Chapter 2085 - A Memoir of Liberation (Part 2)

When I returned home, I discovered the family truly couldn't make ends meet. Though my sisters were young, they were numerous, and they ate considerably. My parents couldn't sustain us all, so they sold my eldest sister to the Sun household as a maid. They also gave away my third sister as a child bride—hoping to secure her survival. But within scant years, her in-laws abused her to death. To this day, I cannot forget the sight of her crying and begging our parents not to send her away the day she was led off—whenever I recall it, I cannot stop my tears. How I wish she could have lived to witness these better days! But in that era, poor people simply had no choice.

With many mouths at home, and myself at the age when a growing body craved nutrition, I never ate my fill. So I went to the mountains to cut firewood to help the family. Each day I'd carry a load to the street—sell half, give half to Brother Hai. Then I'd do odd jobs so at least I'd have three meals. Whenever Brother Hai slaughtered a pig, he'd save the cuts that wouldn't sell well—offal, scraps, and the like—as a return gift. Thanks to Brother Hai, my family occasionally tasted meat. This was how we sustained each other, bound together through shared hardship.

My memories of that era distill into two things: hunger and disorientation. The hunger—real, gnawing hunger, as if a cat were clawing at my stomach twenty-four hours a day. Worse than hunger was the loss of direction. With schooling ended, my dream of passing the imperial examinations and bringing glory to my family lay shattered. The road ahead offered two choices: follow my father's path, tilling Sun Shiwan's land for life without compensation, passing only the faint hope of escaping military registration to the next generation. Or follow Uncle Jizai's path—become a common soldier, charge into battle, perhaps barter for glory through military merit. But I wanted neither. I sensed dimly that farming as an unpaid tenant would only perpetuate an endless cycle. And becoming one of those common soldiers who terrorized civilians—my gut rejected the very notion.

Just as I was sinking into this double despair of body and spirit, the guide who would lead me toward the Council of Elders' great cause appeared.

Uncle Jizai was my father's youngest brother—my uncle. He served as a garrison "operating soldier."

In my childhood memories, Uncle Jizai had behaved no differently from those military thugs: idle all day, picking fights and loafing. Later, when Wang Zunde recklessly launched the so-called "Second Encirclement," Uncle Jizai followed the Ming bandit army to Hainan Island. He was captured at Chengmai Beach and spent several years in captivity working off his redemption before returning home.

The Uncle Jizai who came home was utterly transformed!

That was my first impression upon seeing him. I could not possibly connect this dark, muscular man—eyes sharp and alert, movements precise, sitting and standing with military bearing—with the sickly layabout who haunted my childhood memory. Looking back now, the Uncle Jizai who reported to the garrison resembled a Fubo Army soldier far more than Ming troops. More astonishing still: Uncle Jizai, who had never attended a single day of school, could now read!

It was about his second month back. I was in the courtyard reviewing the Analects I'd once laboriously copied out. Uncle Jizai happened to return from outside. Passing by, he glanced over my shoulder and scoffed: "The Analects? Confucius's crap—what good is it?" I was stunned speechless. If it had been my father, he couldn't have distinguished whether I was reading the Analects or anything else. I asked incredulously, "Uncle Jizai, how do you know this is the Analects?" He pointed at the page I had open, laughing heartily: "This line reads 'To study and practice timely, is this not joyful?' right? Ha! Surprised? Your uncle can read now!"

I was thunderstruck and begged him to explain. It transpired Uncle Jizai had seriously considered remaining in Lingao—and in Lingao, illiterates couldn't advance anywhere. To secure a decent position, you needed a diploma. In the Lingao POW camp, there existed a literacy program. Uncle Jizai had actually applied himself diligently and earned a Class-B diploma. He'd even adopted a proper adult name based on the homophone: Liu Ji. He'd achieved the equivalent of a juren degree, he explained. After that, whether joining the military academy or civil service, everything would lie within reach. If not for fear the Ming authorities would brand him deserter and harm our family, he wouldn't have returned at all.

Now I was truly astounded—this marked something unprecedented in millennia of Chinese history! I pestered Uncle Jizai relentlessly to tell us about what he'd witnessed and experienced in Lingao. He was delighted to "tell stories" to us children, teaching us "new characters" and "new speech." In those dark days, Uncle Jizai revealed an entirely different world, bringing precious light into my life. Self-propelled iron ships sailing without sails! Steel giants as strong as a hundred oxen (Editor's note: referring to excavators)! Great trains spewing black smoke yet racing along rails at tremendous speed! At the time I thought he was exaggerating wildly. I just loved hearing about how the Fubo Army drilled and fought, impatiently interrupting whenever he discussed technology. Only when I later reached Lingao myself did I realize Uncle Jizai hadn't been boasting in the slightest! From that moment forward, I utterly despised Confucius and his smug followers. As Uncle Jizai used to say when telling his "stories": Can the Analects make a train run? Win a hundred battles? Make enough grain grow to feed the starving people? Give common folk good lives? If not, what right do his followers have to sit atop the people's heads and shit?

(Editor's note: According to our research, "Uncle Jizai" refers to former Zhaoqing Deputy Mayor Liu Ji, who held positions including Zhaoqing Garrison Office Liaison, Zhaoqing Municipal Propaganda Department Staff, Fengkai County Deputy Magistrate and National Army Company Commander, and Fengkai County Magistrate. He received one Chairman's Commendation, two May First Labor Medals, and all three grades of the "Service to the Council of Elders and the People" Medal. He made tremendous contributions to Guangdong's liberation and reconstruction.)

The year 1635 AD was destined to become the most indelible year of my life. First, my eighth brother—"Fazai"—was born just after Spring Festival. Though my carefree sisters were delighted, my parents found themselves torn between joy at the new life and anxiety at another mouth to feed. To ease the family burden, Uncle Jizai declared he could feed himself outside and rarely came home for meals. I took odd jobs for the Sun household—asking no wages, only food—to save portions for the family. We barely scraped by, keeping my little brother from succumbing to malnutrition.

The second event was far more momentous.

That year, our Fubo Army swore their oath and crossed the sea for the Northern Expedition. On March 1, Guangzhou was liberated. When news arrived, the then-Governor-General Xiong Wenchan panicked, ordering garrison mobilization and issuing proclamations to organize local militia. People who'd never served were suddenly being conscripted. But my family maintained old ties to Sun Shiwan—the whole garrison knew. The conscription officer wanted to fill his quota yet feared offending Sun Shiwan, so he came to our house with threats and inducements to compel me to register. My father dared not speak, only sat sighing heavily. My mother, fearing I'd die in battle, urged me to flee. But where could I run? If captured at such a juncture, I could be beheaded for desertion. Uncle Jizai went to argue with the officer: our household contained only two adult males counting himself, and he already served as an operating soldier. By regulation, one man per household sufficed—why should I also be drafted? The officer pointed callously to little Fazai in my fourth sister's arms and declared that with Fazai present, I counted as surplus male and had to enlist by regulation. Uncle Jizai cursed him loudly, swearing he'd die a wretched death for such cruelty. But the local official always trumps the distant court—what could we do? In the end, Uncle Jizai devised a plan. He told my parents the Fubo Army was a civilized force that didn't kill prisoners. As long as I followed him closely, he'd bring me back safely. So I dutifully reported for service.

PS: Next update—Volume Seven, Guangzhou Governance Arc, Section 270

(End of Chapter)