Chapter 433: Shadows

With his back pressed against the shop's wooden platform, Tan Laizi felt a slight easing of his heart, but it was still not enough to stop his trembling.

This place seemed originally to have been a shop selling copperware; following the usual practice when fleeing soldiers, after the shopkeeper ran off it would certainly have been looted by the common folk who came before and after, and even so, a few fragments of copper work still remained on the floor, but what was more plentiful were broken pottery shards; the window boards sealing the counter lay toppled askew and crooked on the ground, and there was also a broken bamboo basket.

Tan Laizi felt a piece of copper sheet under his backside, apparently something used on a lamp stand — the copper material itself could be worth money; his hand trembling, he stuffed it into his bosom.

He heard someone in the street bark a low shout, and a flurry of footsteps raced away eastward; Yang Guangdi poked his head out for a look, then turned to Tan Laizi and said, "The lookout says it's Tartars."

Tan Laizi froze for a moment, his heart instantly pounding wildly, and he instinctively wanted to flee to the back courtyard, but when he looked up he realized this shop was actually extremely narrow, without even a back door; the front counter faced diagonally toward the river channel, and outside the sound of hoofbeats rang on without pause — if he went out he might well be seen by the Tartars; Tan Laizi's legs went weak, and for a moment he could not stand up.

Just at this tense moment, that Yang Guangdi actually stood up; Tan Laizi tried to stop him in a low voice, but his throat was so hoarse he could make no sound; Yang Guangdi pulled open the drooping shop sign in front of the door, and the sunlight formed a patch of dark shadow inside the shop; then Yang Guangdi lifted that broken bamboo basket and placed it on the counter, creating a new shadow behind it.

"Don't you move — those are Tartars, do you understand how formidable they are?!" Tan Laizi finally caught his breath; he was furious at Yang Guangdi's movements, which might expose their position — right now the best thing was not to move at all.

Outside, another burst of footsteps ran past, and he heard a voice bark low, "Everyone stay flat and don't move; if anyone tries to cross the river, take them alive. Yang Guangdi, have your firelock ready."

Yang Guangdi answered, "The bullet's already loaded."

Having said this, he took out a piece of flint, laid the tinder in place, and began striking; outside, the hoofbeats drew nearer and nearer, and the striking sound was utterly inconspicuous, but Tan Laizi still felt his heart pounding with terror.

Fortunately, Yang Guangdi's hand was very steady; after only a few strikes he got it lit; he carefully shielded the fire, then took a length of fire rope from his waist, lit one end in the flame, and when he took it away the flame on the fire rope vanished, and it began to smolder slowly.

"Battalion Commander Tan, hold this for me."

Tan Laizi had no attention to spare for correcting the impropriety of the form of address; he took it numbly and held it in his hand, watching as Yang Guangdi laid the fire lance across his legs, pried open an iron plate, then opened a copper kettle at his waist and began pouring something under that iron plate.

At this moment, the sound of horse hooves striking the stone slabs on the opposite bank was as dense as raindrops; seeing this, Tan Laizi said anxiously, "Be careful not to make any noise — those hoofbeats must be several hundred at least..."

Suddenly he heard Yang Guangdi's voice say, "Judging by the hoof-sounds, forty riders."

Just as Tan Laizi was stunned by this, Yang Guangdi had already closed the lid, reached out and taken back the fire rope, fixed the burning end onto the dragon's head, and wound the remaining fire rope coil by coil around his hand.

"Battalion Commander Tan, help me keep an eye on this fuse tip; I've forgotten to watch it so many times — if the fuse goes out, I won't be able to hit the Tartars."

Tan Laizi said nervously, "Don't you go shooting recklessly — once you shoot, they'll know we're here."

Having said this, he leaned back against the counter and panted; the hoofbeats on the opposite side were gradually dying down, occasionally interspersed with a few terrified wails, and after a moment all returned to silence; Yang Guangdi cursed under his breath, "How come there are still people hiding over there — they don't even know enough to run for their lives."

Tan Laizi's throat was parched, his lips trembling without cease; Yang Guangdi poked his head out past the counter, observing from within the shadows of the shop sign and the bamboo basket, and hurriedly reached out to pull him back: "Be careful the Tartars don't see you!"

Yang Guangdi broke free and said in a low voice, "When it's bright outside, you can't see clearly inside — we tried it many times in training; the further inside you are, the less you can be seen."

"The Tartars might well be able to see clearly — otherwise why would they be called Tartars!"

After Tan Laizi retorted, he felt that being so cowardly in front of such a young kid was a bit humiliating, but for a moment he didn't know how to recover his dignity.

A strange howl came from the opposite bank, the sound echoing between the two shores, like some kind of wild beast; Tan Laizi had never heard any animal cry, so he couldn't identify it.

Tan Laizi was both afraid and curious; seeing that Yang Guangdi had been observing all along, he couldn't help but poke his own head out past the counter; the broken bamboo basket first appeared in his line of sight, the afternoon sunlight passing through the basket's bamboo strips and casting mottled, scattered patterns of light and shadow across the countertop.

After what Yang Guangdi had just said, these shadows gave Tan Laizi a considerable sense of security; looking outward through the gaps in the basket, he first saw the river channel; sunlight spilled from the west onto the ice surface, dazzlingly bright and somewhat glaring.

In the shopfronts opposite were two mounted patrol soldiers, including that Banner Commander, and two more were crouched on the second floor, each with bows and arrows at the ready.

Seeing the Anqing soldiers, Tan Laizi felt a little more settled in his heart, and he looked further toward the opposite side.

The Chujiaquan Ferry on the opposite bank was also a market; the gray-black rooftops traced an unbroken silhouette under the sunlight, blocking the view from this side; only the main road leading to the ferry was unobstructed, its smooth stone slabs reflecting the sunlight, yet no trace of any Tartars could be seen.

After waiting a moment, a shadow slowly appeared on the stone-paved road; Tan Laizi's whole body shuddered, and he instinctively ducked his head; that shadow stretched unceasingly across the ground, and at last a swaying horse's head came into view.

Tan Laizi involuntarily began trembling again; the rumors that had circulated for years about the Tartars' ferocity and cruelty surfaced endlessly in his mind. Over on that side, Yang Guangdi's breathing had also quickened, but he was still observing intently.

The fear in his heart mounting steadily, Tan Laizi could barely keep from crying out; when he turned his head to look at Yang Guangdi, he happened to see that fire rope tip — it was already a patch of charred black, with no smoke visible.

"The rope's gone out."

Yang Guangdi came back to himself and hurriedly lowered his head to blow on the fire tip on that rope; a length of ash fell away from the charred fire rope, then it brightened for a moment, only to dim again immediately, sending up a plume of white smoke.

Tan Laizi hastily reached out and waved the white smoke away, saying urgently, "Don't let the Tartars see it."

This time Yang Guangdi ignored him, pulled the fire rope forward a section, and continued poking his head out to observe.

Tan Laizi followed and poked his head out; that rider had just halted at the street entrance on the opposite bank; he was clad in a suit of bright silver armor, his helmet a four-panel helm much like those of the Anqing Battalion, only with an extra sharp spike on top; the armor flickered and flashed with light under the sun, but because he was backlit, his front was in a patch of shadow, and his features were utterly impossible to make out.

Beside him stood a great blade, and on the left and right sides of his waist were a bow case and a quiver respectively; his mount was taller than an ordinary horse, its four limbs casting long black shadows on the ground; at this moment it twisted its neck and snorted a puff of white vapor.

The rider gave the reins a light tug and remained standing quietly at the street entrance by the riverbank; his face turned to the left, and in the shifting light, an iron mask he wore was revealed, painted with the pattern of a demon face. (Note 1)

The demon face with its metallic sheen slowly turned, scanning the streets of the opposite bank, and gradually faced the shop where the two men were hiding.

Tan Laizi whooshed as he pulled his head back, leaning against the counter and gasping great gulps of air.

"Battalion Commander Tan, don't be afraid; he can't see us — there's still a river between us," came Yang Guangdi's low voice; his breathing was no longer hurried, his tone very calm; he was staring intently at the opposite bank. "So this is what a real Tartar looks like — not all that tall, either."

"What afraid? Would I, Tan Ye, be afraid of one Tartar? Go ask around all of Anqing, go ask..." Tan Laizi stopped and looked at Yang Guangdi. "A real Tartar? You mean you've seen fake ones?"

"On the drill ground they set up lots of straw-man Tartars, even pulled a queue on them, just for us to strike and kill — those were even taller than this real Tartar."

Tan Laizi stared blankly, not knowing what to say; just then, a long, beast-like howl came from the opposite bank.

Tan Laizi shuddered, unable to suppress the terror in his heart, and lifted his head again to observe; around that bright-armored rider, other riders had appeared one after another, some in bright armor and some in dark armor; these cavalrymen gathered at the street entrance, their shadows under the sunlight shrouding the entire road surface.

Someone shouted something — Tan Laizi could not make out the accent — and then most of the riders dismounted; they moved along the riverbank, some stepping onto the ice to inspect it, while others drew bows and arrows, observing the eastern bank as they walked.

Tan Laizi hid within the shadows; every time a gaze from the opposite bank looked this way, his heart clenched, but it seemed what Yang Guangdi had said was correct — they had indeed not been discovered.

Several dismounted riders were discussing something on the ice near the bank, and then amid a few shouts, five or six common folk were driven out from the market streets; goaded by a man wearing a leather hat, they walked toward the ice, weeping as they went; the one in front had just stepped onto the ice when he stumbled and fell.

Tan Laizi murmured, "The Tartars want to drown them?"

The several common folk walked forward cautiously; the leather-hatted man behind them brandished a waist saber, pressing them relentlessly; the several common folk drew closer and closer to the center of the river channel; walking at the very front was a middle-aged man, who wailed and walked slower and slower.

At last, with a crisp crack, the middle-aged man let out a startled cry and plunged into the river water; he clawed toward the nearby ice surface, straining to climb back up, but the ice layer continued to crack; the man struggled in terror, his arms flailing wildly, dense droplets of water flying up and scattering rays of five-colored light under the sun.

Yang Guangdi said in a low voice, "The Tartars are testing how thick the ice is."

The remaining common folk collapsed on the ice, wailing loudly, and no matter what, refused to go any further. The leather-hatted man swung his blade and hacked at the nearest person on the ground; a shrill, agonized scream rang out, and blood water flowed across the ice surface, sending up wafts of white steam.

Tan Laizi's mouth hung open; behind the broken bamboo basket, he stared blankly at the scene before him, his face already turned ashen white.

The leather-hatted man hacked at another person; that person raised a hand to block, and flesh and blood flew from his arm; he let out a piercing, miserable scream; after being slashed several more times in succession, that person suddenly shrieked, scrambled up and took a blade strike on the top of his head, and then, heedless of everything, threw his arms around the leather-hatted man.

The leather-hatted man was caught off guard and staggered on the ice; that person howled like a madman, shoving the leather-hatted man with all his might toward the center of the river; a tremendous splash rang out, and the two grappling figures plunged into the river together.

Neither of the two seemed able to swim, and they instantly let go of each other, each concerned only with his own thrashing. The leather-hatted man was already floating on the water's surface; a bare, shiny head emerged, and a tiny queue lashed violently with his struggles.

Tan Laizi's heart seemed to stop for a beat; Yang Guangdi barked in a low voice, "Tartar."

The Qing soldiers on the bank shouted and cursed loudly; those on the ice dared not approach the edge; two of them fetched line spears from their horses and came running onto the ice, apparently intending to rescue the leather-hatted man; that Tartar clad head-to-toe in bright armor remained seated motionless upon his horse's back, his mask gleaming with a metallic sheen as he watched everything before him with cold indifference.

Tan Laizi saw the Banner Commander in the shop across the way making hand signals. Yang Guangdi returned a signal, and then the two roving cavalrymen crouching on the second floor across from them began to ready their bows and arrows.

Yang Guangdi blew on the head of the Fire Rope, adjusted its position once more, took a step back, and then slowly raised the Fire Lance, its muzzle pressed against the edge of the bamboo basket's shadow.

Tan Laizi froze for a moment, and then it finally dawned on him — the Banner Commander was actually going to seize the Tartar who had fallen into the river in broad daylight. His heart felt ready to leap out of his chest.

In the shadows, Tan Laizi watched the shop across the way with intense focus. He saw the Banner Commander tuck a Light Arrow under his right arm, grip a Step Bow in his left hand, and, half-crouching, slowly make his way to the door.

……

Note 1: There are numerous records of the Tartars using iron masks. For example, Xu Guangqi's "Memorial on the Extreme Peril in Liaodong" states: "Your servant has also seen those returning from Liaodong, who say the rebel soldiers' helmets, armor, masks, and arm guards are all made of fine iron." Military masks of the Ming dynasty were typically painted with demon faces, also known as Demon-Fighting Masks.