Chapter 214: Section Thirty-One: The Whirlpool

On the twenty-sixth day of the ninth month of the fifth year of the Tianqi reign, in the capital.

Ever since arriving in Beijing, Huang Shi had been idle every day. At first he treated it as a holiday, but Huang Shi was long accustomed to military life, and this prolonged leisure made him thoroughly uncomfortable. While eating breakfast, Huang Shi received a letter sent by those two idlers Sun Zhijie and Mao Chengdou, inviting him to drink tea at a pavilion; without giving it much thought, he agreed.

After breakfast, Huang Shi went out to the street to listen to storytelling. In the present age there were few amusements, and Huang Shi found this entertainment acceptable enough; he planned to pass some time with it, then head to the outskirts for the appointment.

Today the storyteller was recounting the Tale of Prince Yue. When he reached the most moving passages, the storyteller wept aloud, and the listeners around him broke into a chorus of sighs and sobs. Huang Shi had never been greatly interested in storytelling before, but now, sitting among the crowd, he could not help being deeply stirred by the atmosphere.

When the storyteller on stage reached Prince Yue's lyric "The River All Red," his voice suddenly rose in fervor, his spirit soared, and as he gestured and postured, it seemed as if he were already smashing straight into the enemy's lair. Huang Shi, sitting below, felt his own heart swell with heroic passion. When the storyteller reached the very end and bitterly spat out the eight words "Heaven's sun shines bright, Heaven's sun shines bright," his voice turned hoarse, his gaze grew distant, and then his tone took on a choked, sobbing quality — the words so mournful and plaintive that one could hardly bear to listen. Huang Shi could not help but sigh along with him.

As the storyteller wiped away his tears, the audience members below all looked despondent, silently tossing an extra copper or two into the tray. After a moment, the storyteller on stage suddenly raised his head and slammed his wooden clapper down hard. Like a thunderclap out of a clear sky, the crowd was instantly startled, and they heard the storyteller declare: "Gentlemen, since you honor me with your patronage, I shall today perform one more piece for you all."

With that, the storyteller struck another earth-shaking clap, cleared his throat, and said in a ringing voice: "Today I shall speak of a hero of our dynasty, a true son of Liaodong. If you find the telling fine, then call out a hearty 'Well done!' for me..."

The storyteller began to recount the tale of Zhang Pan — sure enough, it was always the tragic heroes who moved people most. Listening to the artistically embellished story of the late General Zhang, Huang Shi could not help recalling Zhang Pan's voice and smiling face. He remembered the two of them exchanging cups after the great battle at Lüshun... His heart so heavy with grief, Huang Shi found it hard to keep listening. He rose quietly and slipped out of the crowd.

From behind him came the storyteller's booming voice: "...Now it is told that the eastern slaves raised a great army to assault Lüshun, and the long-lived Huang Gongbao urgently led troops to relieve them..."

Then came another thunderous clap of the wooden clapper, and a wave of cheers erupted from the crowd. In this age, the storytellers who filled every street and alley of Beijing were like the news broadcasters of Huang Shi's previous life, explaining the great trends of the world as they saw them to the common people. Hearing the crowd behind him cheering his own name, Huang Shi could not help feeling a secret pride — to be recognized by the common people was, after all, a glorious thing. I have, I suppose, done quite a bit of work that benefits the common people and the nation?

When he reached the pavilion on the outskirts, the zither player and tea boy hired by Sun Zhijie were already waiting there. After Huang Shi sat down, the tea boy poured him tea, and the zither player came over respectfully to greet him, then asked him to choose a tune. Huang Shi had no understanding of this era's music, so he told the zither player to play whatever he wished.

The zither player seemed quite accustomed to musical ignoramuses like Huang Shi. He sat to one side and began to play, first strumming the zither for a while, then switching to the pipa. Huang Shi had been somewhat melancholy today. Ever since hearing the storyteller speak of Prince Yue and Zhang Pan, his chest had felt as if blocked by a great stone. The Great Ming's military preparedness was lax, the frontier troops were destitute, and the situation in Liaodong was perilous. Yet ever since he arrived in the capital, all he saw wherever he looked was a scene of bustling prosperity.

The sound of the pipa made Huang Shi more and more agitated the longer he listened: "Enough, enough."

"Hold on." The speaker was Mao Chengdou, who had arrived just as Huang Shi spoke. After sitting down, Mao Chengdou wagged his head appreciatively to the music: "Every time I hear this pipa, a feeling of heroic fervor and fierce passion wells up unbidden, as if I were on a battlefield of clashing steel and armored horses. Does General Huang not think so?"

"Well said." Sun Zhijie had also arrived, and with him was an unfamiliar young man, who looked to be only twenty-four or twenty-five. After sitting down, Sun Zhijie also heaved a deep sigh: "Since ancient times, the sound of the pipa has been the most tear-provoking of all. Especially when I reflect on the court situation today, with the wicked and sycophantic holding sway — truly, a nameless hatred springs up in me."

Seeing young Mao and young Sun so impassioned, Huang Shi did not wish to spoil their mood, so he merely smiled faintly: "What you two gentlemen say is true, but this junior officer has seen too much slaughter in his daily life, so upon arriving in the capital I wished to hear some gentler tunes and not recall those scenes of blood any longer."

With that, Huang Shi stood up and turned to face the unfamiliar young man, asking with a smile: "May I ask my honored brother's noble surname and courtesy name?"

The young man had looked deeply preoccupied and ill at ease the entire time. Hearing this, he stepped forward and knelt, clutching Huang Shi's robe: "General Huang, save my life!"

Huang Shi let out a startled "Ah!" and tried to step back, but could not pull free from the other's tight grip. He bent down to help the visitor up, but even after two attempts could not pull him to his feet. The young man knelt there rigidly and cried out again: "General Huang, save my life!"

By now Sun Zhijie had shooed the idlers far away, and then said to Mao Chengdou: "Young Master Mao, I do not hide today's matter from you, but I hope you will not let it leak out."

Mao Chengdou's face was already full of astonishment. He said solemnly: "Brother Sun, rest assured, I will keep my mouth tightly shut."

At this moment, Huang Shi was comforting the young man: "Young sir, please rise. Speak slowly. Whatever I can help with, I will certainly do my utmost."

But the young man on the ground was insistent: "General Huang must first promise to save the lives of my entire family, only then will I rise."

Although Huang Shi knew that ancients were often like this, as a modern man he still instinctively felt disgust at such behavior that bordered on coercion. He forcefully suppressed his displeasure, not letting a trace of it show on his face: "Young sir, please first explain the reason. If I truly can help, I will naturally not stand by and watch you die."

The young man cried out urgently: "General Huang, you can certainly help!" Yet he still refused to rise: "Please, General Huang, you must promise me."

"If you do not tell me, young sir, how can I know whether I can help?" Huang Shi did his utmost to keep his voice gentle, and even maintained a faint smile on his face: "Young sir, please rise and speak first, will you?"

To his surprise, the man staggered back a few steps, drew a dagger from his sleeve, and pointed it at his own throat: "General Huang, a single word from you can save countless lives, can turn back the raging tide, can sweep away the wicked and sycophantic from the court." As he spoke, the young man pressed the dagger closer to his throat: "But this matter is truly of grave importance. Only if General Huang first agrees will I dare to speak. If General Huang agrees to my request, I am willing to take my own life afterward to atone for today's offense of disrespect."

By now Huang Shi had straightened up and stood with his hands clasped behind his back, the smile completely gone from his face. He narrowed his eyes and sized the visitor up and down, gave a cold snort, then turned and walked toward his own seat, saying icily: "Without a clear explanation of the matter, I can promise nothing. Sir, please do as you see fit."

Sun Zhijie and Mao Chengdou, standing to the side, were both stunned. Sun Zhijie in particular had never expected this outcome, and he hurriedly spoke up to remind him: "General Huang, this young gentleman was brought by me. Does General Huang not even trust me?"

Huang Shi could detect the faint note of displeasure already in Sun Zhijie's tone, and the expression on Mao Chengdou's face had also turned very strange, as if it too carried the implication of reproaching Huang Shi for not trusting his friends.

Seeing that Huang Shi still made no response whatsoever, Sun Zhijie angrily slammed the table, leapt up, and grabbed the unfamiliar young man: "Let us go." As he spoke, he turned back and glared fiercely at Huang Shi: "I had thought General Huang was a man of honor and righteousness. It seems I, Sun Zhijie, have misjudged you."

Mao Chengdou gave Huang Shi a deep look, the reproach in it even stronger, and hurriedly rose to call out: "Brother Sun, wait — and you, good sir, wait as well. General Huang did not say he would not agree."

"I did not say I would not agree." Huang Shi gave a bitter laugh. He turned his head toward the visibly furious Sun Zhijie and said: "I merely wish to know what this matter actually is. If it is truly aboveboard, and moreover within my power, then how could I not agree, Young Master Sun?"

Unexpectedly, these words provoked even greater righteous indignation from the other party, and his voice rose: "Is General Huang suggesting that I, Sun Zhijie, would engage in something not aboveboard?"

At the same time, in Korea, at Yizhou.

Three Dongjiang soldiers were repairing their thatched hut. By now, there were large numbers of Dongjiang soldiers throughout northern Korea, and the vicinity of Yizhou was teeming with them. These soldiers were originally all ordinary civilians of Liaodong. Over the past five years, Han people fleeing in an endless stream into Korea and Kuandian had reached several hundred thousand. As soon as they entered the territory of Dongjiangzhen, Ming army officers would arrive with supplies and rosters to conscript them.

Apart from a very small number of exceptionally strong and conspicuous men, most adult males would generally receive only a military uniform and a conical hat. Then the Dongjiangzhen officers would have them sign or make their mark on the muster roll. Once they were transformed into formal Dongjiang soldiers, they could receive two dou of rice each month. Two dou of rice was of course not enough to eat, but Dongjiangzhen would also organize them to mine, farm, and till the land. As long as they participated in these labors, the military garrison would issue more grain to keep them fed.

Last year, no snow fell all winter in Liaodong and Korea, and the frost period along both banks of the Yalujiang lasted as long as one hundred and fifty days. As a result, the several hundred thousand mu of military farmland reclaimed by the garrison near Yizhou yielded not a single grain. Moreover, the number of Liaodong refugees flooding in this year exceeded the total of the previous three years combined. Near Yizhou, many elderly and children in military households had already starved to death. After the seventh month, the Dongjiang headquarters issued an order reducing the grain ration for each adult male in a military household from two dou to one dou — news that made ordinary military households feel utter despair.

Still, life had to go on. With winter fast approaching, the three military households before him were urgently repairing the roof of their thatched hut. This thatched shed housed four adult males in total. In theory, they all belonged to the military household under Company Commander Ji Tuisi, who served under Mobile Corps Commander Mao Yongshi of the Dongjiang headquarters. Their direct superior, Company Commander Ji Tuisi, was said to have followed General Mao Yongshi since the days of Guangningzhen, and was one of only four surviving old personal guards of General Mao (back then he was called Ji the Fourth).

This year, General Mao Yongshi had led his troops to Kuandian, while Company Commander Ji Tuisi stayed behind to handle provisions and new recruits, so as to continuously supply the front lines. Today, Ji Tuisi was taking the supply convoy out to gather grain and fodder. Before departing, he asked who was willing to go along. The eldest in this thatched hut had joined Ji Tuisi's party, and the three remaining men were taking advantage of the clear weather to do some odd jobs around their home.

"Brothers, look what I got!" a sturdy soldier shouted jubilantly. As he ran back, his right hand carried a sack slung over his shoulder, and his left hand held a large, dark-colored pot.

After running into the house, the sturdy man casually tossed the sack from his shoulder onto the ground. With a face full of pride, he flipped the large pot over and rapped his left hand against its bottom a few times, producing a loud, ringing "dong-dong" sound: "Hear that? Iron! A big iron pot this size!"

"Truly a fine thing." The three soldiers gathered around, stroking the large iron pot with reluctant hands: "Elder Brother, where did you get this?"

"Dug it up from outside a village." The eldest was so happy he could not close his mouth. Today, beside a village, he had seen signs of burial in the yard of an uninhabited dwelling — the owners seemed to have left. The eldest grew suspicious, and in the end dug up a set of iron farming tools and quite a few household items from the ground. The Liaodong soldiers were too poor to care about much. Company Commander Ji Tuisi took the heavy plow, harness, and kitchen knives, and rewarded this iron pot to the keen-nosed eldest. Beyond that, Company Commander Ji had also specially rewarded the eldest with half a sack of mixed grains.

"It's been so long since we had a meal cooked in a big pot — every day it's just baked flatcakes." The eldest began washing the pot, his face beaming, while sending his brothers out to pick wild greens: "Today we'll have a good meal, and tomorrow we'll go find a blacksmith and have this pot forged into a blade."

While eating, the four brothers discussed the whole time what kind of blade to forge. The eldest finally decided on a long blade, and then to make a shield out of wooden planks: "Last time the Ministry of Revenue came to verify the rolls, anyone with a blade and shield was counted as a registered military household on the Ministry of War's books. Tsk tsk, as long as you get recorded, each man gets five dou of rice a month." The eldest counted the days on his fingers, lost in pleasant fantasy: "In just two more months, those officials from the Ministry of Revenue will come again to verify next year's troop count. When that time comes, I'll just stand there holding this blade and shield... and five dou of rice will be mine."

Just then, a wave of clamor suddenly arose from outside. The four brothers paid it no mind at first, but the noise grew louder and louder. Soon, a boiling din of voices filled the air outside. The eldest and his three brothers exchanged bewildered glances for a moment, then threw down their bowls and chopsticks together and ran out the door.

On the official road south of Yizhou, a contingent of troops was slowly advancing northward. The soldiers lining both sides of the road stared unblinkingly at the two great red army banners fluttering at the front of the column. Those who could read loudly told everyone:

The first banner read — Grand General Who Pacifies Liao!

And the second banner read — Regional Commander of Dongjiang!

Shouts erupted everywhere among the crowds along the official road...

"Grand Marshal Mao, it's Grand Marshal Mao!"

"It really is Grand Marshal Mao personally leading the troops out!"

After the eldest and his three brothers got a clear look at the banners, they sprinted back home.

"Grand Marshal Mao is off to attack Liaodong again." The eldest and the second brother busied themselves pulling on their military uniforms. By the time they put on their conical hats, the third brother had already wiped clean two sharpened thick wooden staves and handed them to his two elder brothers.

The eldest tied four wrapping cloths around his waist, while the second brother tied only three. Smiling, he said to the eldest: "I'm not as greedy as you. If I can fill these three wrapping cloths with rice, I'll be perfectly content."

"As long as you come back alive, you'll at least get one wrapping cloth of grain." The eldest fastened his conical hat tightly and hefted the wooden spear in his hand — the weight was just right. "If you don't come back, at least you'll eat your fill these next few days, and die a full-bellied ghost, which is something."

"While we're gone, watch the house well." The eldest and the second brother checked their gear one last time and gave instructions to the third and fourth brothers. Then they strode out the door and joined the long column of the Dongjiang army. The soldiers, each with a solemn expression, gripped their weapons tightly and marched northward without hesitation. All along the way, Ming army officers and soldiers continuously joined this serpentine procession, like a myriad streams converging into a surging, mighty river.

"Fight to Zhenjiang and eat rice!" No one knew who in the army shouted the first line, but instantly the whole army echoed back in a wave:

"Eat rice."

"Eat rice."

"Eat rice..."

Amid this rhythmic shouting, amid the rainbow-like morale surging from the tens of thousands of Ming soldiers, Mao Wenlong's two great banners blazed like fierce flames in the cold wind...

Twelfth day of the tenth month, fifth year of the Tianqi reign, Fenghuangcheng

Amin, the Bordered Blue Banner commander, was eating. Large chunks of mutton and mushrooms bobbed up and down in the boiling water, giving off an enticing aroma.

"Master, Master." A Heavy Armor Soldier of the Bordered Blue Banner burst in and cried: "The Ming army forced a crossing of the Yalujiang last night and have already surrounded Zhenjiang."

The Heavy Armor Soldier knelt on one knee on the ground and reported loudly: "Zhenjiang says the Ming soldiers are too many to count, probably tens of thousands of them, and they are attacking the surrounding villages and storehouses. Mao Wenlong is leading the army in person."

Amin had a piece of mutton clamped in his chopsticks. He blew on it expressionlessly, then stuffed it into his mouth and chewed it deliberately for a long while before swallowing.

"This year is a great drought. Mao Wenlong's side has run out of rice to put in the pot again, hasn't it?" Amin's eyes filled with a color of pity and compassion. He looked down at the sheep bones he had tossed aside and could not help sighing repeatedly: "Mao Wenlong is thinking of coming near Zhenjiang to seize some grain for the winter, isn't he? Ah, pitiful. In such cold weather, with no fat in their bellies, how can they get through it?"

Amin shook his head again sorrowfully, then suddenly threw his chopsticks into the meat pot, his tone abruptly turning murderous: "If Mao Wenlong seizes all the grain, then what am I supposed to eat? Huh?"

"That Old Eighth really guessed right." As Amin busied himself preparing his armor to set out on campaign, he instructed his bondservant: "Send word to the Fourth Beile. I'm going to Zhenjiang. He must keep a tight watch on Chen Jisheng at Kuandian. Don't let him slip out and snatch my prize."