Chapter 26: Upstream

As the calendar turned to March, the entire Xingping Village grew busier by the day.

When it came time to plant seedlings in the fields, not only did every man, woman, and child head to the fields, but even Liu Chengzu's border troops joined in the labor.

This scene was no pastoral idyll — the following month would be the prime time for fertilizing, when every household hauled out the rotted night soil from their backyard cesspits; fertilizing a single mu of land could stink up two or three li around.

For the border troops, though hauling manure and spreading fertilizer was something none of them had done less of back in Yuhe Fort, here in Xingping Village, even with their armor stripped off and hidden away by Liu Chengzu, wearing nothing but plain clothes, they still carried themselves with the awkward air of lofty lords, so they could only be assigned to haul water at the riverbank.

Truth be told, the border troops generally preferred hauling water or helping in the fields — otherwise they'd be sent to the prefectural city or the outlying mines to buy supplies, a job that was tedious and carried considerable danger.

In early March, Chengzong took Tian Shoujing to the eastern mining camp to buy bricks; the miners there, mingling with refugees, had revolted, the brick kiln fires had gone out, and someone loosed a cold arrow that nearly killed Chengzong.

In the end they didn't buy any bricks, but somehow brought back two miners from there, and now had to build yet another brick kiln at the west end of the village.

Even without the danger, going out for three to five days at a stretch, eating nothing but dry rations dipped in thick bean paste all day, left one's mouth so bland it drove you mad.

Helping out in the village was different — the chives in the fields were visibly growing taller by the day; after work you could casually cut a handful, pull up a radish, and go back to fry up some fritters in bean oil, not to mention the millet rice the villagers prepared for the busy farming season.

And what's more, they had discovered neighbors.

Having neighbors wasn't strange in itself, but in a famine year, encountering neighbors was all too rare. The Panlong River, flowing from north-by-northwest to south-by-southeast, saw its flow further diminish during the irrigation season — clearly, someone upstream was also irrigating, and from the looks of it, quite a few people at that.

Liu Chengzong rode upstream along the river with several horsemen; after traveling a few li, he suddenly realized that Black Dragon King Temple Mountain was not an isolated island in the human world.

Within twenty li upstream, seven villages were scattered across the east and west banks of the river, all still able to irrigate their fields by relying on this river, the famine year likewise having little impact on them.

Where the river was kept, people could still live. Many new fields had been opened along both banks; people had abandoned the fertile fields of the past, clearing nearby wildlands for easier irrigation, even opening up wasteland on the mountainsides.

In peaceful years, these were all wastelands that fifty years and three generations couldn't have opened up, yet now they were being tended in perfect order.

The several villages were not particularly warm toward them. Four villages had built palisades; spotting Liu Chengzong and his few cavalrymen from afar in the fields, people dashed back to the village, and able-bodied men brandished hunting crossbows and clubs, shouting to drive them off.

The other three villages were bolder, willing to exchange a few words, but all conveyed the same meaning: there was no grain here; whether soldier, civilian, or bandit, please go elsewhere.

"With just that one 'please go elsewhere,' I got a rough grasp of all the villages' situations — they undercut each other."

Back in Xingping Village, discussing matters with his elder brother, Liu Chengzong couldn't stop laughing as he recounted: "Up north, on the opposite riverbank, there's a village called Ding Family Station, over fifty households, run by a man called Old Master Ding. No other talents to speak of, but he sired eight sons, known as the Eight Wolves of Ding Village."

"Those eight wolves beat a tax collector to death during last year's summer grain harvest; the whole village has been counting the days ever since, terrified that government troops will come to punish them. Their affairs were told to me by the Lu brothers of Old Temple Village east of the river. Old Temple Village is also seventy or eighty households, run by these two Lu brothers."

"The two villages are irreconcilable enemies; decades ago they were already fighting over damming the river to seize water. The Lu brothers thought I was a soldier and told me to go seize grain at Ding Family Station, so I fished for information."

Liu Chengzu, listening at the side, furrowed his brow deeply: "We downstream haven't even led men to fight them yet — what are they fighting for?"

Huh?

Liu Chengzong pondered this — it did make sense. These two villages upstream were damming the river and cutting off the water; we downstream in Xingping Village hadn't even mustered our able-bodied men to fight them, yet the two of them had started fighting each other first.

"In times like these, even speaking plainly, every village and hamlet clinging to this river is nothing more than pitiful souls left with half a lifeline, yet they still think first of putting each other to death."

"People, that's just their nature." Liu Chengzu sighed, then asked: "If these hundred-plus households can't unite, they're of little use. What of the other villages' recent conditions?"

Liu Chengzong shook his head: "There's also Song Family Gully, a bit far, didn't get a chance to go see, but the situation's about the same — five brothers there are called the Five Tigers. At times like these, whichever family has the most men calls the shots. Besides them, there's only the paper mill at the northernmost end."

"The paper mill... I think I've heard of that one." Liu Chengzu pondered a moment upon hearing this: "The one making paper at the upstream spring — is the surname Wang or something else?"

"Shi. The merchant's name is Shi Jiazhi, a rather refined-sounding name."

"Never mind what he's called — a paper maker is good, paper makers have bamboo. Tomorrow I'll take some men to buy bamboo; the remaining crossbows can all be finished then."

The experience of Liu Chengyun nearly being killed by a cold arrow at the brick kiln made the clan elders of Xingping Village realize once again just how irreparably dire the situation had become.

After firmly resolving to build a fortified stronghold and train clan soldiers for self-defense, Liu Chengzong's proposal for universal conscription was also accepted by the clansmen.

However, the final method of organizing this universal militia did not follow his idea of forming twelve units — five squads of able-bodied men, four of sturdy women, three of youths, and one of crack troops.

His elder brother Liu Chengzu proposed a better suggestion: all four hundred and eighty-eight men, women, and children of Xingping Village capable of taking the field, together with the border troops, would be organized into three divisions — vanguard, center, and rear.

Strong men formed the vanguard division; sturdy women and youths formed the center division; the old, weak, women, and children formed the rear division.

In essence, these were the combat division, the reserve division, and the logistics division.

Rules were set: the vanguard division drilled every other day, the center division drilled every three days, and the rear division drilled every five days.

Training days were divided by Liu Chengzong into four subjects — two in the morning, two in the afternoon — respectively: commands and formations, military law and regulations, basic literacy, and weapons handling.

During the busy farming season, the two morning subjects were suspended.

Before the fortified stronghold was completed, enhancing military capability was no overnight matter, but strengthening organizational ability was of urgent importance.

When villagers took up arms to fight, it would surely be when bandits had come slaughtering to their very doorsteps; at that point, never mind killing bandits, having organizational ability at least meant there was a possibility of defense.

Having spent over a year among the border troops, Liu Chengzong knew all too well the caliber of Xingping Village's newly organized militia.

Fifty well-fed border troops could send over a hundred White Eagle Bandits scattering in all directions — and the reverse held true as well; blooded bandit soldiers could likewise use half their number to slaughter newly formed militia until the rivers ran red.

What's more, at the moment they didn't even have enough weapons to arm the vanguard division; they had only fourteen suits of proper armor, and any casualties would severely dampen the villagers' enthusiasm for joining the militia.

Among two or three hundred people, four or five casualties, even seven or eight, were but a single grain of sand — yet borne upon an individual, that single grain of sand was a mountain.

A great mountain that no family could bear.

The two brothers carefully worked out the details of purchasing bamboo strips from the paper mill at the Panlong River spring to the north, and inadvertently talked until it grew late. At dusk, they saw Sixteen come running out, his little shaved head gleaming bright, calling: "Squad Leader, Brother Lion, the Old Master bids you return — guests have come to the house, an official from the prefectural city."

"An official from the prefectural city? You scruffy-faced little rascal, where'd you hear that?"

Liu Chengzong laughed as he patted Sixteen's little head. The child had a clever air about him and had been taken in by Father as a runner boy; cleaned up, he looked much tidier now. "What leisure do officials have to come here?"

"It really is a high official from the prefectural city. He told the Old Master — Wang Zuogua has struck Yao Prefecture."