Chapter 2700: The Capital (Part 56)

The column advanced at a measured pace, its seemingly loose formation imperceptibly divided into front, middle, and rear sections, with flank guards positioned on either side. A large dog with a dappled back loped back and forth through the procession, occasionally letting out an excited bark.

Liao Sanniang and Little Bazi rode abreast—she on horseback, he on a donkey—one tall, one short.

Little Bazi tilted his face upward and asked, "Adoptive Mother, why did you come all the way to this Capital region instead of enjoying a peaceful life in Guangzhou?"

Liao Sanniang said, "When I was young, the village school teacher used to say, 'Men do not speak of affairs within the home, women do not speak of affairs beyond it. A woman is one who submits to others.' I lived in Guangzhou for ten years, following my father and brothers in the escort business, racing through prefectures and crashing through capitals. Though I was a woman, I killed and fought without mercy, acting purely on impulse. I prided myself on having 'fists strong enough to stand a man, arms broad enough to run a horse'—a resounding hero among women. But when I went to Lingao, I discovered an entirely different world. Lingao is different. Women there can discuss state affairs, sit for examinations, work, and become officials. Not empty titles either, but officials with real duties and assignments. Female officials bustle about serving in various ministries and yamens, exhausting their abilities in service to the public. I never imagined women could live that way. Looking back on my past, I realized I had merely been indulging in private brawls to flaunt my own strength. Truthfully, what is there to be proud of in cutting down a few more bandits? How does that benefit the people?"

Liao Sanniang paused, then continued: "I traveled everywhere as an escort, journeying from the Great Ming to Guangdong. I was an anomaly among women and saw more than most. In these turbulent times, no one suffers greater misery and anguish than women. In the past, when I traveled with the Great Song Army, I witnessed among the Ming troops how each soldier would lead three to five women by ropes. A unit of a few hundred men would drag along and hold captive a thousand women, forcing them into rape day and night, then killing them for food when provisions ran out. The scenes I witnessed, being in the midst of it—it was like falling into a freezing hell. Horrific. Terrifying."

Liao Sanniang said, "Since last year, I've gradually felt my body losing the agility of my youth. I reckon I have perhaps six or seven more years of fighting left in me. While I can still wield a saber, I volunteered to come to Beijing. I didn't need to come to this capital, but I came because I want to exert what strength I have, to accomplish something meaningful. To add a handful of soil to the Great Ming's grave, so that the sickness of this world can heal faster and women can escape their endless suffering sooner. Only under the rule of the Great Song can this wish be fulfilled."

Liao Sanniang continued, "Chief Du said women's liberation consists of only three things: first, marriage; second, culture; third, independence. If these three things are done well, women will be liberated. The women of the Great Ming need husbands to support them, relying on others their entire lives: obeying the father at home, the husband after marriage, the son after the husband's death, and the in-laws if there are no close kin. The Confucian word 'Chastity' imprisons all women under heaven, denying them happiness, freedom, and autonomy. But in the Great Song, the father need not be the guide of the son, nor the husband the guide of the wife. Women must have their own independent lives. Half the population are women; if women are mobilized, awakened, and given meaningful work, they can hold up half the falling sky. They can converge into a great surging tide. When men and women both exert their full abilities, that is the thunder that fills the heavens. Chief Du wears her hair short and dons light makeup or none at all—improper in appearance, some might say. The male Chiefs don't care for her, but she believes in herself, and there is light in her eyes. Before I entered the capital, I met with her. She patted my shoulder and said that if I returned to Guangdong, I should work at the Women's Federation. She said the great curtain of Confucianism has oppressed women for a thousand years, and now she intends to tear open this dark sky for the women of the world."

Liao Sanniang paused, then said, "That day, I told her: Good. Pierce the vast sky. I will be a drop of blood on the tip of your blade."

As she spoke of this, Liao Sanniang seemed to drift back to that moment. Her expression turned wistful, clearly reflecting a complex swirl of emotions within her heart.

Little Bazi obviously didn't understand. He listened with a blank expression, and after a moment said firmly, "When I grow up, I want to be an escort master like Adoptive Mother."

Liao Sanniang gave a faint smile. "The escort business has ten good years left at most. When we reach Guangdong, I'll find you a different path—one with a future."

Little Bazi started. "Why is that?"

Liao Sanniang said, "When the four directions are pacified and times grow peaceful for the people, that will also be when the escort business fades into silence. Besides..."

At this, Liao Sanniang touched the saber hilt at her left waist, then the pistol grip on her right. She said, somewhat forlornly, "The age of the saber is passing."

Two sharp barks pulled their attention back to the present.

Liao Sanniang gently drew back the reins. The three-point line formed by hand, rein, and horse's head broke, and the horse's head tilted to the side. She sniffed the air, her gaze sweeping vigilantly across the surroundings before settling on the guard dog scouting ahead of the column.

Escort bureaus always kept dogs. For pathfinding, for keeping watch at night, for camping in dangerous places—raising a good dog was the only way to sleep soundly.

At the head of the column, the large wolf-dog with the dappled back barked low several times, then dropped into a half-crouch. Its nose pointed toward the grass ahead, and a growl rumbled deep in its throat.

Liao Sanniang pursed her lips at Little Bazi. The boy immediately vaulted off his donkey and jogged briskly to the front of the column. As he ran, he fished a slingshot from his waist pouch. Making a short stop, he pushed his arms forward and drew back, loading a mud pellet into the leather pocket. He fired three shots in rapid succession—bang bang bang—into the grass where the dog was pointing.

The mud pellets cracked on impact, kicking up puffs of dust. Whether they struck anything was unclear.

From his seat on the mule cart, Old Feng pursed his lips and let out a sharp whistle. The dappled wolf-dog launched forward, all four paws driving it straight into the grass.

A human figure burst up from the undergrowth. The wolf-dog lunged, airborne. Instantly, cold steel flashed. The wolf-dog collided with the blade in mid-flight and was knocked aside. It curled its body as it fell, rolling several times before regaining its feet. A knife wound gaped on its shoulder blade, fur matted with gray dirt and blood.

The wolf-dog circled, looking for an opening to attack again, but Liao Sanniang shouted, "Leash the dog! Guard the cart! I'll handle him."

Old Feng whistled, and the dog immediately held its ground, brow lowered and teeth bared, growling ferociously at the lurking figure in the grass.

Zhao Liangjian, Liu Chang, and several other fellows gathered into a circular formation, placing the mule cart at their center.

By now, everyone could see clearly: a lean, muscular man in filthy clothes, gripping a Japanese-style waist saber. Having driven back the wolf-dog, he immediately bolted toward the woods on the nearby hillside. Liao Sanniang's group had horses and carts—his only hope of escape lay in reaching the complex terrain of the mountain forest.

While the man was still tangled with the wolf-dog, Little Bazi had bent low and sprinted forward. Anticipating the man's retreat, he cut diagonally up the hillside with quick steps to block his escape.

The man's face twisted in alarm. Left with no choice, he sprinted wildly along the main road, hoping to find another chance to reach the forest. Little Bazi trailed at a distance, chasing close and occasionally firing a mud pellet to force him to change course, pressing him back toward the road's shoulder.

Liao Sanniang narrowed her eyes and tapped her legs lightly against the horse's girth. Sensing her intent, the horse quickly transitioned from standstill to a trot, maintaining a cadence of roughly two hundred steps per minute. Liao Sanniang held the double reins in her left hand while her right drew a steel cavalry saber from the side of the horse. The blade measured over three chi and one cun in length, slightly curved, similar in form to the sabers used by Lingao cavalry—differing only in its lack of a D-shaped guard.

The paired sabers Liao Sanniang used on foot were slightly shorter than single sabers and ill-suited for mounted combat.

The man heard the hoofbeats drawing closer behind him. Each time a hoof struck the ground, it beat out a clear two-step rhythm, carrying an unhurried, relentless pressure.

The man ran faster. His violent panting made his heart feel as though it might burst.

Liao Sanniang rested the saber against her right shoulder, cradling it. As the horse's speed increased, she gradually closed the distance to her target. She bent her right knee slightly, kept her left hip taut, and swept the saber half a turn outward from her right shoulder, raising it high in preparation to strike.

Liao Sanniang exhaled softly, estimating the distance between them from experience. With two moving objects constantly converging, she had to account for both the man's running speed and the horse's momentum to calculate the lead for her strike; otherwise, she would miss.

Realizing escape was impossible, the man whirled around. With a thunderous roar and a ferocious expression, he raised his saber to meet her.

Liao Sanniang remained unmoved by his roar. The instant she determined he was within striking range, she leaned forward, pivoted her right hip back, and swung her saber in a decisive arc.

The blade cleared the horse's head, slashing diagonally downward at a forty-five-degree angle from right to left, aimed straight for his skull.

In the instant that horse and man crossed paths, he raised his saber in a diagonal parry. The strong sections of both steel blades—their rear thirds—collided with a resounding clang.

The blades met, and the horse's momentum carried her forward. Liao Sanniang flipped her wrist. Following the downward momentum of the chop, she swung the saber backward, transforming the descending slash into a reverse upward slice, completing a full fan-shaped arc.

Under the combined impact of rider and horse, the man's waist saber was knocked askew. The momentary lag prevented him from recovering his stance. The tip of Liao Sanniang's reverse slice opened the tendon of his right elbow, carving a deep bloody furrow. His right hand went limp, unable to maintain its grip, and the single saber clattered to the ground.

Liao Sanniang didn't pause to see if her blade had struck true. She never lingered. Disengaging after a single strike, she spurred her horse out of his attack range, riding a distance away before wheeling the horse around.

By then, Little Bazi had caught up from behind. He flung away his slingshot and drew an elbow-length carving knife from his waist. Racing up to the man, he kicked the fallen saber aside, then held his steel knife horizontally. Using the spine and flat of the blade, he delivered fierce slaps to the man's head. The man reeled under the heavy blows, his skull ringing, vision swimming. Unsteady on his feet, he toppled over. Little Bazi clamped the knife crosswise between his teeth, flipped over to straddle the man, pinned him firmly, and pulled a rope from his waist to bind him.

Liao Sanniang circled her horse back, dismounted, and walked slowly toward the prone figure. She announced in a ringing voice: "White dragon horse, pear-blossom spear—everywhere under heaven is home. Greenwood line, Jianghu mouth—all within the Nine Provinces and Four Seas are friends. We have not met before. Hero of the mountain road, which famous mountain do you call home?"

The man, bound on the ground with his right arm bleeding, only glared up at the two with savage eyes. He gave no answer.

Seeing that the man couldn't match the bandit jargon—the qiekou—Liao Sanniang knew he was no jianghu man of the North.

At that moment, Little Bazi grabbed the man by his collar. Glimpsing the shirt beneath, so caked with grime its original color was nearly indistinguishable, he paused for a moment, then shouted, "He's wearing a red-and-yellow reversible padded jacket underneath. Likely a deserter from the army."

(End of Chapter)