Chapter 284: Robber Zhi

A single day in the mountains, a thousand years in the world — no phrase better captures the Red Eyebrow Army.

A year ago, the Greenwood men were still petty bandits holed up in the hills, but the Red Eyebrows had already swelled to over a hundred thousand strong, crushing Lian Dan and Grand Preceptor Wang Kuang's hundred-thousand-strong suppression army in a single stroke and stunning all under heaven!

At that moment, the Red Eyebrow Army's every move decided the future course of the Nine Provinces; to call them the vanguard against Wang Mang, the wave leading the age, was no exaggeration at all. Yet just as the Red Eyebrows stood at history's fork, their supreme leader Fan Chong made a decision that any ambitious schemer would find baffling:

"Break camp — go home!"

And so the Red Eyebrows split into three. Chi Zhaoping tried to enter Hebei but was defeated by Diwu Lun; she threw herself into the frozen river, and her remaining forces scattered. Dong Xian, the great hero of the Chengchang victory, plundered Dingtao and other places, setting himself up as a mountain king by the shores of the Great Wild Marsh.

Fan Chong, meanwhile, led over a hundred thousand eastward and wintered in his hometown of Ju County in Chengyang. But because the local government troops resisted and the Red Eyebrows were not much good at storming cities, they failed to take it. Someone told him: "Ju is the city of your parents — Elder Fan, why attack it?"

Fan Chong heard this, thought it made sense, and promptly led his men away to go wreak havoc elsewhere.

In the spring, they fought their way into Donghai Commandery. The rough men, clothes in disarray, sat cross-legged at Lanling — said to be where Xunzi once lectured — dividing spoils and eating aged grain, turning that elegant gathering place of scholars into utter chaos. Then they followed the Yi River all the way down to Xiapi on the Si.

In the summer, they pushed west and entered Pengcheng (Xuzhou), the eastern Chu metropolis, plundering the palace of the richest of the Han dynasty princes, the King of Chu. Hearing that beneath Lion Mountain — where the Western Regions exotic beast "lion," a gift from the Emperor, had once been kept — lay a great tomb concealing much gold and treasure, the Red Eyebrow Army went and dug it up, but found nothing at all.

By late summer, Pengcheng's grain was nearly gone, and along the way the Red Eyebrow Army, dragging entire families, had swelled to two or three hundred thousand. The cramped Si River region could no longer hold them, so they continued west, advancing toward Pei Commandery — the very cradle of the Han dynasty's rise!

At this time, the commandery seat of Pei was not at Pei County but at Xiang County. Because of the turmoil stirred by the Red Eyebrows and Greenwood, the local authorities had been cut off from the court for nearly half a year. They did not even know that Diwu Lun had risen in the capital and driven out Wang Mang; they had only recently received a proclamation from Gengshi declaring the Xin Dynasty dead and demanding their surrender.

Amid such upheaval, faced with the surging tide of the Red Eyebrows, the commandery governor and military superintendent — both outsiders — had no heart to defend the city and simply fled. The locals resisted for a time, but with everyone in panic they were no match for the Red Eyebrows, and Xiang County soon fell.

Fan Chong was still the same Fan Chong, a bamboo hat on his head, coarse hemp still on his body, indistinguishable from any common Red Eyebrow. He drilled his Elders and Giants by ear and mouth: "The old rule — rob the rich first, then the middling households, never the poor! Kill Xin officials and soldiers as you please, but for everyone else: murder pays with death, wounding pays with blood!"

The men shouted assent and departed. They were locusts, but locusts that ate only grain, not people — at least, for now.

Not long after, the Red Eyebrows' second-in-command, Xu Xuan, came to report that a local scholar, somewhat bald on top, requested an audience with Fan Chong.

"He calls himself Huan Tan, a noted local worthy."

Fan Chong was out in the sunlight, stripped to the waist, slaughtering a fat dog — a man-eater from a rich man's house — with the others. A sharp knife in hand, he sneered without raising his head: "Every place we go, these book-stuffed scholars come seeking audience. The first thing out of their mouths is always to urge me to treat scholars well and marry into powerful clans. Nothing new — I won't see him!"

With one hand he pinned the dog's muzzle; with the other he drove the knife down hard, killing it in a single stroke. He spoke as he worked: "These scholars, these Confucians — they wear hats like forked branches on their heads, broad oxhide belts around their waists, mouths full of nonsense. Back in my village, I labored hard every day, yet I saw them eating well without farming, dressing fine without weaving, wagging their tongues all day, doing nothing but stirring up trouble, and all it took to swindle food from rich men and officials was that glib talk. If I hadn't set the rule that murder pays with death and wounding pays with blood — a rule your old man here has to be the first to follow — I'd have ripped the hearts and livers out of that lot!"

And so this audience request ended fruitlessly. Though he styled himself a wild scholar and had lived a life of dignity, Huan Tan could only clutch his zither as hostile Red Eyebrows shoved and jostled him, awaiting the judgment of some "Giant."

The Red Eyebrow Giant, the dye faded from one eyebrow, was gnawing on dog meat. His subordinate, seated on the ground ladling broth into earthen bowls, looked up at Huan Tan: "What's that you're holding?"

"A zither," Huan Tan replied, giving them no courtesy.

The Red Eyebrows grew curious: "Play us a tune?"

Huan Tan eyed them sidelong: "My zither is played only for men of virtue."

And so he learned firsthand what men without virtue look like when they lose their temper. Huan Tan watched helplessly as his fine zither was snatched away, smashed to the ground, broken in two, then tossed into the fire, where it crackled and popped as it burned.

The finest timber, sought with untold pains by master craftsmen in the capital, worked with exquisite care over years, even a decade, to produce a superlative zither — all the beautiful forms of heaven and earth contained within it, emerging one by one as it was played. Now it had become fuel for the Red Eyebrows' dog-meat stew, and they even complained the fire wasn't hot enough. Huan Tan's sword was taken too; impotent rage was all he had left.

Because Huan Tan's family was not wealthy — not rich enough for the Red Eyebrow Army to string up and beat for their valuables — and because he was still in mourning for his mother, and the Red Eyebrows liked filial sons, he narrowly escaped death. He was sent to the army's prisoner-of-war camp, his main task to herd cattle.

Though the Red Eyebrows no longer farmed, their roving campaigns required beasts to haul all manner of heavy gear, so they kept a good many cattle. The cattle boys of yesterday had transformed into "Giants" and "Elders," but the work still had to be done by someone — so the noble scions and, above all, the book-learned men Fan Chong most detested, captured along the way, were dispatched here.

Huan Tan's fine clothes were stripped off him, and a filthy, stinking short jacket was tossed his way. Its previous owner had been gored to death while herding cattle, caught unawares between two rutting bulls; the chest still bore a bloodstained hole.

Though he felt it an outrage to all refinement, Huan Tan had no choice but to wear it to cover himself. The "ox officer" sent to teach him the work turned out to be a child of about ten, who on arrival gave Huan Tan a remarkably proper salute.

"Greetings, sir."

Huan Tan had not expected to find a child so versed in courtesy here: "Young gentleman, how should I address you?"

"My name is Liu Penzi."

The boy led Huan Tan through the prisoner camp, acquainting him with the life ahead.

This Liu Penzi, it turned out, was a descendant of Liu Zhang, Prince Jing of Chengyang under the Han. His father had been a marquis; Wang Mang stripped the title, but the family remained wealthy and well-established, a prominent local clan — until they met the Red Eyebrows.

Liu Penzi and his two brothers had all been taken captive. The Han imperial clansmen the Red Eyebrows had swept up across the commanderies — mostly descendants of the former Kings of Qi, Lu, Chengyang, Donghai, and Chu — numbered over seventy in all. These Liu-surnamed youths had once walked above all others, living lives of bell-ringing, cauldron-feasting splendor; now they were all dashed into the dust, turned into cattle herders and menial laborers.

They who once barked orders at servants now had to serve others — even cattle — and deal with the dung and straw they had always kept at a wide distance.

"We belong to Giant Liu Xiaqing. The daily work is cutting grass and feeding the oxen."

A stone sickle for cutting grass was thrust into Huan Tan's hands, making his eyes widen involuntarily.

Huan Tan could certainly tell the five grains apart; he kept his body active because he loved swordsmanship. Yet born into a hereditary family of music officials, he had lived his whole life by the rites of the nobility. What his hands held was the bronze mallet for striking the ceremonial music for the Son of Heaven — back straight, every movement exquisitely refined. Now he had to swing a sickle, stooped over, grappling with ox grass. It made his old back ache fiercely, and he often cut his hands while mowing, which pained him beyond measure.

For a music official, the hands that pluck the zither and play the music are the capital that spans past and present.

The Red Eyebrow soldiers passing by saw Huan Tan's clumsy labor and roared with laughter; they loved watching these scholars utterly stripped of all refinement.

Just then, someone recognized him.

"Is that Master Huan, Huan Junshi?"

Huan Tan turned and saw a round face under a black cap. For a moment he could not place him, until the man bowed and gave his name: "This junior is called Bao Xian, courtesy name Ziliang, from Qu'e in Kuaiji."

A man of Wu — no wonder his elegant speech was so dreadful.

Bao Xian said: "This junior studied the Lu Odes at the Imperial Academy in Chang'an and once had the honor of hearing Master Huan lecture on music and ritual there. Last year, on my way home, I was seized by the Red Eyebrows in Donghai Commandery and sent here to labor."

Fellow sufferers at the ends of the earth — at least Huan Tan now had someone to talk to. This Bao Xian was a marvel: though everything he owned had been taken, he still remembered the learning from the Imperial Academy. Every morning he chanted the classics as if nothing were amiss, which astonished the Red Eyebrows. One even came to ask him: "Do you know shamanic divination?"

Bao Xian grew angry: "These are the books of sages and worthies, the great Way of benevolence and righteousness under heaven — how dare you compare them to the petty arts of shamans and diviners?"

The Red Eyebrows were quite disappointed: "Divination is at least useful. This stuff you chant — benevolence this, righteousness that — what use is it?"

They turned to Huan Tan, who even in such straits still carried himself like a lofty adept: "Can you do it?"

Huan Tan lifted his eyes: "Divination is mere chance coincidence."

The Red Eyebrow Giant looked utterly blank: "What's that mean? Speak human."

"That divination sometimes proves accurate is only accidental coincidence," Huan Tan said, as materialist as ever. Proudly he added: "I do not believe in shamanic divination."

"Then you're even more useless."

The Red Eyebrow Giant stormed off in exasperation, leaving Huan Tan and Bao Xian alone. They looked at each other, speechless, then burst into helpless laughter. But as he laughed, Bao Xian suddenly began to weep: "Master, born into this degenerate age, the great Way is truly abandoned, all moral order trampled in the dust."

They were not even the worst off. Several scholars had tried to persuade Fan Chong to declare himself king or hegemon, only to be reduced to hard labor by Fan Chong, who detested such talk above all — they had been worked literally to death.

"Fan Chong cursed them thus: 'You lot raise your eyes and see only one man as king, one man as hegemon, but never lower your heads to see the thousands upon thousands of the poor, feet in the mud, holding you up. First do enough bitter labor, then come talk to me of kingly and hegemonic enterprises!'"

"This is like rushing to stroke a tiger's head and tug its whiskers — can one escape its jaws?" Listening to Bao Xian describe Fan Chong, Huan Tan grew more intrigued and sighed with feeling: "The 'Robber Zhi' chapter in the Zhuangzi is just the Daoists recklessly fabricating tales about Confucius, yet the Robber Zhi it describes — such a man actually exists in this world!"

Huan Tan had always thought himself the mad scholar, sober while the world was drunk, a man of true nature — he had prided himself on it. But this ordeal had shown him that he himself bore what Laozi called the "great hypocrisy."

He was no vulgar Confucian; certain of his views leaned Daoist. It seemed that if he was fortunate enough to survive this, he could, right here in the camp of "Robber Zhi," properly ponder what it means that "if the sage does not die, the great robber never ceases"!

In the stinking cowshed, Huan Tan was still trying to share a few philosophical insights he had grasped with Bao Xian, when suddenly Liu Penzi's childish yet crisp shout came from outside.

"Master Huan, Master Bao, get up — time to cut fodder!"

……

Fan Chong had driven all the Liu imperial clansmen and scholars off to hard labor, yet he himself had enormous troubles of his own.

Over two hundred thousand mouths — by early in the seventh month, Xiang County's grain was once again eaten clean!

The Red Eyebrows had even harvested the millet before it ripened, and still it was not enough. It turned out Pei had suffered a disaster the year before too; after stripping every local magnate bare, they could not beat much surplus grain out of them.

"Elder Fan, we have to move again."

But where to go next? They had already fought their way from Yan Province into Qing and Xu, and now had killed their way into Yu Province — they had tramped across most of the land east of the passes.

They had just eaten the northern Lu region and the eastern Chu region bare, so they naturally could not retrace their steps.

South of Pei lay what Wang Mang had designated "Wufu Commandery" — that is, Huaibei.

And to the west lay Liang Commandery and Chenliu Commandery!

Fan Chong made the decision: they would go to Liang!

Yet the Red Eyebrow Army, now aiming for Liang Commandery, had not marched west for long before they encountered an armed force whose foreheads were likewise smeared with red eyebrows, only theirs were linked into a single line — and they too called themselves the Red Eyebrows.

It was the "Liangshan Red Eyebrows" under Dong Xian, who had split off from them more than half a year ago — they had met again!

But Dong Xian's force now, apart from that red line on the forehead, was indistinguishable from government troops in armor, weapons, and banners. In the intervening half year, he had made Dingtao and Shanyang his base, and had merged with the power broker in Suiyang: Liu Yong, son of a Liang prince from Han times.

Dong Xian arranged to meet Fan Chong at Dang County near Mount Mangdang. This General Dong, whose belly had grown a full size larger, was quite warm and vowed he could solve the Red Eyebrows' food problem.

"General Fan…"

Dong Xian had forgotten Fan Chong's preference from their first meeting, which greatly annoyed Fan Chong: "There are no generals among the Red Eyebrows. Call me Elder."

"Elder Fan…" Dong Xian was somewhat embarrassed. After a brief catching-up, the impatient man put a bold proposal to Fan Chong.

"The Red Eyebrows rose against Mang earlier than Greenwood, yet now Greenwood has set up an emperor and is trying to swallow the commanderies and counties east of the passes. Where the Red Eyebrows go from here — has the Elder thought it through?"

Fan Chong scratched his head. How could he have thought that far? If the Red Eyebrows had a clear strategic plan, they would not have gone from being the anti-Mang vanguard that all the realm watched to their present state of not knowing where to turn.

But Dong Xian had already thought it through.

"A three-legged frog is hard to find, but two-legged Han imperial clansmen — there are plenty!"

The Gengshi regime's proclamation had reached Liang and Dong Xian's hands too, but he had greater ambitions: could Greenwood make him "King Dong"? No, they could not!

Dong Xian said, "If Greenwood can set up an emperor, can the Red Eyebrows, with strength no less than theirs, not do the same? Why should we bow to others!"

Pointing at the red brows on his forehead, he said, "Let us establish a 'Red Han' — and stand against the Green Han as equals!"

……

PS: Sorry for the delay. Chapter 2 at 18:00.