Chapter 87: Nine and a Half Catties

"Too dangerous, way too dangerous — you're like a madman!"

Cao Yao said this even as he raised a hand and had his men brace long shields and nail a row of small cannons into place before the rammed-earth walls of Jinming Post.

"Didn't you want to fight the court ages ago? Well, here you go — I'm granting your wish."

Liu Chengzong laughed and straightened up in the saddle. He shouted toward the earthen fort, "Brothers inside the post station, listen up! I'm Liu Chengzong, the one who broke the prefectural seat and killed the magistrate. I've come only for horses. If you know what's good for you, open the gates at once!"

Post stations in the borderlands were like little forts; some had even been faced with brick during the Longqing reign.

This Jinming Post had relatively strong defenses and could serve as an outlying horn to Yan'an Prefecture if the prefectural seat came under siege.

Liu Chengzong had brought three hundred battle troops on this outing: Feng Rang's Left Sentinel, Gao Xian's Right Sentinel, and Cao Yao's battalion-affiliated Cannon Sentinel.

His plan was to wreck the post station, thereby crippling Shaanxi's intelligence relay system, and also to plunder fodder, grain, and horses.

A post fort was not easy to assault; a square earthen stronghold a thousand paces across was no simple thing to deal with.

Still, he had two advantages.

First, the Cannon Sentinel had gotten their hands on quite a few firearms from the guard battalion.

They could not haul medium cannons; all they had were ten small pieces ranging from thirty to sixty catties apiece.

They could bombard the defenders atop the wall.

Second, the Great Ming's sagely sovereign, the Chongzhen Emperor, had laid off part of the post-station staff, leaving over ten thousand post runners in Shaanxi out of work.

So Liu Chengzong figured the fort was now lightly garrisoned, and even fewer men inside would have the stomach for a fight.

But he was wrong.

No sooner had his words faded than a post runner's curses rang down from the ramparts: "I busted my ass nine bulls and two tigers' worth just to keep the emperor from cutting me, and now you, you dog-spawn whelp, come knocking on our post fort!"

"Brothers, we fight these bowl-smashers to the bitter end!"

A wave of cursing rose and fell along the earthen wall; at least twenty post-runner lads strung bows and nocked arrows.

It stunned Liu Chengzong and Cao Yao speechless.

Why wasn't this going the way they'd imagined?

Liu Chengzong, with all the patience he could muster, tried to persuade the post runners up on the earthen fort: "Six mace of labor-and-rations silver a month — is it worth dying here for that?"

"Six mace my ass, it's three mace!"

Tch!

Liu Chengzong was so furious he could spit. Damn it all, your own pay's been skimmed and you've still got the gall to correct my mistake.

Cao Yao was more ruthless: "Court rules say six mace — your postmaster's been skimming! Shove him off the wall and I'll kill him for you!"

A couple more curses came from the wall, then silence.

Moments later, the figures on the battlements retreated in a dark, churning mass. Before long, sounds of fighting and angry shouts rang out from within.

Liu Chengzong immediately raised a hand and gave the order.

Left Sentinel Feng Rang led his men in close, swung grappling hooks up onto the ramparts, and began to climb.

Right Sentinel Gao Xian led his troops forward with bows and crossbows to provide cover. Once Feng Rang and the others started scaling the wall, he too had grappling hooks thrown and climbed up.

Not long after, the gates of Jinming Post Fort swung open.

The post runner who had been cursing them from the station earlier was shoved out by Gao Xian, a hand clamped on the back of his neck.

He looked for all the world like a living terracotta soldier, yet his mouth kept running without pause: "Did I curse wrong? Damn it all, this rotten world just won't let a decent man live!"

Liu Chengzong urged his horse forward a couple of steps. Seeing the man's robes stained with blood, he told Cao Yao to go inside first, secure the spoils, and prepare to tear down the fort. "Brother Gao, let him go."

"This is no world where a decent man can survive — what can you do about it? Can you ride?"

At those words, Gao Xian shoved the man forward and let go.

The post runner stumbled from the push. He had quite the temper. He worked his neck, shot Liu Chengzong a glare, and said, "Tch, that's rich. Me, a post runner, not know how to ride?"

"I can shoot a bow and handle a red-tasseled spear too. Don't kill me just yet — come down here and fight me. I'll beat you till you're crawling on the ground looking for your teeth!"

At that, the soldiers of the Cannon Sentinel around them burst into merry, jeering laughter.

A few of the soldiers who had been banner troops under Zhang Xiong just days ago were especially reminded of the scene where the chiliarch's head went flying, lopped off by a single slash from Liu Chengzong.

In all their born days, they'd never seen a man begging for a beating right before he died.

The knowing smiles on their faces made the post runner's heart thump wildly.

What the hell is with these people, he thought. Why do they look so twisted — so happy their chief's about to get thrashed?

"Fight my ass. Who's got time to scrap with you."

Liu Chengzong was amused too. He lifted his chin slightly from the saddle and addressed the post runners being marched out by his soldiers: "In these drought years, three mace of silver a month, your parents, wives, and children all going hungry at home."

"Every one of you is the pillar of a household. I won't kill you."

"If you want to go home, take as much grain from the fort as you can carry. I only want the donkeys and horses."

"If anyone asks, just say Liu Chengzong robbed this place."

As he spoke, he had been standing still too long; Red Banner shifted its body and cut him off.

Liu Chengzong reined the horse into a slow circle on the spot, his body rising and falling with the mount's gait, then raised an arm and gestured around him once more.

"You — and all of you — if any of you can ride and shoot and are willing to come with me, I guarantee you'll die a violent death, but I also guarantee that before you die, your parents will eat their fill and your children won't go hungry."

He waved a hand from outside the post fort, pointing inward: "Don't just stand there — haul the grain and lead the horses out!"

The post runners who moments before had been enemies were set free. Except for the Cannon Sentinel troops who remained outside the fort, both the Left and Right Sentinels wheeled back inside.

The post runners hesitated briefly, until one man's eyes went red. Trembling all over, he ground his teeth, dropped to his knees, and knocked his head three times on the ground toward the east.

That was the direction of Beijing — of the Forbidden City.

When he raised his head, his face was streaked with tears. He said to the others, "My… my ma doesn't have much time left. Before I go, I've got to let her eat one full meal. I don't care anymore."

He rose and ran into the post fort, never looking back.

After that, one by one, they followed.

Some kowtowed; some did not.

Some wept, and some did not.

At first people would still give a reason to those beside them; later, no reason was needed.

Liu Chengzong did not want to see this. He tried to keep his head held high on horseback, watching the fighting men lead horses out of the post city.

Three mace of silver, beaten into a ball, only the size of a fingernail.

At the price posted outside the shop the day they raided the grain store, it would buy nine and a half jin of millet.

He understood.

Humans do not weep only in sorrow.

Pathetic.

When disaster strikes and wife and children go hungry, no matter if you are kind, diligent, or hardworking and enduring, if you come home at dusk bringing no grain — then you are pathetic.

No semblance of a real man.

But kowtow or not, this official road they had once galloped down on horseback bore witness to the loyalty they had given the Great Ming.

Someone was gently tugging at the reins.

Liu Chengzong lowered his eyes. It was the post rider who had cursed furiously from atop the post city. He looked somewhat uneasy. "If I sell my life to you, can my parents eat their fill, and my children not go hungry?"

Liu Chengzong smiled. "Why couldn't they?"

The post rider studied his expression suspiciously, trying to find a trace of conspiracy on that smiling face, but after thinking it over, he felt there was nothing about himself worth scheming over.

He steeled his heart and asked outright, "You're a bandit. I cursed you like that from the city wall — aren't you angry? Won't you kill me?"

"What is your name?"

"Wei Qian'er."

Liu Chengzong nodded slowly, paused, then said, "I am a little angry, but you were right to curse me. I did come to smash your rice bowl, and I did indeed smash it.

But do you think yours is the only life that's become unlivable? I am a bandit, and also a licentiate, nearly a military examinee — so what? Could I still eat from that bowl?"

Liu Chengzong looked away from him and raised his arm, pointing toward the post city.

"Go carry your grain, take up a weapon, lead out a horse, and follow me to the next post station. We'll smash their rice bowls too!"