Chapter 590: Mao Chenglu

The crude jetty of broken wooden planks groaned and creaked.

On the jetty, Mao Chenglu, Dongjiang Deputy Commander and defender of Guanglu Island, watched the slowly approaching ships, confused yet tinged with a trace of excitement.

Early this morning, Mao Chenglu had been warming himself by the fire, drinking tea and gnawing on coarse flatbread in his old wooden house, when a personal guard suddenly burst through the door to report: large ships had appeared at sea.

Grabbing a robe and hurrying outside, he found that at some point, the sea surface had filled with gigantic vessels the likes of which he had never seen before.

Mao Chenglu knew — "that business" had arrived.

Before this, word had already reached Guanglu Island: Kong Youde's forces, originally scheduled to sail out and join the campaign beyond the passes, had changed their itinerary for some reason.

Since they were in a period of chaos, and the court paid them little heed, communications on the East River side were always slow, a beat behind the other military garrisons.

The message Mao Chenglu received at the time was rather simple; he only knew that some sort of relief force was coming from the south, and so the Dengzhou side had altered its plans.

Later, after a certain fleet reached Dengzhou, Mao Chenglu gradually obtained accurate information — Kong Youde and the others had always maintained close communication with Mao Chenglu.

Unlike Kong Youde, Geng Zhongming, and the other adopted sons Mao Wenlong had taken in back then, Mao Chenglu was Mao Wenlong's blood nephew, and had always been raised by Mao Wenlong as his own son.

So when Mao Wenlong was still alive, Mao Chenglu, though young, was already Inner Guard General — commanding the household retainers and personal troops composed of Mao Wenlong's adopted sons and grandsons, ranking foremost among all the sons.

Later, after Mao Wenlong was killed, the court, to pacify the Dongjiang generals, retained Mao Chenglu, Mao Wenlong's clearly designated heir; he was not only promoted to Vice General but also given command of a brigade of the Pi Island Army.

Still later, when Yuan Chonghuan died, Mao Chenglu promptly submitted a memorial seeking justice for Mao Wenlong. The court, however, then transferred Mao Chenglu to garrison Guanglu Island — a place even more remote, even farther from the political center.

And so, Mao Chenglu, once the crown prince of Dongjiang Garrison, finally fell to the status of a gatekeeper Great Lord.

This was also why, historically, Mao Chenglu led his troops to respond the moment Kong Youde rebelled: nursing grievances, seeing an opening, he rose on his own.

But in this plane of the transmigrators, history had been altered at the critical moment.

Mao Chenglu, who at this point in time would have already raised troops in rebellion, now — because of the changed fate of Kong Youde's forces — experienced a butterfly effect. This time, not only did Mao Chenglu not rebel, but in the darkest hour of his life, he welcomed a different turning point.

Standing on the jetty, wrapped in a filthy, thick, coarse-cloth padded robe, Vice General Mao beheld a scene he had never witnessed: over a dozen strange large ships floating on the sea surface, some of them emitting faint black smoke.

Soon, a personal guard reported: a boat was approaching.

No report was needed; Mao Chenglu, whose eyesight was excellent, not only saw the boat but also made out several blurry, familiar figures at the bow.

By this time, Guanglu Island's coastline had filled with soldiers and civilians of Dongjiang Garrison who had rushed over upon hearing the news.

These gradually gathering people included men and women, old and young. In this freezing glacial winter, every one of them wore tattered, ragged clothes, many with straw wrapped around their bodies.

Most of them had a famished, sallow look. The only thing that might still prove their status as warriors was perhaps the iron knives hanging at the waists of the able-bodied men.

Not long after, fallen brothers reunited, the bond all the more intimate. Before the boat had steadied, an overjoyed Kong Youde leaped onto the dock in one step: "Old brother, have you been well?"

"Well, well, well!" Mao Chenglu, much thinner now, strode forward to meet him, threw his arms around his old brother, and roared with laughter: "Originally I was not well, but seeing you brothers, all is well now!"

Among Mao Wenlong's many sons, the blood-related Mao Chenglu and Kong Youde, whom Mao Wenlong clearly favored, had always been close — the core of the core. The two of them, plus Geng Zhongming and the current Lushun Vice General Chen Youshi and others, formed the most powerful faction's nucleus in Dongjiang Garrison back then.

Though Dongjiang Garrison was now torn apart, the faction's internal bonds had only grown tighter; with immense external pressure and even survival becoming a problem, they had no choice but to huddle together through the winter.

So the moment they met, Kong Youde hastily pulled Mao Chenglu back into that wooden house reserved for the island master, and then, in full detail, held nothing back, laid out the purpose of this visit completely.

As everyone had expected, after hearing everything, Mao Chenglu was dumbstruck, then lowered his head in deep thought, like a wooden statue.

Any human being, suddenly hit with such a massive amount of information, would inevitably freeze — the brain has no spare capacity for expression management; all computing power is devoted to parsing the information.

A long while later, Mao Chenglu seemed to finally come back to his senses. He raised his head, looked searchingly at Kong Youde, Geng Zhongming, and Li Jiucheng before him, then stretched out a finger toward the door and asked slowly: "So, those on the ships outside are a bunch of rebels, looking for us fellows to join their gang?"

Faced with such a blunt question, Kong Youde opened his mouth to argue, but before his most familiar comrade, he suddenly lost the desire to quibble. So he first turned his face to exchange a glance with Geng Zhongming and Li Jiucheng; after confirming their looks, Kong Youde turned back, his face grave, and said slowly: "Elder Brother, that's exactly it."

The next moment, Mao Chenglu sprang up from his stool, his face flushing red, his eyes gleaming with delight, slapping his thigh vigorously as he shouted: "Then what are we waiting for? Hurry and invite the honored guests inside to warm by the fire!"

But after saying this, Mao Chenglu seemed to think of something else, and his expression instantly changed.

Vice General Mao now clenched his fists, his teeth grinding audibly, the muscles on his face twitching uncontrollably, his dark gaze filled with ruthless ferocity: "No matter which high masters they are, so long as they can topple this damned Zhu Ming and avenge Lord Wenlong for me — this fight, I am in for sure!"

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In the afternoon, after a long and difficult process of guidance and towing by boats, the flagship of the Fleet of the North finally slowly docked at Guanglu Island's crude pier.

By this time, the area around Guanglu Island's pier was already a sea of people.

The total military-civilian population under Dongjiang Garrison's jurisdiction numbered roughly over a hundred thousand. This Liaodong Armed Group of a hundred thousand, where soldiers and civilians were one, was spread across Lushun and the surrounding islands — Pi Island, Guanglu Island, and a series of others.

Previously, due to the court's de facto dismemberment, Dongjiang Garrison's population had scattered widely, their distribution growing even broader. Not only the followers who moved to Dengzhou with Kong Youde's forces, but also many who drifted across the Bohai Bay region. In fact, as early as when the transmigrators first laid plans for Tianjin, they had already gathered quite a few people who had drifted over from Dongjiang Garrison.

And now, on Guanglu Island, over twenty thousand people were gathered. Among them, those who could barely count as war soldiers numbered perhaps two to three thousand; the rest were all family members.

These subjects, half-abandoned by the court, received scant supplies and were ignored by all. Originally, in this frigid winter, people froze or starved to death every day. It was only because a strange sight had appeared at sea today that everyone was willing to expend a little precious energy, crawling out of their winter-hibernation dugouts to see what was going on.

Since it was a strange sight, it was naturally a scene they had never seen before.

The warship docked at the pier had sleek lines and a high length-to-beam ratio, hung with novel, beautiful white sails. And what made the natives whisper among themselves was not only the strange ship, but also the rows of cannons gleaming with metallic luster, visible along the ship's sides.

Then, wide gangplanks were lowered from the hull, and groups of soldiers began disembarking.

Lightning-fast word had already spread through the crowd: these large ships on the sea were all brought by Southerners.

Yet the soldiers emerging from the ships overturned the natives' understanding of the term "Southerner."

The soldiers disembarking in orderly steps were tall and robustly built. They wore yellow woolen overcoats, with leather ammunition belts and gear across their chests and behind their waists, Lei Feng hats on their heads, gleaming high-top leather boots on their feet, and carried standard-issue rifles with bayonets fixed slung across their backs.

Amidst the officers' loud commands, the soldiers pouring off the ship swiftly secured the pier and jetty, then formed ranks face-to-face, leaving a central passageway.

The next moment, two guests, wearing gray general's wool overcoats of an even finer weave, walked down from the ship's deck.

The host, who had long been waiting on the jetty, hurried forward to greet them.

Vice General Mao had changed into a full Great Ming regulation Vice General's official robe, his face wreathed in smiles, his gaze excited yet tinged with three parts curiosity. The moment they met, he clasped his fists and launched into auspicious words: "Hahaha, never did I expect to meet in person the great heroes who slay Tartars! Mao Chenglu is fortunate, my Guanglu Island brothers are fortunate!"

Seeing the host's attitude so cordial, and seeing Kong Youde behind him nodding repeatedly, the two men, Sha and Zhang, knew the matter was settled.

Transmigrators well-versed in history, since they intended to meddle in Dongjiang Garrison, naturally made comprehensive plans; in fact, Mao Chenglu and Guanglu Island had long been factored into the scheme. Once Kong Youde stepped aboard the ship, he naturally had to accept the plan and turn around to win over Mao Chenglu.

Finding the plan going smoothly and the host already striking a pose, the transmigrators would naturally deploy their tried-and-true tactic: a display of strength — after all, negotiations still lay ahead.

"Haha, General Mao is too kind. We merely killed a few Tartars in passing; it's not worth mentioning, not worth mentioning."

Though the guest's tone was polite, the content was anything but — casually delivering a massive flex.

Yet Mao Chenglu showed not the slightest displeasure: since they were going to ally, or even "surrender to the court," then the stronger the ally's power, the better. They really had killed that many Tartars — that was true ability speaking. On the primary business of killing Tartars, all the Dongjiang generals respected the Crossing Faction, and this was the main reason things had gone so smoothly all along.

Vice General Mao was in high spirits today, his whole being radiating vitality: "Someone, fetch good flour from the stores and bake flatbread to entertain our brothers from the sea! And slice me some ginseng, stew the chicken, slaughter a deer — today we drink till we're drunk! This general is determined to learn a few tricks from the heroes, to use when killing Tartars later!"

"Heh heh, we trouble the General for his generosity."

As Zhang Zhongqi walked arm in arm with General Mao, his mouth full of pleasantries, he unobtrusively swept a glance at the perimeter — a large crowd of ragged natives, held back by the General-in-Chief's armored personal guards.

"Starved to this wretched state, and they still have the nerve to treat my soldiers to flatbread? Don't tell me it's just cornmeal. Truly f*cking ridiculous, putting on a show when you can't afford it."

At this thought, Zhang Zhongqi turned his head with a chuckle and said to Great General Mao, "Since it's a shared meal, it wouldn't be right for only one side to provide the dishes. To be honest, General Mao, on this trip north, I've also brought along some of Guangnan's newly harvested rice especially for my old brothers in the north."

"Why not take this chance to let the brothers try something new? We're all comrades-in-arms, so we ought to eat from the same pot!"

Mao Chenglu, hearing this, gave a dry laugh. "That… might not be quite appropriate, would it?"

Although General Mao declined the proposal, anyone could tell his tone was weak, too faint to shoo away even a single mosquito.

"What's the harm in just a little? I'll make the call on this!" After Zhang Zhongqi feigned a huff of insistence and saw General Mao offer no further opposition, he bellowed, "Orderly! Notify the transport ships to unload some rice."

"Yes, sir! Please give the quantity, Governor!"

"Let's start with one hundred thousand catties."

"Yes, sir! One hundred thousand catties!"

In that one moment, General Mao's mouth hung wide open; he could no longer keep up the act.