Chapter 64: Ghosts of the Qing

After gaining control of the crowd on the official road, Zhou Shixiang immediately ordered Ge Wu to lead men in hunting down those who had fled into the woods on both sides.

After roughly half a watch, except for a few who managed to escape under cover of darkness, this party that had left the city was completely brought under control, numbering several hundred people at a rough estimate.

The men were ordered to squat on the ground, while the women and children were herded to another spot, flanked on both sides by Taiping Camp soldiers holding torches.

Faced with the Ming army's great blades and long spears and the corpses on the ground, the crowd shivered with cold dread, and no one dared speak.

In their line of sight, soldiers kept tossing bundles full of valuables they had picked up in the woods onto the ground, many of the bundles still stained with dark red blood.

One cart after another loaded with goods was led to the rear by soldiers, while Zhou Shixiang held a torch in one hand and carefully studied the list in the other. Each time he read out a name, a masked man beside him quietly explained something to him.

Once the carts had all been taken to the rear, Zhou Shixiang walked over to the group of men squatting on the ground, glanced at the list in his hand, and then called out in a raised voice: "Who is Zheng Longfa?"

A stir ran through the crowd, but no one answered.

Zhou Shixiang frowned and called again: "Zheng Longfa, come out on your own. Do not make this general send men to drag you out!"

After a moment of silence, a fat man in silk clothes rose from the ground, then tremblingly squeezed his way out of the crowd. He came before Zhou Shixiang, bowed slightly, and said with the utmost caution: "General, I am Zheng Longfa."

Zhou Shixiang waved the torch before his eyes. Feeling the heat of the flame, Zheng Longfa hurriedly turned his face away.

When he turned back, he heard the man before him ask: "In the sixth year of Yongli, when you served as the Prefectural Judge of Nanxiong Prefecture, did you not bind the Prefect and open the city gates to surrender to the Qing army?"

At these words, Zheng Longfa instantly shuddered, and like a mouse that has seen a cat, he leapt up, pointed at the sky, and cried out: "Absolutely not! I never did such a thing!"

Zhou Shixiang gave a cold snort and stared at him icily: "You say there was no such thing, so why do others say you did it?"

Zheng Longfa, stared at until he felt utterly guilty, nevertheless cursed: "Which death-deserving wretch is spewing filth to slander me! I, Zheng Longfa, was a Ming subject in life and shall be a Ming ghost in death.

How could I ever have done such a thing as opening the gates to surrender! General, you must not heed the slander of petty men..."

"Shut your noise!"

Seeing that this fellow actually dared to keep up his stubborn denials, and with that blatant queue making Zhou Shixiang's anger flare — how dare you still call yourself a Ming subject, a Ming ghost — he flew into a rage and roared: "Were you, Zheng Longfa, among those who went out of the city to surrender to the Qing army?

Say only yes or no. Utter one word more, and this general will finish you on the spot!"

"I..."

Zheng Longfa's heart turned bitter. He knew he stood at the gates of the underworld.

He dared not say yes, yet dared not say anything more either. He trembled there, cold sweat pouring from him.

When he saw the Ming general before him growing impatient, he could hold back no longer, gritted his teeth, and said: "It is true that I went out of the city that day, but I was forced to go. If I had not gone, those people would have killed me..."

Before he could finish, Zhou Shixiang's hand had already swept down: "Drag him off and behead him!"

"Yes, sir!"

At once two soldiers rushed forward, dragged the stunned Zheng Longfa to one side, and then, as he cried out "Injustice!" at the top of his lungs, cut his head off with one stroke.

"Whoosh!"

When Zheng Longfa's head hit the ground, a collective gasp burst from the squatting crowd.

Those in front were so frightened they scrambled backward, and among them several felt as though a thousand drums were pounding in their chests, their hands clawing desperately at the ground, their fingernails snapping off without their even noticing.

Before the crowd had recovered from the shock of Zheng Longfa's death, Zhou Shixiang had already called out the second name.

"Li Qingshui!"

This time no one came forward. Fortunately, Zhou Shixiang had prepared for this. He glanced at the masked man, who at once took up a torch and walked toward the crowd. In no time he had pointed out a middle-aged man whose face had gone utterly bloodless with terror.

"General, spare me! General, spare me!"

As Li Qingshui was dragged out, he begged for his life without pause.

Zhou Shixiang cut him off and simply asked: "In the second year of Yongli, when you served as County Magistrate of Zengcheng, did you not secretly report to the Qing army the whereabouts of Grand Guardian of the Heir Apparent and Grand Academician of the Hall of Martial Valor, Lord Zhang Jiayu, of our Great Ming?"

This time Li Qingshui did not cry out. His mouth stayed tightly shut, but beads of sweat seeped from his forehead, and his eyes were filled with extreme terror.

"Won't talk? Not talking means death all the same!"

Zhou Shixiang said no more. With a wave of his hand, Li Qingshui was at once dragged over beside Zheng Longfa's corpse. By the time he wanted to speak, his head had already fallen.

"Wang Shiyun!"

Zhou Shixiang called the third name. Again no one came out, and again the man was pointed out.

As Wang Shiyun was being dragged out, just as Zhou Shixiang was about to speak, someone in the crowd of women not far away began cursing: "Wang Shiyun, you death-deserving wretch, so your day has come too!

Soldier lord, you must not let this death-deserving wretch off easy — you must have him cut to pieces by a thousand blades!"

Wang Shiyun was already terrified beyond measure, and after hearing his own servant's wife cursing him, his legs shook even more violently, and cold air rushed up his throat.

Zhou Shixiang signaled the soldiers to silence the woman, then said to Wang Shiyun: "In the seventh year of Yongli, did you not donate twelve thousand taels of military funds to the Qing Regional Commander of Zhaoqing?"

"That did happen."

Wang Shiyun did not conceal it. He reckoned that he had neither opened any city gates to surrender nor harmed any Ming officials.

At most he had answered the government's call and contributed some silver, which hardly warranted the death penalty. But what he never expected was that the moment he answered, the young Ming general before him swept his hand down: "Behead him!"

"......"

One after another, men — some fat-headed and big-eared, some righteous-looking, some reeking of money — were dragged out and had their heads chopped off. The heads on the ground now numbered seven or eight.

With so many beheaded, the crowd was actually less fearful than before, for they could plainly see that the Ming army was only taking revenge on those who had betrayed the Great Ming, and seemed to have no intention of making trouble for ordinary people.

The relatives of those executed even secretly breathed sighs of relief. Every wrong has its culprit, every debt its debtor; now that the men were dead, surely there would be no collective punishment for them.

So they thought, and the servants and household retainers felt even more certain that the blade would not fall on them.

Waiting to die is a painful thing, and watching other people's heads fall is an even greater torment. When Ye Jinglian's name was called, he suddenly no longer felt that death was anything to fear.

The heavy burden that had pressed on his shoulders vanished in an instant, and he felt his whole body grow much lighter.

He did not wait to be pointed out, but walked out on his own, and as he did so he cast one last look at his old wife, lying unconscious on the ground not far away.

After walking up before Zhou Shixiang, Ye Jinglian thought of kneeling to beg for his life, but seeing that the other man was younger than his own son, and that not one of those called out had survived, in that instant his desire to beg for mercy faded.

Putting on an air of magnanimity, he straightened his back, and then said neither humbly nor haughtily: "This old man is Ye Jinglian. Kill me or cut me to pieces — do as you please."

Zhou Shixiang looked the old man up and down — the same old man who half a watch ago had been kneeling on the ground, kowtowing and begging for his life without pause — and inwardly marveled that after the utmost terror could come the utmost boldness.

As if going through a set procedure, he asked in a measured tone: "In the seventh and eighth years of Yongli, you repeatedly sent men to report to the Qing army, causing our Ming forces to suffer many casualties.

Earlier this year, after our Prince of Xining's great army withdrew to Guangxi, you again organized men on multiple occasions to intercept and kill our wounded soldiers. Is this true?"

Ye Jinglian answered without a second thought: "Yes, I did all of these things."

"Very well then. There is no need for this general to say more. Go over there yourself."

Zhou Shixiang pointed to the makeshift execution ground where several corpses lay. Ye Jinglian did not go over immediately, but tilted his head back and looked at the pitch-black sky, then let out a long sigh before walking over.

Whether he regretted the things he had done, or regretted having left the city, no one could tell.

"Master!"

At the moment Ye Jinglian's head fell, an old woman's shriek rang out, and then there was silence.

Sun Sitai was the last name called. He was a middle-aged man in a scholar's robe, looking quite righteous and upright.

In later ages, Sun Sitai would have been a good official of upright character — at the very least, he had a dignified appearance. Pity that such a dignified-looking, righteous-seeming scholar had become a traitor to the Han.

It rather brought to mind Chen Peisi's line: "Who'd have thought a fellow with such thick brows and big eyes would betray the revolution too."

After this small moment of reflection, Zhou Shixiang said gravely: "Lord Sun, you are Prefect of Yanzhou Prefecture in Zhejiang under the Qing court. Last year, in the eleventh month, your mother passed away and you returned home for mourning.

By my reckoning, you have been back in Deqing for barely a month."

Sun Sitai grunted: "Since you already know, why ask me?"

"Are you not afraid of death?"

Zhou Shixiang casually placed the list onto the torch flame. The paper caught fire and quickly turned to ash.

Sun Sitai withdrew his gaze from the paper that had become ash and said with ringing conviction: "Death is but death. What is there to fear?"

"Do you truly mean to resist the royal army to the death? If Lord Sun resolves to surrender, perhaps this general will spare your life, and may even recommend you to the court."

If he could successfully persuade a sitting Qing prefect to surrender and send him to the Yongli court at Anlong, it would be no small merit. Besides, this Sun Sitai had no record of wrongdoing, so Zhou Shixiang had no intention of killing him.

After all, there were too many Han men serving as Qing officials; if every one of them had to be killed, they could never all be killed.

The consequence of indiscriminate slaughter would only be to provoke these Han who served the Manchus into fighting to the death, which would do no good whatsoever for the restoration of China.

Unexpectedly, Sun Sitai was utterly unmoved. Instead he spat and cursed furiously: "What royal army!

You are nothing but a pack of bandits and rebels under the Great Western bandit! I, Sun Sitai, having served the Great Qing, hold only my Great Qing in my heart.

If I cannot be a loyal subject of the Great Qing, then I will certainly never stand with bandits like you!"

After cursing, Sun Sitai gnashed his teeth and glared at Zhou Shixiang. Today's situation could only end with his head on the ground.

But what was there to fear in death? The Qing Emperor had treated him generously — raised from the rank of juren to serve as Prefect.

How many men under heaven could claim such favor? Such honor and grace, and I, Sun Sitai, have no way to repay it.

Today I shall repay the Qing Emperor's gracious favor with my death! In the histories of days to come, the upright deeds of Sun Sitai shall surely not be omitted!

"Enough. Since you are set on death, I shall grant it to you."

The man's stance made Zhou Shixiang abandon any thought of persuading him to surrender. He waved for the men to drag Sun Sitai away. If this man wanted to be a ghost of the Great Qing, then let him be a ghost of the Great Qing.