Chapter 1326: The Commoners of Pi Island

Only then could they go south to toil like beasts of burden for others — if they missed this chance, there would be no other. But many who fled here were penniless bachelors. If such men wanted to board a ship, they had to work and risk their lives for Pi Island and Dongjiang Town, piling up enough merit and money before they got the opportunity. In these chaotic times, Dongjiang Town had to keep squeezing relentlessly just to sustain and strengthen itself. Besides, those people had no other choice — Xuzhou only gathered population through Dongjiang Town.

Zheng Xiao'er didn't really want to leave. He was willing to stay on Pi Island. He feared that once he went inside the Pass, he would never have a chance to take revenge. But too many soldiers and civilians from the Liao garrison had come to Pi Island, and among them were plenty of men who had held blades and fought in battle formations. Though soldiering meant risking life and blood, the food, clothing, and supplies were far better than what others got, so naturally it never fell to someone as inexperienced as Zheng Xiao'er. He could only be an islander of the lowest status — one of the Great Ming commoners on Pi Island who were not part of Dongjiang Town's official rolls.

By this time, the northern shore was arrayed in full readiness. Every usable force had been transferred there. The ones left on the southeast side were the able-bodied Pi Islanders like Zheng Xiao'er. They wore tattered rags and held nothing but sharpened wooden staves. To find one iron weapon among five men was a rarity. They were divided into squads of dozens or even a hundred, posted at various points to keep watch.

Zheng Xiao'er's squad kept their ears pricked toward the sounds from the north while lazily scanning the sea. In truth, most of their attention was fixed on the Cloud Mountain Trading House. The whole of Pi Island was a shabby, broken-down sight; only the area around the docks was neat and orderly. The Cloud Mountain Trading House, which resembled a fortress stronghold, stood out even more starkly. The people inside were nothing like those of Dongjiang Town or the Liaodong refugees on Pi Island. The food, clothing, and comforts those inside enjoyed were things only well-off households could afford, and everyone looked on with envy. Beyond that, they could all sense another difference. The spirit and bearing of those young men from Xuzhou were utterly unlike the soldiers and civilians of Pi Island. That pride, that steely toughness — no one knew where it came from.

When would he ever be like that? Maybe in the next life? Zheng Xiao'er couldn't help thinking. As he brooded, a grating noise filled his ears. Wu Xiaohu was bragging again. The able-bodied islanders assigned to guard this stretch of shore were all in roughly the same straits: alone, penniless, young and strong, but with no prior martial skills or military service. By rights, they were comrades in shared misery. Yet this Wu Xiaohu went on all day about being a relative of the Wu family of western Liao, claiming that if he ever got the chance to return to the Wu clan, he'd instantly become a chiliarch or something of the sort — a lord living high on fine food and drink. Besides boasting to his companions about this, Wu Xiaohu also liked to show off his knowledge of the luxuries enjoyed by rich and noble households. None of them had ever seen such things, and they often listened in dazzled fascination.

But hearing it once or twice was fine; after too many times, it grew tiresome. Yet now, with their hearts hanging on the northern shore and their bodies stuck in boredom on the southeast shore, and with the Xuzhou fortress showing no sign of movement, all they could do was listen to Wu Xiaohu's same old tales...

"... In the Wu household, when they drink soybean milk, they first take a bowl to taste it. If the flavor is even slightly off, they dump the whole thing and heap in sugar without a care..."

"... Don't be fooled by the way Xuzhou eats grain — over at the Wu family, they eat meat every day, and only the fatty cuts..."

Though it was only the seventh month, the nights on Pi Island were already bitterly cold. As a precaution, they were forbidden from lighting fires to keep warm. The whole night through, they were truly freezing and starving. Just before daybreak, the aroma of breakfast drifted over from the Cloud Mountain Trading House. Every man's stomach rumbled loudly, and they kept swallowing their saliva. Listening to Wu Dahu's boasting was the only distraction. Seeing the sky gradually brighten, everyone breathed a sigh of relief. Someone should be coming to relieve them soon, and once back, they'd at least have a little something to eat.

"Ships! Ships!..." someone shouted at the top of his lungs, his voice tearing. As the first light of dawn emerged, the squads keeping watch along the shore spotted the fleet out at sea.

If it were a Great Ming fleet, the ships would surely fly Great Ming banners, but these ships had none. Deep down, everyone knew Great Ming would not send ships. If it were a Xuzhou fleet, it would not be so disorderly, nor would there be so many small boats. And every man saw the tension inside the Cloud Mountain Trading House fortress, and saw the two large ships moored in the harbor preparing to depart.

"Could they be Korean ships?" someone asked.

"How would the Koreans dare to come? If they were coming, they'd certainly send word first. This is the Jurchens circling around to Shenmi Island, capturing Korean boats. I'm going to report this!" The logic of the whole sequence was easy to piece together — this was no brilliant stratagem.

No one dared believe it, yet everyone knew this was closest to the truth. The man who had shouted turned and bolted toward the hills. That was no dash to deliver a report — it was a dash to save his own life. Zheng Xiao'er was so tense his hands and feet turned ice-cold. He had no idea what to do. Though his heart was filled with thoughts of revenge, his terror of the Jianzhou Jurchens was carved just as deep into his bones. The few soldiers back in his village who could ride horses and draw bows had strutted mightily before everyone, but it was said that before the Jurchen host, they couldn't even put up a fight and were slaughtered on the spot.

Dongjiang Town's encampment was on the other side of the hill, where they had dug hidden tunnels and shelters. Once inside, one could at least hide for a while. More and more people were fleeing, and Zheng Xiao'er grew more and more panicked. Was he going to be caught by the Jurchens here, just like back in the Liao garrison, and toil like a beast of burden for them? Weren't there soldiers who had come to lead the squads? Why weren't they taking charge and making a decision?

Zheng Xiao'er turned his head to look and saw that those awe-inspiring soldiers were all pale-faced as well. Some turned and sprinted madly northward. At this sight, the able-bodied men keeping watch on Pi Island's southeast shore grew even more panicked and short of breath. Some followed suit, throwing down their wooden staves and running. If the soldiers were running, why should they hold on?

"Brothers, young and old! If the Jurchens make it ashore, our Dongjiang Town is finished! The tens of thousands on Pi Island will either die or be brutalized. We all came from the Liao garrison — everyone knows full well how horrific it was over there!" Some soldiers had fled, but some had not. One young man drew his blade and bellowed, drawing everyone's attention.

"We'll fight the Jurchens to the death! Hold them off for a while, at least until the Marshal sends men over. We surely won't survive, but if we die, the tens of thousands on this island can live. We can even drag a few Jurchens down to die with us — that's breaking even! Those willing to fight, step forward!" The young man wore a patched mandarin-duck battle jacket — it was just a uniform, without a sliver of iron anywhere on it. But at this moment, that young man seemed like a mighty, awe-inspiring general.

Zheng Xiao'er hesitated, watching the fleet draw closer and closer. His hands, gripping the sharpened wooden stave, were slick with sweat. Fight the Jurchens to the death? That was a dead end. Though he had always wanted to kill Jurchens and avenge his family, now that he actually faced them, he faltered.

"To the death!" someone shouted recklessly, stepping forward to stand behind the young man. Others walked over in silence, their faces set with resolve. Zheng Xiao'er felt his legs move beyond his control. Step by step, he walked over and stood behind that young Dongjiang Town soldier as well. The moment he took his place there, Zheng Xiao'er suddenly felt his panic vanish. He suddenly thought of his entire family, of the horrors he had witnessed that day. To hell with it — fight to the death. Even killing just one Jurchen would be worth it.

That Wu Xiaohu, who was always boasting about his military lineage and martial skills, did not follow. When Zheng Xiao'er stepped forward, Wu Xiaohu had even reached out and tugged at him. Once Zheng Xiao'er had taken his place, Wu Xiaohu turned and ran toward the hills. No one scorned or cursed him. They had all fled from the Liao garrison; they knew the terror of the Jurchens. To flee or to fight — the outcome was much the same. Both were a road to death.

Wu Xiaohu ran a dozen or so steps up the slope, then stopped. He looked at the group of over two hundred men who had already gathered. He hesitated for a long moment, then slowly walked back down, his face full of dejection. Dragging his sharpened wooden pole, he came to stand beside Zheng Xiao'er and muttered under his breath, "I still want to go be a young master in the Wu family!"

"Wait for the next life, then." Hearing Zheng Xiao'er's words, Wu Xiaohu froze. This was hardly the moment for such talk — was Zheng Xiao'er just sick of him? Wu Xiaohu was about to flare up when he saw that Zheng Xiao'er's thin, dirty face was full of solemn gravity. "My mother worshipped the Buddha," Zheng Xiao'er said. "She always said that if you endure suffering and hardship in this life, you'll have a good life in the next. We've suffered enough in this life."

These words were heard by more than just Wu Xiaohu. Some who heard them wiped away tears; others grew even calmer. The young soldier, meanwhile, was shouting, "Everyone's staves have been baked in the fire — have they been soaked in filth? If not, find something foul and smear it on the sharpened tips. When the time comes, if we so much as scratch a Jurchen's skin, we can take his life!"

A wooden pole wasn't a weapon just because you sharpened it. It had to be hardened by fire and then smeared with filth, so that any wound it inflicted would likely cause blood poisoning and fever. Tricks like this were known to many people across the land, and even more so within the military garrisons.

"Those cold-hearted Xuzhou barbarians! Watching us die and doing nothing — they deserve to be struck down by lightning!" Someone couldn't help but curse loudly toward the Cloud Mountain Trading House fortress. They had all seen Dongjiang Town plead with them time and again, and they knew the Xuzhou men would certainly not come out to fight. The awe they had once felt was swept away entirely, replaced by reckless, unrestrained cursing.

By now, over three hundred men had gathered. The rest were either scattered about, hesitating, or running toward whatever hiding places they could find. The Cloud Mountain Trading House fortress remained silent. The noise from the northern shore had grown chaotic — everyone could hear war drums, horns, and the clamor of human voices. It seemed a great battle was about to erupt there as well. This only hardened their resolve. It looked like no reinforcements were coming. They had no choice but to fight to the death.

The young soldier had some method to his actions. Brandishing his blade, he shouted, "Brothers, there's no place here for ships to land. The Jurchens can only drop small boats in the shallows or wade straight ashore. They'll be hampered in their movements — that's our moment to strike. If you want to break even, this is the time to kill the enemy!"

The crowd burst into raucous laughter. The young soldier's companions had all fled, leaving him alone. Zheng Xiao'er looked at this young soldier and realized he was about the same age as himself. In the glow of the morning light, the young soldier's face also bore tension, and sweat beaded on his forehead. The young soldier kept talking, arranging for everyone to follow, boosting their morale.

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