Chapter 86: Peace Negotiations (Part 2)

The Committee debated the remaining two issues at length. Most felt that refraining from disturbing commoners had always been their guiding principle anyway—formally agreeing to it changed nothing in practice. The real dispute centered on the second point: whether to release their prisoners. Wu De opposed this vehemently, having just organized the labor force into an efficient system, while the Building Group protested equally loudly—their construction workload was crushing, and losing workers would cripple their progress.

No one wanted to surrender such a valuable asset. In the end, they reached a compromise: release only the small landlords, wealthy peasants, and similar figures of local standing. These people offered little practical value as laborers, and the transmigrators currently lacked any compelling incentive to win their loyalty. Everyone else would remain, forming the backbone of native auxiliary forces they desperately needed to build.

With the decision made, Wu De worked through the night reviewing prisoner records. By dawn, he had compiled a list of roughly a dozen names—all heads of prominent households or prosperous farmers. Keeping such men served no purpose; releasing them might yield tangible benefits.

The Committee also hammered out various terms and set their negotiating conditions. The following day, Zhang Xingfu arrived bearing modest ceremonial gifts—ostensibly to thank them for permitting the retrieval of bodies, though everyone understood he had come to probe their intentions.

Xi Yazhou presented three demands:

1. Transmigrators may trade with locals anywhere in the county, freely exchanging any goods. Neither the government nor any other party shall obstruct such commerce.

2. Transmigrators may freely hire workers within the county.

3. Transmigrators shall have freedom of movement throughout the county.

He added that regardless of whether the county agreed to these terms, they would release some prisoners as a gesture of sincerity. He provided a preliminary list for review, inviting additions. If the families wished to collect their people immediately, the release could happen today. Otherwise, they should return tomorrow with sedans and pack animals.

Zhang Xingfu naturally lacked the authority to decide such matters. He copied both the release list and the conditions, then hurried back to report.

When Magistrate Wu Mingjin received these terms, uncertainty gnawed at him. Some provisions were manageable, but others carried significant implications—especially the demand for free trade. Something about it nagged at his memory. Years ago, the "red-haired people"—the Dutch—had sent ships demanding open ports and trading rights, using remarkably similar language. Could these newcomers be connected? He rushed to consult Secretary Wang.

Secretary Wang considered the matter carefully, working his way through an entire pot of strong tea before reaching his conclusion. He leaned close and whispered, "Your Honor, just agree to everything."

Wu Mingjin shook his head, his brow furrowed. "I have two concerns. First, what if they imitate the old Franks' stratagem—refusing to leave, using Bairren as their city and Bopu as their port? This place could become a second Macao. The court would never tolerate it. Second, though they speak of 'voluntary' hiring, when they eventually sail away with our people—won't we bear the sin of separating families?"

Secretary Wang smiled, the expression of a man who had long ago learned how the world truly worked. "Your Honor worries too much. The urgent matter before us is appeasing the gentry and collecting the autumn grain. After half a year, perhaps a year, you can work your connections in the provincial capital and secure a transfer. Whether this place becomes another Macao won't concern you then." He waved a dismissive hand. "As for separating families—the hiring is voluntary. Those who choose to serve foreign barbarians and get carried overseas? That's their own doing."

Wu Mingjin turned the logic over in his mind. It was the only practical path forward. He summoned Zhang Xingfu and informed him that these matters could be agreed upon with the shaven-heads, but absolutely nothing could be put in writing. Zhang Xingfu understood perfectly. He then gathered the family heads who had been desperately awaiting word on ransoms and instructed them to prepare appropriate gifts of gratitude.

These clans with captured relatives had been in agonies of suspense, frantically seeking intermediaries, willing to pay any sum in silver for redemption—some had prepared to bankrupt themselves entirely to save their loved ones' lives. The pirates' mysterious origins had made contact impossible, leaving them to stew in helpless anxiety. Now, hearing that ransoms would not be required and their people would be released tomorrow, they should have been overjoyed. But when Zhang Xingfu asked each family to contribute a single tael of silver as a token of appreciation, they reacted as if he were flaying the skin from their backs.

Each competed to proclaim their poverty with theatrical fervor, painting themselves as wretches raised on bitter herbs and morning dew. The discussion dragged past midnight with no resolution in sight. Zhang Xingfu's patience finally snapped. Abandoning all pretense of civility, he threatened that if they could not agree on a suitable amount, he simply would not go to Bairren Rapids tomorrow. "Whoever wants their people back can go negotiate themselves!" He made as if to storm out.

Not a soul let him leave. They blocked the doorway in a wall of desperate bodies. County Vice-Magistrate Wu Ya waded into the chaos, pretending to mediate—a well-practiced routine of good cop and bad cop. After much wrangling, they finally agreed: six hundred taels of silver, one hundred bolts of Qiong-cloth, four pigs, and one cow. Plus thirty taels as Zhang Xingfu's personal commission. The silver and cloth would be apportioned according to each household's wealth. Everyone felt satisfied with the total—actual ransoming would have cost three or four times as much. Yet even after settling on figures, fresh anxieties bloomed. Would Chief Xi accept such terms? They decided Zhang Xingfu should go tomorrow, present the offer, and only if Xi Yazhou agreed would they send the silver and cloth to collect their people.

The next day, Zhang Xingfu arrived with sedans and pack animals, prepared for any outcome. He made numerous appeals regarding the families' dire hardships before finally naming the silver and cloth amounts, his voice thick with practiced humility. Xi Yazhou showed not the slightest displeasure at the modest figure—indeed, he even spoke words of appreciation. Without waiting for the county to deliver the payment, he released all the small landlords and wealthy peasants on the spot.

This magnanimous gesture further elevated the gentry's opinion of the strangers. Even ordinary commoners, hearing the story, began to believe these so-called pirates might actually be righteous people. Word spread that they never burned, killed, or plundered—and the bolder souls began leaving the city to return home. After all, fields still held crops that needed tending. Within days, the refugees crowding the county seat had completely dispersed. Where once only the south gate had opened for two or three hours daily, now all three gates stood open from dawn to dusk. The month-long tension gradually melted away. A few days later, pedestrians reappeared on the roads, and farmers could be seen working fields within sight of Bairren Rapids.

"Peace is truly beautiful." Xiao Zishan stood atop the watchtower, gazing out with something approaching rapture in his voice.

"Peace is temporary," Beiwei said grimly from behind him. His Hunting operation, after two careful revisions, had been ready to launch—but this sudden truce had forced its suspension. With nothing else to do, he threw himself into drilling Ye Mengyan and the young men who had been clamoring for a chance at becoming special forces. He pushed them with Monday-through-Sunday intensity, relentless and unforgiving. Screams echoed from the training ground daily.

ATF's Xue Ziliang, meanwhile, had been suffering through miserable shifts driving bulldozers. The backbreaking work had awakened in him a burning desire to change his fate. He noticed Beiwei's training sessions and began slipping away to the training ground after his shifts ended. At first, Beiwei ignored him entirely. But when Xue offered several highly professional observations during exercises, the two began exchanging views. Xue seized the opportunity to demonstrate his capabilities—a series of flawless tactical maneuvers and exceptional marksmanship made the former recon platoon leader take notice. Only then did Xue reveal his background: before joining ATF, he had served in the US Marine Corps Force Reconnaissance and seen combat in the Iraq War.

"You see, I'm also a veteran," Xue Ziliang said, regarding Beiwei with eyes that somehow managed to be both lonely and warmly affectionate. And so the hearts of these two former reconnaissance soldiers—one Chinese, one American—found an unexpected resonance of understanding. Their expressions held such manly fortitude mingled with tender camaraderie that rumors of "Brokeback Mountain" began circulating among the special-forces trainees that very same day.

Their training-ground exchanges only intensified from there. Between peers—especially peers who genuinely respected each other—there was always much to discuss. Though the Military Group contained specialists of every stripe, including armor crews and naval personnel, Beiwei was the only reconnaissance expert among them. Apart from occasional tactical discussions with former infantry officers like He Ming and Xi Yazhou, he had found no one who truly spoke his professional language. Now, with Xue Ziliang, he had a kindred spirit. They could talk endlessly about special operations, tactics, and military doctrine—their conversations growing deeper and more frequent by the day. Naturally, the rumors spread even faster.

Beiwei himself remained blissfully oblivious. When He Ming, acting in his capacity as a senior comrade, tactfully suggested that as a key Military Group leader, Beiwei ought to be more mindful of his private life's public image—he was genuinely puzzled. How could someone who never gave women a second glance possibly have lifestyle rumors? He even disapproved of Xi Yazhou for being too friendly with the opposite sex!

Only when the gossip finally reached his ears directly did he understand that "private life issues" were not limited to male-female relations. His face cycled through red, then blue, then white with fury, and he stormed out of the room. Xi Yazhou hurried after him with several others in tow, fearing what Beiwei might do in the heat of such raw anger. After conducting a swift investigation, Beiwei made an announcement to the special-forces training squad: every trainee would perform two hundred extra push-ups after daily training—continuing indefinitely until all rumors about him and Xue Ziliang disappeared completely.

None of this, however, affected his friendship with Xue Ziliang. Xue, possessing a Chinese-American's finely tuned instinct for navigating social dynamics, had found his survival path in this once-alien environment.

For most transmigrators, the most tangible change in their relations with the locals manifested on their dining tables. When Wu Nanhai proudly wrote "Braised Pork" on the cafeteria's daily-specials blackboard, the newly built serving counter was nearly demolished by the stampeding rush.

(End of Chapter)