Chapter 882: What? The Great Qing Is Gone! — Chapter 23 (Seeking Subscriptions)

In early July of the seventh year of the Great Ming's Hongxing era, in Xuzhou, at Pengcheng.

The market district of Pengcheng had not been this bustling and lively for many years. Its prosperity had overflowed the majestic Pengcheng Great Bastion and, to the northwest of the bastion, formed an enormous market known as the Pengcheng North Market.

The Pengcheng North Market was built in descending tiers from the great dam on the southern bank of the Yellow River, and at the top of the dam lay the busy Pengcheng docks. Seventy to eighty percent of the logistics supplies for the more than one hundred thousand Ming troops on the Henan front now passed through these docks and moved along the Yellow River waterway. Traveling westward up the Yellow River meant going against the current, and there was no wind to borrow, so the boats had to be hauled by human and animal labor. The old camp of the civilian laborers who hauled the boats lay just below the Pengcheng docks. Because these laborers earned a decent income and had a certain amount of spending power, and because the Xuzhou Transport Bureau (which was solely responsible for the logistics of the various armies in Henan) also purchased all manner of miscellaneous goods locally in Pengcheng to supply the great army, the Pengcheng North Market below the docks had arisen in response, and in a very short time it had flourished and prospered.

At the turn of summer and autumn in the seventh year of Hongxing, below the Yellow River dam there had already appeared more than a dozen straight streets crisscrossing one another, large tracts of neatly arranged laborer camps that looked like military encampments, shops and taverns lining the streets, warehouses great and small, and four-wheeled carts coming and going along the roads — together forming a vigorous picture of a city on the rise.

When the "Delegation from Beyond the Pass" led by Oboi, accompanied by the father-and-son pair Zu Dashou and Zu Kefa, crossed the Yellow River and descended from the boat-crowded Pengcheng docks into the Pengcheng North Market, they too were startled by the prosperity here.

Oboi sighed with emotion: "I never imagined this place could be so prosperous!"

The aging Zu Dashou said with a smile: "This place has only flourished because of the supplies for the various armies in Henan. It won't last. The Great Ming's true prosperity lies south of the Huai River. When Commander Guan goes to Nanjing to take up office in the future, he will truly appreciate the wealth and splendor of the southeast."

"Commander Guan?" Oboi was taken aback. "Who is Commander Guan?"

"You are Commander Guan!" Zu Dashou stroked his white beard and said with a laugh. "Your surname is Guan!"

"My surname is Guan?" Oboi was stunned again and again, thinking to himself: This Zu Dashou has gone senile! How did my surname become Guan?

At that thought he glanced at Zu Kefa. Zu Kefa smiled and explained: "Prince Gong has just memorialized the court, requesting that Han surnames be bestowed upon the eight great Manchu clans. The Tunggiya clan is granted the surname Tong; the Magiya clan is granted Ma; the Socoro clan is granted Suo; the Heseri clan is granted He; the Fuca clan is granted Fu; the Nara clan is granted La — no, that's wrong, it's Na; the Niohuru clan is granted Lang. You are of the Gūwalgiya clan, so you are granted the surname Guan. From now on, therefore, you are Guan Oboi."

"Oh, granted the surname Guan — the same surname as Lord Guan the Second. Good, good!" Oboi nodded repeatedly. "Then what about Aisin Gioro?"

"Granted the surname Jin," said Zu Dashou. "Prince Gong is called Jin Fulin, and the Imperial Uncle will henceforth be called Jin Dodo — how auspicious!"

"Jin Dodo is a fine name!" Oboi nodded. "It sounds very rich!"

Dodo was terribly poor now; hearing the name "Jin Dodo" would surely please him!

As the three men spoke, they had already descended from the Yellow River dam — steps had been built from top to bottom of the dam, so one could walk down. Along the descending steps, Ming troops armed with long spears, wearing breastplates and helmets, had long since cordoned off a "VIP passage." Below the passage lay a straight road paved with blue flagstones, leading all the way to the Pengcheng fortress.

Several carriages and a squad of "foreign-horse cavalry" were already waiting there. Zu Kefa said to Oboi: "Commander Guan, let us board the carriage. His Majesty is on Yunlong Mountain. We'll ride over, have a meal in Pengcheng on the way, and be able to ascend Yunlong Mountain this afternoon."

Oboi sized up the "foreign-horse cavalry" and drew a deep breath. Their great foreign horses were clearly all "imported goods," and their charging speed was beyond anything Mongol horses could match. If the Manchu iron cavalry met such horsemen on an open field of battle, they truly would have no answer!

He sighed, withdrew his gaze, and suddenly caught sight, out of the corner of his eye, of several tall wooden poles standing upright. He had no idea what they were for.

Oboi was rather curious, so he turned his head to look. At a glance, he discovered that on one of the wooden poles there was an acquaintance! It seemed to be Fan Wencheng — no, it was a part of Fan Wencheng. Just a head, the features twisted and ferocious, dead with eyes unclosed, staring straight at him!

"Th-this is Fan Wencheng? How, how did he end up hanging up there?"

Zu Dashou heard Oboi's question and sighed: "He got what he deserved. He was sliced three thousand times, then had his head cut off and hung here for public display!"

"Wh-what was his crime?" Oboi asked, feeling somewhat uneasy.

"He had six great crimes: treason, aiding the barbarians, facing the enemy, breaking covenants, plunder, and massacre. Each great crime was worth one thousand cuts."

"That would be six thousand cuts!" Oboi found it strange. One thousand times six was six thousand. How had Fan Wencheng gotten off with three thousand fewer cuts? Was there no place left to cut, or could the executioner not count?

Zu Kefa said in an envious tone: "It's only because he got himself a good wife. That Kong Sizhen shared his hardships and took three thousand of the cuts for him."

"What? Kong Sizhen..." Oboi listened with his heart pounding in terror! What great crime could a slip of a girl like Kong Sizhen have committed? If even she had been sliced to death, then his own... his own crimes were surely greater than Kong Sizhen's, were they not?

"By the way," Zu Dashou sighed again, "there is someone else being sliced today as well. Someone quite familiar to you, Commander Guan — Li Shuaitai, who once served as meiren i janggin of the Han Bordered Yellow Banner. For the crime of slaughtering Datong, he has been sentenced to death by slow slicing, one thousand cuts, to be carried out this afternoon. If we hurry, we can still go see him off."

The work of eliminating the Han traitors was still continuing. Fan Wencheng, Geng Jimao, Xu Dingguo — these great Han traitors who had once held heavy military power had all been sliced to death already. Now it was the turn of the traitors captured on the battlefield by Shi Kefa to face the knife — Dodo and Fulin's armies had also contained many Han traitors, and when the army was defeated, some had died in battle and some had been captured. Among them, quite a few qualified for death by slow slicing, and during this period they had all been queuing up for the knife.

Those already sliced included Shi Tingzhu, who had surrendered together with Sun Degong (he was a Manchu, but he had held the post of Garrison Commander under the Ming, so he qualified for treason, and he also had several other great crimes), Ma Guangyuan, who had surrendered to the Great Qing in the third year of Chongzhen, Shen Yongzhong, Duke Who Continues Obedience, and several of his sons, and so on. But there were still many waiting patiently... Today it was Li Shuaitai's turn.

In fact, he was not the principal culprit in the Datong massacre. The principal culprit was Dorgon; he was merely an accomplice and underling. However, his father Li Yongfang had been the foremost of the Han traitors! He was now dead, so his crimes naturally had to be inherited in part by his son. Thus Li Shuaitai, who originally did not qualify for slow slicing, had now earned the qualification to receive one thousand cuts.

Oboi's breathing grew rapid. "Th-this, this, this..."

Just as he was stammering, he caught sight of another acquaintance's head, also hanging high up. It was Sun Degong's son, Sun Sike.

"S-Sun Sike too..."

"Two thousand cuts!" said Zu Kefa. "He was sliced seven days ago. Commander Guan, you were on good terms with him, weren't you? Would you like to burn some paper money for him?"

"Is that allowed?" Oboi felt uneasy!

"It is, it is. Burning paper money is not against the law." Zu Kefa smiled. "Hearing that you were coming, I have already prepared several large crates of paper money for you!"

"Prepared paper money for me..." Oboi drew a sharp breath. Why did those words sound so terrifying?

"I have no use for paper money!" Oboi said.

"You do, you do." Zu Dashou sighed. "If it were anyone else coming, we would not have prepared it. But for you... your elder brother Jobtei's head is also here in Xuzhou. It can be borrowed out for you to make offerings, burn some paper money, and let him live a little better down below."

Jobtei had died in battle at Guanyintang. His head had been cut off, preserved in salt, and then dried in the sun so that it could be kept for a long time.

But since Oboi had come, the head could still be borrowed out for use.

Hearing the confirmed news of his elder brother's death, and knowing that his good friend was being sliced today, Oboi's mood immediately darkened. With a long sigh, he boarded the carriage and headed for the Pengcheng Bastion.

(End of Chapter)