Chapter 2514: Returning South
Wen Tiren said, "From what I have observed of the Kun people's conduct, perhaps blind suppression is not the only path forward. They are sea bandits, true, but also sea merchants. Order Xiong Wencan to follow the precedent set with Zheng Zhilong—increase the offers again. By combining suppression with appeasement, we may yet eliminate this threat of war without further bloodshed..."
An hour later, Wen Tiren reclined in his great sedan chair with eyes closed, resting his mind. The sedan moved with such steadiness that sitting inside produced a gentle, rhythmic swaying that made him drowsy. He sensed the weakness pervading this empire, yet it still retained its massive size. He had never entertained thoughts of its collapse. Even relying on its enormous skeleton alone, it could still crush those upstarts who kept appearing to challenge it. The Eastern Barbarians might breach the border wall, but they could never hold the lands within the pass. The roving bandits raged across the provinces, yet they were merely a passing plague of locusts. And these newly appeared Kun pirates who had seized Guangdong? In Wen Tiren's view, they were nothing more than coastal brigands. He exhaled softly. As long as I remain in this seat, everything will improve.
At the gatehouse of the Wen Mansion, the household butler returned a gift list to Xiong Wencan's messenger. "My master has always been clean and upright in his dealings. Such generous gifts cannot be accepted. Return to Governor Xiong and inform him that the entrusted matter has been arranged. There is no need for further visits."
The side door of the Wen Mansion swung shut with a bang, leaving only a retreating figure on the street.
In Beijing, sand flew wildly through the air. The sun hung gray and hazy overhead. Gusts of dusty wind rolled up withered leaves along the roads, carrying with them the loneliness and desolation of the entire city.
In the twelfth lunar month of Chongzhen's ninth year—January 1637—one of the fiercest cold waves of the Little Ice Age swept down from Siberia. The mountainous regions of Northern Guangdong welcomed another heavy snowfall. Zhuji Lane, nestled beside Dayu Ridge, lay wrapped in silver.
Since the Kaiyuan era of the Tang Dynasty, when Zhang Jiuling oversaw the excavation of the new Dayu Ridge road, this had been an essential route for merchants traveling between north and south. Two passages led from Guangdong into Jiangxi: the Meiling Road over Dayu Ridge and the Wujing Road northeast of Nanxiong. The Meiling Road itself branched into three routes—the Hengpu Road, the Small Meiguan Road, and the New Dayu Ridge Road—all converging at Nan'an. The Wujing Road headed east to Nanye.
A caravan of merchants—some bearing loads on their backs, others riding in sedan chairs, still others leading donkeys and horses—crossed the ancient Meiguan Road. They rested briefly at Zhongzhan Village before pressing onward, finally stopping at Zhuji Lane. Some would unload their goods here, complete their transactions, and turn back toward Meiguan. Others had to continue south to the First City of the Southern Sky—Guangzhou—for that was where their fortunes lay.
Zhuji Lane had flourished since the Tang and Song Dynasties. In its prime, it boasted three streets and four lanes, housing over a thousand families who depended on the endless stream of merchants and porters flowing from north and south. Now the town had declined considerably from those glory days, and Kun soldiers patrolling with firearms had become a common sight.
Dayu Ridge had long served as the primary overland corridor for trade between Jiangxi and Guangdong. Goods traveling south consisted mainly of medicinal herbs, grain, and precious metals; those heading north were largely Cantonese salt and ironware. In better times, the saying went: "Caravans heading south connect a hundred packs each month; those heading north number thousands each day." But since the Senate had opened the ocean route, Jiangxi's goods could travel by water directly to Guangzhou at half the cost of overland transport. The number of traveling merchants along this trade route had dwindled accordingly. Many who had made their living as porters and pack carriers found themselves without income, their livelihoods gone. With no other recourse, many had taken to the green hills and turned to banditry. Even the once-prosperous city of Nanxiong now showed signs of decay.
When the Senate's Central Army captured Nanxiong County, its vanguard had pressed beyond Meiling Pass. Rumor held that reconnaissance cavalry had reached the walls of Ganzhou itself. Yet though the Australian forces advanced with fierce momentum, they had reached the limit of their strength. Within days, they withdrew from Jiangxi territory, retaining only the two exits of the Meiling Road: Nan'an and Nanye.
Though the Five Ridges region now resembled two separate countries divided north and south, the road itself remained open. Common folk and merchants from both sides could still pass through freely. The reason was simple: both the Australians and the Ming gentry needed this channel to maintain trade and the flow of people. Shortly after the withdrawal, the local Australian commander reached a private agreement with the gentry north of the ridge. In exchange for guarantees not to restrict trade, the Senate would cease attacks and harassment within Jiangxi.
At that moment, in a tea shed beside the newly renovated official road, a scholar dressed in Ming attire gazed about with a sorrowful expression. Recalling a poem his mentor Huang Gongfu had composed when passing through this very place years ago, he felt moved to recite: "The road to the long pavilion leads to Zhuji; today viewing the wind, I feel the sorrow of Shuli. Where people gather in the registered village, horses gallop on the shoulder-rubbing road."
"Young Master, what does this poem mean?" asked the servant boy at his side.
The scholar sighed. "It merely laments the prosperous scenes of the past. Let us speak no more of it."
Merchants resting nearby in the tea shed, seeing him sighing and reciting poetry, offered comfort: "Old sir, there's no need to be so melancholy. Last year, with Song and Ming at war and bandits running rampant, this Yuling Road trade route was broken for an entire year! The common folk nearly starved. Fortunately, the war subsided quickly. The Fubo Army proved effective and suppressed many of the bandits. Now that peace has returned, we can resume our old trade and scrape together a living."
The scholar shook his head and sighed again. "Pity that my Great Ming nurtured scholars for more than two hundred years. Who could have expected the cities of the Southern Sky to change hands in a single morning? All we raised were wine sacks and rice bags!"
One merchant rubbed his cold hands together and breathed warmth into them. "Personally, I don't find the Great Song so terrible. At least..."
The scholar snorted coldly. Merchants, he thought. Always a generation who forgets righteousness at the sight of profit. Running about chasing wealth, unable to serve one's parents—that is unfilial. Forgetting the ruler's grace for the sake of gain, unable to serve one's country—that is disloyal.
Seeing his displeasure, another merchant spoke up: "Sir sees only the decline in trade, but not the hardships ordinary people endured. This region lies at the junction of Jiangxi, Fujian, and Guangdong provinces. Ten thousand mountains coil and knot together here; streams wind through deeply blocked valleys. Imperial governance barely reached these parts. From the Zhengtong reign through Chongzhen under the Zhu Ming—more than a hundred years—peasant riots broke out nearly every other year. After the Great Song arrived, the bandits either surrendered, died, or fled. Though north-south trade is no longer as prosperous as before, making an honest living has become far easier."
Another man joined the conversation: "Indeed. In the first year of Chongzhen, the Xingning mountain bandit Su Jun gathered a force and roved through neighboring counties of Jiangxi, Fujian, and Guangdong, looting as he went. The Southern Jiangxi Governor first tried amnesty, granting the mountain bandit a few squad leader titles. It wasn't long before he rebelled again. After Su Jun was killed, his remnants under Zhong Lingxiu—thousands strong—rose again in the third year of Chongzhen, roving and robbing through Huichang, Wuping, and Chengxiang. The various counties suffered terribly. Because Xingning bred so many bandits, villagers chose defensible locations to build walled compounds for protection. They constructed thirty-six walled enclosures and seventy-one stockades."
"Nanxiong alone has more than ten passes built specifically to defend against bandits."
The servant boy grew curious. "If that's so, then what secret technique did the Short—I mean, the Song soldiers use? How could they clean up a bandit scourge that plagued this region for a hundred years?"
"Little brother, you don't understand. Are there any men born as bandits? The Zhu Ming's bandit suppression never addressed the root cause. It was like embracing firewood to put out a fire—as long as the fuel remains, the flames won't die."
"Then explain," the servant boy pressed.
The merchant smiled meaningfully and lowered his voice. "Most bandits were simply peasants pushed to rebellion. Powerful families would abuse their position to bully members of their own clan, or oppress people of other surnames and tribes, acting with impunity. This lawlessness drove men to banditry. After the Great Song arrived, well... they struck down local tyrants and corrupt gentry, settled blood debts, and surveyed the fields anew. Those who resisted stubbornly either died or—if they survived—were said to have been exiled to Nanyang."
The scholar sneered. "Hah! So that's how it is. The Kun—the Song soldiers have simply become the chief bandits themselves."
"Speak carefully, speak carefully." The merchant glanced around nervously, relaxing only after confirming no officials were within earshot.
The scholar continued: "An innocent man is made guilty by the jade in his possession. Seizing family property, dividing up people's fields—how does such behavior differ from banditry?"
Another merchant replied: "Since ancient times, 'Rise, the people suffer; fall, the people suffer.' You and I live in troubled times. Surely you've heard the saying: 'Bandits passing are like a wooden comb; soldiers passing are like a fine-toothed grate.' Common folk fear bandits, but they hate government soldiers even more. Only this Great Song's Fubo Army refrains from rape, plunder, and killing innocents for credit. And whenever military disaster strikes, epidemics follow close behind. Over the past two years, smallpox raged through Northern Guangdong—every village wore mourning white. Fortunately, the officials distributed vaccines. Now everyone in the border villages is vaccinated, no longer suffering the agony of watching loved ones die. If all bandits conducted themselves like the Great Song, what would be wrong with following them?"
The scholar said nothing more. When he and his servant had processed their entry at Nan'an, they too had undergone the so-called "purification" quarantine. A short-haired woman in white clothing had pricked their arms several times with a type of needle he had never seen before. Only after a pock mark appeared on their upper arms were they permitted to enter, and they were even issued a "Vaccine Vaccination Certificate."
The merchants continued discussing the recent war with animated faces.
"Wherever the Fubo Army's vanguard pointed, resistance crumbled like dry weeds and rotten wood. They captured Nanxiong, Nan'an, and Nanye in quick succession, and Ganzhou trembled. The Linwu miners rose in response. The Ming soldiers were beaten so badly they scattered like rats..."
Another laughed: "The Southern Jiangxi Governor heard the saying 'Kun soldiers not a thousand strong, a thousand strong invincible,' and was so frightened he ordered the city gates sealed tight. They say he nearly hanged himself."
"Ganzhou's walls are solid—easy to defend, hard to attack. I haven't heard of the Fubo Army actually assaulting Ganzhou. Still, the Southern Jiangxi Governor lost more than half his jurisdiction. The Chongzhen Emperor was so furious he threw him in prison."
...
Listening to the merchants spin their tales in the manner of storytellers recounting the Romance, the scholar raised his head and closed his eyes.
On the fifteenth of the first lunar month three years ago, he had ridden through Guangzhou on horseback with friends, drunk and carefree, roaming the flower lantern night market in high spirits. It happened that Nanhai Magistrate Huang Xi was out on patrol. When the scholar failed to yield in time, the yamen runners shouted abuse at him. He refused to dismount. Huang Xi grew furious and ordered his men to confiscate the horse. Relying on his talent and pride—considering himself a romantic scholar of his generation—the young man had quipped: "Riding a donkey, I chanced to meet the Huayin Magistrate; losing a horse, I am still like the old man at the frontier." With that single line, he had offended the magistrate beyond forgiveness.
Huang Xi submitted a memorial to strip him of his scholarly title and sought to punish him further. His father-in-law, Provincial Judge Liang Yuanzhu, pleaded on his behalf to no avail. Left with no alternative, he fled to Guangxi, and from that day forward he wandered the world. His footsteps carried him through Guangxi, Hunan, and Jiangxi, where he witnessed firsthand the beacon fires of rebellion blazing across the Great Ming Dynasty.
Last year, word had suddenly reached him that the Kun pirates had revolted and taken Guangzhou without bloodshed. Worried for his family's safety and burning to return home to organize righteous soldiers in service to the court, he had tried every possible means to get back to Guangzhou. But the Kun forces had severed the Dayu Ridge trade route and maintained strict inspections, blocking his return. While stranded in this dilemma, wandering in sorrow and frustration, he had by chance received aid from a benefactor and found temporary refuge. After lingering for half a year, he learned that the Kun had apparently reached some tacit understanding with the Jiangxi authorities. Neither peace nor war—but the trade route had reopened. Only then could he set foot on the road home.
What would be waiting for him at the end of this journey?
(End of Chapter)