Chapter 10: 010 Night Raid

For a clever person, some principles need only a single hint to grasp.

Wang Yongshi, Fei Yinghuan, Wei Jianxiong, and the others had fallen completely into a mental trap — they thought only of how to defend the county seat, never considering they could strike first.

After all, this was the first year of Chongzhen; peasant uprisings had not yet become a common phenomenon.

As County Magistrate, Wang Yongshi was facing peasant soldiers for the first time, and he had only a handful of bailiffs at his disposal — even defending the walls required recruiting village braves overnight.

Zhao Han's proposal was purely spur-of-the-moment; he did not even know the enemy's situation clearly.

At that moment, he saw Registrar Li's head being carried through the streets and paraded before the crowd, and only then did he resolve to take the gamble.

To kill his own registrar to quell public anger — this magistrate was a ruthless man!

Since he was ruthless, then offer him a reckless plan. This is called tailoring the dish to the guest, or asking the guest before killing the chicken.

Had it been a mediocre official, Zhao Han would certainly have proposed a conservative plan — he was not about to make a fool of himself for nothing.

Returning to the county yamen a second time, the treatment was different: a clerk escorted and guided him the entire way.

Though Zhao Han had rendered great service, he did not grow smug; with a respectful salute, he asked, "May I presume to ask this venerable gentleman's honored name?"

Likely because Magistrate Wang had killed a man to establish authority, and because Zhao Han had won the magistrate's favor, this civil clerk dared not be negligent. He answered with an ingratiating smile, "No need for 'honored.' My surname is Yang, given name Shouzhong — merely a minor clerk in the yamen's Rites Office."

"So it is Mr. Yang," Zhao Han said flatteringly.

The civil clerk said hastily, "I dare not accept the title of 'Mister.'"

Chatting idly along the way, they gradually reached the main gate of the county yamen.

West of the main gate stood a gate pavilion; the ground was clearly worn down badly, suggesting people came and went frequently in ordinary times.

Zhao Han asked casually, "What place is that?"

The civil clerk explained, "That is the Declaration Pavilion, used exclusively for mediating minor cases."

Zhao Han grew quite interested and promptly asked for the details.

After the civil clerk's explanation, Zhao Han's preconceived notions were overturned — it turned out that trying cases in the Ming dynasty did not involve simply beating the drum and ascending the bench.

West of the yamen's main gate, a Declaration Pavilion must be built.

Civil cases — property disputes, brawls, and the like — had to go first to the Declaration Pavilion for mediation.

The community headmen of both parties to the case, along with the relevant civil clerks of the yamen, would together lay out the stakes for the parties involved. If an out-of-court settlement could be reached, there was no need to go to court. If neither side would yield, then a complaint was drafted, the drum was beaten to file the case, and the county magistrate himself would ascend the bench to hear it.

Does that sound very familiar?

Judicial mediation!

This device was first created by Zhu Yuanzhang, to free local prefectural and county officials across the realm from trivial, petty matters.

Of course, it had its flaws.

As the Great Ming's civil governance decayed, yamen chief officials began to neglect their duties, leaving everything to the civil clerks. The clerks could collude with the community headmen and, during the judicial mediation stage, coerce the parties into conceding, so that the weaker side always suffered in silence. Many veteran clerks even came to control civil authority through this.

Since he had transmigrated back to ancient times, he had to understand all kinds of social conditions; otherwise, in the future, he would not even know which door to enter when bringing a lawsuit.

Seeing Zhao Han asking about this and that, apparently quite interested in the yamen, the civil clerk took the initiative to act as an impromptu tour guide.

Pointing to the yamen's second gate, he said, "This is the Ceremonial Gate. It is not ordinarily opened. Only on auspicious occasions — a magistrate taking office, receiving honored guests, sacrificial rites and celebrations — is the Ceremonial Gate opened for passage."

Zhao Han grasped it at once: "The gate of ritual propriety."

"The young master has it exactly," the civil clerk said, then pointed to the side gate east of the Ceremonial Gate. "This is the Gate of Men, also called the Gate of Joy, used by His Honor the Magistrate and his personal retinue."

Zhao Han pointed to the side gate on the west and asked, "And that gate?"

The civil clerk explained, "That is the Ghost Gate, also called the Gate of Finality. It is used for bringing up serious criminals for interrogation, or for escorting condemned prisoners to execution."

Zhao Han said, "Ill-omened."

"Is it not ill-omened indeed? Even standing near it, one feels a gloomy wind." The civil clerk laughed.

Within the Ceremonial Gate lay the Great Hall, where the county magistrate ascended the bench to hear cases.

East and west of the Great Hall were the Granary and Treasury and the Armory; the yamen's Six Offices were arrayed to the left and right. The Granary and Treasury was the responsibility of the Assistant Magistrate — effectively the finance office cum archive. The Armory was the responsibility of the Constable; inside were kept instruments of torture, weapons, and their inventories.

"Ahead is the Inner Gate. I dare not escort you further," the civil clerk said, stopping.

Zhao Han saluted with clasped hands: "Many thanks."

The Inner Gate separated the inner and outer precincts; it was guarded by a gatehouse. To see the magistrate, one had to announce oneself, and without a gratuity one was generally not admitted — this was colloquially called "going through the back door."

Within the Inner Gate was the Second Hall, the magistrate's true day-to-day office. Passing through the Second Hall, one reached the magistrate's private living quarters.

Zhao Han walked slowly, pausing now and then, committing the yamen's layout firmly to memory.

This thing was standardized, uniform from north to south — memorize one, and you have memorized them all.

"Young master, you're back," the maidservant said with a smile. "The medicine just arrived from the clinic; I was about to go decoct it."

Zhao Han said quickly, "I've put you to trouble, sister."

They exchanged a few words, and the maidservant went off to decoct the medicine.

Zhao Han came to the sickbed and placed his hand on his little sister's forehead. She was still a bit feverish, but her temperature had come down.

He only feared it would seesaw again, spiking and falling — that was what wrenched the heart.

Zhao Han rose and walked to the window. He pushed it open to look at the scenery outside, but in his mind he was wondering whether the night raid had gone smoothly.

…

Rich rewards will always summon bold warriors. Five hundred strong men were quickly recruited — and several dozen more beyond that.

Wang Yongshi organized these five-hundred-odd strong men into twelve temporary squads.

He then selected twenty-four men to serve as squad leaders and deputy squad leaders. He gave them no flag-signal training, only told them: advance when the drums beat, retreat when the gong sounds.

Mistakes on the battlefield did not matter; their enemies were even more rabble than they were.

A pig was slaughtered, meals were cooked, bellies were filled, and after a bowl of wine to fortify them for the march, Wang Yongshi personally led the force out.

Marching by torchlight, Wang Yongshi said as he walked, "Brother Dazhao, do you still intend to continue with the examinations?"

Fei Yinghuan gripped his sword hilt with one hand and held his torch high with the other. He sighed, "I passed the provincial exam at twenty. I have sat the metropolitan exam for twenty years now — surely I cannot abandon it halfway?"

"If you keep failing the examinations, do you mean to sit them another twenty years?" Wang Yongshi urged. "Stop trying. Spend some money to seek a path through the Ministry of Personnel. With the reflected glory of your Fei clan ancestors, you could easily obtain a county magistracy."

Fei Yinghuan muttered, "I didn't take the jinshi exam for myself, but for the entire Fei clan of Yanshan."

Wang Yongshi said nothing more, thinking Fei Yinghuan rather pitiable.

The Yanshan Fei clan reached its zenith in the sixth, seventh, and eighth generations, averaging two jinshi per generation, with countless juren and xiucai besides.

Uncle and nephew ascended the first rank together; father and son both placed among the Five Laureates; brothers served together in the Grand Secretariat and the ministries.

What glory that was!

But beginning with the ninth generation, the Yanshan Fei clan went into decline, failing to produce even a single jinshi.

The tenth generation was worse still — all were mere xiucai, and Fei Yinghuan was the sole juren.

He was the hope of the entire clan. The Fei main line, along with the branch lines — the Henglin Fei, the Hekou Fei, the Lieqiao Fei, the Ehu Fei... all looked to him to bring glory to the family. How could Fei Yinghuan dare not keep sitting the exams?

Fei Yinghuan said, "Let's not speak of this. Today we slew bandits to our hearts' content — that counts as building merit on the battlefield too."

Wang Yongshi shook his head and sighed, "What kind of battlefield merit is this? Just a mob of starving people with nowhere left to run. Brother Dazhao's battle is tonight; mine lies in the days ahead. Bringing prosperity to one region — that is my battlefield. Jinghai County is utterly desolate; who knows how much heart's blood it will take to restore even a little vitality."

Fei Yinghuan consoled him, "You bring peace to the people, I study the classics — let us spur each other on."

"Clop-clop-clop-clop!"

Through the darkness, a rider came galloping.

Wei Jianxiong swung down from the saddle. "Your Honor, Young Master, put out the torches at once."

Wang Yongshi asked, "What of the enemy?"

Wei Jianxiong sneered, "That bandit chief who calls himself Trample the Heavens has no idea how to fight a battle. Not only did he send out no scouts, he hasn't even set up a camp. The rabble are scattered in civilian houses inside the town, with only a few men thrown outside to keep night watch."

Wang Yongshi was instantly relieved — this battle was certain to be won. He gave the order at once: "Extinguish all torches! Each man grip the belt of the man in front of him, hold a chopstick in your mouth to keep silent, and advance!"

Over five hundred brave men drew steadily closer to Duliu Town.

Fei Yinghuan and Wei Jianxiong, master and servant, led over two hundred men to lie in ambush south of the town, awaiting orders.

Wang Yongshi personally led over two hundred men, circling around to the east side of the town to prepare a surprise assault.

West of the town was the Grand Canal.

The north side was left open for the rebels to flee in rout.

Wang Yongshi quietly circled to the eastern edge of the town. After a brief rest to prepare, he said to Constable Chen, who was carrying a large drum on his back, "You will beat the drum!"

"At your command!" Constable Chen was rather uneasy, yet also somewhat excited.

Wang Yongshi added, "Pass the word — light the torches!"

"Boom-boom-boom-boom-boom!"

"Kill! Wipe out the bandits!"

In the dead silence of deep night, the dull pounding of drums rose up. Torch after torch flared alight, accompanied by fierce battle cries.

From south of the town, Fei Yinghuan immediately led his men in response.

The several hundred hastily recruited braves thrust over three thousand torches into the ground, then waved torches and roared at the top of their lungs, instantly creating the illusion of an army of thousands.

(End of chapter)