Chapter 2214 - The Supply Convoy
Even if Sun Dabiao didn't move against him, once he accepted the Hair-Clipper pacification, he would certainly never cross swords with the Hair-Clippers again. That freed them to attack at their leisure. When Feng found himself on the brink, his "Elder Brother" standing by and watching would already be an act of great mercy—more likely, he would kick him while he was down.
Such fears tormented Feng Haijiao. He began to wonder if accepting this bazong title had been a mistake—perhaps it would have been better to surrender to the Australians from the start. After much anguished deliberation, he went to ask Bi Xuansheng for advice.
Bi Xuansheng, of course, couldn't tolerate Sun Dabiao straddling two boats. The Yang family had sent him here to stir up trouble for the Hair-Clippers and bog them down in Yangshan. If Sun Dabiao played both sides and locked horns with Feng Haijiao in a stalemate, Yangshan wouldn't erupt into chaos—and in time, even Feng Haijiao might waver.
He fancied himself a "little Zhuge Liang"—if only his father hadn't kept him underfoot, he would have achieved great things long ago. Now, handling affairs on his own, he was determined to strategize brilliantly.
Seeing Feng Haijiao come seeking counsel, Bi Xuansheng knew his moment had arrived. He lowered his voice. "Your suspicions are well-founded, Master! Old Sun may say he has sworn a blood oath and promised non-aggression. But who can see into another's heart? What if..."
"I know that! Do I need you to tell me?" Feng Haijiao snapped. "I've boarded Ming's boat. Alone and outnumbered, if the Australians attack, none of us will escape! MD, where are the firearms he promised? And that surname-Zhan, selling his backside—said he'd send silver. So far I haven't seen a hair! Bullshit!"
Bi Xuansheng felt a twinge of embarrassment. Those empty promises were naturally not to be taken seriously. But if he angered this bandit chief too much, not only would his own life be forfeit—the man might very well defect to the Hair-Clippers on the spot.
"Getting supplies from Huining and Wuzhou takes time. Besides, the roads are unsafe; Misters Zhan and Yang would find it difficult to send anything. Our current situation won't wait for them. We have to act on our own..."
"Act? How? Spit it out!" Feng Haijiao glared, his small eyes flashing with menace.
Bi Xuansheng felt his heart quiver. This fellow really is a veteran river pirate! His contempt evaporated; he became properly deferential. "Please calm yourself, Master. This student has a plan..."
"Break's over, everyone. Time to get moving." You Ciren called out while donning his newly issued sun helmet and mopping his brow with a towel.
At his call, the laborers and National Army soldiers, who had been lounging lazily in the shade, dragged themselves out.
The seventh-month sun blazed as if to set the world on fire. Since the sixth month, not a drop of rain had fallen. The rutted road was coated in fine dust; the roadside grass had withered. Marching under such a sun left no one in good humor.
"Lieutenant, it's so hot—can we rest another ten minutes?" The sergeant in charge of the laborers sidled up.
"Are you daft? It's not even noon yet. We should cover as much ground as we can while it's tolerable, so we can reach Dalang Market for a rest. You want to roast in the afternoon sun?" You Ciren snapped. "Move now. We'll take a siesta after the noon meal, then push on to make the night station. It's not safe after dark!"
Rebuffed, the sergeant slunk off to chivvy the laborers.
The laborers straightened the ropes on the Zidian handcarts and lashed everything down securely. There were ten carts in all, loaded with sacks of grain and an assortment of uniform bags and boxes of varying sizes, each stamped with a red Iron Fist military insignia and a blue serial number. These were standard-issue packing materials produced by the Joint Logistics Department.
This was the supply convoy heading to Yonghua—one run per week. The main cargo was grain plus certain provisions that couldn't be procured locally. Each cart carried three hundred jin, hauled by two laborers—one pulling, one pushing. Under normal conditions, it wasn't too strenuous; but in this heat, the laborers found it doubly exhausting.
Besides the twenty laborers, a squad of National Army soldiers escorted the convoy. Normally, a junior officer like You Ciren wouldn't be assigned to this duty. But with the situation growing complex and rumblings of unrest among the Yonghua Yao, Luo Yiming had sent him to Yonghua to investigate—You Ciren was one of the few National Army officers with a classical education, literate and capable of handling affairs systematically.
Originally, You Ciren had had a bright future in the Fubo Army. Six months ago, however, he was diagnosed with a condition that made him unfit for line duty. He was slated for discharge, but unwilling to be sent to the rear, he had been posted to Yangshan as Deputy Security Section Chief. For convenience in his work, he wore the National Army uniform with lieutenant's insignia—the same rank he had held in the Fubo Army.
Within minutes, the column was assembled. As usual, You Ciren inspected the convoy and checked each soldier's equipment. National Army troops were generally inferior in combat quality and discipline, far below Fubo Army standards; he had to spend considerable effort correcting their petty lapses.
"Every rifle must be loaded! Don't be lazy—don't be afraid of accidental discharge!" You Ciren repeated tirelessly. "Yangshan is not yet pacified. Be constantly alert for sudden enemy attacks!"
The soldiers and laborers looked miserable. When You Ciren finally announced "Move out," everyone actually breathed a sigh of relief.
You Ciren called the sergeant to his side and asked quietly, "Dalang Market lies ahead. What's the situation there?"
This was his first time leading a supply run. He knew about Dalang Market—though Sun Dabiao had accepted pacification, his men hadn't been reorganized or reformed. Passing through his turf made him uneasy.
"No worries—Sun Dabiao knows his place," the sergeant said casually. "Since he returned to Dalang Market, we pass through his territory all the time. Whether it's a supply convoy or individuals, he never dares make trouble. Each time, he escorts us courteously out of his domain. He even refuses our money when we stop for a meal..."
You Ciren nodded, though he remained uneasy. Local strongmen were fickle and unpredictable. One moment they called you brother; the next, they might stab you in the back. He disapproved of Wang Chuyi's failure to concentrate forces and seize Dalang Market from the start. How could such a vital corridor to the Yao territories be left in hands like Sun Dabiao's? If the man turned nasty, the squadron in Yonghua would be in a very awkward position.
Wang Chuyi had revealed his true intentions at the meeting, but You Ciren found the calculation laughable—far too many uncontrollable variables. Still, he could only discuss such things with Luo Yiming—after all, Wang Chuyi was the County Magistrate.
The journey passed without incident. Before noon, the convoy reached Dalang Market. The men manning the checkpoint took one look at the National Army and quickly moved the barriers aside.
Dalang Market was the key transit point to the Yao territories, once a thriving commercial town. The recent Eight Pai Yao uprising, however, had seen the Yonghua Yao sack it—looting and then setting it ablaze, burning eight or nine-tenths of the buildings. Recovery was still incomplete; ruins stood everywhere. But merchants had already erected sheds and resumed business; the streets were bustling. Besides returning locals, people from surrounding villages came to trade. Here and there among the crowd, Yao folk could be spotted.
The moment they entered the market, one of Sun Dabiao's stewards hurried over, bowing and making pleasantries. Hearing they wanted to rest, he led the convoy to an open lot—apparently the site of some building now reduced to bare ground. A few bamboo shelters stood in the middle, with rickety tables and chairs for passing travelers to take a meal.
"Come, come, brothers, please sit. I'll have food prepared right away..." the steward said solicitously.
"Don't go to too much trouble," You Ciren replied. "In this heat, nothing greasy. Rice and vegetables—whatever's fresh."
"Yes, yes, sir. We keep ready provisions for passing merchants—plain but clean."
He called for the food to be brought out. You Ciren glanced at it: cold rice porridge and pickled melons, plus a big jar of mung-bean soup. The utensils and food were clean enough and quite suitable. He nodded. The sergeant whispered, "Lieutenant, we stop here often. It's safe. Eat in peace."
"Are the carts being watched?"
"No need—they don't dare touch them." The sergeant jerked his chin toward the opposite shed. "The carts are right there; they've got people keeping an eye on them. You're worried about theft; they're even more worried!" He laughed smugly.
You Ciren disapproved of this complacency, but judging by appearances, Sun Dabiao was at least somewhat different from outright bandits—he would hardly run amok on his own turf.
While eating, he noticed a group of Yao sitting in a nearby shelter, gnawing on taro and such. He saw no proper food in front of them—only a stack of large bowls and a big pot of tea.
They looked sallow and weak, their every movement listless. You Ciren found it odd. "These Yao came here for a rest stop—why aren't they eating?"
The steward smiled apologetically. "They come to trade mountain goods for salt. Once they've got their salt, they rest here before heading back. The master is kind-hearted—he pities their poverty, lets them sit in this shelter, eat their own provisions, and takes no money for the tea."
"I see." You Ciren nodded. Clearly, these Yao had gone without salt for a long time. He looked at their belongings—the bamboo tubes for salt were light and nearly empty.
"What's the salt price here?" he asked casually.
(End of Chapter)