should wait and see?"

"Oh, come now." He Xin's smile was obsequious—the practiced look of a pleasure-house hanger-on who made a living toadying to patrons. "This isn't like picking out a girl, where you can browse at leisure. This is an affair of state—it won't wait..."

Commander Liu grew irritated. "I know it's an affair of state—and that means heads roll! That's exactly why I said wait and see."

He Xin's smile didn't falter. "Look, I wouldn't presume to comment on the state of the empire at large, but the situation in Guangdong is plain for everyone to see. You've been guarding the gates at Humen these years, and the Australians haven't exactly been stingy with you—though, as you know, they weren't obliged to be generous, were they?"

This Commander Liu was the qianzhong—garrison commander—of Humen Fortress. Ever since the Guangzhou campaign when the Fubo Army smashed through Humen and burned the Wuyang Courier Station, the defensive perimeter along the Pearl River estuary had essentially collapsed. When Xiong Wencan took office, he had cast cannons, built ships, recruited soldiers, and rebuilt Humen Fortress along with some of the gun emplacements the Fubo Army had destroyed, patching together what passed for a defensive network from the Pearl River mouth to Baie Tan.

But this defensive system was completely open to the Australians. After experiencing the Battle of the Pearl River Breakthrough, local officials, gentry, and soldiers all knew that their fortifications were paper-and-clay before Australian might. Ships flying the Yuan Council's colors sailed openly up and down the Pearl River unchallenged by any warship or checkpoint. At first only cargo vessels and merchantmen came; then even patrol boats began brazenly cruising up to Baie Tan. Having served several years as commander of Humen Fortress, Commander Liu knew the score.

Seeing his silence, He Xin said softly: "Commander, he who understands the times is a true hero."

Commander Liu looked uncomfortable. "Brother Ren! It's not that I don't understand the times—it's just too enormous a matter! This... this is... rebellion..." He lowered his voice on the word "rebellion." "I have a family—wife and children. If something goes wrong..."

He fell silent for a moment, then said: "How about this: tell the Australians that I won't openly declare and join up. But whatever the Australians do on the Pearl River, I'll pretend I saw nothing. I'll shut the camp gate and not send a single soldier out. What do you say?"

He Xin laughed coldly. "Commander Liu, that's a fine abacus you're working. You think your Humen Fortress could stand against Australian cannons? Let me be frank: if you won't join, the Australians will just spend a bit more powder and shot. The chance to switch to the winning side comes only once—don't miss it..."

Commander Liu thought it over, then said through gritted teeth: "Fine, I'll join! The Ming's mandate is clearly running out anyway!"

"Now that's a hero." He Xin raised his cup. "A toast to Commander Liu!"

Both drained their cups. Commander Liu frowned. "But Humen Fortress has several hundred men. The soldiers are easy—so long as there's pay. It's a few of the baihu that are troublesome."

He Xin recognized the bargaining had begun. He considered, then asked: "How much is the garrison owed in back pay?"

"We haven't received full pay in half a year. Bits and pieces add up to about a month and a half."

In truth Commander Liu was sandbagging—three months' pay had been disbursed, but he'd pocketed half. Of the remaining month and a half, layer upon layer of deductions meant that, aside from officers and personal retainers, most men had received at best one month's wages.

"Pay is easy." He Xin was magnanimous. "The Australians have plenty of money—don't you think they can cover it? There'll probably be a bonus too. What's the trouble with the baihu?"

"The others are manageable. But two of them are descended from Tartar auxiliaries. They're tricky."

These Tartar baihu were Mongol and Hui soldiers whose ancestors had surrendered from the Yuan dynasty. Their families had lived in Guangzhou since the Yuan era—genuine local fixtures, loyal to the Ming. Because of their shared background, the Tartar officers had always stuck together, and as native sons they formed a powerful faction within Humen Fortress that didn't entirely take orders from Commander Liu, an outsider. If he tried to revolt, these men would certainly object. They each had their own retainers, and quite a few garrison soldiers hailed from local military households with ties to them. If these men raised a cry, his own retainers might not be able to suppress them.

He Xin's smile turned sinister. "Commander Liu is a fighting man who earned his post blade by blade. Those willing to follow you will receive their share of Australian favor; those who refuse... well, there's a place for them."

"What place?" Commander Liu was momentarily confused.

"A Hongmen banquet!" He Xin said viciously. "Just make sure you don't wind up being Xiang Yu, Commander!"

Commander Liu nodded silently, apparently calculating something. He said: "Still, their men aren't easy to deal with. They're neighbors and kin, some of them relatives..."

"That's where your skill comes in, Commander." He Xin nodded. "If the Australians did everything for you, how would you demonstrate your merit?"

Commander Liu clenched his teeth and nodded. "I understand! You're right, Brother Ren!" Then he added: "When the time comes, what's the signal? There has to be some sign, or we'll have friendly-fire incidents."

"The warships will fly the five-color flag as a marker. As soon as you see it raised, you can act!" He Xin said. "Then you hang out a blue flag over your camp—the Fubo Army will see it and send someone to liaise."

"A blue flag..." Commander Liu scratched his head. "We don't have one. I'll have someone fetch some blue cloth..."

"No need for the trouble." He Xin poured him more wine. "The blue flag is already prepared in your camp. When you give the order to defect, someone will present it. You just sit back and enjoy the fruits. Ha ha ha."

Commander Liu forced a few laughs along with him, but his back was already damp with sweat. If he tried to turn traitor or failed to act when the signal came, whoever delivered that blue flag would be the one to take his head.

At the thought of defecting from the Ming, this old soldier felt rather conflicted. He too had won his officer's cap through hard fighting against the Eight Pai Yao. To just throw away his Ming commission and serve the Australians—part of him still regretted it.

But the Ming's mandate was clearly exhausted, tottering on the brink. The Australians were rich and formidable in battle. When General He had mobilized the province's entire military strength against them, the result had been catastrophic defeat—and then the Australians had advanced to the walls of Guangzhou, only withdrawing after a negotiated settlement. The balance of power couldn't be clearer. If he insisted on opposing the Australians, he'd be a mantis trying to stop a chariot—it couldn't end well. But if he simply "submitted to the baldies," what did his future hold? He'd heard their ways differed from the Ming...

As he wrestled with himself, He Xin pulled a slip of paper from his coat and pressed it into his hand. "Take this. It's drinking money for your retainers—from the Australians."

Commander Liu didn't even need to look—the feel and size of the paper told him it was a Delong bank draft. He glanced at it: a very satisfying figure. His conflicted feelings evaporated instantly. He murmured: "I am willing to serve the Yuan Council with all my humble efforts."

He Xin smiled. "Excellent, excellent!" His spirits high, he clapped his hands. To the attendant who entered to wait on them, he said: "Go fetch your ten best foreign girls for Commander Liu to choose from. Put it on my tab."

(End of Chapter)