Chapter 127: Will to Live

Zhou Shixiang, gnashing his teeth and wishing he could swallow Wu Jinzhong alive and flay him raw, was at this moment in the military camp at the foot of Guifeng Mountain, gazing at the distant Yutai Temple.

On the far side of the mountain, beyond his line of sight, two hundred Qing soldiers were being led by a young monk from Yutai Temple, stealing up the mountain under cover of night.

The Buddha himself was a foreigner, so what harm is one more foreign emperor in the world?

Old Monk Qilin, consoling himself with this reasoning, had sent Wu Jinzhong a letter in which, besides roundly cursing those black-clad bandits who had seized the magpie's nest, every line was filled with the most earnest longing for the great Qing royal army to deliver the monks from their misery.

The sincerity of his words was such that any reader could not help but be moved.

In the end, Old Monk Qilin offered his greatest goodwill to the Qing soldiers—pointing out to them a little-known path up the rear of the mountain, and wishing them complete success in wiping out the bandits in one stroke.

Upon receiving the letter, Wu Jinzhong was overjoyed. Previously, because the bandits occupied the advantageous high ground, he had been unable to assault them directly and had been forced to adopt a siege.

That strategy was effective, but it would take too long. Although Li Dingguo's great army had withdrawn at the beginning of the year, there were still many Ming army remnants who had failed to retreat in time, as well as bandits hiding in the mountains around Xinhui.

The force he had brought to Guifeng Mountain this time was half of the Xinhui garrison. If he stayed too long at Guifeng Mountain, he feared trouble might break out back in Xinhui.

After all, once the siege of Xinhui was lifted, the Princes of Pingnan and Jingnan had successively withdrawn the banner troops from the city to defend Guangzhou, leaving only a small number of banner troops and part of the Green Standard to garrison Xinhui.

At present, the Xinhui garrison numbered fewer than three thousand, and now Wu Jinzhong had brought half of them to Guifeng Mountain, leaving the city's defenders even thinner.

If some reckless bandits or Ming remnants took the chance to attack the city, it would be a serious problem for the garrison.

Ming army remnants and bandits had always been another threat to Xinhui's defenses. Compared with Li Dingguo's armies of tens of thousands, the former were pitifully few and far less dangerous, and there was basically no chance of Xinhui falling to them—but their existence was still a headache.

Over the past few months, Wu Jinzhong had repeatedly sent troops out of the city to suppress the bandits and Ming remnants in the nearby mountains, and had even sent troops to Guifeng Mountain twice.

But each time the troops entered the mountains, the bandits either fled deep into the hills or scattered and hid, and few dared to stand and fight the Qing soldiers.

Some Ming remnants operated along the West River and the Tan River, and even the newly established Guangzhou naval force could do nothing about them. The rivers were so long—who knew where these remnants were hiding?

Even if they did know, by the time the naval force arrived, the remnants would have long fled.

For a hundred li along the banks there was virtually no one left, and without the village heads and tithing chiefs to pass word to the Qing army, there was no way to find any trace of these remnants.

Fortunately, Wu Jinzhong's purpose in sending troops out to suppress bandits was not to protect the region or pacify the people, and Guangzhou had not ordered him to clear the area either. So he did not need to answer to anyone above.

Sending troops out was merely to intimidate the bandits and Ming remnants, to make them keep their distance from Xinhui—and if there was some plunder to be had, so much the better. As for where the bandits hid, Regional Commander Wu did not care in the least.

In his view, these people were not even fit to be brought to the table. The government troops simply could not be bothered with them right now; if they truly wanted to wipe them out, it would be as easy as crushing ants.

The significance of Xinhui city to the Qing forces in Guangdong, and the significance of the people of Xinhui to the Qing forces in Guangdong, could not be mentioned in the same breath.

Not to mention that there were practically no civilians left in Xinhui now—even if there were, the Qing army would not care whether they suffered from banditry. As long as Xinhui was in Qing hands, Wu Jinzhong could sleep soundly.

What did the lives of the common people matter to him? Had he not already eaten his fill off the people of this city?

This time, had the Taiping Army's rear camp not suddenly appeared in Xinhui territory—and in numbers greater than both the Xinhui garrison and the surviving civilians, posing the greatest threat to Xinhui since Li Dingguo's army withdrew—Regional Commander Wu, who had been busy in the city enjoying himself with his two newly taken concubines, would never have personally led troops out to suppress them.

When the scouts first brought word, Wu Jinzhong did not believe that such a large force had appeared in Xinhui territory, because no related military intelligence had come from Zhaoqing, Luoding, or Leizhou ahead of them. Where could such a force have flown in from?

It was only after he personally led men to investigate that he was convinced the dark mass of people stretching beyond sight before him was truly heading for Xinhui.

At first, Wu Jinzhong thought Li Dingguo's army had come again, and was so frightened he nearly sent an urgent plea for help to Guangzhou. Only later did he discover that this was merely a bandit mob flying the Ming banner.

They were numerous, but most were old, weak, women, and children. The able-bodied fighting men among them looked to number less than a thousand.

Many people but few soldiers—Regional Commander Wu naturally breathed a sigh of relief. This force flying the Ming banner naturally became a fat sheep in his eyes.

As for why this force had come from Xinxing, how it had slipped past the Qing troops at Zhaoqing to get here, and what its purpose was—Regional Commander Wu cared about none of it.

He only knew he absolutely could not let this force slip away under his nose, and even less could he allow them to cause trouble for Xinxing.

The Prince of Pingnan had just recommended him to the court for the post of Governor-General of Guangdong. At such a critical juncture, Wu Jinzhong dared not make the slightest mistake.

Although he had the Prince of Pingnan's backing, Governor-General Li Shuaitai was not pleased with the prince's recommendation, and held a strong prejudice against him as a non-bannerman, believing that the Provincial Military Commander of Guangdong should be a bannerman, not a surrendered general who had once been a bandit.

To show that he was not targeting the Pingnan and Jingnan feudatories specifically, Li Shuaitai even brought up the lesson of Li Chengdong, repeatedly stressing that the Provincial Military Commander of Guangdong must never be a surrendered general of bandit origin.

Even if not a bannerman, the post should go to a Green Standard general of Ming army origin—that, he said, was the prudent course.

Hearing these rumors, Wu Jinzhong was naturally furious: How can that traitor Li Chengdong compare to me! I am utterly loyal to the Great Qing! I am utterly loyal to the Great Qing!

Furious as he was, Wu Jinzhong could do nothing about this imperial-relative Governor-General.

Fortunately, both the Prince of Pingnan and the Prince of Jingnan were dissatisfied with Li Shuaitai, and the Prince of Jingnan had even agreed to join the Prince of Pingnan in recommending Wu Jinzhong for the post of Provincial Military Commander of Guangdong.

So Wu Jinzhong was not worried that Li Shuaitai could ruin his prospects. With two princes jointly recommending him, even if the court thought little of Wu Jinzhong, it would still have to give the two feudatory princes some face.

Before the imperial edict promoting him to Provincial Military Commander of Guangdong arrived, Wu Jinzhong had to quickly deal with this force of over ten thousand that had appeared in Xinhui territory, lest the Governor-General's office use it against him and add needless variables to his future.

But he had not expected this force to be so hard to fight. Even under heavy encirclement, they had still broken through to the mountains and seized the advantageous terrain around Yutai Temple, holding the high ground and inflicting considerable casualties on the Qing troops.

Left with no choice, Wu Jinzhong could only adopt a siege, hoping to settle the battle with time.

Then, just as he was dozing off, someone handed him a pillow—the path pointed out by Monk Qilin instantly showed Wu Jinzhong the possibility of ending the stalemate and wiping out the bandits in one stroke.

The night was already deep, yet Wu Jinzhong still stood before his tent in full armor. Behind him, a group of officers and personal guards stood fully armed, their expressions solemn as they gazed at the mountain.

In the camps all around, no one slept either. Han Banners and Green Standard soldiers were donning armor and wiping down weapons. Every preparation was made in wait for the signal from the mountain.

To deceive the Taiping Army on the mountain, Wu Jinzhong had issued strict orders forbidding any noise in camp and forbidding anyone from moving about.

Except for the routine patrols, everyone else was to remain in their tents and wait, thereby concealing the signs that the entire army was preparing to attack.

The Qing army's deception was highly successful. The Taiping Army on the mountain did not notice anything amiss in the Qing camp.

Apart from the sentries, most people had already drifted into sleep. The Qing army had not attacked for several days in a row, which had put the camp's old and young somewhat at ease; all assumed the Qing army would not attack tonight either.

Yutai Temple was neither large nor small, but with several thousand people suddenly crammed into it, it was clearly overcrowded. The guest quarters normally used by pilgrims were packed with women and children.

The elderly stayed in the various Buddha halls. The Great Hero Hall, besides holding the temple's hundred-odd monks, also housed three or four hundred of the old and weak.

It was tolerable during the day, but at night people slept pressed against one another, heads at others' feet. The smell in the hall was enough to make one retch.

Old Monk Qilin could least stand the stench, but he could only endure it, praying for the Qing soldiers to hurry up the mountain and send all these accursed bandits and unruly commoners to hell.

The bodies of camp members killed by the Qing army in the previous days lay at the foot of the mountain, but by now the Qing troops had buried them. Otherwise, under the blazing sun, disease would surely have broken out.

The Qing soldiers were human too; if an epidemic started, they would catch it as well. So whether willing or not, they had to collect the dead.

During the retreat to Yutai Temple, Zhao Sihai had led men to rescue some of the wounded camp members, but the bodies could not be recovered. In resisting the Qing attacks on the mountain, several hundred more men had been killed or wounded.

The dead were carried off and buried, but the living suffered terribly. In the Hall of Heavenly Kings, which had been turned into a temporary ward for the wounded, the air was filled with wailing.

Anyone who heard those cries felt their heart break—and with the heartbreak came fear, fear that they could not hold out until reinforcements arrived.

Zhao Sihai had once been determined to put all the wounded to death, to keep them from shaking morale. But Song Xianggong firmly refused.

He said: We are already at the end of our rope, and everyone in the camp knows the situation. Right now we are all holding together, clinging to a one-in-ten-thousand hope of outlasting the Qing army.

If you put the wounded to death now, what will the rest think? What did Battalion Commander Zhou promise them that day?

If you do this, we won't need the Qing army to attack—we'll destroy ourselves.

Remembering Zhou Shixiang's promise to the soldiers and the old and weak who joined the camp—"If you are wounded, we will treat you; if you die, we will bury you"—Zhao Sihai abandoned that mad idea. For days on end, Zhao Sihai had held the front line.

By now his eyes were bloodshot from exhaustion, yet he dared not relax for a moment.

Others could go sleep, but he could not, because he knew that he, a probationary centurion, was now not only the support of his soldiers, the security team, and the storehouse troops, but also the support of the old, weak, women, and children.

If he could not hold on, then no one could.

That they had held Yutai Temple until now was not because the camp soldiers were especially brave, but because everyone was united, because of that stubborn will not to die. If that will were gone, not one person on this mountain would remain.

Ah, where has the battalion commander gotten to by now?

Truly exhausted, Zhao Sihai gently untied his saber and laid it across his legs, then leaned back against a stone tablet and closed his eyes. He was utterly spent.

Down below, the mountain was still pitch black. In the distance, the campfires of the Qing camp could be seen burning.