Chapter 2200 - The Liberation of Lianzhou

The word "starvation" brought with it another phrase Cui Shizhao had encountered countless times in his reading: "cannibalism."

He had read innumerable histories—accounts of sieges where loyal ministers and righteous defenders held out against impossible odds, their suffering condensed into terse sentences that left no lasting impression once read. But the Sheyi Rebellion of recent years was different. When rebel forces besieged Guiyang, the city held out for over a year. Officials' daughters were seized by soldiers and eaten. Only "a little over two hundred" civilians survived. He had heard these horrors recounted by numerous lips.

If he wished to remain a loyal minister, cannibalism would occur. And even if he steeled himself for that, he might never get the chance.

When the Eight Pai Yao besieged the city, he could still organize the garrison and able-bodied men for sorties from Longjin Gate or Guangji Gate, then dispatch boats upstream to requisition grain from nearby villages. He had done so several times. The Yao intercepted him each time, but if he offered sufficient rewards and soldiers were willing to risk their lives, these efforts usually succeeded—at the cost of several dead.

Against two small gunboats patrolling day and night, however, such methods proved useless. Even if the Australians left the landward side completely unguarded, no small boat could slip past their gunboat blockade.

Cui Shizhao was paralyzed. Staking the city's lives on his posthumous reputation was beyond him, yet surrendering outright was equally unthinkable. It seemed there was no way forward.

As he paced his study, a servant came rushing in. "Disaster, Your Honor! Disaster!"

Cui Shizhao started. "Are the Hair-Clippers attacking?"

"No—boats have arrived at the north gate, and the Hair-Clippers are unloading sacks of rice, piling them below the walls. They say the rice is a gift for the city's people—but Your Honor must come out to receive it."

Cui Shizhao hurried up to the North Gate tower. Below the walls, baskets of rice were indeed stacked in rows—fifty shi at minimum, possibly more. Hair-Clipper soldiers stood guard on both sides.

Leaning over the parapet, Cui Shizhao called down: "This student is Cui Shizhao! State your business quickly and make no rash movements—the cannons and arrows on this wall have no eyes!"

The Hair-Clipper leader raised a large speaking-trumpet and bellowed toward the tower: "Magistrate Cui, your reputation for loving the people like your own children and for your virtue is widely known. Our Great Song's Lianyang Commissioner for Pacification and Suppression, His Honor Huang, has long admired you. Hearing the city approaches grain depletion, he has specially dispatched fifty shi of rice for relief. Should Your Honor open the gates and surrender immediately, these fifty shi may relieve Lianzhou's emergency."

The garrison and militiamen on the walls stirred. For days, rations had been cut, and many had not eaten their fill. Now glistening white rice lay just below—in ordinary times, they could have sallied forth and seized it. But they had all heard of the Hair-Clippers' "stout ships and sharp guns" and their ruthlessness. Hungry and weakened, none were willing to risk it.

Cui Shizhao's heart churned like hot oil. Had he possessed two hundred crack troops in fighting trim, a single charge could scatter these hundred-odd Hair-Clippers, bringing the rice back to the city and buying more time. Yet all he commanded were several hundred famished, exhausted soldiers and militiamen even less capable. Sallying forth would be throwing lives away.

The grain lay before his eyes—yet he dared not cross that threshold.

Observing no response from above, the Hair-Clippers shouted again: "Magistrate Cui! Commissioner Huang declares: open the gates and surrender, and the entire city's safety is guaranteed, along with grain for relief! Ming officials, soldiers, and civilians willing to serve Great Song shall be employed according to their abilities; those unwilling shall receive travel funds and be permitted to leave."

From refugees who had slipped out of the city to forage, Huang Chao had learned that Lianzhou's grain was running out. Thus he had devised this stratagem.

It proved devastating to the city's morale. Cui Shizhao did not answer the shouts. He returned alone to the yamen and collapsed into his armchair. After a long while, he sent for Ma Tiyi and gave him instructions: "Brother Ma, please assemble the gentry and have them open the gates to negotiate. Inform them Lianzhou is willing to surrender—the officials and soldiers within shall not obstruct them. But my wife and son... I entrust them to your care." With that, he swallowed a vial of his secret-formula Crane's Crest poison.

For one instant, Cui Shizhao believed he was dying. Through chaotic dreams and wracking pain, through repeated bouts of vomiting, he dimly sensed he remained alive.

Suddenly he came to—lying on the bed in his chamber, his stomach still aching dully, his head swimming. His wife and children wept beside him. Ma Tiyi stood nearby, alongside a young man with cropped hair. Seeing him awake, the young man said: "Prefect Cui, you are badly hurt. Please rest a while longer." Then Cui Shizhao drifted off again into murky sleep.

With Lianzhou secured, Huang Chao kept his promise and invited Yang Zeng to dinner. As a native of this region in the old timeline, Huang Chao had hoped to find the locally famous Dongbei cured meats to serve Yang Zeng. When he sent someone to Dongbei Market, however, he discovered that Dongbei cured meats had not yet been invented.

None of the hometown snacks he had craved in the old timeline existed in 1635 Lianzhou. This left Huang Chao frustrated. Once he calmed down, he realized that this timeline's Lianzhou was not truly his hometown—everything he longed for did not exist here.

Without Dongbei cured meats, the dinner still had to be held—he would simply cook several home-style dishes himself. Though Huang Chao's culinary skills were nothing remarkable, he had some reputation for his home cooking. Before they had children, he and his wife had often hosted dinner parties at home, sometimes entertaining his naturalized subordinates.

Huang Chao had his people procure a two-jin pullet, a duck, and a slab of pork belly, along with a pile of vegetables and seasonings. This timeline's ingredients were pitifully scarce, and with hostilities just ended, markets had not yet recovered. The orderly spent considerable time gathering everything.

Scallions and ginger simmered the chicken for baiqie ji—poached chicken. Star anise, fennel, cassia bark, and bay leaves made a master stock for braised duck. Rock sugar and soy sauce braised the pork. He also found a jar of local yellow wine, prepared a dish of fried soybeans and pickled radish, and stir-fried several vegetables. This was both a victory banquet and a farewell dinner. With Lianzhou taken, the Sui River Detachment's mission was complete. In a few days, Yang Zeng would lead the main forces away to new operations.

Not only Yang Zeng came to dinner, but also several key officers and cadres. Whether staying or leaving, this was the first time in months they could sit down peacefully for a meal and a drink.

"Commander, once we withdraw, please be very careful," Yang Zeng said. "The Yao are fickle in their allegiances. This time we've suppressed them, but we haven't rooted them out entirely. They could easily be incited again..."

With the main forces gone, Huang Chao would have only two infantry companies, one Li-Miao Mountain Company, and four National Army squadrons. Three of those squadrons would be garrisoning three cities; only the Wuzhou Squadron remained as a mobile reserve. The two regular infantry companies had been assigned primarily to guard against surprise attacks from the direction of Hezhou.

Yang Zeng's concerns were not unfounded. Though the Eight Pai Yao had been suppressed, minor disturbances throughout the Lianyang region had not been fully stamped out. Along their march route, the chaotic conditions in each county had left deep impressions. The "official bandits" Xiong Wencan had stirred up, the "local bandits" hoping to profit from turmoil—none cared about county boundaries and could sweep through at any moment. Should they arrive and once again incite the Yao, the trouble's scale would far exceed the present.

Huang Chao was well aware of this danger—in the old timeline, the expansion of the Eight Pai Yao Rebellion was linked to the roving-bandit movements at the end of Ming. Yet for Yang Zeng, a naturalized officer without "transmigrator precognition," to reach such conclusions was commendable.

He nodded. "I understand your concerns. The Lianyang region's problems are not isolated—they're part of a larger chess game across northern Guangdong. Both military and political efforts are needed. So I have no objections to Old Zhu pulling you out. Keeping you here would be a stabilizing anchor for Lianyang, but for the overall campaign it does no good."

This was half-true. Huang Chao knew why Zhu Mingxia was recalling Yang Zeng: the Southern China Army had to maintain substantial mobile reserves at all times. Yet who wouldn't want more crack troops—especially in a perilous place like this? He simply did not wish to appear weak before naturalized personnel, while wanting to demonstrate his "big picture thinking."

Being an Elder is exhausting, Huang Chao grumbled internally.

Yang Zeng, oblivious, was moved. "Commander, you see the whole picture." He added worriedly: "But if something happens..."

"Should something happen, don't we have the radio? One telegram and you'll come running! That's our advantage."

"Indeed, Commander!"

Fu De'an spoke up: "Without the main forces, we do feel somewhat uneasy. But the Council of Elders excels at mobilizing the masses. Give the Commander several months, and he may have raised several battalions!"

Huang Chao knew Fu De'an was flattering him, yet his words captured the essence of governing here: relying on superior firepower could only maintain order temporarily—he required the people's support.

"You're right, Old Fu. You're about to become county magistrate here. Remember: winning the people's hearts is your first priority. Not just the Han commoners—but the Yao in those pai too. They are also subjects of the Council of Elders. We need them not only to fear us, but to submit, and ultimately to love us. That's not easy; it will take time..."

"I shall remember the Commander's teachings!" Fu De'an nodded repeatedly. "With you here guiding me, I fear nothing—I'll perform excellently."

Observing his ardently trusting gaze, Huang Chao felt a pang of doubt—would the methods he had used in Hainan to pacify the Li really work here?

He suppressed his unease and smiled. "Come, let's drink. To the liberation of Lianzhou!"

(End of Chapter)