Chapter 117: Deployment

After the spring of the ninth year of Chongzhen, the official road between the capital and Changping suddenly became busy. Farmers working in the fields often saw columns of cavalry and infantry shuttling back and forth between the two places.

Once summer arrived, three checkpoints were established on this road. All travelers and merchants heading from south to north had to pass strict inspections before being allowed through, and they could only go as far as Changping—any attempt to continue northward through Changping was forbidden, as the north gate of Changping had already been sealed.

Several hundred members of the Embroidered Uniform Guard came to this county town of over twenty thousand people, working in small groups to visit and screen households one by one. This included the surrounding villages, with the focus on merchants, especially itinerant traders.

This was a cleanup operation Chongzhen had ordered Luo Yangxing to dispatch the Embroidered Uniform Guard to carry out, having considered that the Qing dynasty in history had been skilled at using spies, and wishing to guard against any eventuality.

The results of the cleanup proved that Chongzhen had worried needlessly.

In the eyes of the people of the Great Ming at that time, the Jianzhou barbarians were nothing but blood-drinking, flesh-eating, ferocious and cruel savages.

In the Jisi Incident of the second year of Chongzhen, the Qing army captured several cities including Xianghe and Shunyi, but Changping did not suffer the calamity of war. Although the Jianzhou barbarians had won a great victory and their fearsome reputation had grown even greater, the vast majority of Ming subjects believed they were, like the Tartars, nothing more than a band of uncivilized robbers.

Now Hong Taiji had already proclaimed himself emperor and changed the name of his state to Qing, but this matter had not attracted much attention. You're a bandit chieftain—fine if you come rob us once in a while, but you've actually gone and made yourself an emperor? Once our Great Ming sends a million troops to Liaodong, you mountain king will have already fled in panic. This kind of thinking dominated mainstream opinion in the Great Ming at the time.

The people of the Great Ming were still proud, still looked down upon the barbarians dwelling in remote Liaodong, so it was nearly impossible for the Jianzhou barbarians to buy Ming people as spies. Added to that, the Great Ming's strict household registration system made it nearly impossible to send spies in from their side. Just like today—if you don't have an ID card, even a laboring job won't take you. The Shanxi merchants Fan Yongdou and others had initially only done business with the Jianzhou barbarians, smuggling strategic materials banned by the court. It was only because money moves men's hearts, and under the greed of wanting to maximize profits, that they gradually began supplying the Jianzhou barbarians with all kinds of intelligence.

After receiving the report from the Embroidered Uniform Guard, Chongzhen immediately ordered the Ministry of War to transfer six red barbarian cannons to Changping, to be placed on the city walls on either side of the north gate.

Each red barbarian cannon weighed over two thousand jin, and it took several hundred conscripted laborers ten days before they were finally installed in place.

These cannons, improved by Johann Adam Schall von Bell, could fire five-jin projectiles with an effective range of over a thousand paces and a maximum range of nearly two thousand paces. Of course, at that kind of range, the killing power of the projectiles had already diminished drastically.

After the Jianzhou barbarians broke through at Juyong Pass, if they wanted to continue southward to harass the capital region, Changping was a place they would have to attack.

When that time came, the Yongwei Camp would form up in battle array eight hundred paces outside the north gate to meet the enemy.

Chongzhen considered that this would be the Yongwei Camp's first battle against the formidable Jianzhou barbarians, and for the sake of safety, it would be best to have cannon fire providing cover for them. The Yongwei Camp's first battle could not afford any failure, or it would produce a series of serious consequences.

The winding and meandering Great Wall, at the Sihaiye garrison several hundred li northeast of the capital, extended a section of border wall westward. This border wall, which encircled the entire Shuntian Prefecture, was nearly a thousand li in length, finally ending at the Bohai coast after passing through the three Tianjin guard stations.

Due to years of neglect, many parts of the border wall had already fallen into disrepair, and the guards had grown increasingly lax.

Juyong Pass was located in a valley forty li north of Changping, with treacherous terrain that made it easy to defend and difficult to attack, guarded by a chiliarchy of the Yanqing Guard.

Because no beacon fires had been seen for many years, and with military pay and provisions in short supply, large numbers of hereditary military households from the Yanqing Guard had fled. The chiliarchy stationed at Juyong Pass now had fewer than a hundred old and weak guard station soldiers remaining.

The mountain's unique coolness dispelled the summer heat, and in the middle of the night one even had to cover oneself with a thin quilt.

Zhang Laosan, a guard station soldier nearing fifty, had the problem of getting up at night, having to rise several times each night to relieve himself. His comrades in the same squad teased him, saying it was because he had been a bachelor his whole life, and Zhang Laosan himself thought they were right.

The hereditary military households were too poor—which young woman would be willing to marry a guard station soldier? Military pay and provisions had been owed for a long time, distributed only a few times a year. One meal today, none tomorrow, and not a trace of meat to be seen all year. Zhang Laosan sometimes thought that even if some blind young woman wanted to marry him, he would absolutely refuse—he couldn't ruin someone's life. This was how it would be for the rest of his days. His parents had died many years ago, and his only younger sister had married a small-time peddler in Changping, living a passable life. Sometimes she would send someone with a few jin of rice, flour, and salt, along with a message. Both his nephews were already over ten years old, and his sister and brother-in-law had discussed it—if he still hadn't married in a few years, they would transfer one of the boys to his line to care for him in his old age and see him to his grave. After all, they couldn't let the Zhang family line die out, could they?

At the thought that he would one day have a son of his own, Zhang Laosan felt warm inside—finally he would have the face to go below and meet his parents. Otherwise, when he went down and his parents asked him: "How are our grandchildren doing in the world of the living?" How would he, Zhang Laosan, answer?

A while ago, something unexpected happened—a column of cavalry in gleaming armor suddenly arrived at the beacon tower where he and a few others were stationed. A young, handsome squad leader brought several men to inspect a few beacon towers, then told Zhang Laosan and the others: Be careful these days, be on guard against the Jianzhou barbarians climbing over the wall to seize the pass at night, and make sure to take turns on sentry duty. Before leaving, they also left them a bag of white flour, a piece of pork, and a small bag of salt.

The guard station soldiers couldn't remember the last time they'd seen strangers come by, and this time it was official troops who looked awe-inspiring. Although they hadn't said what kind of troops they were, they all rode tall horses in matching equipment, their armor was clearly made of iron, and they walked with their faces turned to the sky, not paying the few of them any mind at all. Only that officer spoke very kindly, and after giving his instructions and leaving the supplies, the troops departed. What puzzled Zhang Laosan was the complex, hard-to-read look in that squad leader's eyes as he left—containing both pity and respect, as well as solemn sorrow and soaring fighting spirit. Zhang Laosan would never forget that look for the rest of his life.

That day, just after the second watch, Zhang Laosan was awakened by a full bladder again. Getting up to relieve himself at the deepest point of sleep—even Zhang Laosan himself was disgusted with himself, sometimes wishing he could just cut the thing off. He had descendants now anyway, what use was keeping it?

He rose in a sleepy haze, stretched his feet under the edge of the kang searching for his straw sandals, and after a few tentative attempts, finally found them. He grabbed the short robe from the head of the kang and threw it on, shuffled into his straw sandals, and walked out of the beacon tower where he slept. Finding the crenellation he usually used, he pulled open his crotchless trousers and began to relieve himself over the wall.

The moon suddenly leaped out from behind a patch of dark clouds, illuminating the darkness before dawn with perfect clarity.

Zhang Laosan suddenly felt something, and his half-squinted eyes snapped wide open. On the rugged mountain road outside the border wall, a long column was approaching the wall.

Zhang Laosan's urge to urinate vanished instantly. Every hair on his body stood on end, and cold sweat ran down his spine. Enemy attack! It was the Jianzhou barbarians! That squad leader's words seemed to ring in his ears!

He hastily craned his neck to look down at the base of the wall. Dozens of paces to his left, dozens of figures were struggling to climb up the wall, and the leading few were only steps away from reaching the top!

What to do?! Escaping on his own wouldn't be difficult—the Jianzhou barbarians hadn't spotted him. As long as he ran along the wall to the top end, then found a broken gap and slipped down the other side, hid in the dense trees, and waited until the Jianzhou barbarians had gone far away before coming out, escaping with his life would be no problem.

But there were still three others in the beacon tower—Zhao Gouzi, Big Beard, and Sun Sancai.

Zhao Gouzi was only eighteen. His parents had just arranged a betrothal for him, to a daughter of the Xu family in the same guard. On the day of the betrothal, Zhang Laosan had contributed five copper coins to attend the celebratory feast. It had been a long time since anyone in the Yanqing Guard had gotten betrothed or married—the young had mostly fled to other places, and only a few still clung to this land where their ancestors had lived for generations, barely scraping by on farming the fields within the border wall.

Big Beard and Sun Sancai were like himself—old bachelors, a bit younger than him, also getting by on that intermittent military pay. The three of them had grown up together since they were bare-bottomed children, decades of friendship—calling each other brothers closer than blood was not an exaggeration.

Zhao Gouzi had only come to the beacon tower last year, also taking over his father's position. Although military pay was in arrears, it was still distributed a few times a year after all, which counted as some income. What other way out did a hereditary military household have?

He couldn't just run away like this!

In an instant, the faces and figures of several people flashed through Zhang Laosan's mind.

His sister and brother-in-law were still in Changping behind him! If the Jianzhou barbarians broke through the pass, and Changping was caught completely unprepared, it would surely suffer disaster!

One of his two nephews would become his own son!

It doesn't matter if I die! But I can't let my line die out!

He couldn't save Zhao Gouzi and the others! When they meet again in the underworld, he would kneel and kowtow to them!

Zhang Laosan spun around abruptly and ran toward the beacon tower at the summit, where large quantities of firewood, oil, flint, and tinder were stored. Ever since that squad leader had given his warning, Zhang Laosan had checked it every day. As long as it was lit, it would be visible for dozens of li in the pitch-black night sky.

The Qing soldiers who had already climbed onto the crenellations spotted Zhang Laosan sprinting toward the summit, and two of them gave chase with their heads down.

Zhang Laosan, shuffling in his straw sandals, was not fast, and the two Qing soldiers were rapidly closing the distance.

As he ran, Zhang Laosan kicked off his straw sandals to one side and shouted at the top of his lungs: "Enemy attack! Enemy attack!"

Zhang Laosan's voice rang through the silent night sky, and Zhao Gouzi and the others sleeping soundly in the beacon tower were startled awake from their dreams.

Less than a hundred paces from the beacon tower now, Zhang Laosan mustered all his strength and sprinted, gradually pulling away from the Qing soldiers who had closed to within thirty or forty paces.

One Qing soldier stopped in his tracks, took several deep breaths to steady his breathing, then raised his bow, nocked an arrow, and shot at Zhang Laosan.

Zhang Laosan was gasping for breath in great heaves, the beacon tower right before his eyes, when suddenly his back went cold—a sharp arrow struck his back and pierced deep into his organs. The Jianzhou barbarians' heavy arrows were powerful and heavy, with astonishing killing power.

The tremendous impact carried him forward several steps, and Zhang Laosan nearly collapsed face-first to the ground.

Was he going to die like this?

A scene from his childhood appeared before his eyes—his father carrying him on his shoulders to see the lanterns in Changping county town.

When he had a cold with fever, burning and delirious, his mother's sorrowful gaze appeared before his eyes.

The scene when his sister sent word that she would transfer his eldest nephew to his line, and he was as happy as a child, appeared before his eyes.

No! He couldn't die! The beacon fire wasn't lit yet! His sister's family was depending on that beacon fire to live!

Zhang Laosan spat out mouthfuls of fresh blood. The sharp arrowhead had already pierced through his lung, and he could barely breathe.

He opened his mouth, desperately sucking air into his chest, making hoarse, gurgling sounds.

The faces of his loved ones appeared before his eyes one by one. Zhang Laosan suddenly lunged forward, and in an instant ran into the beacon tower just over ten paces away.

His thoughts were gradually growing hazy, but he still retained a thread of clarity. He struggled to close the tower door, not forgetting to slide the bolt into place.

The spot where the flint and tinder were kept was more familiar to him than anything—after decades of garrison duty, he knew every blade of grass and every tree along this stretch of the border wall.

His mind was nearly blank by now. Zhang Laosan groped for the flint and firestone, slumped to the ground, and instinctively struck out a few sparks, igniting the large clump of fluffy tinder piled among the firewood.

He toppled sideways, his gaze gradually growing unfocused, all the strength in his body swiftly draining away.

The Qing soldiers pursuing him were kicking hard at the door; the old bolt would give way after just a few more blows.

Decades of ingrained instinct took over, and Zhang Laosan used the last shred of his strength to blow the faint flame into life. The dry firewood soaked in lamp oil burst into a roaring blaze, its bright light quickly illuminating the night sky—and Zhang Laosan saw his father and mother drawing him into their arms.