Chapter 2515: Tanka Village

"Kuang Yan, let's go." The scholar beckoned to his servant boy and climbed aboard a Qiwei mule cart.

"Coming, Young Master."

Once settled in the cart, the scholar ordered his servant to prepare brush and ink. A poem had taken shape in his mind, and his literary impulse demanded release.

"Young Master, the cart jostles something terrible," the servant boy Kuang Yan protested. "How can anyone write properly? The ink will spill everywhere."

The scholar shot him a sidelong glance. "When has your Young Master ever cared about such things?"

Kuang Yan had no choice but to retrieve the Four Treasures of the Study, wrestling with brush, ink, paper, and inkstone on the lurching donkey cart. Once everything was arranged, the scholar lifted his brush and wrote:

Return Excitement Last year with books and sword returned to Xianyang, Climbing high on Lushan to gaze at hometown. Did not see Qin city selling Zhao jade, But heard Feng prison abandoned Ganjiang. Hongdu creeping grass pulls clothes belt, Dayu plum blossoms laugh at guest's attire. Today light carriage faces strange characters, One area full of dust reading desk.

Signature: Kuang Lu, Bingzi Year

During the Longxing reign of the Southern Song Dynasty, the Kuang clan had fled from Zhuji Lane in Nanxiong to settle in Dazhen Township, Dali Fort, Nanhai County. This journey of Kuang Lu and his servant amounted to retracing the "Long March" of their ancestors. Each step of the way stirred memories of that southward migration, and he could not help but sigh at the weight of history.

A wanderer returning home should feel expectation and joy. Yet Kuang Lu harbored no such sentiment.

The moment he crossed into Nanxiong, he had entered "enemy country."

Guangdong, where his family had lived for generations, now flew the banner of a "Great Song" regime. Kuang Lu found the situation both absurd and heartbreaking. He wondered constantly how his beloved Guangzhou and all his family and friends were faring...

During the Ming Dynasty, Nanxiong had served as the station of the Lingnan Sub-provincial Administration Commissioner and a major distribution hub for goods traveling between Guangdong and Jiangxi. Both Qiwei and Dachang maintained trading posts along the North River route. Since no passenger boats ran directly from Nanxiong to Dali, Kuang Lu and his servant alternated between boats and carts, enduring a bumpy journey. Fortunately, Qiwei Travel Agency had arranged everything—whether riding in a cart or sitting in a boat, finding lodging or grabbing a quick meal, someone always had it sorted. The road itself proved smooth enough. What unsettled him were the Australian patrol teams and patrol boats that appeared constantly along the way, the checkpoints and watchtowers guarding every strategic pass, the frequent inspections and interrogations that cast a pall of tension over everything.

This day they arrived at Dali Fort, situated on the Pearl River Delta alluvial plain. Water networks spread in every direction, river channels crisscrossing to make transportation effortless. Following the boats plying the North River trade route between various strongholds, he could be home in just a few days.

He had expected the Kun rebellion to have left nothing but broken walls and ruins, with people struggling to survive. The scenes along the way surprised him. Though riverside market towns bore collapsed houses and the scars of fire, villagers thronged to market in lively crowds, and traveling merchants filled the roads in endless streams. Much of the former prosperity had returned. Simple shacks lined the riverbanks on reclaimed wasteland, clustering together to form what looked like small villages in the distance.

"Boatman, what are those stilt shacks?" Kuang Lu asked the man working the oar. "I don't recall seeing them before."

The boatman gestured toward the shore. "You mean the Tanka villages? From your accent, you don't sound like an outsider. Surely you've heard of the Senate's beneficence?"

Kuang Lu smiled ruefully. "To be honest, I offended a magistrate some years ago and fled to wander the world. Only when I heard that Liangguang had changed hands did I dare return home to fulfill my filial duties. I truly don't know what's happened here."

At this, the boatman's manner grew respectful. "Those dog officials of the old dynasty—hardly a good one among them. A gentleman unafraid to defy power must be a good man indeed."

"You flatter me..." Kuang Lu felt a twinge of embarrassment. His clash with Magistrate Huang had been mostly impulsive. The man surnamed Huang was certainly no saint, but Kuang Lu himself had simply been acting on temper.

"The old dynasty didn't just collect fish tax from us Tanka people—they taxed our feathers, fish bladders, fish oil. Poll tax too, every bit of it. And they made us perform corvée labor. Our taxes were heavier than anyone's, yet we weren't allowed to study for the imperial exams, weren't allowed to intermarry with land folk, weren't allowed to live on shore. We couldn't even wear shoes when we stepped onto land. Big water, fish eat ants; dry water, ants eat fish. The strong bully the weak, the weak bully the small, and when there's no one left to bully, they bully the Tanka boys..."

The boatman recounted these hardships, yet somehow a light kindled in his eyes. "The Senate issued an edict the moment they arrived—everyone is equal under Great Song's heaven. They abolished all the old dynasty's base statuses. Exempted many of our taxes. Allowed us to live on shore, to study, to join the army, to sit for the exams. It felt like a dream! Those stilt houses you see, Master—the Chiefs gave us permission to build on wasteland. They even let us reclaim the surrounding fields, tax-free for five years. The harvest on shore was poor this year; famine spread everywhere. But the Senate organized dike repair work. Show up to labor and you eat."

Kuang Lu listened with growing unease. He understood the Pearl River Tanka households well: in spring and summer when waters rose high and fish ran plentiful, they might fill their bellies. The rest of the year meant poverty. To survive, wives and daughters often had to sell their smiles. If the Kun rebels had abolished their base status immediately upon arrival, treating them as free citizens—these people would never serve the Great Ming again.

"You've done work for the Australians too, haven't you?" Kuang Lu asked.

The boatman laughed. "How could I not? I won't hide it from you, Master—three years ago, someone sat in my boat and asked me: 'If someone let you build houses on shore, live like land folk, raise a family and make a life the same as anyone—would you support them?' I said, 'I don't understand what support means. I only know that if such a parent-official existed, I'd follow him in everything.' Later, when the Chief attacked Wuzhou and recruited boatmen, I brought more than a dozen brothers to help the Chiefs sail boats and haul grain."

"Oh? Why didn't you parlay that into some official position?"

"Master jests. This old man is sixty this year. Can't read a single character, and too old to learn. We water folk spend our whole lives begging for survival on the river—bodies full of aches. Every rainy day, every joint and bone screams. And living bent over in these narrow boats year after year, my back has hunched. Never mind being an official—I hadn't even the ability to be a runner."

The boatman's clothes were more patches than cloth. Beneath his shrimp hat, his temples showed spots of white. The wrinkles on his face might have been scars carved by the years. Once his floodgates opened, everything poured out. "We Tanka households were base people, looked down upon by everyone. I didn't marry until past fifty. My wife was a widow, also Tanka. She remarried me after her first husband died. I thought since she was more than ten years younger, I could rely on her in my old age. Never imagined she'd die before me! Never got to see these days. She was a good woman. Washing clothes, cooking, catching fish, hauling cargo—she grabbed at every task. These patched holes in my clothes? Her handiwork. Without her, I'd still be wearing rags that let in wind and rain. I always figured she must have owed me a debt in a past life and came to repay it in this one. She said the same. But why repay for only a few years and then leave? When she died, my soul went with her. Nearly fell into the river and drowned a few times..."

A cool breeze swept past. The corners of Kuang Lu's eyes grew moist. In truth, he had witnessed too much human suffering for this to rank among the worst. These few tears were not for this one Tanka man, but for the whole broken world. Not wanting the boatman to see, he stepped out from under the boat awning. His gaze fell upon a couplet painted in faded, chalky characters on the canopy:

Tanka born, Tanka die, in boat for generations of Tanka Cross wind go, cross wind come, inside awning a life of cross wind

Horizontal scroll: Better to Die Early

Seeing him transfixed, the boatman said, "A scholar wrote that for me some years back. I can't read. My friends on the water can't read either. Every guest who passed through laughed when they saw it. Must be a good couplet."

"Good it may be," Kuang Lu said, "but it's grown old. Let me give you a new one."

"Wonderful! Sir, you're truly a man of feeling. My village isn't far ahead. Let me go ashore and find some red paper." The boatman steered toward the Tanka village up ahead.

"That suits me. I'd like to buy some dried Xiang fish while we're there."

"This old man has no silver. But those goods I've got plenty of. Since Master has a taste for them, let me offer some as a gift!"

Kuang Yan tugged secretly at Kuang Lu's sleeve, signaling his fear of being robbed or worse. Kuang Lu patted his shoulder and murmured reassurance: "No harm. Your Young Master is accomplished in the six arts, complete in both civil and martial skills. Ordinary men can do nothing to me. Besides, we've entered the Fen River now, not far from Dali. I hear an Australian garrison is stationed right in Dali, and their patrol boats frequent these waters. This is no lawless place. It's also a chance to see just how peaceful and orderly Australian rule truly is."

"Young Master, what couplet will you give him?"

"Winter goes, spring comes—joy from east, south, west, north bids farewell to the old year. Bitterness ends, sweetness arrives—gaze upon lake, sea, river, stream to celebrate new life. Horizontal scroll: Great and Good Rivers and Mountains." Kuang Lu stressed those final four characters heavily.

"Young Master resents Governor Xiong for losing this great and good land, doesn't he?"

Kuang Lu did not answer. Was it truly Governor Xiong who lost it?

Just then, a Saltwater Song drifted from the bow:

"Three mud piles build a stove ne, sand pot cooking rice no bottom wind stove ah li, Rice va no leftover overnight rice luo, stove pit no strip of overnight firewood ah li! Others marry daughter have a red skin trunk luo, we marry daughter a rotten chicken coop ah li; Others marry daughter have flower sedan chair to sit ne, we marry daughter just boat crossing to boat ah li! Above possess treasure ship below possess skiff eh, without your older brother the skiff so miserable ah li, Rattan strip bamboo strip bag bundle everywhere luo, head shake tail swing like deep sea fresh dragon ah li. Master fix boat but not prevent leak luo, Your sister-in-law sleep down at night look fish swim ah li, Master fix awning but not lay leaves luo, your sister-in-law sleep down at night also look Sky River ah li."

The lyrics were mournful, but the singer's spirits soared. The small boat skimmed forward to the rhythm of his voice. Before they reached the shore, someone called out: "Uncle Salmon! Principal Tian and Doctor Hou are coming..."

The boatman shouted back: "Alright, I'm on my way!"

"What kind of fish is a salmon?" Kuang Yan asked curiously.

"A childhood nickname? Those are for land folk!" The boatman said. "Young brother, you don't know. My original name was Zeng Carp. When I helped the Chief transport grain, the Chief told me: carp live in ponds—too small a pattern. Salmon is a deep-sea fish. You have to be like the salmon, trekking thousands of li to find the place you came from. That's called the Salmon's Dream. If a man has no dreams, what makes him different from salted fish? I've never seen a salmon myself, but since the Chief said so, it must be something fine. After that, I changed my name to Zeng Salmon."

Kuang Yan sniffed at this, thinking: "These Kun rebels truly are crude."

(End of Chapter)