Chapter 159: Discussing Surrender

Sun Chuanting, far away in Xi'an, upon receiving the Chongzhen Emperor's amnesty decree for the roving bandits, immediately arranged for scribes to copy the decree's contents and deliver them to every prefecture and county in Shaanxi for posting, and ordered the local governments to spread word everywhere of the great victory at Black Water Valley, the execution by slow slicing of Gao Yingxiang and his brother, and the Emperor's grand amnesty for the realm; he also left three thousand Qin troops to garrison Xi'an against any surprise attack by the bandits, while the remaining ten thousand-plus men, led by Regional Commander Zhou Yuji, struck camp and marched north into northern Shaanxi.

He himself took the lead, bringing his governor's personal troops on a rush to Yan'an Prefecture in northern Shaanxi, to call upon Hong Chengchou, the Governor-General of the Five Provinces, and discuss with him the strategy for suppressing the bandits in the days ahead.

Escorted by five hundred cavalry of his governor's personal guard, Sun Chuanting left Xi'an Prefecture and hurried north along the official road. After leaving Xi'an Prefecture's jurisdiction, the roadside offered nothing but barren wasteland stretching a thousand li, broken only by scattered trickles of refugees heading toward Xi'an along the official road — this too was the result of propaganda by local authorities at Sun Chuanting's direction: Xi'an has food; once you reach Xi'an Prefecture, the court will feed you.

It was precisely this deadly temptation of food that sustained these throngs of sallow-faced, rag-clad men, women, old and young, driving them stubbornly southward with their desperate hope for survival.

The season had already reached deep autumn; temperatures at dawn and dusk had dropped considerably. Most of the refugees on the road went barefoot or wore straw sandals, their bodies wrapped in garments that barely covered them, their hollow, numb eyes utterly devoid of any spark of life.

Seeing from afar a large column of cavalry in gleaming armor and bright uniforms thundering toward them, the refugees scrambled in panic to the roadside, gazing at Sun Chuanting's force with terrified, fearful eyes.

Sun Chuanting, riding in the center of the formation, reined his horse from a gallop down to a trot. Gazing at the crowd by the roadside, a wave of bitter sorrow welled up unbidden within him.

When he had first come to Xi'an to visit the Xi'an Left Guard Station, the desperate poverty of the hereditary military households had already shocked him profoundly — yet though those soldiers' families were poor, at least they had food to eat. But the wretched state of the refugees he encountered on the road filled his heart with both anguish and self-reproach.

He had steeped himself in the books of the sages, and had always aspired to assist the sovereign and set the realm to rights; moreover, he had taken the famous words of Zhang Hengqu as his lifelong goal: to establish the heart for Heaven and Earth, to establish destiny for the living people, to carry on the lost learning of past sages, and to open up peace for ten thousand generations.

Yet these refugees before his eyes, who could not even be certain of surviving to the next day, were all subjects of the Great Ming, all children of His Majesty, all common folk under his governance — and their lives he could not secure! The teachings of the sages he had failed!

A faint crying sound drifted through the clatter of hooves, interrupting Sun Chuanting's thoughts. He reined in his horse and turned his gaze toward the source of the sound; the cavalry behind him gradually came to a halt as well.

A dozen or so paces from the roadside was a band of over a hundred refugees. At its head stood a young woman in a tattered skirt, sallow and gaunt, clutching a small girl tightly to her breast — the crying was coming from the child's mouth.

Seeing this troop of military lords all reining in their horses, with so many eyes turning toward her, the young woman trembled all over in terror. Stretling out a withered arm, she tried to cover the girl's mouth with her hand.

Sun Chuanting, clad in his scarlet official robe, dismounted and walked toward the young woman. Several of his personal guards dismounted and drew their blades, guarding closely at his flanks. A dozen or so more guards nocked arrows to their bows, remaining mounted and sweeping the surroundings with wary eyes.

Seeing the imposing Sun Chuanting approaching with his escort, the hundred-odd refugees scrambled to kneel in the dirt, heads bowed low, not daring to look directly at the noble figure before them.

Sun Chuanting came to a stop before the group and spoke in a gentle voice: "Good wife, is the child in your arms ill? Why does she cry without cease? All you villagers, rise — this official has questions to ask!"

None of the refugees dared to rise; they only kept kowtowing, crying out for the military lords to spare their lives, terrified lest they somehow anger these soldiers who radiated killing intent and bring death upon themselves.

The woman knelt on the ground clutching her child, trembling all over, not daring to lift her head, let alone answer.

Sun Zhian, who had become the squad leader of Sun Chuanting's personal guard, barked: "Get up at once! This is Governor Sun of Shaanxi! His Excellency has questions for you — rise quickly!"

Though the refugees had no idea how high an office a Governor held, seeing the fierce look of this military lord, they finally rose to their feet one by one, quaking with fear.

Sun Chuanting gave an order: "Bring some rations and water over!"

Sun Zhian and another guard swiftly turned back to their horses, pulled a dozen or so steamed cakes from the huge saddlebags on the horses' backs, slung several waterskins made of sheepskin over their shoulders, and returned.

The refugees, huddled together in a cluster, stirred restlessly at the sight of the steamed cakes. The eyes of men and women, old and young, all fixed on Sun Zhian's hands, blazing with longing and frenzy; their numb expressions turned fervent beyond measure.

Had it been only Sun Zhian alone, or just a few men, the refugees would long since have pounced on him and snatched the steamed cakes from his hands — even if eating a single bite meant instant death, they would have done it willingly.

Sun Chuanting took a steamed cake and reached out to hand it to the young woman holding the child, saying gently: "The little one is likely hungry. Good wife, feed the child a few bites first — but do not let her eat too much or too fast!"

Though the woman was still afraid at heart, before food, all fear vanished in an instant. Her eyes locked on the steamed cake in Sun Chuanting's hand, she slowly extended an arm toward it, and once close enough, snatched the cake into her hand. She brought it to her mouth, bit off a large piece, chewed for a moment, then lowered her head and pressed her mouth to the girl's, transferring the masticated cake into the child's mouth. The girl in her arms, only two or three years old, stopped crying and, like a hungry nestling bird, strained her small body upward, her mouth pressed tightly against her mother's, gulping greedily.

The eyes of the surrounding refugees all fixed on that steamed cake. Many feet unconsciously shuffled toward the woman, poised to lunge and snatch the cake away.

Through his grief-stricken expression, a resolute determination showed on Sun Chuanting's face: only by utterly exterminating the roving bandits could the people cease their wandering and displacement, and only then could the court's relief supplies arrive safely! Natural disasters could not be foreseen, but the man-made calamity of the bandits had compounded the devastation of nature. They had stolen the people's last grain — these bandits deserved to be hacked to pieces ten thousand times over!

Sun Zhian bellowed: "Stop where you are! Otherwise, no quarter!"

The surrounding guards advanced with drawn blades toward the restless refugees. The look in these starving people's eyes was chilling — a cold-blooded gleam like wild beasts ready to devour their prey.

Sun Chuanting turned and walked toward his mount, giving orders as he went: "Leave five men and ten packs of dry rations to escort the refugees to Xi'an Prefecture; order Yang Mingsheng to arrange men and grain to move north, setting up collection points every thirty li to gather refugees; dispatch one thousand regular troops from Xi'an Prefecture to guard the route!"

He still had more important matters to attend to and could not tarry here too long.

He knew full well that if food were simply left for the refugees without anyone to watch over them, no matter how much was given, the stronger men would seize it all. What fate awaited the weak, the old, the women and children — like that woman and the child in her arms — required no great imagination to know.

Yongning Pass sat at the border between the two provinces of Shanxi and Shaanxi, more than two hundred li from Yan'an Prefecture to the northwest, with ravines and gullies densely crisscrossing the terrain and winding, treacherous roads.

It was precisely because of this complex terrain that Hong Chengchou, commanding over twenty thousand men, had been utterly unable to deal with the roving bandits who drifted through northern Shaanxi.

In a crude hall of a mountain stronghold on the wasteland at Yongning Pass, Scorpion Block Tuo Yangkun was conversing with Zhang Miaoshou.

Ever since Gao Yingxiang's forces had been wiped out, Scorpion Block's band had become the most powerful roving bandit force within Shaanxi's borders.

The reason it was called the largest rather than the strongest was that although Scorpion Block had over thirty thousand followers, among them only some two thousand were elite veterans; the rest were land-grubbing refugees who followed him merely to plunder and scrounge a meal.

The other bandit chief, Zhang Miaoshou, whose real name was Zhang Wenyao, was a native of Qingjian. From childhood he had earned the nickname for his skill at molding dough figurines; at eighteen he joined the army and went to the Zhenqiang Guard Station in the north, where he fought year-round against foreign peoples such as the Tatars and Tanguts. For his valor in battle and repeated kills, he accumulated merit and rose to squad leader; later, resentful that his patrol commander was skimming his military pay and provisions, he drew his blade and slew the man, then fled as a fugitive.

As Wang Jiayin, Dian Dengzi, Hongshan Lang, and others rose in rebellion one after another, Zhang Miaoshou, having nowhere else to go, joined the rebel ranks as well.

Later, when these earliest rebel chiefs were successively wiped out by Chen Qiyu and others, Zhang Miaoshou gathered up the remnants of their forces, recruited some deserters from the border troops, and gradually grew stronger.

Though his force numbered only some four thousand, many among them were originally border troops from frontier garrisons like Yulin and Yansui, making them quite formidable in combat; the other bandit chiefs held him in considerable respect.

Today Zhang Miaoshou had come to Scorpion Block's camp at Yongning Pass to discuss the matter of the court's grand amnesty with him.

Zhang Miaoshou spoke first: "The Emperor has issued a sacred decree for us to surrender, saying all the wrongs we did before won't be held against us — as long as we submit to the court and return to being good folk, we won't be pursued. What does the Great Chief think of this?"

Scorpion Block stroked the short whiskers beneath his chin with a look of deep vexation, and after pondering for a long while finally spoke: "Brother Zhang, our life right now is mighty fine — silks and satins, fine wine and good food we never dared dream of before, we enjoy every single day! If we surrender to the court and become good folk, all these fine things will be gone, and then we'll have to go grubbing in the dirt again — think we'll dig up a golden egg? Besides, this damned heaven has no eyes — our Shaanxi has been drought-stricken for seven or eight years now, the crops in the fields come and go. How are we supposed to get by?"

Zhang Miaoshou sneered coldly: "The Great Chief only sees the food right in front of his nose — but I fear there may be no life left to enjoy it!"

Having spent many years in the army, he had a far broader vision than a bandit like Scorpion Block. After Gao Yingxiang had been wiped out, he keenly sensed that the situation of the Great Ming was undergoing a change — if one did not adapt to the times, the outcome would likely be grim.

Scorpion Block ignored his sarcasm and hurriedly asked: "What do you mean by that, Brother Zhang? I'm a rough man and don't quite understand. Explain it well to me — things are fine right now, so how could there be no life left to enjoy it?"