Chapter 25: The Great Man

Song Xianggong's performance astonished Zhou Shixiang and made him see the man in a new light. Truly, a man of real ability never shows it — and one who shows it is no man of real ability!

It turned out that after Zhou Shixiang had ridden off toward the west gate, Song Xianggong had actually persuaded the commoners who wanted to leave the city not to go, and had organized the able-bodied young men among them to help fight the fire.

He had also called on the ward heads and elders already in the city to come forward and keep order, designated the area around the east gate as a place for those left homeless to settle temporarily, and at the same time kept proclaiming that those entering the city were the Ming imperial army, who would never disturb or harm the people.

Thus, in a short time, he had calmed the hearts of the people in the eastern part of the city. If only he had had more men at his disposal, he likely could even have rounded up the ruffians and idlers who were looting in the chaos.

This man is a talent for governance!

Although Zhao Sihai's account was somewhat jumbled and left some points unclear, Zhou Shixiang had by now roughly understood what Song Xianggong had done.

To put it in the language of later ages, Song Xianggong was doing his utmost to carry out post-disaster self-rescue work — and doing it rather impressively.

No wonder Boss Hu had always said Song Xianggong had great talent. At first Zhou Shixiang had assumed it was just flattery from an illiterate rough man out of respect for a scholar, but it turned out Song Xianggong really did have great talent.

It seemed those years as a Qing county magistrate had not been wasted. At a critical moment, a man who had handled real administrative affairs and knew how to deal with sudden emergencies was worth more than ten thousand soldiers with swords!

A man cannot be judged by his looks, nor underestimated — this "thrice-surnamed slave" has great talent!

Zhou Shixiang had by now put away the contempt he had felt for Song Xianggong's past and was thoroughly impressed. He asked Boss Hu for permission and took two men with him to go assist Song Xianggong.

Along the way, he kept seeing young men with cloth strips tied around their arms shouting at the top of their lungs:

"The Ming imperial army has entered the city and will not harm the people!"

"People, do not be afraid — every household must save itself!"

"The great army has entered the city and will not touch a single hair!"

"......"

The shouts of those young men had a great effect. Everywhere Zhou Shixiang looked along the way, the commoners who had been panicking and fleeing for their lives had mostly settled down.

They were now helping their neighbors put out fires, and where a fire truly could not be extinguished, they did their best to help the household salvage valuables and grain.

When he reached the east gate, he saw Song Xianggong surrounded by a crowd of people. Every time he said a word, someone would answer and hurry off, and before long the crowd around him had scattered in all directions.

On the open ground in front of the east gate, several hundred old people, women, and children were sitting cross-legged on the ground.

Children ran back and forth through the crowd, not in the least frightened by the night's upheaval — on the contrary, they were cheering and leaping about as joyfully as if it were New Year.

Over by the gate archway, more than a dozen iron cauldrons had already been set up. A fat old man who looked like a shopkeeper was directing a dozen or so assistants as they unloaded sack after sack of rice and flour from several mule carts.

The dozen or so women who had long been waiting there hurried to take them, then set to work in an orderly fashion — some cooking porridge, some mixing dough — busy beyond measure.

A patch of open ground right against the city wall had been set aside separately, where twenty or thirty able-bodied men were setting up tents.

The ground was piled everywhere with quilts and mats, and on some of the quilts the marks of fire were plainly visible — evidently they had been snatched from the blaze.

Several dozen wounded had been carried to the south side of the crowd of old people, women, and children. Those with family members attending them were being cared for, and two men who looked like physicians, medicine boxes on their backs, were giving them simple treatment.

Most of these wounded had been burned by the great fire, and those with severe injuries were beyond saving. All the two physicians could do was smear some rat oil or similar burn salve on the lightly burned.

Right before Zhou Shixiang's eyes, a severely burned man breathed his last. His wife and children threw themselves on his body and wept aloud, stirring up the crowd that had just settled down once more.

Zhou Shixiang could not bear to watch. As the one chiefly responsible for all this, his conscience was naturally uneasy.

He paced through the crowd to find Song Xianggong. Along the way, a dozen or more able-bodied young men with cloth strips on their arms — some holding wooden clubs, some cleavers, some carrying poles — watched him with wary eyes, their gazes sweeping over him.

Had they not seen that Zhou Shixiang and his two companions all wore swords, and had some of them not recognized Zhou Shixiang and known he was with the Ming army, they would likely have come forward long ago to stop him.

The whole scene looked chaotic, yet there was order within the chaos. Apart from the fear still lingering on the people's faces, it looked exactly like a disaster-relief scene from later ages.

When he had walked to within a dozen or so feet of Song Xianggong and was just about to call out, Zhou Shixiang saw the fat old shopkeeper-like man trot past him with a face wreathed in smiles, then bow deeply to Song Xianggong and say with great deference: "Sir Song, this humble commoner has, as you instructed, brought all the grain from my household.

The assistants have nearly finished unloading it. Might there be any further instructions, sir?"

"Much obliged, Shopkeeper Lin.

Your kindness will certainly be reported to the court by this official, and once the army has entered the city, you will by no means be troubled. However, for the moment this official has no other matters requiring your trouble.

Please take your assistants and go help fight the fire as well — every household saved is another measure of virtue gained." Song Xianggong had not noticed Zhou Shixiang's arrival.

There he stood, every inch the prefectural magistrate, his words full of official airs.

Shopkeeper Lin said tactfully: "This humble commoner dares not hope for reward from the court; I ask only that you, sir, can preserve the lives of my whole family. You are busy here, sir, and this humble commoner will not disturb you further.

I shall take my men to fight the fire now. If you have any orders for me, sir, simply send someone to say the word."

"Good, good."

Song Xianggong stroked his beard lightly and watched Shopkeeper Lin leave. Only after the man had gone did he notice Zhou Shixiang had arrived at his side.

He smiled at him and said: "This fake prefect of mine must be a laughing matter to Brother Zhou, but if I did not do this, these commoners would be hard to manage. Since ancient times, the people have feared and revered officials — whatever an official commands, they will obey.

So, in an emergency, I took the liberty of styling myself Prefect of Luoding, the better to settle the disaster victims properly."

Zhou Shixiang clasped his hands and said: "What you have done, Sir Song, is a great good. In days to come, the court will surely grant you a real post as prefect over a prefecture."

"Perhaps."

Song Xianggong smiled. If the Yongli court could appoint Hu Quan as Assistant Regional Commander of Luoding, then it could naturally make him Prefect of Luoding as well. But that was a matter for later — whether Luoding could even be held was hard to say.

"Oh, right — you have come at a good time. Brother Sihai told me you killed that Tartar battalion commander, and the remaining Tartars surrendered because of it. Where are they being held at the moment?"

"They're locked up in the county magistrate's yamen. Brother Hu is personally watching them with his men. Once the situation in the city settles down, we can discuss how to deal with them."

"That's fine. For now, fighting the fire and settling the people is the greater matter; the prisoners can wait." At this, Song Xianggong looked out over the city, his face full of worry. "After a fire like this, who knows how many will have died."

Zhou Shixiang did not know how to console him, and could only say: "What's done is done. All we can do is make every effort to repair the damage."

"Yes — make every effort to repair it."

Song Xianggong sighed. He was not a sentimental man, nor a saint. He knew regret was useless now, and that however many dead there were, the living mattered more. The urgent task was to put out the fire quickly and steady the people's hearts. Everything else could wait until dawn.