Chapter 283: Camp Ground

Swish—the lake surface splashed, a crucian carp flew out of the water along the fishing line, and with a slap landed in the reeds. Ripples spread outward in widening rings across the lake.

"Someone's stealing fish over there!"

A fishing boat on the lake drew near. The two fishermen aboard cursed loudly, grabbed cobblestones they kept ready in the boat, and hurled them wildly toward where the fishing line had vanished. Their flimsy boat rocked unsteadily.

In the reeds was a thin, frail figure. His fishing line had tangled around several reed stalks. The dark shape fumbled frantically, trying to pull the crucian carp off the hook. This Matang crucian carp, famed far and wide, was quite plump and thrashed so violently he couldn't get it free.

The fishing boat came closer and closer. With a crack, a cobblestone struck him square on the forehead. The figure cried out, wrenched the fish's mouth off the hook by force, and stumbled away into the reeds. Moments later he emerged on the other side and vanished into a jumble of shacks amid the fishermen's curses.

This was the shore of Matang Lake, northwest of Shipai Market in Anqing. Not far to the right was a tributary of the Wan River. An official road cut through the dense patchwork of ponds, lakes, and rice paddies. The spot where these shacks stood was slightly elevated, one of the few gathering places nearby, with ant-like crowds of people streaming in and out.

Yang Guangdi, who had just fled into the shack district, touched his forehead and looked at the blood on his fingers. Without a care, he wiped it on his tattered hemp coat, stuffed the crucian carp into his chest, and felt its coldness against his belly. He felt again — the one he'd caught earlier was still there too. Two fish in total today. Satisfied, he set off barefoot, threading through the shack area.

The camp was a chaotic mess. Excrement and garbage covered the ground everywhere, mixed here and there with some rice straw and dry firewood. Yang Guangdi didn't bother stepping around carefully. He walked right over those dead branches, his thickly calloused soles completely unharmed.

When he came across larger firewood branches, he picked them up and took them along. After winding through many turns, a shack built of reed stalks appeared before him. A woman was behind the shack, pulling dry rice straw off it.

"Shameless thief!"

Yang Guangdi raised a dry firewood stick in his hand, making as if to strike. The woman said nothing, still tore off a handful of dry straw, turned, and ran.

"Guangdi, let it be." His mother's voice came from inside the shack.

Yang Guangdi set down the firewood stick and saw his mother emerge from the shack. Her complexion was still pale, but much better than it had been on the journey. Carefully supporting her, he had her sit on the ground.

After being saved by a single word from Mr. Hou outside Chuzhou city, he had brought his mother on a long migration and finally reached Anqing. But because he actually couldn't ride a horse or mule, he was naturally passed over when the Cavalry Ying selected men by roster. Though they hadn't driven him away, his circumstances never improved, and he could only do manual labor on the construction at Shipai.

"Mother, look — I caught fish." Yang Guangdi revealed the fish from inside his coat, looking at his mother with pure delight.

His mother moved just slightly and was already short of breath. She reached out and touched Yang Guangdi's forehead, studied it carefully for a moment, then said with a pained heart, "Beaten by those fishermen again? Does it still hurt?"

"Just hit by a stone, it's nothing."

His mother sighed quietly. "While you were out just now, that Manager Tan came by again. He told all the neighboring households that no one is allowed to steal fish from that lake. He said whoever goes again will have their family's congee ration token confiscated."

"The lake doesn't belong to those fishermen. I'm not stealing."

"We still have to listen to Manager Tan. He was sent by Lord Pang. Think about it — if Lord Pang hadn't saved us, mother and son, outside Chuzhou, would we even be alive?"

Yang Guangdi bowed his head and was silent for a moment. "Once Mother recovers her strength, I'll stop fishing."

With that, he walked toward a neighboring shack, stuck his head in, and saw the old man inside. Carefully, he said, "Master Ceng, may I borrow your pot? I'll give you half a fish."

The old man had been sleeping. He looked up, grunted in acknowledgment, and pulled out a small, chipped pot from under his head, handing it to Yang Guangdi.

Yang Guangdi took it with both hands. An iron pot was a rare item in this refugee camp. Such things had originally been scattered everywhere on the Chuzhou battlefield, but most had been gathered up by the various government troops and sold to the people of Chuzhou in exchange for easy-to-carry silver. These refugees had then been passed around many times, the valuables on their persons long since stripped clean. When they set out, they'd picked up some junk, but on the journey from Jiangpu to Anqing it had all been damaged or lost. Once in Anqing, they had no silver to buy replacements.

Fortunately, this old man who knew how to raise horses was experienced in fleeing disaster. Along the way he had helped the Anqing Garrison Battalion care for the horses and mules, which let him haul quite a few extra things. But after reaching Anqing, he hadn't followed the cavalry and remained here in the refugee camp. Given how scarce all supplies were, the old man even had to sleep with his pot pressed under his head.

There was a stove on the ground made of stones. Yang Guangdi crouched down. There were still embers inside. He pulled a few dry grass stalks and placed them on top. His mother brought out some more firewood sticks from the shack, and soon they had a fire going.

Yang Guangdi carried the pot back to the lake. Seeing that the fishing boat had rowed away, he hurried to the spot where he'd cast his hook earlier, untangled the fishing line from the reeds, filled the pot with water, and returned to the shack.

The fire was already blazing. Yang Guangdi borrowed a knife from the old man, cleaned the fish, and put them in the pot. The old man came out to join him shortly after and sat by the pot to wait. The two carp tumbled in the boiling water, and soon a bit of white color seeped into the broth. Around them, other refugees gradually gathered, pacing back and forth constantly. Some children even squatted right down beside the pot, staring blankly at the fish inside.

The old man sighed with a worried, miserable look, stood up holding his knife. Yang Guangdi also grabbed a thick firewood stick as a club, guarding against anyone trying to snatch the fish. The crowd still had some fear of the knife and never dared to actually rush in and take it. Only two children stayed squatting by the pot, watching the fish for a while, then tilting their heads up to watch Yang Guangdi for a while. He kept pushing the two children away, but the moment he let go, they came right back.

His mother sighed behind him. "Give them some to eat. Children can't bear hunger."

Yang Guangdi obediently acknowledged. They waited like this for about half a quarter-hour. When it was more or less cooked, the old man used chopsticks to pick one fish into his own bowl, quickly flaked off half the meat from one side, and gave the rest to Yang Guangdi. Then he pulled an oilpaper packet from his chest, carefully poured out a little salt and sprinkled it on the fish meat, sharing a small amount with Yang Guangdi as well.

Everything was ready. Just as they were about to take a bite, suddenly a loud shout came from behind.

"Everyone up, up! Is that old man Ceng here or not?"

The crowd knew from the voice it was Manager Tan. Those nearby quickly moved aside.

Manager Tan, with the scabby sores on his head, walked over, followed by two men from the Garrison Battalion. No one knew whether they were officers or soldiers.

"Old man Ceng, come out... And you're eating fish. Look at the things you people do. I've told you all, no fishing. Did none of you take Tan Ye's words to heart?" Tan Laizi stepped forward, snatched the bowl away, and pointed at the two battalion soldiers behind him. "This is an officer from the Cavalry Division of the Garrison Battalion. Now you'll go with the officer. This is an honor for you. Good days ahead for you from now on."

The old man said nothing. He bowed his stooped body and saluted the two battalion soldiers. "Allow this humble one to pack up."

"Don't bring anything. We have everything in the battalion." The lead battalion soldier had a recently healed knife scar on his face, still tinged red. He tilted his head to look at the old man, then said to the soldier behind him, "When you reach the camp gate, take him to wash up. Throw away all his old clothes — they're not allowed into the camp. Go through his hair carefully. Lord Pang has the Garrison Inspector troops checking for lice now. If they catch any, it comes out of everyone's silver."

With that, he stepped closer and stood before Old Man Ceng. "Ceng Zhimu, someone originally reported that you were a Team leader in the Eight Bandits Camp, which is why you weren't allowed into the battalion. These past few days, the investigation found it unsubstantiated. Our Cavalry Division has good food and lodging. Even though you'll be tending horses and mules, you'll still get one tael and five Mace of military stipend silver each month. I hear you're a good hand with horses. Once you're in the battalion, just focus your mind on raising the horses well."

The refugees around murmured quietly, all envying this old man who was about to leave the refugee camp.

The old man bowed his head and acknowledged, then followed behind the officer for a few steps. Suddenly he remembered something, stopped, and said hurriedly to Yang Guangdi, "Boy, the rest of my things are all yours."

Yang Guangdi answered "Alright" in a daze, watching Old Man Ceng and the others disappear among the shacks.

Just then, a brass gong outside clanged urgently and loudly. Tan Laizi, bowl in hand and still eating fish, opened his throat and howled, "Time for work! All of you, go build the barracks for me!"

"Aside from this location, where else does Circuit Intendant Shi plan to begin construction?"

Outside Jixian Gate in Anqing, Pang Yu was looking up at a high platform nearing completion. The base was rammed earth inside, faced with brick outside. On top, large numbers of civilian laborers were still erecting a wooden tower. Its overall form resembled a city gate. On the stone plaque facing Jixian Gate were carved four characters: "Heavenly Moat of Yicheng." (Note: The Anqing Heavenly Moat Tower was built in the ninth year of the Chongzhen reign and destroyed in the wars of the Taiping Heavenly Kingdom.)

Jiang Fan beside him said quietly, "There's the Tongcheng North Gate Barbican, the Prefectural City corner tower and this one, Qianshan Tianning Fortress, Taihu City Wall, and Susong City Wall. Only Taihu is still undecided. The Circuit Intendant is not only building city fortifications — he's also pressing the gentry everywhere to contribute silver to construct fortified strongholds."

Pang Yu rubbed his forehead, circled around the Heavenly Moat Tower heading north, and said to Jiang Fan as he walked, "For the Prefectural City construction, this official will find a way. Let the Canal Gang do the building. River traffic is a bit light lately — the gang members need to eat."

"Thank you, my lord. This humble one merely thinks that no matter how well we build, it won't be stronger than the Hezhou city walls. Without drilling troops, it's still hard to defend. Why not give that silver to you, my lord..."

Pang Yu waved his hand. "Circuit Intendant Shi raised the silver himself. How he uses it is his business. If he likes building, then we cater to his preferences. This time we have three new camp grounds in total. Leigang has existing barracks. Shipai and Zongyang are both new construction. The Circuit Intendant has agreed to help us raise rations and pay from the gentry in Zongyang. At month's end, send three to five hundred gang members to Zongyang for construction. But the most critical one is still Shipai. How is the progress there?"

"This subordinate just returned from Shipai yesterday. The refugees gathered from Chuzhou have many conflicts with the native folk — mainly over fishing, firewood, theft, that sort of thing. The refugees net fish in Matang Lake and get chased and beaten by nearby fishermen. Quite a few have been injured."

Pang Yu grunted in acknowledgment. The second time he'd gone to Shipai, the local gentry had hosted him and served Matang crucian carp. It was indeed fatter and more flavorful than crucian carp from ordinary places — one of Shipai's specialties.

Because of the pressing threat of the Roving Bandits this year, when the Garrison Battalion proposed stationing troops, it received the full support of the local gentry. Although the Anqing Garrison Battalion had a good reputation, out of long-standing fear of government troops, the gentry still raised many demands. Besides the army not disturbing the people, these also included no fishing in Matang Lake, because many of the prominent families nearby relied on Matang crucian carp for their livelihood.

The Chuzhou refugees had been transferred here to build the military camp. For now, they could barely eat their fill. With so much fish meat to eat in this lake right beside them, naturally they wouldn't just stare foolishly. But for the moment, the refugees were still timid. After being beaten by a small number of native folk, they either fled in panic or swallowed their anger in silence.

"These market towns all formed naturally. Resources and population are generally in balance. Suddenly adding over a thousand people — with insufficient resources, disputes are inevitable. But it won't last long. Once the camp is built, they'll be transferred elsewhere. After selections are made from various places, not too many will remain. For now, strictly control them. Best not to clash with the Shipai gentry and people." Pang Yu stopped. "This official will station cavalry at Shipai. They should be able to support Wangjiang, Susong, Qianshan, and Taihu within a single day. But reaching Qianshan won't work — mainly because the road to Qianshan is blocked by the Wan River. Five hundred cavalry crossing at Nianyu Ferry would take an entire afternoon. I want the Canal Gang not only to run the dock business at Shipai but also to be able to build pontoon bridges. They must drill until they're proficient."

"This humble one has a question. Why not just build the pontoon bridge in peacetime? Let travelers use it normally, and when something happens, we won't be caught scrambling."

Pang Yu turned his head, glanced at Jiang Fan, and smiled. "The Tang Family, who donated the land for our Cavalry Ying, controls the passenger boats at Nianyu Ferry. If you place a pontoon bridge there in peacetime, wouldn't you be seizing their source of wealth? That would create discord with the gentry, and stationing troops later wouldn't be so convenient. But at Leigang and Zongyang docks, you needn't be so deferential. If porters and trackers want to earn their living at the docks, they must all follow Canal Gang rules."

"This humble one understands."

Pang Yu paused for a moment, then said, "Send capable men to Jiujiang and Wuchang to act as sitting spies there. Report back quickly on local grain prices and shipment volumes — especially if there are major fluctuations. Now that the four most important docks in Anqing are all in our hands, and we have our own Water Army on the river, it's time we started putting them to use."