Chapter 10: The Thatched Shed — Part One

"Ah," a miserable cry rang out from the thatched shed. Dai Zhenggang wiped the sweat from his forehead, at a complete loss. Of the dozen or so trackers who had come from Yanggu, seven or eight had been injured today. Four of them had knife wounds, and one had a broken arm bone. Although he possessed prodigious strength and had once learned a few staff techniques, he had never done any bone-setting or wound treatment. Knife wounds were manageable — just find some cloth and wrap them up haphazardly — but a broken bone, if not handled properly, would leave a man crippled.

He could only say to the wounded man, "Er Tun, bear with it a little longer. I'll go fetch a physician for you in a while." Er Tun's face was pale; he nodded.

Lu Lvzi had an old garment wrapped around his chest, blood still seeping through steadily, though his spirits remained quite vigorous. Hearing this, he pulled Dai Zhenggang a few steps aside and said in a low voice, "Big Brother, Er Tun and Huang Yuan both have new mouths to feed at home. A few days ago, their families sent word, and everyone pooled the money they had on hand to give to them. We don't have much silver left. I just asked around, and at most we can scrape together a few mace of silver. If we call a physician, I'm afraid it won't be enough. Can we still try to think of something with Uncle Qi?"

Dai Zhenggang was a lone bachelor. The money he earned from his daily labor was all spent on wine and meat, or else shared among brothers with families to support. He had great prestige among this band of trackers, but the downside was that he never had any savings. He was also a man of stubborn pride; he had refused Uncle Qi's help that afternoon, so how could he now swallow his pride and go begging?

He turned it over and over in his mind but could find no solution. He had no choice but to ask Lu Lvzi, "How much silver do you reckon it would cost to have a physician come to the door?"

"It would take, take a few mace of silver. I've never seen one myself. Last time my brother called for the midwife..."

"Damn midwife, is that the same as a physician?"

"Then I wouldn't know. Besides the physician's fee, there's also the cost of medicine. And right now we can't haul cargo, so even our food is about to run out."

Looking at his fellow townsmen sitting dejected throughout the shed, Dai Zhenggang felt a suffocating frustration in his chest. Truly, a single coin could choke a hero to death. He could only vent his anger on Lu Lvzi, grumbling, "It's because you wouldn't listen to me, egging everyone on to join your reckless mischief. Now what do you say we do?"

Lu Lvzi hung his head, stealing a glance at Dai Zhenggang's expression, and mumbled, "I only wanted to get more work for everyone. Who told that Tang Guigong to bully people so outrageously."

"Enough, enough. There's no use talking about that now. If there's truly no other way, I'll just swallow my pride and go beg Uncle Qi. Once you're all healed, I'll send you back, and then I'll go out and make my own way. I'm a lone bachelor, free and easy. It'll save me the trouble of worrying about you lot."

Lu Lvzi hurriedly grabbed Dai Zhenggang's sleeve and said, "Big Brother, take me with you. I'm a bachelor too. I've got two elder brothers at home who can support our parents. My worthless life — if I lose it, so be it. I'll never be a burden to you, and I'll definitely listen to you from now on. If you make me go back and farm those few acres of poor fields, the boredom will be the death of me."

Dai Zhenggang was thoroughly annoyed. He shook him off with one jerk and cursed, "I'm going to Liaodong to be a soldier. You dare follow me there too?"

Lu Lvzi froze for a moment, then grinned. "Big Brother, you're joking again. You'd dare take that blood money? I hear the Tatars are terrifyingly fierce, every one of them with green eyebrows and red eyes, each as big as an ox. One Tatar can fight a hundred Han men."

"His mother's stinking fart. I don't believe it. If the Tatars were all that formidable, could the Great Ancestor have driven them all back to their old home? Wouldn't they have eaten every last Han by now?"

"These aren't the Mongol Tatars, I hear. They're Jurchen Tatars, called something like 'ten thousand strong, none can withstand.' Even Grandpa Qi's Qi Family Army was slaughtered to the last man by them."

Dai Zhenggang gave a snort but had no way to refute it. The annihilation of the Zhejiang troops and Shizhu soldiers at the Battle of Hunhe, though one of the most heroic battles since the Eastern Campaigns began, had also shocked the rest of the Ming army. From then on, everyone regarded Liaodong as a road of terror, and rumors of the Jianzhou Bandits' ferocity spread far and wide. Soldiers deserted in droves en route to deployment. Even those who arrived found excuses to delay; one southern unit once spent over a year in Dengzhou under the pretext of repairing ships, refusing to cross the sea to reinforce Liaodong. If the army was like this, the tales that reached the common folk were even more exaggerated, as if the very word "Tatar" were synonymous with demons and devils...

At that moment, a hearty "Ha ha" came from outside the shed, followed by a forthright male voice: "This Brother Lu is bold and forthright, a true stout fellow. But what he just said is a bit off. Weren't the ancestors of the Jurchen Tatars sent running with their tails between their legs by Grandfather Yue centuries ago? That Yue Family Army was made of Han men. And didn't the Mongol Tatars destroy the Jurchen Jin Kingdom, only to be driven off later by the Great Ancestor? So tell me, who's the fiercer?"

The voice sounded somewhat familiar to Dai Zhenggang. Suddenly realizing who it was, he hurried out of the shed and saw a man in a blue scholar's robe standing outside with a smile, accompanied by several others. He quickly clasped his hands and bowed. "So it is the benefactor who helped me earlier. This humble one offers his thanks. Had it not been for your quick wit, who knows when this matter would have been settled. I should have invited you in to sit, but the shed is crude and shabby; I feared you would disdain it."

The man smiled at Dai Zhenggang's words and said, "A mountain is famed not for its height, but for the immortals who dwell there. With bold and forthright stout fellows present, how can a thatched shed be crude? Brother Dai is a man of true feeling; there is no need to fret over such trifling matters."

The visitor was none other than Chen Xin. He was the one who had just spoken up in support and offered ideas. Afterwards, the few of them had followed all the way to this shed, overheard the two men's conversation, and could not resist speaking out to refute them.

Dai Zhenggang was delighted to hear this and quickly ushered Chen Xin and his party inside. The moment Chen Xin entered, the smell of mildew and sweat assaulted his nostrils. He looked up and saw that the roof and four walls were all made of branches covered with dried thatch, light leaking through everywhere — the lighting was actually not bad. On the ground, a few stone slabs were propped up, with planks and weeds spread over them to form a long communal sleeping platform. Chen Xin could hardly imagine what this place would turn into if it rained.

The trackers sitting on the ground all rose to their feet, greeting him with salutes. Chen Xin, imitating Dai Zhenggang, made a circular bow to all, his face full of smiles. "All of you are stout fellows from Yanggu, every one of you highly skilled in martial arts. Today, though few against many, you feared no tyrant, greatly uplifting the cause of righteousness. You are no less than Wu Song himself. I am Chen Xin, a humble scholar, and I take the greatest pleasure in befriending heroic figures. If you do not disdain me, might we address each other as brothers?"

Wu Song's tiger-slaying at Jingyang Ridge had taken place within Yanggu's borders. In the Ming dynasty, the Water Margin was widely circulated and deeply beloved by the common people; these trackers were all very familiar with it. Chen Xin, who had also once been an office director and was accustomed to receiving and seeing off guests, spoke a few words that made every man in Dai Zhenggang's group feel a glow of pride, leaving them with an excellent impression of Chen Xin.

Dai Zhenggang laughed. "What martial arts? I only learned a couple of moves from a monk. That monk had fought Japanese pirates. He said I was born with great strength, and that with this wrought-iron staff I could overcome ten with one burst of power. In all, he only taught me a few moves, and I later taught them to these brothers. I'm making a fool of myself before Brother Chen."

At once, everyone bustled about bringing stools for Chen Xin and his party, and drawing well water in several coarse porcelain bowls, which they handed to each person.

Dai Zhenggang noticed that the rim of the bowl Liu Minyou was holding had several chips in it and said apologetically, "This bowl is a bit broken. Young master, be careful not to cut your lip."

Liu Minyou didn't even glance at it. He raised the bowl, drained it in one gulp, and only then said, "A broken bowl holds good water." Then he turned to a tracker who was rubbing a red, swollen leg and said, "That injury is subcutaneous bleeding. Rubbing it right after getting hurt will make it swell up like a steamed bun in no time. You need to apply a cold compress with well water first. Only after a day can you massage it to promote blood flow."

The band of trackers all chuckled. Seeing that Chen Xin and Liu Minyou were dressed as scholars yet carried not the slightest airs, they felt a warm familiarity and all crowded around. Dai Zhenggang and the others then exchanged names with Liu Minyou.

It turned out that Dai Zhenggang's crew of trackers were from Yanggu. Dai Zhenggang was twenty-four by nominal age. Because of his heaven-sent divine strength, people called him Dai Tiezi. His parents had passed away early; an elder brother and an elder sister had long since started their own families. He himself was carefree, never saved a penny, and had never taken a wife — hence he called himself a lone bachelor. Lu Lvzi's given name was Lu Chuanzong; he was twenty this year and, due to family poverty, also still unmarried. The others were all fellow villagers, some from military households, some from civilian households. They had always farmed at home, all of them dirt-poor. After a year of backbreaking toil, when the harvest was in and the land tax and tenant rent were paid, little was left. For several months each year, they had to borrow money just to get by...

As it happened, Dai Zhenggang knew a Brother Qi from the Tianjin Canal Guild. The previous year, after sowing the winter wheat, he had brought everyone out to earn a little extra income. They had worked as trackers for a few months. Though the labor was bitter, they had managed to earn some money. When the wheat was nearly ripe in the fourth month, some had already gone back. The dozen or so who remained — those who didn't want to scrape a living from the soil or had no land to farm — stayed on, planning to work as trackers long-term. That was when they ran into this business with Tang Caokou.

After hearing Dai Zhenggang's account, Chen Xin sighed. "In these times, making a living anywhere is hard. These six of mine are all from Liaodong. Their very homeland has been seized by the Tatars — far more tragic than your lot."

Lu Lvzi immediately asked, "Then Brother Chen, have you seen the Tatars? Is what you said outside true, that the Tatars aren't much after all?"

Chen Xin nodded and, with shameless audacity, began spinning tall tales at full throttle. "Of course I've seen them. The tops of their heads are hairless, shaved clean, with a single jet-black braid hanging down. Tatars as big as oxen, though — those don't exist. Apart from lacking Brother Lu's heroic and handsome looks, they're about the same as you, Brother Lu: one head, two hands, two feet. If it came to a fight like today's, Brother Dai here could take on at least ten of them, no problem. Brother Lu could handle three or four. And the rest of you brothers could each take on two."

What Chen Xin described was the image from the queue dramas he had watched on television, quite different from the actual "money-rat-tail" style. But Dai Zhenggang and the others had never seen a photograph of a Tatar and couldn't detect the inaccuracies. Lu Lvzi, hearing Chen Xin call him heroic, grinned with delight.

Thereupon, Chen Xin launched into another bout of grand bragging, trotting out the same set of tales he had used to deceive Hai Gouzi and the others.

Chen Xin claimed that he and Liu Minyou were both from Tieling and had been neighbors since childhood. Why did their accent differ from Hai Gouzi and the others? For one thing, they lived far apart. For another, their fathers had come from Zhejiang, and having heard their parents speak since childhood, their accents were distinctive. Their fathers were tall, heroic, and handsome; their mothers were virtuous and capable homemakers. They had come to Liaodong to do business and later decided not to return to their old home, so they found a civilian household and registered their residency. Chen and Liu had both passed the examination to become Licentiates, and from then on lived a peaceful and happy life.

But happy lives are often short-lived. Like a thunderclap from a clear sky, in the forty-sixth year of the Wanli reign, the Jianzhou Chieftain **hachi led his troops to capture Tieling, killing many and plundering all valuables. To avoid becoming slaves, many Han people of integrity hanged themselves from the beams in their homes — which naturally included the entire families of Chen Xin and Liu Minyou. Because so many people were hanging themselves, rope was in short supply. They each found a pair of trousers to hang themselves with, but the quality of the trousers was poor — they snapped, and they didn't die. They were seized by the Tatars and had their hair shaved off. In the end, the two decided to preserve the green hills, so that later they could gather firewood to burn the Jianzhou Bandits to death. Thus, filled with national hatred and family vengeance, they endured in hiding.

By the first year of the Tianqi reign, the old chieftain launched the earth-shaking Liao-Shen Campaign. The two of them accompanied the army, seized the chance to kill a Tatar sentry, and fled toward Guangning. The journey was fraught with overlapping shadows of spies, every step a heart-stopping thrill. The two public enemies of the Later Jin darted and dashed with cunning, and after six days and seven nights, breaking through the life-or-death line of snipers, they finally made their victorious great escape.

Chen Xin, spraying spittle and weaving lotus flowers with his tongue, pieced together plots from Hollywood blockbusters, making the tale brilliantly colorful and breathtakingly perilous. Lu Lvzi and the others listened, now baring their teeth and grimacing, now hissing sharply as they sucked in cold air, now clapping and cheering. Liu Minyou, who was drinking water when he heard Chen Xin say the two had tried to hang themselves with trousers, choked and started coughing.

When the story reached the part where the two escaped back inside the Pass, Chen Xin suddenly stood up, snatched off his cap to reveal the crew cut he'd had done for thirty yuan over ten days ago, and declared loudly, "It's been years since we entered the Pass, and we've kept our hair short all this time precisely to constantly spur ourselves on, that one day we will avenge this blood-deep hatred."

"Stout fellows!" "Stout fellows!" The trackers all rose to their feet, loudly praising him. Stirred to excitement by Chen Xin's smooth talk, they forgot even their own predicament for a moment. Meanwhile, Wang Daixi and the Zhang Dahui brothers, reminded of their parents and brothers who had died in Liaodong, began to sob. Only Hai Gouzi still looked at Chen Xin with a heartless, foolish grin, cheering along with the trackers.