Chapter 79: Interrogating Prisoners (Part 1)
Someone proposed that the prisoners be thoroughly interrogated and screened. Extracting local intelligence from them would prove far faster and more useful than having the Committee's Intelligence Group dig through dusty books. And so Ran Yao received a new assignment: prisoner interrogation.
Though a few voices raised human-rights concerns, many others showed considerably more interest in torture methods than in protecting native dignity. Before Ran Yao had even begun planning his interrogation procedures, volunteers appeared bearing proposals for various torture devices and beating techniques.
"I'm interrogating prisoners, not filming Manchu Torture," he said with a bitter smile, repeatedly declining these enthusiastic offers. But with so many prisoners and the Security Group already stretched thin with other duties, he couldn't handle everything alone. After some consideration, he applied to the Committee to borrow two former colleagues who still held temporary IDs.
Xiao Guo had hoped to prove himself in battle. He'd been issued a rifle, but fate had placed him in the wrong location—he hadn't fired a single shot. Stuck doing battlefield cleanup, frustration gnawed at him until a transfer order reassigned him to the Security Group. His spirits lifted immediately. Finally, back to real work!
"Alright, Xiao Guo, starting today you're in charge of prisoner interrogation," Ran Yao said, stretching his arms. "Prepare the procedures and outline tonight. Oh, and we've transferred Mu Min as well. You two can partner up—man and woman together, the work won't feel so tiring, right?"
"Team Leader Ran, well... she has a husband. Pairing me with her for work—isn't it a bit..." Xiao Guo trailed off delicately, suggesting the impropriety.
"You're awfully conservative. What, should I transfer the big American mare instead?" Ran Yao teased. "Salina's basically recovered, but they haven't been assigned yet. Hard to arrange." He took off his cap and smoothed back his hair. "Anyway, Wu De will also be supporting your work. He manages the prisoners—whoever passes through your processing goes to him."
"No problem! I'll definitely coordinate with Team Leader Wu!"
"Not quite. You're supporting each other—you're not subordinate to him." Ran Yao chuckled and patted his shoulder. "Comrade Xiao Guo, you may not have official status yet, but you're rare specialized talent for our Security Group..."
Guo Yi left the Security Group office feeling slightly dizzy. His new workplace was by the river, where the Building Group was constructing a POW camp amid the roar of bulldozers and excavators. In the river itself, a mass of naked bodies splashed about—prisoners bathing. Guo Yi had no interest in watching men bathe and was turning to leave when someone ran up behind him.
"Guo! Guo—" It was Xue Ziliang, a steel helmet perched on his head. "Finally found you. Haven't seen you in two weeks."
"What's up?" Guo Yi shifted slightly away. He didn't want anyone noticing him talking with the American-born Chinese.
"Guo, help me talk to your, um, leadership—that's the word, right? Get me reassigned." Xue Ziliang looked miserably at his worn-through gloves. "I've been driving a tractor for two weeks. I'm ATF! Professional talent—you need me!"
"That's not my call," Guo Yi said, scanning their surroundings to confirm no one was watching. "I'm on temporary status too. How can I speak for you?"
"God, why do you all say the same thing!" Xue Ziliang wailed toward the heavens. "'That's not my call'... 'This needs study'... 'Leadership is busy'..."
Guo Yi had intended to dismiss him with a single sentence and hurry off to discuss work with Wu De and Mu Min. But seeing the ABC's despairing expression, he felt a twinge of pity. "Xue, you need to learn how to be Chinese—understand? First rule of being Chinese: patience." He poked Xue Ziliang's chest. "Patience. Do your work well. Leadership knows everything."
With that, he hurried off. Whether Xue Ziliang understood was another matter. For now, leadership seemed to trust him more than the foreigners, and he had no desire to have his image constantly associated with Xue Ziliang and company.
The POW camp was established by the river—a clearing temporarily fenced off with barbed wire, where prisoners built their own shelters. The five prisoners Wu De currently managed proved quite useful. Seeing more companions arrive, they immediately sensed their own value would rise. Throughout the arrangements, each worked hard to demonstrate their ruthlessness and capability before Wu De.
The interrogation site stood outside this temporary camp: a tent had been erected, and for intimidation effect, a large wooden block was placed at the entrance bearing a medieval giant battle-axe from someone's collection. It had been deliberately contaminated with medical waste—the once-gleaming axe now smeared with blood. Though it had never cut anyone, viewers still felt their necks grow cold.
Yu Eshui, who had devised this scheme, originally wanted to erect a forest of spears outside the tent, each tip impaled with a dead man's head—but everyone had unanimously objected. That psychological shock was too intense; the first to crack would likely be themselves.
At nightfall, roaring bonfires illuminated both sides of the path from tent to camp. The mysterious, terrifying atmosphere made prisoners—already anxious about their fates—even more nervous. When brought to the entrance and confronted with the blood-stained axe, most immediately collapsed in terror.
Interrogations were conducted by two people. Mu Min mostly stayed silent during questioning, recording and occasionally prompting Xiao Guo. When it came to experience, the policewoman who had spent years in security and criminal investigation naturally possessed far more than Xiao Guo, whose main job had been "inviting people for tea." But having a female pirate interrogate Ming-era men seemed to shock them beyond usefulness, so she temporarily took second position. Lin Xing, the prisoner who had learned Mandarin best, served as translator, while Xiong Buyou monitored on-site to prevent misunderstandings.
Prisoner name, address, age, occupation, family background—the Internal Affairs Committee had the IT Group prepare a personnel database on the server, and they simply filled it in directly.
Though the interrogation team had crafted a sufficiently terrifying atmosphere, Guo Yi and Mu Min quickly discovered the inherent cunning of Chinese peasants. Everyone claimed to be a three-generation poor peasant: not a tile overhead nor ground to stand on, with an eighty-year-old mother above and an eight-year-old son below. Guo Yi was bewildered—was "three-generation poor peasant" already this popular?
As for names and addresses, it was chaos—impossible to verify. Over a hundred people supposedly came from eighty or ninety different villages. Obviously, many were concealing their true situations. Many had rolled on the ground when captured, trying to use mud as disguise, but the river water had stripped away their camouflage.
Interrogators of other eras would have either been unable to sort through this tangle of Zhang San, Li Si, and Wang Ermazi, or would have resorted to torture. But for people from modern institutions, this presented no difficulty. Lies improvised on the spot were easily forgotten.
"Gender?"
"Name?"
"You just said your name was Zhao San—now you've changed surnames? What's your real name?"
No matter how fervently they swore they had never said "Zhao San," the voice recorder left them speechless. This little device, seemingly like sorcery, terrified many into confessing the truth. Some continued lying until exposed again—then they were sent outside to walk endless circles around the bonfire, watched by guards, forbidden to sleep, prodded by spears to keep walking until they were willing to tell the truth. Guo Yi knew this torture was more effective than any other. The most stubborn man, after four fabricated lies were exposed and half a night walking circles, collapsed and died—a terrible warning to the other prisoners.
Soon, all prisoners confessed everything, including what they knew about others.
Most were indeed poor, though many not as desperately so as they had claimed. One-third of the prisoners came from a large village called Huang Family Village; the attack's leader was Huang Family Village Militia Commander Huang Shoutong.
The Huang Village prisoners were mostly tenant farmers and long-term laborers, some with a bit of their own land who also rented from the Huang family. Serving in the militia meant better treatment than regular tenants or laborers—tenants could pay less grain, and laborers earned higher wages. Others were Huang kinsmen or relatives, either small landlords or owner-cultivators. For this battle, besides the county bonuses, Huang Shoutong had promised that victory would mean reduced rents, and families of the dead would receive compensation.
And so Huang Village militia had fought especially bravely, suffering the heaviest casualties. According to one junior officer, excluding those conscripted merely as laborers, the attacking militia's casualties exceeded half.
"What about Huang Shoutong?" Guo Yi pressed.
"Didn't see the Militia Commander," the officer said. "When your guns fired, the Commander dismounted to direct—then disappeared..."
The others came from all over. Most were long-term laborers sent by masters to make up numbers. Some were destitute outcasts "without ties," dispatched by clans or villages to fight—meaning if they died, it didn't matter. Those reluctant to reveal their situations were mostly small landlords, owner-cultivators, and tenant farmers with some property, fearing that involvement would lead pirates to plunder or extort their families. Many poor people, out of sheer fear, simply made things up.
From the prisoners' mouths, they learned a great deal about the area: village distribution, approximate populations, which households were wealthy, which villages had what sideline industries or specialties. Everything was confessed in full. Some, as they talked, grew bold and volunteered to join the pirates—offering to lead raids on their own village's wealthy households, if only they could be allowed to kill so-and-so.
The interrogation team recorded everything carefully. Some prisoners, while talking, couldn't control themselves and burst into wailing sobs. Lin Xing, listening, teared up as well.
"What are they saying?" Guo Yi asked Xiong Buyou, observing the bitter, grievance-filled expressions.
"Truly tragic—" Xiong Buyou shook his head, his expression sympathetic. "The ones volunteering to join—they all have blood feuds."
"Have them give details." Guo Yi's interest suddenly sharpened. An idea was forming in his mind. "One by one."
(End of Chapter)