Chapter 127: Shaving the Hair

This man was named Fang Ju, a native of Nan'ao Island. In the first clerk examination held on Nan'ao Island, he had placed first, and with his outstanding abilities, he was made Director of the Construction Bureau.

Aside from the Construction Bureau, the directors of the other three bureaus had all been replaced.

Scholar Zhou and Zheng Zhilong had respectively become the head and deputy head of the Nan'ao Administrative Affairs Hall, overseeing the four bureaus.

As they spoke, a ship lit its lantern and sailed in from the east.

Judging by the gunwale revealed by the ship's lantern, it was not a coastal fishing boat.

As it drew near, the ship's lantern blinked several times in a regular pattern — this was the island's secret signal, changed every three days, used to distinguish friend from foe at night.

Seeing the incoming vessel give the signal, the guards around the dry dock all relaxed.

The ship came closer, its two masts with triangular sails becoming visible. Lin Qian recognized it as the Carrier Pigeon, and said to the craftsmen around him, "Your helpers have arrived."

The Carrier Pigeon sailed up and docked at Yandun Bay.

First, over a dozen crew members came ashore and formed a circle, and then the passengers on board disembarked.

Most of the passengers wore thick clothing, with looks of terror on their faces. Some had their heads shaved, leaving only a single pigtail like a pig's tail.

The master of the Carrier Pigeon came ashore, trotted over to Lin Qian, and cupped his hands in salute: "Helmsman, this subordinate, on the orders of Captain Bai, has brought thirty Liaodong craftsmen. This is the roster of craftsmen."

Lin Qian took it and saw that the roster simply recorded names, ages, trades, and other such information. Most were carpenters, along with bricklayers, stonemasons, blacksmiths, and the like.

After looking it over, Lin Qian handed the roster to Fang Ju, Director of the Construction Bureau, for registration.

The master of the Carrier Pigeon then took out a letter from his bosom: "Helmsman, this is a letter Captain Bai asked me to deliver to you."

Lin Qian took it, opened the letter, glanced over it, and said, "Good work. Go attend to your duties."

The next day, at the Yundao camp, Lin Qian summoned several craftsmen who had formerly been aha slaves and asked about the situation in Liaodong.

After a night of rest, the craftsmen's spirits had greatly improved. They had changed into light summer clothing, and their faces, necks, and hands had been washed clean. Only the hair on their heads could not grow back overnight — the craftsmen found the pigtails too ugly, so they had simply shaved their heads completely bald.

Hearing Lin Qian's questions, some of the craftsmen lamented the deaths of their loved ones, some sighed over the hardships of their escape, and most cursed the Tartars bitterly.

One man said with hatred: "Those dog Tartars are a pack of beasts. When Shenyang fell, they killed anyone they saw and seized anything they found. Even the charred corpse of Yuan... Military Commissioner Yuan was dragged behind horses and humiliated by the dog Tartars..."

Lin Qian knew that Military Commissioner Yuan referred to Yuan Yingtai. In the third month of the first year of Tianqi, when Liaoyang fell, Yuan Yingtai set himself aflame and died for his country.

According to the Ming History, after Yuan Yingtai's death, Nurhaci praised his loyalty and righteousness, and ordered his remains to be gathered and buried with proper rites. But after all, it was political posturing, and the Ming History was written by the Qing people themselves — how much truth there was in that record was anyone's guess.

Another craftsman said: "My whole family was killed by the Tartars. Only I survived..."

"When the Tartars entered the village, they killed the old, the weak, and the literate. The rest were taken away, and those who refused were also killed. The village girls all blackened their faces with soot, and the more ruthless ones cut themselves with knives — if the Tartars saw that one was a woman... alas..."

As the craftsmen tearfully poured out their grievances, Lin Qian felt a surge of anger building in his heart.

When the craftsmen had mostly vented, Lin Qian asked about the tokso manors and the situation of the coastal cities in southern Liaodong.

The answers he received were basically consistent with historical records and Lin Qian's own speculations.

After Liaoyang and Shenyang fell, the remaining cities, stockades, and forts in Liaodong had virtually no capacity to resist.

The Jianzhou barbarians had taken control of over seventy cities of various sizes in a short time, including Zhenjiang, Fuzhou, and Jin Prefecture.

Because they had to deal with the Battle of the Hun River, not many Jurchen soldiers were left in these places after they were occupied — the defenders were mostly surrendered Ming troops and officers.

Most of the Jianzhou barbarian manors holding captured Han Chinese were also clustered around these major cities.

Bai Qing's three Sea Wolf ships had no siege capability and were utterly helpless against major cities and forts.

The reason Lin Qian had not previously sent gun ships to Liaodong was that the Santa Ana had to guard Nan'ao Island, and the Long Wind and Cloud Sail had not yet completed their refits.

Now the situation was different — the Cloud Sail would be able to leave the dry dock within days and take up the task of guarding Nan'ao Island.

Meanwhile, the political situation in Chaozhou Prefecture was stable. Ma Chenglie wrote to Lin Qian every month with reports, the Hu family's influence was growing day by day, and the newly appointed county magistrates of Chaoyang, Huilai, and Chenghai had all been corroded through and through.

The external environment was very peaceful.

It was just right for putting out to sea and heading north to Liaodong.

That evening, in the officers' mess of the Santa Ana, Lin Qian summoned four men: Scholar Zhou, Zheng Zhilong, Lei Sanxiang, and Bailangzai.

He announced his plan to send gun ships north to Liaodong.

Hearing Lin Qian's plan, Scholar Zhou's expression turned grave, and he said: "Helmsman, Liaodong is dangerous. Why must we wade into that muddy water? The manpower needed to develop the Eastern Savages can be slowly recruited in the Fujian-Guangdong region — it can be gathered that way too."

Lin Qian: "Developing the Eastern Savages requires no small number of people — at least five thousand or so in the initial phase, and even more later. Recruiting all of them in Fujian-Guangdong would not only draw the court's attention, but the cost would also be high. Going to Liaodong to recruit is not only safe, but also rescues Liaodong refugees from fire and water — it's a true win-win."

"Besides, the Tartar cavalry are formidable, that's true, but they have no navy. Fighting them, as long as we never leave the sea, is actually safer than naval battles in Fujian-Guangdong waters."

Lin Qian actually had another concern. He would inevitably clash with the Great Ming sooner or later. Once a great war broke out, the court would surely pour its military funds into the southeast and reduce its attention on Liaodong, and the Jianzhou barbarians would seize the opportunity to grow strong.

From an ethnic standpoint, Lin Qian did not wish to see the Jianzhou barbarians grow powerful and then enter the passes to contend for the Central Plains.

Liaodong was already a land of scorched earth, its people suffering in misery. If he could save one more, he would save one more.

This was not false benevolence — it was the responsibility borne by a fellow Han Chinese.

From a strategic standpoint, the Jianzhou barbarian cavalry were formidable. If they ever entered the Central Plains and contended for the realm, dealing with them would be far harder for Lin Qian than dealing with the Great Ming.

Moreover, throughout history, whenever north and south joined forces to attack a Central Plains regime, the south never came to a good end — the Northern Song and Southern Song were the best examples.

Finally, on a personal level, even if Lin Qian could not defeat the Great Ming, he still had a retreat — falling back to the Eastern Savages, going down to the South Seas, or developing Australia were all fine options.

But if he let the Jianzhou barbarians run unchecked, or even played a tacit game with them, engaging in alliance politics, and it all went wrong — the divine land would sink, and the tragedy of history would repeat itself.

Then Lin Qian would be a sinner condemned through the ages.

Even if he, Lin Qian, did not become emperor or overlord, he absolutely could not become a sinner!

Everyone present was someone Lin Qian trusted, so he went ahead and voiced his concerns about the Jianzhou barbarians growing strong, and also told them of the fine deeds the Jianzhou barbarians had done in Liaodong.

Scholar Zhou said with righteous indignation: "So the Helmsman actually harbors such ambitions! I have wasted my years reading the books of the sages, yet never thought of this. I am ashamed!"

Having said this, he rose, cupped his hands, and bowed all the way to the ground.

Zheng Zhilong felt his blood boil with excitement and thought to himself: "Those Ming officials spend their days scheming and scrambling for power and profit.

The Governor-General and councilors of Macao reek of money — for the sake of coin, they'd sell their own mothers.

Li Dan of Kyushu Island commands a vast fleet yet is content with a corner of peace, with no thought of advancement.

But the Helmsman, based on Nan'ao, holds the whole world in his heart. This breadth of vision and bearing should truly make them hang their heads in shame."

At this thought, Zheng Zhilong rose, clasped his fists, and declared in a clear voice: "Helmsman, send me!"

Lei Sanxiang's voice was hoarse: "Brother Yiguan, this is where you're wrong..."

Then he slowly rose, head bowed, fists clenched tight, the muscles of his arms, shoulders, and neck tensed and trembling slightly—an intimidating sight.

"The Tartars killed my father and my elder brother. As long as I can kill Tartars, I'll stake my very life! This trip to Liaodong—I, Old Lei, must go!"

Zheng Zhilong knew Lei Sanxiang's temper and dared not push back, so he could only sit down.

Lei Sanxiang looked up, his large eyes fixed on Lin Qian with a pleading expression: "Helmsman, send me!"

Bailangzai clasped his fists: "Helmsman, I'm willing to go with Third Brother!"

Lin Qian smiled: "You two—one is the galleon's helmsman and navigator, the other the galleon's boatswain. No need to squabble; you were both meant to go together."

"Good!" Lei Sanxiang relaxed, then caught on and said in surprise, "Helmsman, you said the galleon—you're going too?"

Lin Qian hadn't specified which ship he was sending, and everyone assumed he meant the newly launched Yunfan.

Lin Qian had indeed considered sending the Yunfan.

But first, the Yunfan was slow, unable to keep pace with the Carrier Pigeon, wasting time for nothing.

Second, the Yunfan was only an escort vessel, with just six Siren cannons on a single broadside—insufficient firepower—and all firing solid shot, hardly effective against the high-morale Jianzhou barbarian cavalry.

The Santa Ana, with fourteen guns per broadside, was the safer choice.

The Santa Ana was fast, and with the Carrier Pigeon, which knew the route well, leading the way, the round trip would take only a month or so.

Even adding time for fighting and organizing refugees to board, it would be at most two months. Given Nan'ao Island's current stability, even if something major happened within those two months, Scholar Zhou and Zheng Zhilong could handle it.

Conveniently, Nan'ao Island was short of shipwrights right now. With the Santa Ana at sea, the craftsmen could focus on building the ten Eagle ships without letting productivity sit idle.

With the plan settled, Bailangzai and Lei Sanxiang went to make sailing preparations.

Lin Qian kept Scholar Zhou and Zheng Zhilong behind to brief them on navigation matters.

The discussion lasted until the small hours.

The next day, Lin Qian summoned Jose to the captain's cabin.

Half a month remained until the fifteenth of the fifth month—the date agreed with the fat councilman for the final delivery of galleon cargo.

After this delivery, the contract between the two parties would be fulfilled, with no further entanglements.

Of course, for future cannon purchases, the Bocarro Foundry's doors would still be wide open.

Jose entered the captain's cabin and sat down with practiced ease. As usual, Lin Qian handed him a firearms procurement list.

The list was mainly gunpowder, cannonballs, and musket shot.

Since the Santa Ana was heading to sea and couldn't be refitted in the short term, there was no need to buy cannons first.

Stockpiling ammunition as strategic reserves would suffice.

After finishing the instructions for the Macao trip,

Lin Qian took an instrument from the drawer and set it on the table: "An astrolabe—you know how to use it?"

This astrolabe had been won from a Spanish sailor in a Manila tavern gambling game.

It was meant for marking the graduations on a sextant, and after being used, it had sat gathering dust in the drawer until today, seeing the light of day again.

Jose picked up the astrolabe, fiddled with it a few times, and said, "I know how to use it, but what do you want me to do with this?"

"You're going to sea." Lin Qian smiled. "This is your route chart."

With that, Lin Qian took a map from the drawer and unfolded it, revealing a drawing of the southern coast of the Great Ming and the Indochinese Peninsula.

Again drawn from memory, hardly precise, but at least it had rough proportions and directions, so he wouldn't be blindly groping across the sea.

Lin Qian pointed at the Indochinese Peninsula: "This region is a patchwork of states—the Toungoo Dynasty, the Ayutthaya Kingdom, the Lan Xang Kingdom, the Nguyễn lords, the Mạc clan, and a host of other powers. They all share one trait: an abundance of rice. Your task on this trip is to go there and purchase rice to bring back.

Your fleet this time consists of two Fujian junks and two Sea Wolf ships. After the delivery at Macao, one Fujian junk carrying the firearms and silver will return to Nan'ao, escorted by one Sea Wolf ship, while you lead the other two vessels to buy rice..."

Currently, of Nan'ao Island's ten Sea Wolf ships,

Sea Wolf One, Sea Wolf Two, and Sea Wolf Three went to Liaodong with Bai Qing.

Sea Wolf Four and Sea Wolf Five went to Dongfan Island with Chen Jiao.

Escorting Jose this time are Sea Wolf Six and Sea Wolf Seven.

Once these two Sea Wolf ships leave, Nan'ao Island will have only the Yunfan and three Sea Wolf ships for defense—barely adequate.

Fortunately, during this period, Nan'ao Island had successively built fort batteries at Guanyu, Anyu, and Lieyu, defending Houjiang Bay, Shen'ao Harbor, and Yandun Bay respectively.

The batteries were equipped with twenty-four-pound Apostle heavy cannons of great power, greatly easing the defensive burden.

Lin Qian added: "Of course, for the silver to buy rice, just deduct it directly from the delivery payment. Your ancestors made their fortune at sea—how to buy low and sell high, how to find guides to ask the way, how to find middlemen when you make port—I shouldn't need to teach you that."

Jose flashed a mercenary smile: "I hear this region also abounds in spices, gems, rhino horn, and such. Trading those would earn far more than the rice business."

Lin Qian said: "The cargo hold must be filled with rice. As for other things, you can stow them in the sterncastle—any silver you earn there is your own."

"Right away! Don't worry, Helmsman!" Jose's spirits soared.

A few days later, the Santa Ana, the Carrier Pigeon, and Jose's fleet set sail together from Houjiang Bay.

They headed northeast and southwest respectively.

Before the row of windows in the captain's cabin, Lin Qian watched Jose's fleet and Nan'ao Island gradually vanish into the horizon where sea met sky.

By now, he had dispatched three fleets to the open sea, each tasked with a major undertaking.

Chen Jiao's fleet, composed of the Changfeng, two Sea Wolf ships, and a transport vessel, was responsible for the preliminary work of developing Dongfan Island.

Jose's fleet, composed of two Sea Wolf ships and a transport vessel, was responsible for supplying grain to Dongfan Island.

Bai Qing's fleet, composed of three Sea Wolf ships, a transport vessel, and the Santa Ana and Carrier Pigeon—which would arrive within at most half a month—was responsible for delivering settlers to Dongfan Island.

Historically, the development of Dongfan Island had taken over a century, spanning several generations.

If Lin Qian's plans went smoothly, this process would be greatly shortened—returns could be seen in as little as a year.

Lin Qian looked up at the sky; it was a clear azure blue, without a single cloud.

"May everything go smoothly."

Half a month later, the Santa Ana anchored off Guanglu Island, and Lin Qian took Bailangzai in a small boat to the island.

The temporary camp on the island had grown to considerable scale—looking from afar, the shacks and tents stretched almost endlessly.

Between the camp buildings, muddy paths had been trampled out, suggesting the people on the island had been living here for quite some time.

The guards on the island all recognized Lin Qian and did not stop him when he came ashore, instead going to report to Bai Qing.

While waiting for Bai Qing to arrive, Lin Qian carefully observed the people in the camp.

Most wore mournful expressions, their faces numb, and they barely spoke to one another—the entire camp was shrouded in a heavy, oppressive atmosphere.

A moment later, a delighted female voice came from beside Lin Qian: "Helmsman, why are you here?"

Lin Qian turned and saw Bai Qing approaching quickly, with Zhong Aqi, Shi Kai, and the other crew members following behind.

When they drew near, the crew members clasped their fists in unison: "Helmsman!"

Lin Qian noticed that the crew members also wore grave expressions, and asked: "What happened? Why does everyone look like this?"

Bai Qing sighed: "During this time, a large force of Tartar soldiers came down from the north, killing and capturing the people around Jin Prefecture... Alas! Along this stretch of coast, there's hardly a living soul left."

Lin Qian's brow furrowed almost imperceptibly as he said: "What's going on? Tell me in detail."

Seeing this, Zhong Aqi said: "Helmsman, don't stand around talking—let's go into the camp building and have a cup of water."

Lin Qian nodded in agreement, and Bai Qing's group led the way ahead.

Along the way they passed many camps of Liaodong refugees—mostly able-bodied young men, with only the occasional woman; the elderly and children were almost nowhere to be seen.

The camps were crowded, with people packed together, and the refugees' living conditions were far from good—some bore wounds that had only been hastily bandaged.

Lin Qian ordered his subordinates to have the ship's physician treat the refugees' injuries.

They walked to the middle of the camp, where there was more space and it felt less cramped. Several lengths of dead wood lay on the ground as benches, arranged around a fire pit. The fire had gone out, thin wisps of blue smoke still rising from it.

After Lin Qian and the others took their seats by the fire pit,

Bai Qing spoke up: "About half a month ago, Tartar cavalry came to the Jin Prefecture area, forcibly relocating Han Chinese. Anyone who refused was cut down on the spot, and then they burned the villages and the hills... This time the Tartars have learned their lesson—they refuse to come anywhere near the coast, so I've had no way to deal with them."

Zhong Aqi said urgently: "Helmsman, let us fight on land and slaughter those Tartars! You haven't seen what the Tartars do on shore! They cut off people's heads and stick them on wooden stakes, set up right near the coast—a pack of beasts..."

Shi Kai also clenched his fist and said: "Helmsman, I can't keep watching the Tartars kill people with my own eyes. Let us fight on land! We have firearms—the Tartars are no match for us!"

Lin Qian asked: "How many Tartar soldiers are in Jin Prefecture and Zhenjiang?"

Bai Qing thought for a moment, then said: "The Tartar defenses in both places are tight, and our ships dare not approach. But according to the people who fled from those two places, each city has about two to three hundred Tartar soldiers, plus several hundred surrendered Ming troops."

Lin Qian: "Are the people familiar with the terrain?"

"Many are natives of Jin Prefecture and Zhenjiang—born and raised there."

Geographically speaking, Jin Prefecture was what later generations would call Dalian—itself a seaport.

Zhenjiang was what later generations would call Dandong. Though it didn't border the sea, it sat near the mouth of the Yalu River, and the Santa Ana could still sail in.

Historically, it was in the seventh month of the first year of Tianqi that Mao Wenlong launched a surprise attack on Zhenjiang by boat, breaking the city from within and without, achieving the Great Victory at Zhenjiang.

Now it was late May, so Mao Wenlong should not have set sail yet.

And because of Bai Qing's raids, the Jianzhou barbarians had reinforced Jin Prefecture and Zhenjiang with additional troops. If Lin Qian did not act, it would be difficult for Mao Wenlong to achieve the Great Victory at Zhenjiang as he had in history.

Without realizing it, his little butterfly wings had already stirred the currents of history.

Lin Qian pondered for a long time, then commanded: "Tomorrow, the fleet leaves port—bring along the refugees who escaped from Zhenjiang as well! We're going to kill some Tartars!"

Several days later.

In the forests around Xianshan Fort, upstream along the Ai River, a tributary of the Yalu.

Several dozen Jianzhou barbarian cavalrymen, as if on a hunt, drove a group of Han civilians together and casually loosed arrows to shoot them down.

The civilians mostly held sickles, hoes, carrying poles, and the like—but before the Jianzhou barbarians' heavy bows and heavy arrows, these were nothing but ornaments.

Arrows mercilessly pierced through the civilians' bodies. Facing the rain of arrows from all directions, the people could only hide behind trees and dodge desperately, letting out piercing screams.

The Jianzhou barbarian cavalrymen roared with laughter. One man killed two with a single arrow, drawing loud praise from his companions.

Chen Liangce, the barbarians' adjutant, watched with furrowed brows, then reported to the leading Mobile Corps Commander: "Ezhen, these Han have been driven into a dead end. Killing more serves no purpose—there's still vast stretches of wasteland around Zhenjiang. Better to take them as aha slaves."

Tong Yangzhen, the Mobile Corps Commander of Zhenjiang, sneered contemptuously: "This mob of southern barbarians rose up in rebellion. Per the Khan's orders, not one may be spared. As for aha slaves to till the fields, we can find more—there are more Han in Liaodong than grass, and they can never be killed off."

Tong Yangzhen then looked at the adjutant beside him, his narrow slit eyes full of murderous intent: "Adjutant Chen, you're a surrendered general, and a Han at that—surely you're not distressed to see southern barbarians die?"

Chen Liangce's heart jolted with alarm, and he hurriedly tried to explain himself.

But Tong Yangzhen wouldn't listen at all. He raised his hand and shouted: "Stop!"

The surrounding cavalrymen relaxed their bowstrings. By now, most of the encircled Han were dead—even those who weren't had arrows in them and wouldn't live long.

Tong Yangzhen's voice carried a threat: "Adjutant Chen, the Khan has said that rebels among the southern barbarians are to have their heads displayed on stakes. Have your men handle it—there are still some alive. You send them on their way."

Chen Liangce's body trembled. He looked around and saw that all the Jianzhou barbarian cavalrymen were staring in his direction, arrows still nocked on their strings.

Though Chen Liangce had brought over a hundred soldiers, they were all surrendered Ming troops—low in morale, without bows or horses. If he showed the slightest hesitation, his fate would be little better than that of the rebelling civilians.

When under someone else's roof, one must lower one's head.

Chen Liangce had no choice but to set to work with his men. He dismounted and walked forward, stepping past the Han corpses lying every which way—warm blood soaking through his boots.

Chen Liangce's heart was stifled, as if a fire burned in his chest, yet he was utterly helpless. He could only draw his waist knife and cut off heads.

"Southern barbarian, don't forget to pick up the arrows!" one of the Jianzhou cavalrymen shouted loudly, and the riders around him burst into jeering laughter.

Chen Liangce said nothing, silently pulling out the arrows.

The Jianzhou barbarian cavalrymen were excellent shots—almost no arrow had struck a tree or the ground.

As he pulled the arrows out, the blood gushing from the civilians' bodies was still warm.

His soldiers gathered thick branches from the surrounding woods and stuck them into the ground, and the severed heads were impaled upon them—a scene of extraordinary bloodshed.

The Jianzhou barbarians were few in number and uncivilized—they didn't understand how to rule the people, knowing only such savage methods of intimidation.

Han civilians had a particular trait: so long as there was any path to survival, they would endure to the death; but when no path remained at all, the bloodlust in their bones would ignite, and they would become astonishingly fierce.

Thus the Jianzhou barbarians' foolish methods not only failed to work, but instead provoked the surrounding people into constant uprisings.

Zhenjiang sat on the banks of the Yalu River, facing the Yi dynasty across the water. For the Jianzhou barbarians, it was deep in their rear, making reinforcement difficult—so all pacification matters in the surrounding area were handled by Tong Yangzhen, the Mobile Corps Commander of Zhenjiang.

Tong Yangzhen was an illiterate man—cruel and stupid—who thoroughly implemented the chieftain's reign of terror. The more he suppressed, the more rebellions arose, and the heavier the civilian casualties became.

Tong Yangzhen was not only untroubled by this, but actually took pleasure in it.

Chen Liangce looked up at the sky, silently cursing Heaven for letting such beasts wreak havoc upon the world.

"What are you looking at? Keep working!"

In the span of a single dazed moment, the urging shouts of the Jianzhou barbarian cavalry rang out again.

An hour later, seventy-eight severed heads on stakes stood by the roadside, dripping with fresh blood.

Tong Yangzhen admired the sight smugly for a long while, then led the troops back, with Chen Liangce's men following dejectedly behind.

Traveling until dusk, the column reached Zhenjiang along the post road.

Though Zhenjiang was called a major city of Liaodong, that was only by comparison—it was in truth a mere military fort, its walls no more than nine li around, with four gates. The city held few civilians to begin with, and after the Jianzhou barbarians entered, there were almost none left at all.

When Military Commissioner Yuan was in charge, the garrison within the city had numbered no more than a thousand.

Now the troops within the city were even fewer—only three hundred Jianzhou barbarian soldiers and four hundred Ming defectors.

Chen Liangce's men entered the city with Tong Yangzhen, and no sooner had the gates closed than Tong Yangzhen turned around and stared at him intently.

Chen Liangce felt as though he were being watched by a wild wolf, utterly ill at ease, and could only clasp his fists and ask, "Does the ejen have further orders?"

"I have recently received the Khan's command—all southern barbarian defectors and commoners must have their hair shaved. Chen, Commander of the Center, shall we begin with you?"

(End of chapter)

Yahei

Fenyuan

Pen