Chapter 42: Bribery

Liu Chengzong's parents were overjoyed to see Cai Zhongpan, and upon hearing of his ordeal in Sanyuan, their hearts filled with sympathy.

Blood ties bind — with the world outside in chaos and nowhere else to turn, they had to help. Even if the clansmen of Xingping Hamlet could barely fend for themselves, it was still better than drifting through northern Shaanxi, where bandits swarmed everywhere.

The household bustled with joy, preparing a meal for Cai Zhongpan and his wife's younger brother Chen Ruji. A pity that the family's last old hen had been slaughtered by Liu Chengzong yesterday for stew — for the moment, they could not produce a single meat dish.

It was a rare occasion for the Liu family to eat a meal at midday.

Once the afternoon meal was done, misgivings stirred in everyone's hearts. Even the old patriarch Liu Xiangyu stepped into the courtyard several times, lifting his eyes to gaze northward.

"What's going on up north? Still no sign of movement?"

By all reckoning, if the government troops had engaged the bandits in the morning, the fighting at Old Temple Village should already be over by now.

The distance was a mere seven or eight li — even if the sounds of battle were too far to hear, surely there ought to be at least a plume of black smoke.

Liu Chengzong could not sit still either. He went to the stable, led out his warhorse, and prepared to ride north for a look, but Cai Zhongpan stopped him. "Lion, your uncle's going with you. Find me an ounce or two of gunpowder."

"Gunpowder? Uncle, you have a use for it?"

At his question, Cai Zhongpan leaned his eight-foot blade-staff against the door, turned, and pulled a double-barreled hand cannon from his pack. "This is handier than a bow."

The sight of his uncle pulling that thing from his pack left Liu Chengzong utterly dumbstruck. He took it and examined it over and over, exclaiming in surprise, "Where did this come from?"

The hand cannon was superbly crafted: twin barrels, parallel, equal in length and caliber. Each barrel was a foot long, with a bore of four fen and walls one fen thick. Beneath, a double trigger linked to twin serpentine cocks above for holding match cord. Under the barrels, the wooden stock had a brass cap concealing a ramrod.

The curved wooden grip felt heavy in the hand. At the base of the grip was a small wooden cap that could be pulled open — when he did, over a dozen lead balls spilled out and dropped to the ground, sending Liu Chengzong into a flustered scramble to pick them up.

This was the first time in his life he had ever seen such a short-barreled hand cannon, and with two barrels at that. Yet another set of memories in his mind clearly recognized that this object bore a lineage different from this land's. The words slipped out: "Westerner firearm?"

"Ho! Lion's never left Yan'an Prefecture, yet he knows quite a bit. Genuine Sanyuan make — a bandit-killing reward given to your uncle by Master Kuixin. The Master was baptized into the Luminous Teaching and is on excellent terms with the Westerners from the Great Western Ocean. He's learned a good many things from them."

Cai Zhongpan smiled. "The Master has one too — looks even finer than this one. A gift from the Westerners."

In Liu Chengzong's other set of memories, the impression of foreigners, especially Westerners, ran deep. But he had never expected to hear news of Westerner churches even here in Shaanxi. He could not help asking, "Uncle, have you ever seen a Westerner from the Great Western Ocean?"

"Met them a few times. Apart from looking a bit warmer, they're no different from us."

Looking warmer?

"Warm" did not seem like a word for describing someone's appearance.

Just as Liu Chengzong was utterly baffled, he saw Cai Zhongpan's face turn dead serious as he spat out two words: "Lots of hair."

Liu Chengzong could not hold back a laugh at this explanation, but then he heard his uncle continue: "Still, they all call themselves 'Western Confucians.' They study the Four Books and Five Classics harder than licentiates and provincial candidates. Because some scholars joined the teaching, many common folk in Sanyuan followed suit and embraced the faith."

Western Confucians?

He turned the title over in his mind repeatedly. It clashed completely with the Westerners in his other set of memories — that memory held no good impression of the people on the other side of the world. Linked to this era especially, the words that came to mind were almost all: thieves, pirates, thugs, colonizers, opium dealers, and slavers. Their deeds, he feared, had nothing whatsoever to do with "Confucian."

Fortunately, Liu Chengzong took this matter lightly. Or rather, it was merely a passing curiosity that prompted a couple of questions, and he soon lost interest. After returning the double-barreled hand cannon to his uncle, he mounted his horse and rode up to Liujiamao Ridge, fetched the two ounces of gunpowder stored in his waist pouch, led out another horse, and together they headed north.

In his heart, he had his own small understanding of why the scholar-official class joined the teaching, and some vague guesses about the missionaries' behavior. He reckoned it was nothing more than both sides sharing a bed but dreaming different dreams — each taking what they needed.

It was just as Cai Zhongpan had said: the missionaries cultivated the upper strata so that the common folk at the bottom would enter the teaching. The scholars willing to convert or who grew curious were mostly reformists, hoping to borrow outside knowledge to refine their learning for the people and the court's use — hence they were interested only in translating books.

Both sides were clever people, each taking what they needed. Neither could play the other for a fool.

As for himself, Liu Chengzong felt this matter had not the slightest thing to do with him. He had little chance of meeting a missionary anyway — he would deal with it if he ever actually met one.

Uncle and nephew rode north at a canter, chatting about what they had seen and heard in years past — one speaking of Yufort in the north, the other of Sanyuan County in the south. They got on well enough, each sighing with emotion as they recounted their experiences.

Following the tracks of passing troops and horses for five li, Liu Chengzong was startled to find the trail of cart ruts and hoofprints had vanished.

This was baffling beyond belief. The trail of a guard unit two to three hundred strong — they would have neither the energy nor the need to hide their tracks. How could it simply break off?

The two searched along the road for a long while. Suddenly, they spotted figures on the western bank of the Panlong River waving toward them. A group of five or six emerged slowly from among the earthen embankments and hurried toward the river's eastern side.

As these people drew near, taking off their shoes and rolling up their trousers to wade across, Liu Chengzong finally saw clearly: it was Lu Bin, the guide who had gone with Battalion Commander Zhang — the very man they had parted ways with only yesterday.

Behind him were several others, men and women, their clothes tattered and filthy. A child with a runny nose — all of them covered in dust and grime.

Filth was the norm where water was scarce, but tatters were not. After all, even as the weather warmed, the cold wind still swept relentlessly across the ridges. Clearly, wherever they had come from, they had left in great haste.

Once across the river, Lu Bin led the group in saluting, then made introductions: "Second Master Liu, this is my elder brother and his wife. The day the bandits broke through Old Temple, they hid in a cliff cave and barely escaped with their lives."

Liu Chengzong naturally clasped his hands in greeting to them before asking, "Weren't you guiding the government troops to suppress the bandits? Why have you come back alone? Where are the troops?"

At the mention of the government troops, Lu Bin seemed filled with boundless indignation. He beat his chest and stamped his feet in fury. "Second Master Liu, you don't know. I was guiding that Battalion Commander Zhang. We had cavalry scouts probing ahead. Halfway there, for some unknown reason, the scouts returned and the commander refused to go any farther. He led his troops across the river west, and wouldn't let me wander off — posted three or five soldiers to watch me."

"I sensed something was wrong and seized a chance to slip away in the middle of the night. In the morning, bandits came from the north hauling several carts. Straw mats covered them — you couldn't tell what was underneath. The government troops then returned to Fushi from the west bank."

"At noon I screwed up my courage and went back to Old Temple Village. There was no trace of the bandits left in the village, only the villagers..."

Lu Bin's voice caught with a sob. His elder brother took over: "Not a single villager was left with a whole corpse. The bandits withdrew without any hurry. Now our village is broken, our homes destroyed. My brother and I wish to borrow some hands from Xingping Hamlet to bury our elders. Might that be possible?"

Liu Chengzong had never imagined such an outcome. For a moment, he was at a complete loss. He turned his head and muttered to himself, "What are the government troops doing?"

"Ran off, of course. Most likely took a bribe from the bandits. What do you think was in those crates?"

Cai Zhongpan, leaning sideways in the saddle, raised a hand to the level of his own neck — out of sight of the Lu brothers — and made a cutting gesture. He shook his head. "I've seen plenty of this sort of thing in Sanyuan... In my view, we'd best head back to the mountains and make a long-term plan."

Note:

The hand cannon is modeled after the antique "Dashing King's Inner Attendant Patrol Double-Barreled Hand Cannon," originating from the Funiu Mountains in Luanchuan, Henan.