Chapter 561: Flee to the Northern Kingdom, Share in Wealth and Honor

Han Silang was a fisherman by the great river. Not only was he a fisherman—his family had been fishermen for generations upon generations.

But fishermen by the great river had a far easier life than fishermen by the big river.

Apart from being spared the constant warfare, this also had a great deal to do with the local produce.

Of course, Han Silang had no idea what the Little Ice Age was. He only knew that, as his forebears said, the weather along both banks of the great river, and indeed throughout the whole Jiangnan West Circuit, had begun to improve.

For a country as vast in land and rich in resources as China, the Little Ice Age was not entirely a bad thing.

After the climate turned cold, the Jiangnan Circuit, once dense with marshes and rife with miasma and plague, gradually became fit for habitation.

By a rough analogy, the former temperatures of the Central Plains and Guanzhong were equivalent to those of later Jiangsu, Zhejiang, and Shanghai.

Jiangsu, Zhejiang, and Shanghai, in turn, were equivalent to Lingnan.

Lingnan was as hot as the Southern Seas.

As for the Southern Seas, an ordinary person who went there truly faced nine deaths and one life.

During the Little Ice Age, temperatures fell across the board, and the climate changed along with them.

The Central Plains—especially Guanzhong, Hexi, and Longyou—began to suffer drought and scant rain, while Jiangnan became livable, and even Lingnan was far less hot and humid than before.

This heavenly might was precisely why the Great Balhae Kingdom flashed and vanished, why the Southern Han court grew considerably wealthy and its population surged, and why the Military Governor of the Jinghai Army began to stir toward independence.

Under this heavenly might, the northeast where Balhae lay grew colder year by year, until it could no longer sustain a wealthy and cultured great state.

And the land of Jiaozhi, once so barren that not even birds shat there and exiled convicts would rather kill themselves than go, gradually became fit for human habitation and grew ever more prosperous.

Of course, for the time being none of this had anything to do with Han Silang. All he felt was that the produce had grown more abundant, that many of the surrounding marshes had been reclaimed into paddy fields, and that rice, chickens, ducks, and fish all seemed easier to come by than before.

So even as a fisherman at the very bottom, Han Silang was quite content, and in his heart he hated all unnatural changes.

That was how he saw the Zhou people who had suddenly appeared and seized the Eastern Capital Prefecture. He wished the Zhou people would simply vanish right now.

"Han the Old Softshell! Han the Old Softshell! Get to the Eastern Capital Prefecture, quick!" On the bank, a stout fellow of his own clan was shouting for Han Silang.

Ah, right—"Han Silang" was only what Han Silang called himself. Not only outsiders, but even his parents and elder brothers all called him Old Softshell, Old Softshell.

A softshell turtle is a kind of great turtle: pointy-mouthed, gaunt-cheeked, warty, and black—a perfect match for Han Silang's appearance.

So Old Softshell had become the formal name of Han Silang, who did not even have a given name.

Han Silang was very unhappy to be called that, but he had always been quiet, let alone one to quarrel, so he simply stretched out his neck and raised his head to see what the stout clansman wanted to say.

The look of it truly made him seem like an old softshell turtle.

"Hey! Look what this is!" the stout clansman shouted, very pleased with himself, then waved the things in his hand.

This time Han Silang saw clearly, and at once his eyes burned with envy.

What the stout clansman carried was a great roll of mutton fat, a large slab of salt meat, and over his shoulders two bolts of white cloth—not coarse hemp, but white cotton cloth.

Han Silang swallowed hard. Fishermen like them did not actually lack for small fish and shrimp; their food was even a little better than that of ordinary farmers.

But for things the river did not produce, like mutton fat and salt meat, they yearned desperately.

Han Silang was thinking that if he could have a bit of mutton fat every day to fry up some unsellable little fish, that would be a life fit for immortals.

As for the two bolts of white cloth, that went without saying. Han Silang still did not own a single whole garment; the clothes on his body had been patched beyond recognition. Two bolts of white cloth would be enough to make a full set for the whole family—wife and daughter included—and still have some left over.

But the stout fellow was a little displeased. He thought Han Silang was half blind, staring for ages without seeing the most important thing!

So the stout fellow quickly set the salt meat down on the grass. He could not bear to put down the mutton fat—what if the wild grass and branches carried some of it away? Would that not be a pity?

With the salt meat set down, the stout fellow used his freed right hand to slap his waist hard, and a metallic clinking suddenly rang out.

Han Silang started at the sound. That was the sound of copper coins—the sound of copper coins he yearned for day and night!

This poor fisherman, black as charcoal and ugly as an old turtle, suddenly lunged at the stout fellow. All that quietness vanished in an instant.

The stout clansman was startled by Han Silang, thinking he meant to rob him, and wanted to smash him with the mutton fat in his hand—but at a glance he could not bear to part with it.

Fortunately, Han Silang had not come to rob him. He darted to within five or six paces of the stout fellow, then dropped to his knees with a thud.

"Second Brother! Where did you get these goods and money? Point Old Softshell to the way too!"

Han Silang knew very well that although this stout clansman was big and strong, and in the water a veritable flood dragon, he had few brothers at home and had to struggle on his own. Nearly thirty, he had not even taken a wife, and his life was worse than their own family's.

For him to have suddenly gained so many benefits, and to have mentioned the Eastern Capital Prefecture, there had to be some channel through which he had gotten them.

The stout fellow rolled his eyes. "Then if you get the goods, you must give me a bowl of mutton fat as thanks."

"Done! A bowl of mutton fat it is!" Han Silang agreed at once.

The stout fellow suddenly felt he had discovered a road to riches, so he gritted his teeth.

"Then go tell the clan head to call everyone here. If each man gives me a bowl of mutton fat as thanks, I'll take you all to get these goods and money."

At dusk, the fishermen of the little fishing village called the Han family returned from Jiangdu Prefecture laden with goods.

Only, the stout fellow's middleman scheme fell through. Once the clan brothers learned that it was the Zhou officials in Jiangdu Prefecture dispensing charity, they all refused to pay a bowl of mutton as a fee.

But although the stout fellow failed to skim any fat off his own clan brothers, everyone had gained something, and they all walked back in unusually high spirits.

That night, these poor laborers were rich for the first time. Fish fried in mutton fat, salt meat fried in mutton fat, brown rice in unlimited portions—and the more generous ones even got eggs and goose eggs to fry.

The adults ate sighing over the wastefulness, while the children grinned with grease-smeared mouths.

They did not even wait for the next day. As soon as the women finished eating, they gathered together, sharing a single oil lamp, and with the clan's scissors and wooden ruler began making clothes.

The children could not sleep either, forcing themselves to stay awake as they waited for their mothers to finish the clothes.

For the poor of this age, many households could not change into new clothes even once a year. Their longing for white cotton clothes was something later generations could not imagine.

But this joy lasted only a single night. The children, unwilling to take off their new clothes, were still clamoring for fried eggs, while the men had long since been summoned by the clan head.

The Han clan head was a short, stocky man with several knife scars on his face, said to have been earned in battle against the Wu navy. With his ruthless nature and harsh methods, he had quite a reputation among the nearby fishing villages.

So at this moment, gathered around him were not only the Han fishermen, but also fishermen from the neighboring Li, Chen, and Cao villages.

There must have been no fewer than a hundred able-bodied men, all raised by the river and strong swimmers.

The Han clan head, his face dark, was berating the stout fellow who had been first to return with the news and had tried to act as a middleman.

"Yesterday I told you not to go, but you insisted! Do you think gold-backed coins, white cotton cloth, rice, flour, grain, and oil are so easy to take?

Those all belong to the Eastern Capital Prefecture's officials—to the imperial prince, the Prince of Nanchang. Now that we have taken their things, word has already come from Jiangning City: all who took these goods and money are rebels, and all are to be put to death!"

Read the book at Xiashuba.

The surrounding fishermen instantly turned deathly pale. The two words "rebels" and "execute them all" struck their hearts like thunderbolts crashing down from the highest heavens.

Only yesterday they had received the money and goods and celebrated joyfully with their whole families — and today they had become rebels.

Han Silang was terrified too. Trembling, he stammered, "Why don't we just return the things? If..."

But before Han Silang could finish, the clan head shot him a look of contempt.

"Return them? You've already eaten yours into your belly, and your wife's already wearing hers on her body. How are you going to return them? Even if we cut your belly open, you still couldn't give them back."

The crowd fell silent again. Some of the more timid ones had already begun to weep. In the midst of the silence, the burly man who had been first to collect the goods suddenly burst out shouting.

"I won't return them! Even if I could, I wouldn't. This is clearly the officials' own incompetence — they let the Zhou men fight their way into the Eastern Capital and lost the goods themselves. That was the Zhou men's doing. Let them go demand it from the Zhou men!"

The reason for the burly man's explosive outburst was simple: the previous night he had already arranged with a household over in Cao Family Village that if he delivered the half-string of cash and two bolts of white cloth, they would marry their daughter to him.

The burly man was nearly thirty. Having finally gained hope of taking a wife, only to have it shattered in an instant, he wished he could drop dead on the spot.

Once he started shouting, the others around who were unwilling also began to raise their voices. Under the subtle, deliberate guidance of Clan Head Han's son, the topic gradually shifted from being branded rebels to grievances against the court.

At this time, the Southern Tang — though not yet at the point of the last ruler Li Yu's era, when in a desperate bid to raise military funds against the Northern Song they taxed even a goose that laid two eggs in one day — was still far more heavily taxed than the Central Plains and Nanping.

The more they talked, the angrier they grew; the more they talked, the more grief-stricken. By the end, every one of them felt life was no longer worth living. Even the clan heads of the Li and Chen families could not help cursing aloud.

The moment had come!

Clan Head Han suddenly interrupted the discussion with feigned irritation. "Things have come to this — what good will cursing do? Your lives are about to be forfeit. What use is rage alone?"

Cowed by Clan Head Han's fearsome reputation, the fishermen instantly fell silent. The clan heads exchanged glances. They all knew Clan Head Han always had a plan, so together they cupped their hands in salute.

"Brother Han the Sixth, is there any way out of this alive? You've seen the big world — you've even killed officials of the Wu state. Give us field-slaves an idea!"

Clan Head Han coughed and put on a hesitant expression.

"Let me say this first: I'm taking this road, and my family is coming with me. But whether the rest of you can come depends on yourselves."

Clan Head Chen's eyelid twitched. He was the first to realize what was meant, and he stared at Clan Head Han in astonishment.

"Sixth Brother, you mean to..." Clan Head Chen said, pointing northward as he spoke.

"Exactly!" Clan Head Han nodded emphatically. "We took the Zhou men's money and goods — there's no way out for us now. If the Zhou men lose, the Son of Heaven and the Great King in Jiangning will never spare us.

Since he shows us no mercy, we owe him no loyalty. Better to help the Zhou men — who knows, there may still be a way to survive.

Even if they lose, we can follow the Zhou men to Chuzhou. They've abolished the levies and miscellaneous taxes there. Going to Chuzhou is better than staying here being fleeced."

A look of hatred flashed through Clan Head Chen's eyes. At the beginning of the year, his eldest son had been rammed into the great river — boat and all — by an official vessel, and not even his corpse was ever found. His daughter-in-law, unable to bear it, had gone to the yamen to demand justice, only to be flogged. She had returned home and thrown herself into the river.

In truth, Clan Head Chen had long wanted to throw away his life and kill a few officials to avenge his son and daughter-in-law.

"Brother Han the Sixth, I'm with you. My wife's elder brother serves in Taizhou and can open Taizhou's east gate. Why don't we go sell Taizhou to the Zhou Son of Heaven as well, and gamble for a fortune beyond measure!"

Even Clan Head Han, prepared as he was, was shaken to the core by Clan Head Chen's proposal.

If this worked out, it would be a tremendous merit! He recalled what that Zhou official had said to him.

"The realm is determined to conquer the Tang state, and all it lacks is men to handle boats. Bring me a hundred men and you'll immediately be a Captain of the water forces. Bring five hundred and you'll be a Chief Supervisor. Glory and success are right before your eyes — it all depends on how bold you are."

Clan Head Han's eyes blazed with desperate longing for wealth and rank. He reached out and grasped Clan Head Chen's hand, saying in a low voice,

"You and I will each summon our most reliable sons and nephews, have them all press their thumbprints, and together pledge ourselves to the Zhou Son of Heaven — and share in the wealth and honor!"

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