Chapter 220: The Prince of Han's Estate

Outside Pingliang City, flames lit the sky.

South of the western wall, several thousand starving followers under Jinchanzi swarmed the city like ants, scaling long ladders and ropes — repelled by the garrison troops within, they now besieged and jeered, a roaring din.

Jinchanzi, wearing an ill-fitting Flying Fish Robe, yawned as he stood atop the eastern gate tower, listening to the distant rumble of cannon fire, watching the flames blaze outside the city, and rubbed his bleary, drunken eyes.

He was a bit dazed by the current situation.

He was a Pingliang Prefecture local, a blacksmith just three days ago.

That very day, he had met a new friend who said his name was Ai Jixian, a Mizhi man serving as a soldier in Guyuan.

Ai Jixian invited him for a drink — liquor was a rare thing in these times — and they ordered two pots of strong spirits, nearly all of which ended up in his belly.

Their talk over the meal was all bitter denunciation of the court's injustice and how the feudal princes had seized every inch of Pingliang's fertile land; the more they spoke, the more his heart seethed, and as he grew dizzy with drink, Ai Jixian said he saw in this Pingliang blacksmith the mettle to accomplish great things.

The flattery lifted his spirits high.

Only later did he discover that the inn's waiter and manager had both been tied up, and that everyone staying at the inn was a veteran soldier — they said they would honor him as their lord and do great things in Pingliang.

Had he not been drinking, he would never have dared agree to such a thing.

But with five parts tipsiness in his heart, two parts anger, and three parts sheer bewilderment, Ai Jixian had him muddled into the Flying Fish Robe, saying that doing great things required a name, and from this day forward he would be called Jinchanzi.

Things went so smoothly it was almost absurd; somehow, the moment he slipped into the eastern city, the starving people outside the walls rose up everywhere in response.

This twin city held over six hundred members of the imperial clan ranked Commandant and above, and the craftsmen, laborers, singing girls, and entertainers who served them numbered over twenty thousand — half of whom served the Prince of Han's estate directly.

In this famine year, the estate's grain stipends had failed to arrive in time, and the entire city was like a haystack drenched in boiling oil, lacking only a single spark.

That spark was a leader.

Now they had a leader.

In the blink of an eye, over a thousand Pingliang famine victims were plundering the mansions and mountain villas of the generals and commandants outside the city, then surging into the eastern city to seize the markets and the walls.

The long-oppressed craftsmen and laborers joined the looting in the chaos, venting their fury upon the generals and commandants of the eastern city.

The most tumultuous night in Pingliang City was slept through by Jinchanzi inside the gate tower.

Had he not woken inside the gate tower of Pingliang City, with cannon fire rumbling in the distance, Jinchanzi would have thought he had dreamed it all.

But this was no dream — outside the gate tower, his neighbor Old Niu the Second, wearing armor stripped from a slain garrison soldier and gripping an iron hammer, was reporting to him with utter loyalty.

The Great King Jinchanzi now commanded over seven thousand troops, with three great generals under him: Left Adjutant Ai Woxiu, Right Adjutant Ai Jixian, and Vanguard Commander Zhu Danyu.

Now sober, the Great King Jinchanzi realized he barely knew any of these three great generals.

Especially the Left and Right Adjutants — one he had shared just a single drink with, and the other he did not know at all.

"Where is the Left Adjutant?"

Old Niu the Second shook his head — he did not know.

"Where is the Right Adjutant?"

Old Niu the Second shook his head again — still no idea.

"Then where is the Vanguard Commander?"

This one Niu the Second knew; he pointed west: "Old Master Zhu is attacking the city!"

Old Master Zhu!

Jinchanzi understood now — this Zhu Danyu was Old Master Zhu from outside the city, a very famous commoner stripped of his clan status, the beggar chief of Pingliang City.

Under him were a few commandants and commoner beggars of the imperial clan; they usually crowded the city gates, begging from clan members or estate officials leaving the city, and whenever they had surplus grain, they used it to aid the widows and orphans of other stripped clan commoners.

Old Niu the Second said that while most of the troops were busy looting during the assault on Pingliang City, only this Old Master Zhu led over a thousand men in a relentless siege.

The dozen or so clan generals hanging from the trees of the mountain villas and pavilions north of the city — all their doing.

And the mansions of a few generals who, in ordinary times, had often shown charity and sympathy to these status-less poor relatives were carried around Pingliang City three times in sedan chairs by the clan commoners, who proclaimed their virtue and placed them under protection.

They had already been beaten back twice; Old Master Zhu had lost two fingers to cannon shot, yet he was still organizing a third assault, determined to enter the city and hang his own nephews from the estate in the trees.

When the bonds of blood that tie people together collapse, hatred will devour with ten times the force of what lay beyond those bonds.

Jinchanzi thought long and hard, then said to Niu the Second, "Second Brother, go find Old Master Zhu. Ask him if he wants to be Jinchanzi. If he does, let him be Jinchanzi. We'll gather up the money and goods and run — quickly!"

Niu the Second froze: "You — you weren't saying that yesterday!"

"What did I say yesterday?"

"Let me think... 'Spanning the mountain passes, girdled by the Jing River, blocking the northern frontier beyond, holding the Long flank within, shielding the Three Qin, guarding the imperial environs.'" Niu the Second thought for a moment, then a string of phrases burst from his mouth like a volley of firecrackers, and finally he clapped his hands: "Yesterday you were going to take Pingliang City and become emperor."

Jinchanzi raised a hand and slapped himself across the mouth: "Emperor my ass. When I'm drunk, the whole world is mine; when I sober up, it's not worth a feather. Listen to me — get rid of this Jinchanzi title fast, we'll grab a few dozen taels of silver and run. Stay here and we're dead for sure."

Jinchanzi was a blacksmith from a poor family, but he was no fool. Now sober and thinking it through, he understood perfectly well what was in the hearts of these several thousand men who had risen up in Pingliang City.

They had all wanted to riot for a long time — they were just afraid to die.

Now that he had taken the lead, everyone had risen up, but the moment government troops arrived, they would surely flee faster than anyone, leaving him alone like a great fool, and neither the prince's estate nor the authorities would let him go.

Five oxen are a fine sight — even finer when roped by the neck and legs and stretched apart.

Not long after, the Jinchanzi of Pingliang Prefecture was replaced by Old Master Zhu.

The blacksmith took over a dozen households of relatives and friends — more than a hundred souls in all — drove two grain carts loaded with over thirty jin of gold and silver and copper coins, and slipped quietly along a small path into the southern hills, leaving this battlefield behind.

Yang Chengzu, under the alias Ai Jixian, returned to the gate tower to find it empty — the mountain king he had so carefully cultivated had shed his golden cicada shell and vanished.

He hurriedly sought out Luo Rucai, under the alias Ai Woxiu. The two put their heads together: the first-generation Jinchanzi had already caught on to the problem, and the second-generation Jinchanzi was a reckless fool who only knew how to attack cities — perfect for drawing fire.

The two men organized their forces and began tallying the plundered supplies, sending out mounted troops to screen the key roads, and transporting grain, fodder, and valuables toward the mountain paths connecting to Zhenyuan County in the northeast.

Luo Rucai reckoned that both the defenders on the walls and the starving attackers were already exhausted, so he dispatched riders west with a message telling Liu Chengzong he could set out to quell the rebellion.

But in the end, things had deviated somewhat from their earlier design. What was originally a scheme to deceive the Prince of Han, Yang He, and Zhou Riqiang had instead been discovered by them first — they had even specifically invited Liu Chengzong to send troops to quell the unrest.

As a result, the Lion Battalion had set out much earlier than planned and was already very close to Pingliang Prefecture City.

Word soon came back to Luo Rucai. He and Yang Chengzu conferred and decided they needed to add one more stick to the fire, or else the grain and money they had looted could not be transported east.

They immediately dispatched troops from the eastern wall to help the starving people breach the western city.

Cannon fire thundered from the battlements, war cries shook the heavens, and within the city the crowds churned in chaos. The many Pingliang imperial clansmen, long unaccustomed to the sounds of war, were caught utterly off guard by this sudden calamity and fled in pitiful disarray.

People rushed with their consorts and concubines toward the Prince of Han's estate, whose walls stood two zhang high. The inn servants and laborers also tried to surge into the princely city, but the estate's Chief Clerk urged them instead onto the walls to defend it.

A great many imperial clansmen, bringing their families, flooded into the princely city, bringing back word of the chaos in Pingliang's western city. Even among the guard battalion troops quartered within the city, small bands were masked and looting — a scene straight out of the end of days, unsettling every heart.

The Prince of Han, Zhu Shaoyun, was young and had no wish to remain in the palace. He simply handed all princely city affairs over to the palace guard and went alone to the corner tower of Guangzhi Gate.

Guangzhi Gate was the northern gate of the princely city.

The southern part of the city was far too chaotic — the looting outside the inner walls, the slaughter atop the ramparts — it disturbed the mind.

Everywhere in this princely city were yellow roofs and vermilion walls, accented with blue and green, symbolizing the Zhu clan's realm and the supremacy of imperial power.

Within the princely city, the layout was that of four gates, two halls, and three palace gardens.

The four gates referred to the four great gates along the central axis of the princely residence, running from south to north: the main gate, Lingxing Gate; the middle gate, Duanli Gate; in front of the hall, flanked left and right by Shende Hall and Bingzhong Hall, Chengyun Gate; and the rear gate, Guangzhi Gate.

The two halls were the main Chengyun Hall behind Chengyun Gate, and the residential Cunxin Hall, with two further residential halls to its left and right.

The three palace gardens were the Willow Lake Summer Retreat and the Warm Spring Imperial Garden west of the princely residence, and the Eastern Palace Residence where the heir apparent lived, to the east.

Along this central axis was arrayed a princely city that occupied half of Pingliang prefectural seat — a princely city larger in area than the Heshui county seat that Jiang Yingchang defended.

The princely residence administrator searched the entire princely city. Everywhere he looked were commandery princes and princesses, generals and county mistresses, yet he had no idea where the Prince of Han was. He was frantic enough to throw himself down a well when he finally heard someone say the Prince of Han had ascended the northern wall to admire the lotus blossoms on Willow Lake.

Only then did the administrator ride hard up onto the wall and say urgently, "Your Highness, the city is in utter chaos at this moment. Instead of holding court in the princely city, what are you doing up on the northern wall?"

The Prince of Han answered as if it were only natural: "The lotus is in full season. If I don't look now, they'll be gone… Administrator, why not enjoy the lotus with me?"

Having spoken, the Prince of Han turned his head and added, "Or perhaps you and I could go together to the Wave-Viewing Pavilion."

The Wave-Viewing Pavilion stood at the very center of Willow Lake, built with flush-gable roofs of glazed tile, carved beams, and painted rafters — a fine place to admire the flowers and gaze upon the rippling water.

The administrator was dumbfounded. In his heart he thought, what time is this for admiring flowers and gazing at ripples? "Your Highness, soon the bandits will breach the city, and then nothing will be worth looking at. The guard troops are fighting the bandits with their lives — this is precisely the moment Your Highness should be boosting their morale!"

"Boost what morale?" The Prince of Han turned his head and gave the administrator an odd look. "Is Pingliang prefectural seat not their home?"

The administrator reflected that Pingliang prefectural seat was in fact not the guard troops' home, and so he reminded him: "Your Highness, the guard troops' homes are in the eastern city, and the eastern city has already fallen."

"Then why haven't they driven the bandits out and taken their homes back?"

The administrator's expression turned strange. It was very difficult to communicate with the Prince of Han, so he said, "The guard troops have identified the man attacking outside the city walls as Zhu Zhiyu, a commoner stripped of his title. He is driving the guard troops' own families forward to assault the city, and many guard troops up on the wall have already gone over to the bandits."

For the first time, a look of terror appeared on the face of the Prince of Han, who had been utterly composed until now. But a moment later he relaxed again, resumed the bearing of a feudal prince, sat down in the corner tower, and said, "Have them hold out a little while. Once the five columns from Guyuan arrive, won't the bandit rabble obediently offer up their heads?"

"My prince, the Guyuan main-force camp mutinied the year before last, and the mobile corps camp left for the autumn defense at Huamachi just last month at the Start of Autumn. The west is also swarming with bandits — Guyuan has no troops left at all right now!"

Now the Prince of Han was truly frightened. "Guyuan has no troops?"

When the administrator answered with a nod, the Prince of Han rose, lifting the hem of his dark-patterned Sichuan brocade robe, and at last got to the real matter: "What good plan do you have?"

This was exactly what the administrator had been waiting for. He bowed with clasped hands and said, "This humble official has come precisely to request pay for the defending troops. I beseech Your Highness to open the treasury and issue pay to the defending troops, to bolster the courage of the brave!"

"Well said — with rich rewards, there will surely be bold warriors!"

The Prince of Han was exceedingly pleased with this proposal. He looked at the administrator with great approval. "Don't let me keep you here delaying my flower-viewing. Go at once. I shall issue them five hundred taels of silver as pay, and tell them to defend the city well."

The administrator was quite happy at first, but upon hearing the sum, his face fell and he said bitterly, "Your Highness, five hundred taels — divided among the guard troops, that comes to only two mace of silver per man."

"Two mace is too little? Then I'll put up a thousand taels. A thousand taels can't be too little, surely?"

The Prince of Han paced in a circle for a moment, then returned to the battlements, shaking his head. "Four or five mace per man — that's enough to buy ten jin of fine incense. With that much money, the incense offerings at Mount Kongtong will surely be thriving next year."

"Your Highness, the guard troops do not buy fine incense. They only want to buy grain." The administrator said, "Grain prices are high. Four or five mace will barely buy a single dou."

The Prince of Han had a sudden realization. He smacked his head and said, "Well said indeed — what would they know of such things? Then this silver is truly not much. But don't you know my finances? The loans I issued the year before last still haven't been recovered this year. I truly am unwilling to put up any more!"

As he spoke, the Prince of Han twisted his neck, raised a hand, and pointed at the administrator. "Hey, you are the administrator of my Han princely establishment. In a year of disaster, instead of thinking how to save your lord money, your elbow turns outward. Your idea is a good one — so you go handle this matter."

"The Han princely establishment will put up one thousand taels of silver. You go find my uncles and brothers — all commandery princes and generals, hiding here in my princely residence — and make them contribute money. Pool ten thousand taels of silver to issue pay to the troops."

The Prince of Han slapped his thigh and said with a ruthless look, "Whoever refuses to pay, throw them out! Pull all the troops back to defend the princely city, and leave the rest to their fate!"

The administrator was just about to take his leave when the Prince of Han called him back. "Hold on. Go tell them this: I, the prince, will put up three thousand taels of silver. Have the commandery princes put up one thousand each. The forty-odd State-Defending Generals, five hundred each. The eighty-odd State-Assisting Generals, two hundred each. The two-hundred-odd State-Upholding Generals, one hundred each. That alone is over fifty thousand. Keep forty thousand, and distribute the remaining ten-thousand-odd to the troops as pay."

Good heavens. The administrator raised his hand and gave a thumbs-up. "Your Highness is brilliant!"

The administrator rushed off to carry out the task. The imperial clansmen naturally all tried to pass the buck, but seeing that the Prince of Han had already put up money and set the rules for them, none of them could do anything about it.

The many commandery princes and princesses, generals and county mistresses could only pay up according to the rule.

But before everyone could deliver the money to the princely city of the Han princely establishment, routed soldiers came running through the market streets, shouting at the top of their lungs to inform the whole city: the western city had fallen!

With a roar, everything descended into chaos. Even the Prince of Han, trembling, was supported by his guards as he scrambled down from the wall.

They collided with the imperial clansmen fleeing in confusion through the princely residence, then swept everyone along as they fled north, through Willow Lake, carrying a great mass of people toward the northern city, which had not yet been breached.

After that, great numbers of starving people swarmed into the city, rushing toward one vermilion-walled, bright-yellow-glazed-tile-roofed mansion after another, shouting, weeping, venting their fury in a mad frenzy.

On the eastern gate tower in the distance, Luo Rucai leaned against the battlements and looked at Yang Chengzu beside him. Both men's faces were uneasy.

He said, this is bad: "Looks like we've gone too far."

Source of "The Stubborn Bandits":