Chapter 328: The Literary and Artistic Workers of Great Xia

The crowd acknowledged and was about to leave the table when Lin Qian called them back: "Time is limited — we need to start preparing from this very moment. None of you are sleeping tonight. Director Shen, Director Lu, the two of you go find us a tanner, a carpenter, a blacksmith, a woodblock carver, and a paperhanger."

"Yes, sir." The two directors acknowledged, though they did not understand what Lin Qian intended to do.

Lin Qian thought for a moment, then added: "Geng Wu, go find someone who sings little ditties."

"Yes, sir! Huh?" Geng Wu froze.

Lin Qian urged: "Go quickly — find the best one in Guangzhou city. Someone who truly understands music and has real skill, not someone who sells their flesh."

Geng Wu acknowledged and headed out the door. He was already a married man and had never set foot in Guangzhou's pleasure quarters. As for who was the finest songstress in the city, he truly had no idea, so he simply called over one of his subordinates to ask.

The subordinate's expression turned odd: "Guard Commander, you don't even know that? It's got to be Xiao Qiao, Zhang Liren!"

Geng Wu frowned slightly: "What sort of name is that — is this person surnamed Qiao or surnamed Zhang? Do they actually have any talent?"

The subordinate cracked a knowing smile — the kind men share among themselves.

Geng Wu added: "I'm asking about skill at singing, not skill at serving men."

The subordinate laughed: "Rest assured, Guard Commander — Zhang Liren's artistry is unmatched in all of Lingnan, and her conduct is pure and noble. She sells her art, never her body."

"Huh." Geng Wu let out a light laugh, mimicking the King. "Sells her art, never her body? That just means the price wasn't high enough. Forget it — her it is. Go fetch her." The subordinate's face twisted in difficulty: "Zhang Liren never comes to private residences, and at this hour…"

Geng Wu cursed: "A songstress, and she dares keep such airs? Go fetch her!"

Around the fourth watch of the night, at the Tianxiang Tower on Haopan Street, Zhang Qiao sat in her room conversing late into the night with her confidant Peng Mengyang.

Though the two shared the same chamber, a curtain hung between them, and their talk touched only on poetry and current affairs — nothing improper.

Peng Mengyang said: "Qiaojing (Zhang Qiao's courtesy name), I've already passed the county and prefectural examinations. Once I pass the academy examination, I'll hold the xiucai degree.

I may not be able to sit for the provincial examination, but the examiner said that in Great Xia, holding a xiucai degree qualifies one for official service. They judge by merit, not by birth. Once I become an official, I will surely come to redeem you!"

A sweet smile curled at the corners of Zhang Qiao's lips, but she still advised him: "In Great Xia, officials are judged above all by integrity. Rizhen (Peng Mengyang's courtesy name), if you enter official service, you must keep the welfare of the people at heart. Do not let matters of the heart make you lose sight of what truly matters."

Peng Mengyang nodded: "I understand."

Just then, from outside the tower came the sound of a small copper gong struck in a pattern of one slow beat followed by three quick ones.

"Mind the rooftiles, beware of fire! The fourth watch grows cold — shut your doors and windows!"

"Ah, it's already the fourth watch." Zhang Qiao said with some regret.

Peng Mengyang rose: "It's late. I should be going."

Guangzhou under Great Xia's rule had abolished the curfew, so Peng Mengyang was free to leave at this hour.

"Go slowly, Rizhen." Zhang Qiao walked to the door to see him off.

Just then, a burst of hurried footsteps sounded below the Tianxiang Tower: "Is Miss Zhang in? Our master requests her presence."

The madam put on a fawning smile: "Oh dear, what a pity — Xiao Qiao has a guest at the moment. Gentlemen…"

"Clatter!" The sound of something heavy hitting the floor suddenly came from below.

Even from the sound alone, one could tell it was a full sack of silver dollars.

The madam's attitude changed at once, and she smiled obsequiously: "One moment, one moment — I'll go call her right away."

"Hurry it up!" The voice urged.

"Coming!" The madam acknowledged, her footsteps quickening considerably.

A moment later, she pushed open Zhang Qiao's door. Seeing Peng Mengyang there as well, she first offered a polite greeting, then urged Zhang Qiao to come out and receive her guests. Zhang Qiao said with displeasure: "Mother, you know I don't attend vulgar engagements."

The madam said urgently: "Oh dear, my little ancestor! These people are different — they're carrying weapons!"

Peng Mengyang stepped forward, shielding Zhang Qiao behind him: "These people are of unknown origin. Sending Qiaojing to their residence at this hour — isn't that pushing her into a pit of fire? No!"

The madam was nearly in tears, bowing repeatedly with clasped hands: "Young Master Peng, Master Peng, just go take a look — one look and you'll understand! Every one of these men carries a rifle on his back, reeking of murderous intent. I truly cannot afford to offend them!"

Peng Mengyang said angrily: "I refuse to believe it — under Great Xia's rule, in this bright and open world, would someone dare to seize a woman by force?"

"Hurry up! Bring the zithers, the pipas, everything — our master is still waiting!" A shout came from below.

The madam said with a mournful face: "You heard that — they want musical instruments. This is a refined gathering."

That was self-deception, and Zhang Qiao said resolutely: "I'll go."

"Thank heaven and earth, thank heaven and earth!" The madam looked as if she had received a pardon.

Peng Mengyang wanted to dissuade her, but seeing the firm resolve in Zhang Qiao's eyes, he swallowed his words.

Without bothering to dress up or apply makeup, Zhang Qiao went straight downstairs. Sure enough, standing in the main hall was a military officer in a dark crow-blue uniform. He made no untoward move whatsoever — merely standing there was enough to silence the other songstresses and patrons into fearful stillness.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the other soldiers standing motionless outside the building — evidently unwilling to disturb the people more than necessary, so they did not enter.

But the more these soldiers stood like wooden figures, the more chilling they were to behold.

Seeing Zhang Qiao appear, the officer looked her over, then said: "Where are the instruments?"

Zhang Qiao had a maidservant bring out a guzheng.

The officer said: "Not enough. Bring everything you know how to play!"

The madam said: "But we don't have that many hands…"

"Two men, in here!" The officer called out, and immediately two soldiers rushed in.

The madam said hastily: "We'll bring them, we'll bring them all!"

Half an hour later, a musical troupe wound through the streets and alleys until they reached the gates of the General Staff Headquarters. The maidservant who had come along went weak in the legs at the sight. The officer said to Zhang Qiao: "Go in."

Zhang Qiao's face had also gone pale with fright. Clutching the hairpin in her hand tightly, she entered, following behind the soldiers as they turned left and right, until they stopped before a meeting room.

The soldier said: "Guard Commander, the songstress has been brought."

A moment later, a dignified voice came from within: "Enter."

By now Zhang Qiao's tension had reached its peak. She had been gripping the hairpin so hard that it had cut into her wrist, yet she felt nothing.

Upon entering, she first caught a remarkably crisp, clean fragrance, then saw the room blazing with lamplight, crowded with people everywhere, and tables covered with all manner of implements.

There were ropes, cowhide, needles and thread, iron frames, wooden blocks, and more.

At the far end, a man held a spherical object and said: "This won't do — too small, and too soft. This is a football, something to be kicked, understand? Like cuju. Make it again, and think of a way to do better."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"Your Majesty?"

Zhang Qiao saw the scene inside the meeting room, and most of her original nervousness faded—but the moment she heard the address "Your Majesty," her heart leapt back into her throat.

Lin Qian saw Zhang Qiao enter and rubbed his brow, saying, "Find a place to sit. Don't sit so far away—come sit closer."

Zhang Qiao approached nervously.

Lin Qian said, "I called you here because I need your help writing a few military songs. Do you know what a military song is?"

Zhang Qiao was stunned for a moment, then said cautiously, "This humble woman has heard General Qi's 'Song of Triumph.'"

Lin Qian said, "Yes, exactly that kind. Do you know any others?"

Zhang Qiao nodded: "I also know the 'Thirteen Pieces of the Great Ming Brass and Drum Songs,' the 'Song of Beacon Fires,' and several 'Ballads of the Border Troops.'" Lin Qian said, "Sing them all for me to hear."

Zhang Qiao took a pipa from her maidservant, and while doing so, quietly tucked the hairpin back into her hair. She turned the tuning pegs and plucked the strings, her vermilion lips parting softly: "Ten thousand hearts as one, even Mount Tai can be shaken... Slay every Japanese pirate, and seek a noble title."

This was Qi Jiguang's "Song of Triumph"—the very song Chen Liangce had sung in the ezen's mansion at Zhenjiang City before he perished together with Amin.

Zhang Qiao's voice was mellifluous, accompanied by the pipa. She not only sang out the killing intent but also wove in a thread of sorrow and melancholy.

Lin Qian shook his head and said, "This song won't do. Too flowery and refined, and the values are too outdated."

"Yes." Zhang Qiao could only comply, and then, at Lin Qian's gesture, sang all the remaining songs.

"No good. None of them work," Lin Qian said, shaking his head. "These are either too vulgar—crude little ditties—or too refined—songs praising the merits of princes, marquises, generals, and ministers.

The melodies are also too ornate and strange, lacking a bright, clanging resonance. The vocal range jumps high and low, making them impossible for the tone-deaf to sing. And the rhythm is weak too—a military song's rhythm should match the stride of marching as closely as possible. Do you understand rhythm?"

Zhang Qiao was stunned speechless. She slowly shook her head. She had studied the arts since childhood and had always been at the very top in music, song, and dance. After making her debut, she was renowned as the finest in both talent and beauty—number one in all of Lingnan.

She had always been either lavishly praised for her songs and dances, or sanctimoniously condemned for corrupting public morals—never once had she been dismissed within her own professional domain.

Now, being refuted by Lin Qian on all counts and challenged with a barrage of incomprehensible terms, Zhang Qiao felt a surge of grievance well up in her heart.

Lin Qian made up his mind and said, "Enough. I'm going all out today. Do you know how to write musical notation?"

Zhang Qiao nodded.

Lin Qian said, "Then listen carefully—I'll only sing it once: 'There's a truth that needs no telling—when you're a soldier, you go to the battlefield. Good steel should be forged into sharp swords; a soldier should fight hard battles...'"

Lin Qian's singing ability was mediocre at best, hovering right on the edge of going off-key. Because of the influence of a television drama, he could remember the first half of this song, but the second half's lyrics were mostly forgotten—he could only hum the general melody. In some places he even forgot the tune itself and could only muddle through vaguely.

This was exactly why he needed Zhang Qiao—she would have to fill in the missing parts and adapt the songs for Ming Dynasty localization.

By the time Lin Qian finished singing, all the high-ranking military officers in the room had stopped what they were doing. None of them had ever heard Lin Qian sing before, and they all found themselves in the awkward position of wanting to laugh but not daring to.

Seeing this, Lin Qian threatened, "Once these military songs are written, none of you are getting away—you'll all have to sing them together!"

Zhang Qiao furrowed her delicate brows slightly, picked up the pipa, and casually plucked the strings. Then, astonishingly, she played the tune back with precision—even the places where Lin Qian had gone off-key or forgotten the melody, she filled in according to musical theory.

Lin Qian praised, "Incredible! That's exactly the tune!"

Zhang Qiao smiled and said, "Your Majesty flatters me." She then asked for paper and brush and wrote down the melody.

Lin Qian's spirits lifted, and he continued, "Good, next one: 'It was a clear morning...'"

"And the next one: 'In the vast sea of humanity, which one am I? Amidst the surging waves...'"

"And this one too: 'Forward, forward, forward...'"

The more Zhang Qiao heard, the more proficient she became. She praised, "These tunes Your Majesty has composed have a unique style—all in triple meter, catchy and easy to remember, far better than ordinary military songs. Truly, Your Majesty is a man of great talent."

"Oh right, and this song too: 'A great river with wide, gentle waves—the wind blows the fragrance of rice flowers across both banks...'"

After hearing it, Zhang Qiao praised from the bottom of her heart: "How beautiful! That great river is the Pearl River! Isn't this singing about my hometown?

This song uses a different meter from the previous ones, yet it all blends together seamlessly.

Though these songs use plain, colloquial language and are somewhat simple, they all strike straight into people's hearts. The person who wrote them is truly remarkable.

No wonder Your Majesty, born a tenant farmer, could conquer half the realm—this kind of talent can never be learned from rote study."

After finishing singing, Lin Qian took a sip of tea to moisten his throat, then said, "You'll stay here tonight to organize the sheet music—fix and supplement the parts I missed or phrased poorly.

Tomorrow someone will take you to the military camp. Find a few soldiers with good voices and teach them these songs. Then your task will be complete."

"Yes." Zhang Qiao replied, then set to work on the sheet music.

During this time, the other craftsmen kept presenting the items they had made.

Your Majesty's names for those things were all strange and varied—footballs, basketballs, military chess, playing cards, and so on—all things she had never heard of before. The football, for instance, was a sphere with a pig's bladder as the inner bladder, cowhide on the outside, and fish-glue smeared over the seams.

After receiving it, Your Majesty patted it, and only when he saw the football bounce up high did he nod in satisfaction.

As for the military chess's "army commander" and "division commander," or the A, J, Q, K on the playing cards, she understood none of it—she could only vaguely tell that these were things for people to play with.

While directing the craftsmen in their work, Lin Qian would occasionally recall a few more military songs and have Zhang Qiao transcribe them.

In her view, Your Majesty could compose a new song in less than an hour, all while multitasking—as naturally as eating or drinking. Even if Liu Yong were reborn, he couldn't match this!

Soon they worked all the way until dawn. Birdsong sounded outside the window, and everyone including Zhang Qiao looked utterly drained of energy—except Your Majesty, who still appeared vigorous and spirited, showing not the slightest sign of fatigue.

Lin Qian clapped his hands and said, "Good! Let me summarize tonight's results. We've settled on fifteen types of activities in total, and military songs—how many in total?" Zhang Qiao snapped to attention and quickly said, "Nine in total."

Lin Qian said, "Exactly so. We don't have much time—over these three days, all kinds of equipment must be produced in greater quantities. Miss Zhang, I'll trouble you to teach more soldiers to sing over the next few days. Don't worry—compensation won't be a problem."

Zhang Qiao quickly rose and bowed solemnly, saying, "Your Majesty speaks too gravely. For this humble woman to share the court's burdens is the greatest honor—how could I speak of compensation?" Lin Qian smiled and said, "Sharing burdens is one thing, compensation is another. Great Xia has no rule of making people work for nothing. It's morning now—everyone, return to your duties."

"Yes!" Everyone answered in unison and filed out of the meeting room.

Zhang Qiao walked to the entrance of the compound and saw the officer who had brought her standing at the gate. He said to her, "Not a single word of what you saw and heard tonight may be spoken to anyone outside. Understood?"

In truth, the secrecy level of what Zhang Qiao was doing was not particularly high—after all, military songs were meant to be sung publicly—and Lin Qian's plan to personally go to the front lines had never been revealed.

Moreover, since Zhang Qiao was working for the military, she would naturally be under strict protection these few days and would have no contact with the outside world.

But a word of caution never hurt.

Zhang Qiao said solemnly, "This humble woman understands."

As she left the General Staff headquarters, she turned back for a look, feeling as though everything was like a dream.

She thought of how she, a singing girl, was for the first time not serving others with her talent and beauty, but instead contributing to matters of state and military through her musical knowledge—she felt her whole body fill with strength. She walked two steps, then stopped, turned back to find the officer, and said, "General, Your Majesty asked this humble woman to teach soldiers to sing. I can set out right now." The officer said, "Very well." He then led Zhang Qiao to the military camp in the city.

Unfortunately, the army was full of rough men—not only could none of them read sheet music, but none possessed Zhang Qiao's ability to memorize a song after hearing it once.

Zhang Qiao patiently taught them over and over. Lin Qian's personal guards followed behind her, and the soldiers were bound by military discipline—none dared to be presumptuous toward her, and they even deliberately kept their voices low when speaking.

Zhang Qiao was used to people coveting her looks and subjecting her to cold remarks, so being treated with warmth instead made her feel great fondness for these soldiers. After a day together, the soldiers hadn't learned many songs, but the atmosphere between them and Zhang Qiao had become extremely harmonious.

At dusk, Zhang Qiao returned from the military camp looking exhausted.

Peng Mengyang had been anxiously waiting at the entrance of Tianxiang Tower. Seeing Zhang Qiao's distracted spirit, stiff back, and dark circles under her eyes—as if she hadn't slept all night—he couldn't help but let his imagination run wild. Feeling both distressed and angry, he stepped forward and asked carefully, "Qiao... are you... are you alright?"

Zhang Qiao gave a weary smile: "I'm perfectly fine, just a bit tired. I can't accompany you today, young master—I need to go back to my room and rest..." "Young master? You called me young master?" Peng Mengyang's heart trembled, and then his voice shook as he asked, "What happened to your voice? Why, why is it so hoarse? What exactly happened?"

Zhang Qiao hadn't slept all night, and today she had been singing military songs all day—naturally her voice was a bit hoarse.

In her profession, one cherished one's voice and appearance above all. She had never been in such a sorry state before, but today she had witnessed a different way of living, and compared to that, her voice and looks didn't seem so important anymore.

She wanted to share everything she had seen and heard over the past day and night with her confidant, to share her excitement.

But then she remembered the officer's warning—she was now someone working for the Great Xia court. How could she leak secrets?

So she could only playfully joke: "No comment." Then she returned to her room with her maidservant and fell into a deep sleep.

She needed to conserve her energy—tomorrow she still had to teach the soldiers to sing! The King had said that singing military songs was no trivial entertainment, but a means of maintaining the army's combat effectiveness and morale.

The King had also used a term—"cultural worker"—someone who spread truth, goodness, and beauty, bore social responsibility, and made real contributions to Great Xia! She so wanted to be a cultural worker!

Meanwhile, downstairs at Tianxiang Tower, Peng Mengyang stood amid the flowing crowd as a line of clear tears slid down his face, crashing to the ground and shattering. Over the following two days, the entire city of Guangzhou mobilized, rapidly producing footballs, military chess sets, playing cards, and other equipment.

At the same time, Lin Qian sent people to visit soldiers' families, asking them to write letters to the soldiers at the front. Those who couldn't write didn't matter—the soldiers who came to their doors would write on their behalf. Zhang Qiao also rose early and worked late every day, going to the camp to sing, leaving full of energy each morning and returning exhausted each night.

The madam was making money hand over fist, and having been threatened by the personal guards, she dared not obstruct in the slightest—and she kept tight-lipped about Zhang Qiao's whereabouts.

But after all, there were only three days—time was too short. The craftsmen of Guangzhou city worked day and night without rest, yet only managed to produce five hundred footballs and over a thousand sets of chess and cards. Fortunately, the hawsers for tug-of-war were readily available—they simply requisitioned a thousand ropes directly from the Navy Department.

As for the military songs that Lin Qian valued most, the soldiers had only learned two or three.

Although Zhang Qiao had taught with dedication, most of the soldiers had never attended school, so naturally they learned slowly.

Moreover, being able to remember the lyrics and roar them out was one thing; being able to remember the melody and teach it to others was quite another.

To ensure there were no errors or omissions in the teaching process—so that "Unity is Strength" didn't get sung as "Unity is Your Mother"—they had to practice with meticulous care.

There were nine military songs in total. Even a modern army couldn't finish learning them all in three days.

Not to mention songs like "A Great River with Wide Waves," which sounded simple but was extremely difficult to sing.

On the evening of the third day, Zhang Qiao finished her teaching and was packing up her pipa to return to Tianxiang Tower when the personal guard officer responsible for her protection said, "Miss Zhang, you need not come tomorrow."

Because early the next morning, Lin Qian would be marching north. Only once these games and military songs had been tested by the soldiers at the front lines would a decision be made on whether to continue production.

But there was no need to explain this reasoning to Zhang Qiao.

Zhang Qiao's heart panicked. A thousand words surged within her, but all she could utter was a single: "Yes."

The officer took out a packet of silver yuan from his bosom and handed it to Zhang Qiao: "This is your payment for these past few days."

"The payment has already been given... to the madam..." Zhang Qiao suddenly felt the word "madam" hard to say.

The officer said, "Take it. This is an extra reward. Rent a house—no need to return to Tianxiang Tower. You have been redeemed."

Zhang Qiao's whole body stiffened: "What did you say?"

The officer repeated himself, without saying whose order it was, because there was no need for her gratitude. The silver to redeem her was an astronomical sum to an ordinary person, but to the Great Xia army, the application process didn't even reach Minister Song Danchu.

For the Great Xia army, having a singing girl frequently entering and leaving the military camp ultimately didn't look good. Better to spend a bit of money to buy peace in public opinion.

The officer continued: "This reward money will sustain you for some time. Do not leave the city for the next month or two, in case the army has need of you."

After all, if the military songs received a good response, they would still need to continue practicing.

Zhang Qiao was clever. Though the officer didn't say it, she had already guessed the reason. After thinking it over, she said resolutely, "Please convey to the general that I, a common woman, am willing to go along and entertain the troops."

The officer said, "Truly?"

To an ordinary woman, a military camp was a den of dragons and a pit of tigers—something to avoid at all costs. Even the Great Xia army's camp had no woman daring to enter. Zhang Qiao nodded resolutely.

That evening, the matter was reported to Lin Qian. Lin Qian thought it over and said to Ranqiu, "Let Miss Zhang share quarters with you and Young Doctor Su." Early the next morning, Lin Qian's contingent formally set out northward—a force of roughly five hundred, mostly soldiers transporting supplies, aside from the escorting officers.

The contingent boarded twenty Cangshan ships, departing from Guangzhou docks along the Pearl River. They first traveled west, then turned north once they reached the North River.

A few days later they passed Qingyuan and Shaoguan, arriving at Nanxiong. Along the way, merchants and travelers gathered in droves, with rice paddies and sugarcane fields interwoven and orchards densely spread.

In the height of summer, the river was full of small boats selling fruit. Lychees, longans, bananas, pineapples, and all manner of fruits came one after another—they ate without stopping, as if on a pleasure tour of the mountains and waters.

When they reached Nanxiong, the party disembarked and switched to mules and horses, crossing the Meiling Ancient Road together with a large baggage train, then proceeding to Nankang, where they boarded ships again on the Zhang River.

Luo Dagu received word and led his fleet out to personally welcome them.

The fleet sailed downstream. When passing Ganzhou city, Lin Qian looked up and gazed at it—after a year of siege, the city walls were almost completely intact. He couldn't help but marvel at the power of glutinous rice mortar, and casually asked about how the city had been taken.

When the city fell, Luo Dagu had been right there on the Gan River. He recounted the story with relish, his brows dancing with animation.

When Lin Qian heard that many Ming soldiers had taken the opportunity to loot during the fall of the city, he asked, "How many civilians died?"

"Over three hundred died, and more than eight hundred households were plundered. The great households in the city suffered the worst fate of all.

According to the prisoners, the Ming army first went after the great households, then lost control and went after the wealthy families, and in the end they grabbed whatever they saw. Fortunately, Commander Lei entered the city in time—if he'd been any later, there's no counting how many more would have died."

Zheng Zhilong said to Bailangzai, who was traveling with him, "You always said the King Who Levels the Realm was right to rob the great households. Now you see—if you let an army loot freely, sooner or later they'll end up robbing the common folk."

Bailangzai refused to accept this and asked, "Surely there are some righteous rebel armies?"

Luo Dagu picked up the thread: "There actually are. I've heard that Gao Yingxiang, the Dashing King of Shanxi, commands an army with strict discipline that doesn't harm the people in the slightest, and is much beloved by them." Bailangzai pressed further: "Among the King Who Levels the Realm's men in Jiangxi, are there no good people?"

Luo Dagu laughed scornfully: "Not a single one. They're all deserving of a thousand deaths. You'll understand once you see the miserable state of Ji'an Prefecture." Lin Qian asked again, "Was the chief culprit behind the looting of Ganzhou captured?"

"Yang Dezheng was caught and executed," Luo Dagu said. "Yao Xi, the Guard Commander of Ganzhou Guard, was as cunning as could be. When he saw the looting spiraling out of control, he ordered all the city gates opened to let our army in, then slipped away amid the chaos with his household retainers.

But there's good news too—that bastard is now surrounded inside Nanchang city. Once we breach those walls, we'll settle old scores and new grievances together."

Yahei

Fenyuan

The steel pen.