Chapter 205: 203 Developing the Peasant Associations

Zhu Xieyuan was carried back by over a thousand rattan-armored soldiers — not because he was wounded, but because he had collapsed from sheer exhaustion.

Fleeing from Fengcheng to Nanchang, a hundred li, no more and no less, they crossed ten rivers large and small along the way!

In this kind of cursed terrain, if northern cavalry ever tried to cross the river, one can well imagine how hopeless it would be.

Those rattan-armored soldiers crossed rivers with remarkable ease, because rattan armor is waterproof and fireproof — it floats in the water, turning directly into a life preserver.

Zhao Han's armory was also manufacturing rattan armor.

Because Zhao Han's army formation imitated the Qi family army, in which the rattan-shield men were extremely important. The reason they were called rattan-shield men was precisely that their shields were made of rattan, lighter than wooden shields yet offering stronger defense — the exact same material used to make rattan armor.

This stuff couldn't be rushed; you had to select mountain yellow rattan and soak it repeatedly for over a year before you could truly begin production.

By the time Zhu Xieyuan fled back to Nanchang, it was already the afternoon of the next day. He immediately issued orders to round up the scattered soldiers who had escaped back.

Seeing the Jiangxi naval fleet moored right by the shore, he hastily summoned Zhu Guoxun to question him: "Commander Zhu, has the rebel fleet shown itself?"

"It seems there are rebel warships patrolling," Zhu Guoxun answered evasively.

Hearing this reply, Zhu Xieyuan's fury blazed. He very nearly drew his imperial sword and struck Zhu Guoxun dead on the spot!

Forcibly suppressing his rage, Zhu Xieyuan warned, "The fleet must remain constantly on guard against the rebels attacking Nanchang."

"I shall strictly obey the Supreme Commander's military orders," Zhu Guoxun said, knowing he was in the wrong, and behaving with extreme deference.

Two more days passed, and Zhu Xieyuan had only managed to round up a little over two thousand scattered soldiers.

On the Great Unity Army's side, including wounded government troops, they had captured only a little over seven thousand prisoners.

As for the remaining twenty thousand government troops, of course they weren't all dead. Most had simply fled straight back to their home villages, unwilling to fight any more battles for the court. Even if they were forcibly conscripted again in the future, they would certainly be ready to slip away at any moment.

"Cough, cough, cough, cough!"

Inside the Governor-General's residence, Zhu Xieyuan hid himself away to cough. He dared not let anyone know he was ill.

A man in his seventies, carried across ten rivers, soaked and sun-beaten — it would be strange if he didn't fall sick. Historically, Zhu Xieyuan would die of illness in Guizhou in just two more years; now he had merely changed locations for his illness.

……

Hu Dinggui slept for a full half-day and an entire night. Because his leg was wounded, he had remained on Lion Mountain and not joined the pursuit.

Having filled his belly, Hu Dinggui leaned on his long spear and limped over to the wounded camp: "How is Old Chen doing?"

The army physician was changing Chen Fugui's dressing: "He's been feverish and hasn't woken. Whether he lives depends entirely on himself now."

Chen Fugui's abdominal wound faintly revealed his intestines. Fortunately, the cotton armor had absorbed much of the force, so his intestines were not pierced, but the wound infection was extremely life-threatening.

Zhao Han didn't understand much medical knowledge either. For the army's wounded, he had only ordered people to prepare high-proof distilled liquor in advance and stressed that bandages used to dress wounds must be boiled in water. Beyond that, he could only leave things to the ancient trauma physicians — though the golden wound salve had always worked quite well.

Hu Dinggui sat before Chen Fugui for a while, then went to visit the other wounded.

In the battle of Lion Mountain, although only a little over four hundred had been killed in action, the total casualties numbered over a thousand. The entire army had only a little over five thousand men — a casualty rate as high as twenty-five percent. All were wounded in fierce combat, unlike the government troops, many of whom were injured falling while fleeing in rout.

"Ah!"

A scream came from the neighboring tent. Hu Dinggui leaned on his spear and went over, only to see the physician sawing off a wounded man's leg.

That was a soldier whose calf had been grazed by a cannonball. "Grazed" in name, but in truth a huge chunk of flesh was gone. Although the wound had been wiped with alcohol and promptly dressed with golden wound salve, two consecutive days of hot, humid weather had still caused the wound to fester over a large area. This was extremely dire; to save his life, the lower leg had to be sawed off.

Hu Dinggui walked to the cliff's edge and silently gazed at the fields in the distance.

"Your leg is wounded — don't go wandering around," Xiao Zongxian said, having appeared behind him at some point.

This was Hu Dinggui's old commander, the one who had led them to hold off Yang Jiamo's household retainers.

Xiao Zongxian was rather unlucky too. On the fourth day of bitter fighting, he had been wounded right at the start, struck in the back of the head by a stone chip sent flying by a cannonball. Had he not been wearing his bamboo helmet, he would probably have died senselessly on the spot.

Hu Dinggui smiled. "It's nothing, just a few gashes — they didn't cut very deep."

Xiao Zongxian took out paper and brush. "How many did you kill? How many attacks did you beat back?"

"No idea," Hu Dinggui shook his head.

By regulation, battle merits were to be tallied daily, but the fourth day's bitter fighting had been desperate and deadlocked. Even when soldiers were rotated out to rest, the propaganda officers and military judges found it inconvenient to disturb them, so it had dragged on unresolved until now.

Xiao Zongxian, having no choice, could only record the number of times Hu Dinggui was wounded and go back to discuss it with the propaganda officer and military judge.

Huang Yao and the other senior officers were also discussing it. The commander, military judge, and propaganda officer reached a tripartite agreement: where individual kill counts could not be determined, the enemy corpses in front of each position would be averaged out among the soldiers at that position. Then, military merits would be calculated based on that position's importance and the intensity of combat there.

Two more days passed, and the lightly wounded like Hu Dinggui were already able to descend the mountain on their own.

The men fashioned stretchers and carefully carried the seriously wounded away, heading to a temple at the foot of the mountain to recuperate.

The common folk who had hidden in the mountains were now returning home in a steady stream, and the rice paddies that hadn't been harvested in time were being frantically reaped.

Hu Dinggui gazed at those peasants and suddenly broke into a smile. The pain from his wounds seemed to fade as well.

That afternoon.

The propaganda corps organized a consolation performance. These performance troupes were growing more and more professional; many members were former actors and courtesans. They could sing short ditties and full operas alike — a kind of entertainment that officials, soldiers, and commoners all enjoyed.

Hu Dinggui arrived at the nearby threshing ground. The stage had already been set up.

This performance was an opera called Clear River Moon, adapted from last year's story of the peasant-soldiers' bloody battle against the household retainers. The character based on Hu Dinggui was the third male lead.

The first male lead was the propaganda officer Yang Mo, who had died in battle — his name differing from the archvillain Yang Jiamo by only a single character.

The second male lead was Xiao Zongxian, who had commanded the battle.

The opening featured an actress coming onstage, singing in the Yiyang tune about the happy life after land redistribution. It was no longer in the spoken-drama form; most performances now had been adapted into the Jiangxi opera style the actors were familiar with.

As she sang on, government troops suddenly arrived, burning, killing, and looting everywhere. The common folk fled in terror, and the heroine's parents were slain as well.

The actor playing the archvillain Yang Jiamo strode onto the stage with an arrogant laugh, then delivered a monologue and a solo aria.

"Kill the corrupt official!"

"Charge!"

"…"

What seemed to Zhao Han like a jarringly out-of-place villain's solo aria had the soldiers seething with righteous fury — some even wanted to rush the stage and beat the actor up.

This emotion, by the time the propaganda officer Mr. Yang died in battle, had already simmered to a boiling peak.

Some soldiers roared curses, others wept in grief and rage.

Huang Yao had no choice but to organize the military discipline squad to shout down those overcome with emotion and force them to sit, or else some would surely have stormed the stage to cause havoc.

The final scene of the play was not about driving off the government troops, but about the actor playing Zhao Han carrying the martyrs' spirit tablets into the Hall of Heroic Souls to pay homage.

Once their emotions had been vented, the soldiers began chattering among themselves in whispers.

Xiao Zongxian winked and nudged Hu Dinggui, asking, "Isn't Miss Saisai beautiful?"

Hu Dinggui shook his head. "I was sitting too far away; I couldn't see clearly."

Xiao Zongxian lowered his voice. "I've seen her up close — beautiful as a fairy. My son is already two, so I can't break the rules, but you, lad, could give it a try."

"Try what?" Hu Dinggui asked blankly.

"Marry Miss Saisai, of course," Xiao Zongxian urged. "I've made inquiries. This Miss Saisai is only eighteen, just two years older than you. You've been praised by name by the Regional Commander — you have a bright future ahead. You and Miss Saisai would be a perfect match, a fine couple."

Hu Dinggui hastily shook his head, his face reddening. "I... I'll marry in a few more years."

"Hey, you really have a blockhead." Xiao Zongxian felt he was casting pearls before swine.

Pan Saisai on the stage, though she had only left the pleasure quarters last year and had not been with the propaganda corps for long, was beautiful and sang opera exquisitely. She had already won the adoration of countless soldiers and common folk.

After the performance, Pan Saisai was removing her makeup when she suddenly heard someone behind her say, "Xiao Pan, in a few days we'll be performing in the countryside of Nanchang County. You'll star in The White-Haired Girl."

"Nanchang County isn't our territory, is it?" Pan Saisai asked, quite surprised.

The head of this performance troupe said, "Peasant associations are being formed in Nanchang County right now. We're the closest to there, and I just received the order."

The prefectural seat of Nanchang and the county seat of Nanchang were not the same city; they were about ten li apart.

Since he had failed to seize Nanchang Prefecture at the first opportunity, Zhao Han would not waste troops on a frontal assault. Instead, he would establish peasant associations in each county of Nanchang Prefecture, securing the rural areas first. The Great Unity Army had just won a major victory, and the government troops and landlords would certainly not dare attack the peasant association members.

The peasant associations would recruit not only tenant farmers but also small landlords and freeholding peasants. Their main tasks were these: uniting tenant farmers to reduce rents and interest, abolishing unfair practices such as the "tub-mian" surcharge and the "winter sacrifice." Small landlords and freeholding peasants would no longer pay harsh miscellaneous taxes to the authorities. Landlords would be compelled to free their household slaves, converting all such arrangements into short-term labor contracts.

The peasant association movement was not radical; it remained within the limits that the officials and gentry could tolerate — a tolerance backed by the military force of the Great Unity Army.

In just two or three months, once the small landlords, freeholding peasants, tenant farmers, and household slaves had tasted the benefits, they would no longer be willing to fight for the government. By then, Zhu Xieyuan would find it impossible not only to conscript troops in Nanchang Prefecture but probably even to collect more than a few piculs of grain.

As for territorial expansion, the main focus would be on southern Jiangxi.

By now, Zhao Han, Pang Chunlai, Li Banghua, and the others had already worked out a pattern for development.

That is, to transfer experienced deputy officials — Assistant Magistrates, Registrars, and the like — and appoint them as County Magistrates in newly occupied territories. Experienced clerks would then be transferred to serve as deputy officials in those new territories. In the original territories, promotions would be based on administrative achievements and seniority, filling the vacancies left by those transferred.

There was no shortage of officials and clerks — in fact, more and more were being trained. What was in short supply now were official posts!

After the victory in the great battle at Ganzhou, the city of Ganzhou itself had to be taken, primarily to alleviate the salt shortage and lower the price of salt.

Shen Youlong was already powerless to stop Guangdong salt from moving north; it was Ganzhou that had been blocking the way. Once Ganzhou was occupied, high-quality, inexpensive Guangdong salt could flow in continuously, instantly easing Zhao Han's financial predicament.

At the same time, they also had to occupy Yudu County, which bordered Ganzhou.

That way, the saltpeter ore from Ningdu County could be shipped downriver, transported from Yudu to Ganzhou, and then from Ganzhou on to Ji'an. This would greatly reduce the cost of purchasing saltpeter ore, allowing them to produce more gunpowder in the future.

The city of Ganzhou had not yet been taken.

After the Fujian Regional Commander Chen Tingdui's rout, the three thousand Fujian troops left to defend the city had no choice but to release Governor Zou Weilian from confinement and beg him to lead them in a desperate defense of Ganzhou.

(Had diarrhea since this morning. Will try for three updates today; if not possible, it'll have to be just two.)

(End of chapter)