Chapter 174: Great River Shipping Company

A summer rainstorm descended upon Anqing, dense raindrops pouring down in torrents, blurring heaven and earth in a haze of rain and mist.

A patch of shanties southeast of the city was also shrouded in that rain mist; the higher ground had turned to mud, and the lower spots were already flooded.

Inside one shanty with a reed-thatched roof, two rats swam out from a corner, kicking their hind legs as they struggled toward higher ground.

Splash—water sprayed everywhere as a rough, massive bare foot came down from nowhere, plunging one rat straight underwater. The other rat escaped disaster, hit solid ground, and scurried out of the shanty in a flash.

The dripping foot lifted, and the disemboweled rat carcass floated up to the surface.

"What a sin!"

Tang Ershuan swished his foot in the water. Holding a grimy, blackened quilt with both hands, he sighed in misery, brows furrowed — it was hard to tell whether he pitied the rat or himself.

Outside, the rain roared. A June storm had come without warning, and a roof woven from reeds naturally couldn't keep it out. Strings of water droplets fell everywhere; there was no escaping them in the tiny shanty. Tang Ershuan had found one spot where he could just barely keep the quilt dry.

The quilt and an iron pot were the treasures of this little household. The riverside was damp, and the quilt had grown a bit moldy; a musty smell filled the room. But that did nothing to diminish the quilt's standing in the Tang family — they depended on it entirely come winter. Though they didn't need to cover themselves with it in summer, if it got soaked and couldn't be dried in time, it would likely grow completely moldy and be useless by winter.

A three-year-old child was wailing, crawling around on the floor, covered head to toe in mud. Its head kept bumping into the household odds and ends, and now, spotting the dead rat, it grabbed it and played with it in its hands. Tang Ershuan couldn't be bothered to intervene. He had far more than one child to worry about — his wife was pregnant again and due to give birth in a few months.

His wife, belly bulging, was huddled by the door. The door was really just a bundle of branches, but Tang Ershuan was handy; he'd found a roll of hemp rope at the docks and woven it together like a reed mat, shaping it into a door. Their fence was made of wooden planks and sticks driven vertically into the ground. Tang Ershuan often hauled bamboo and timber for merchants — it was big business at the Anqing docks, second only to grain — and when materials were damaged, the merchants let them take them away, and so they became the Tang family's walls. Most of the building materials in this illegal settlement came from the same source.

"Husband, those soldiers still haven't left," his wife said miserably. "Would you look at those soldiers, standing out in the rain like that, don't they care about their lives?"

"What martial uncle? If you don't kowtow and call him martial uncle, they won't even let us haul the tribute grain." Tang Ershuan held up the quilt. Looking up, he spotted yet another new leak in the roof, right above the quilt. He hurriedly tried to adjust, but there was no room left. With a sigh, he stuck his head out; the dripping water fell on his head and streamed down his arched neck and back, but the quilt was saved.

"What a sin." Tang Ershuan muttered his catchphrase reflexively. Rolling his eyes, he peered through a gap in the door planks. Sure enough, the soldiers were still there. They all wore white tunics, gripping long spears or wearing waist sabers at their sides, standing at intervals, motionless in the downpour. Just by looks alone, they were more formidable than Commander Pan's previous subordinates.

The area had been sealed off for a full day and night. The Canal Gang headmen at the docks had basically all been captured. The only exception was his so-called martial uncle, Wang Dai, who had been surrounded in this patch of shanties and, using their layout to hide, had evaded capture for half a day.

At that moment, footsteps sounded outside. His wife huddled by the door again to look. A man in official robes approached, and several grunts gathered around him to confer. Finally, the official waved his hand. "Clear everyone out, house by house. Round them all up and hold them on the main road. Let's see where he can hide then."

His wife turned back, worried. "They want to drag us outside. Your martial uncle has no sense — who told him to kill that Luo the Manager at the docks and become a bandit spy? He deserves to be caught. If he killed someone, he should have let the grunts catch him sooner, let them chop his head off, and be done with it. Now he's just delaying our livelihood for nothing."

"That's what the officials say. Who knows why martial uncle became a bandit? Anyway, if you kill someone and get hauled before the magistrate, your head's gone. Why would he care about other people's livelihoods then? Anyone would try to run. I'm hungry, go cook some rice."

His wife turned back and found the rice bag on the wooden rack. The bag had many patches, all mended after being bitten by rats. She carefully opened the bag, pinched out a tiny handful, and dropped it into the iron pot. She nudged the pot into place, catching the rainwater leaking from the roof, ready to cook a pot of watery congee.

"Can't you cook a bit more?"

"We're not earning any force pay today, why eat so much?" His wife's face hardened, but she still reached in and grabbed a dozen or so more grains. After a moment's thought, she put a few back, then added the rest to the pot.

Belly bulging, she pulled over a bamboo stool, sat down with some difficulty, and prepared to light the fire. But when she took out the tinder, she found it a bit damp. She had to tuck it inside her collar to warm it. Taking it out again, she began striking a spark, failing several times.

She stopped to rest for a moment and continued, "These next two months are the only time there's plenty of cargo. If we don't haul goods now, what will we eat in winter? The second one's about to be born any day now."

"What a sin," Tang Ershuan said again. His neck was getting sore from being hunched over so long, so he shifted his position slightly.

Just then, a voice rang out from outside: "The authorities are arresting bandit spies! No one is to leave their homes — violators will be sent to the officials for punishment! Wang Dai is still at large. Anyone reporting his whereabouts will be rewarded twenty taels of silver! Until this man is captured, no one may go outside or go to the docks to earn a living..."

The voice shouted the message over and over. Tang Ershuan wasn't sure if this was its first pass; he had seen the man before, carrying something like a megaphone, walking around and shouting everywhere.

After listening, his wife whispered, "Husband, do you know where martial uncle is?"

"I know. When I went out to fix the roof just now, I saw him slip into Zhou Yong's place." Tang Ershuan twitched his mouth to the left, indicating that his martial uncle was nearby. Zhou Yong's house was only two doors down from the Tang family's. The only thing it had over the Tangs' was that they'd scavenged a broken desk, repaired it, and put it in their shanty to hold things — which made it seem a cut above.

His wife waded through the water, craning her neck as she came over and whispered, "Then why didn't you go report him? Twenty taels of silver! That's enough to buy a small house outside the east gate."

Tang Ershuan pulled his head back a little. His wife's eyes were gleaming. "What does a woman know? We've kowtowed to the Luo Jiao Patriarch. That would be... what's it called, dishonorable. I tell you..."

Suddenly, a commotion broke out. Over at the Zhou house, someone was fighting and chasing in the rain. Moments later, a miserable scream, then silence. Footsteps pounded outside as several soldiers headed that way. The two of them exchanged suspicious glances.

That voice outside rang out again: "Wang Dai has been captured! Zhou Yong is credited with meritorious service in the arrest — reward, twenty taels of silver!"

His wife let out a shriek and began slapping Tang Ershuan wildly, crying and cursing: "I told you to go, and you wouldn't! Now someone else got it! Our house will be lived in by the Zhou family, you good-for-nothing..."

"Stop hitting me, the quilt's getting wet!"

"The quilt, the quilt! How many quilts could twenty taels of silver buy? You owe me, wuwu..."

His wife stopped her hands, crouched on the ground, covered her face, and burst into loud sobs.

Tang Ershuan's face was full of embarrassment. He frowned and scrunched his nose for a long moment, then suddenly declared with certainty, "That Zhou Yong betrayed his master. From now on, everyone will point at his spine. He won't even be able to stay at the docks. What good did it do him? Just you wait and see."

"Brother Zhou, grant me a tally stick, please." Tang Ershuan wore an ingratiating smile as he fawned over Zhou Yong behind the table.

Behind him, many other porters were lined up, all waiting to get the bamboo tally sticks needed for work.

Zhou Yong glanced up, fiddling with a tally stick in his hand. Tang Ershuan could only wait, bobbing and bowing.

Tang Ershuan had come from Liantan Town in Tongcheng. Upon reaching Huaining, he'd followed a fellow villager and joined the Canal Gang. This outfit was the biggest gang on the Anqing docks, its members wearing red ropes around their waists. They got first pick of any jobs; all the smaller gangs had to wait their turn.

By the Canal Gang's rules, Tang Ershuan had kowtowed to the boss as his master, making the second-in-command his martial uncle. He felt he'd picked the right trade. His master was like a lord on the docks — no gang dared provoke him, and the merchants along the river all knew him; they sought out his master for any large shipments. Tang Ershuan had strength and could endure hardship. At the docks, besides feeding his whole family, he figured he could save three to five taels of silver a year — far better than farming back in his hometown. So Tang Ershuan obeyed his master's every word. When it came to the usual brawls with other small gangs, a single shout and he'd join in; they were going to win anyway. Though he gave it his all, his master had too many apprentices and didn't quite remember his name.

In just two or three short days, a dynasty change had swept the docks. First, a swarm of grunts had surrounded the place at night — too many to count. Word was that Cao the Manager, the head of the brokerage, had been killed, and the murderers might be his master and martial uncle.

That very night, his divinely invincible master lost his life. The local rumor was that he'd resisted with a blade and was speared to death by a single thrust from a soldier. Not one of his many apprentices dared to help. Then his martial uncle hid for half a day; Zhou Yong reported him, and martial uncle was killed too. Two headmen from smaller gangs were killed at the same time.

Then the authorities announced that these men were all bandit spies, plotting to collude with the Roving Bandits to bring disaster upon Anqing. Among the thousand or so canal laborers near the docks, no one dared step forward to speak or question it.

Because of the murder case, those soldiers remained at the docks. Without their permission, no one could go there to earn money. After a day's wait, they began issuing tally sticks. Those who received a stick could seek work at the docks that day and had to return the stick before knocking off in the evening.

Afterward, a strange little gang emerged — six people in total, led by a man surnamed Jiang. The job of issuing tally sticks passed from the soldiers to this little gang. But some soldiers still remained at the docks, around a hundred or so.

The little gang expanded rapidly, growing to several dozen people in just two days. And Zhou Yong, for his meritorious service in reporting, was the first recruited into the gang, put in charge of issuing tally sticks on the east side of Kangji Gate — right in Tang Ershuan's shanty district. Not everyone could go to the docks, so that tally stick meant a family's livelihood. And Zhou Yong not only kept his place at the docks but became the most sought-after man among the porters.

Zhou Yong dangled the tally stick in his hand and looked up at Tang Ershuan. "So it's Brother Ershuan. That wife of yours has been going around telling everyone that I, Zhou Yong, wouldn't last on these docks, is that right?"

"No such thing, no, no. Just a woman talking nonsense. Don't you worry, Brother Zhou, I'll beat her to death the moment I get home, see if she dares spout nonsense again."

Tang Ershuan wore an awkward, ingratiating smile. Zhou Yong snorted through his nose. "We're both from Liantan. If that woman of yours goes flapping her gums again in the future, don't say I, Zhou Yong, don't look after my fellow villager. Take it."

As he spoke, he tossed the tally stick out. It landed directly on the ground.

Tang Ershuan hastily picked it up, bobbed and bowed his thanks, and scurried off toward the docks. In a flash, he arrived at the docks, where the usually scattered porters were lined up again. Up ahead, a headman from that little gang was gesticulating, arranging for people to take jobs in order.

"Why do we have to line up again?" Tang Ershuan muttered, but still got in line at the very back. There were over twenty people ahead of him.

A boat docked below. Someone from the little gang called out a couple of times and let seven or eight people through. It looked like he'd have to wait for two more boats before his turn. From the looks of it, the jobs he got would definitely be fewer than before.

Tang Ershuan shuffled forward a stretch with the crowd. He saw the little headman head back to a shopfront on the street. He felt a twinge of envy, his gaze following the man as he entered the shop.

Tang Ershuan raised his eyes. The signboard on the shopfront read, in large characters: "Great River Shipping Company."