Chapter 2113 - Subversion
Watching the deepening dusk stain the sky beyond his window, Xiong Wencan summoned a servant with a subtle gesture.
"Have all the advisors arrived?"
"They await you in the garden, my lord."
"And the gentlemen?"
"Also waiting, in the rear courtyard."
"Mm." He stroked his beard thoughtfully and examined his reflection in the Australian crystal mirror—one of the few luxuries he had not yet consigned to the evacuation convoy.
The figure in the mirror had shed voluminous official robes in favor of military attire.
He inclined his head fractionally. Two servants immediately stepped forward to buckle on his armor—a deliberately ordinary set, barely finer than what a common household guardsman might wear. Nothing to distinguish a Governor-General from his retinue.
Once accoutered, he gave another slight nod. A servant opened the door without raising a lamp, and several attendants fell in behind him as he descended the stairs in near-darkness.
At the foot of the stairwell, a figure in a blue coat and small cap knelt waiting. Seeing the Governor-General emerge from the shadows, the man immediately kowtowed.
"Xiong Yi, I must trouble you this time."
"Your Excellency is too gracious. This servant will not fail his mission."
"You need only hold until dawn. After that, ask no questions. Find your own path to survival." Xiong Wencan's voice carried barely above a whisper. "Your family will be provided for—they shall never know cold or hunger. If fate still binds us as master and servant after this storm has passed, return to the old estate at Yongning Guard. Arrangements await you there."
Xiong Yi kowtowed again, low and solemn. Xiong Wencan offered no further words and moved silently toward the rear courtyard, his retinue ghosting behind him.
At the faint blush of dawn, the staff officers who had passed a sleepless night in mounting anxiety gathered uninvited in the front hall of the yamen. Nearly all wore traveling garments, prepared to accompany the Governor-General in his breakout from the encircled city.
The calculation was straightforward. The besieging Hair-Bandits possessed limited manpower. Beyond their stranglehold on the Xi and Gui River waterways, their land blockade remained porous. With sufficient men to screen the escape and fast horses beneath them, breaking out was entirely feasible.
Xiong Wencan represented an obvious target, but as Governor-General of Guangdong and Guangxi he commanded his central guard regiment and over a hundred elite household troops. When the moment arrived, they could expend bodies like currency if necessary to secure his escape. Those who stayed close to his person could expect survival rates approaching ninety percent.
Yet the Governor-General had not appeared. Only his personal servant Xiong Yi surfaced periodically, issuing crisp instructions to subordinates regarding supplies and provisions.
If Xiong Yi remained here, the Governor-General must be here as well.
Several officers on familiar terms with Xiong Yi made discreet inquiries about the Governor-General's "honored health." Xiong Yi's answer never varied: "The Master deliberated strategy until late with several advisors. He did not retire until the fourth watch and remains soundly asleep."
The Prefect of Wuzhou and the Magistrate of Cangwu wore expressions of funeral solemnity as they accommodated the multiplying demands of the Governor-General's staff. Unlike the transient officials, they could not flee. When the city fell, they faced a choice between honorable suicide and the ignominy of "surrendering to Hair-Bandits."
Following routine, the Governor-General's yamen served breakfast. The assembled officials sat nursing teacups, engaged in desultory conversation and picking teeth, when the rumble of artillery abruptly resumed outside the walls. The gathering of staff officers and local functionaries grew visibly agitated. At such a critical juncture, was the Governor-General truly still abed, oblivious to cannon fire?
In a private residence elsewhere within the city, Luo Yangming tilted his head to listen to the distant artillery, a faint smile playing at the corner of his mouth.
His wife, by contrast, paced the chamber in visible distress, wringing her handkerchief until the fabric threatened to tear. Since the siege cordon had closed, she had abandoned cosmetics and pinned her hair with hasty, careless hands. Observing the smile ghosting across her husband's features, Ding A'tao had grown convinced he was descending into madness.
Several days earlier, when neighborhood heads had organized merchant "rewards" for the garrison troops—a simple matter of each household contributing modest silver—her husband had not merely donated the expected sum. He had personally purchased wine and meat, then accompanied the neighborhood head up onto the walls to distribute food and drink to the defenders, squandering several additional taels in the process. This sort of volunteer-to-be-butchered behavior, followed by his returning home with that peculiar smile, marked the first time Ding A'tao suspected her husband's mind might be fracturing.
Recently he had also begun cultivating—for no discernible reason—the head of the city's constable force. Ding A'tao had always maintained careful distance from such "official gate" types. They were sharks who consumed victims and never spat out bones. Previously, her husband had maintained only sufficient contact with yamen personnel to ensure peaceful commerce—cordial without intimacy. Now, through Wen Tietou's connections, he lavished gifts upon these people, distributing ten and twenty taels of pure silver as though money held no value. What purpose could it possibly serve?
This silver represented years of accumulation, saved cent by painstaking cent. Watching her husband spend it with such reckless abandon made her heart physically ache.
She had been raised on the doctrine of "three obediences and four virtues" and dared not interfere in her husband's affairs. But she genuinely could not comprehend the necessity of this expenditure. If the city descended into chaos, what protection could these swaggering constables possibly offer?
Mad though he might be, his speech and conduct in daily life appeared normal. Yet every time artillery sounded—when every sensible person trembled in fear—he would smile. Ding A'tao had wept secretly again last night, lamenting her bitter fate. After enjoying a few years of peace, war and chaos had returned. Precisely when she most needed her husband's strength and protection, he was exhibiting signs of losing his wits.
If he truly went mad, what would become of her and the children?
Luo Yangming had relaxed considerably since transmitting intelligence from the city wall. He could not predict what specific measures the Australian leadership would implement, but once the Elders received the information, they would certainly act. Xiong Wencan's scheme—whatever it entailed—would be foiled. And he himself had been actively working to undermine the defense from within.
His activities constituted textbook subversion: rallying and converting the city's armed forces. His primary targets were the local constabulary and the garrison soldiers.
Both groups drew predominantly from local populations. The constable-recruited "militia" especially comprised almost exclusively Cangwu County natives, with perhaps a handful from nearby suburbs. Their families and relatives resided within the city walls or its immediate environs—they could not afford extremism. Moreover, following the influx of "guest troops," these locals had been systematically marginalized. Not only had their pay and provisions grown unreliable, but the better-armed outsiders subjected them to constant bullying and casual abuse. The two groups harbored deep-seated mutual resentment, virtually poised at daggers drawn.
Once Xiong Wencan set his fires, Wuzhou would be incinerated—and these men's families, homes, and accumulated property would burn alongside the city. By any emotional or rational calculus, they constituted the faction least willing to see Wuzhou reduced to ash. That made them ideal targets for his subversion campaign.
His channel for this work was Wen Tietou. Wen Tietou had rushed into the city to warn his supposed "brother-in-law," only to find himself trapped inside when the Australian blockade tightened. Now residing at the Luo household, he had transformed into an invaluable conspirator.
Wen Tietou's profession as dock boss required navigating diverse social strata. He cultivated extensive acquaintance with yamen personnel and maintained connections throughout the local garrison—an ideal conduit for discreet communication.
But Luo Yangming could not simply announce himself as a Hair-Bandit intelligence operative. First, such a claim would provoke immediate skepticism. Second, these types epitomized shamelessness and faithlessness. They might swear elaborate oaths invoking heaven and earth, then betray you without the slightest moral qualm mere hours later.
After considerable deliberation, Luo Yangming elected to approach the head of the Rice Merchants' Guild first.
The wholesale rice trade generated substantial profits, and the guild head had been visibly consumed with anxiety over the siege. When Luo Yangming approached him expressing concern that "if the battle proceeds disastrously, Wuzhou might be reduced to ashes," the guild head immediately grasped his unspoken meaning.
This tacit understanding permeated not merely merchant circles but extended throughout the gentry and landed magnates as well. In medieval siege warfare, the support of local elites proved absolutely crucial. They controlled vast reservoirs of social and material resources and wielded enormous influence. When mobilizing the populace for defense, their effectiveness was unparalleled. Several desperate Ming-era sieges had endured only because local gentry had thrown their complete weight behind resistance.
Conversely, if the balance of power tilted overwhelmingly and the besieging force offered reasonable terms, these same individuals might secretly negotiate surrender and open the gates from within. The Hair-Bandits' power throughout the Two Guangs was crushing and undeniable. Their reputation for "strict enforcement but fair dealing"—showing leniency to those who surrendered promptly, devastating those who resisted—was thoroughly established. Prolonged resistance never ended favorably for the leading gentry families.
"What you say holds truth," the guild head murmured softly. "I've entertained similar thoughts. We cannot allow the people of Wuzhou to fill mass graves for nothing."
"Only, I wonder..." Luo Yangming affected anxious timidity.
"Set your mind at ease," the guild head's eyes narrowed shrewdly. "The other local notables understand the situation as well. It's merely—" His voice dropped to barely audible. "Why does Brother Luo raise this delicate matter? Could it be...?"
Within the guild hierarchy, Luo Yangming ranked as a middling merchant, not especially prominent or active. For him to suddenly broach such a politically dangerous topic suggested someone pulled strings from behind the curtain.
"Precisely so." Luo Yangming understood that without revealing certain cards, the guild head would never extend trust. "I've been conducting rice trade with Guangdong for years and maintain considerable business dealings with Dachang. I'm well acquainted with several of their managers and supervisors."
Dachang was an Australian commercial enterprise—an open secret throughout Guangdong and common knowledge in Wuzhou. As a major rice trading hub, Wuzhou hosted numerous merchants who had conducted business with Dachang. The guild head gave a slight, knowing nod.
"...Before Wuzhou fell under siege, an individual from Dachang came to the city and spoke with me privately at my residence," Luo Yangming continued. "He observed that once hostilities commenced in earnest, Wuzhou—holding the key to both provinces—would inevitably witness fierce and prolonged combat. If everything were consumed by fire and sword, what catastrophic waste that would represent."
The guild head nodded slowly. "Your words ring true." He exhaled a heavy sigh. "If anyone else commanded this city's defense, the situation might remain manageable. But with Governor Xiong himself holding Wuzhou... and circumstances as they stand, he has surely resolved to fight to the death. With all the guest troops garrisoned inside, and the most respected elders having already retreated to mountain strongholds, the remaining gentry simply lack the social standing to voice objections. Even if they dared speak, it likely wouldn't alter the outcome."
(End of Chapter)