Chapter 114: The Meeting

The villagers had been terrified all day—first the earth-shaking explosions, then the killing. The manor fell so fast. No warning before troops flooded in. Men scrambled for weapons; women smeared soot on their faces. Fortunately, the entering troops did not raid homes—they just attacked the master's compound. Everyone exhaled. Most considered the master thoroughly hateful—his entire family dying out would be perfect. But they feared getting caught in the crossfire. Every household trembled.

Upon hearing that all must attend a meeting—and knowing refusal was impossible—they walked toward the crossroads. Soon the Gou compound gate was packed.

The transmigrators had piled debris and rubble before the steps—topped with blast-torn gate planks—making a platform. Horizontal poles held gasoline lamps. Though not yet dusk, lamps were already lit—the entire street was blazingly bright. The summoned commoners gazed in fear and wonder at lights brighter than a hundred lanterns.

The villagers saw the imposing gate now blown beyond recognition. The formerly fierce stone lions lay toppled in the street. Young men exchanged glances with some satisfaction. But clusters of iron-hatted, green-and-patterned-clothed short-hairs holding fowling pieces stood everywhere. Triangular bayonets glinted in the sunlight—some bloodstained. Quite terrifying.

Sharp-eyed ones spotted the village "waste" and "pedant" Zhang Xingjiao—dressed as a short-hair—also present. He had visited recently, distributing rice and salted fish, saying he had been captured and was working for the short-hairs. Everyone had wondered how a scholar could betray his constantly preached "moral teachings" and serve pirates—probably forced captivity. Now clearly he had thoroughly defected.

No time for contempt. Those who had shown him kindness hastily greeted him. Those who had offended him hid in the crowd—fearing he would spot them and somehow connect them to the Gou family, using borrowed knives to kill.

The meeting began. Wu De spoke first, explaining they were overseas descendants of Chinese, sharing roots. He repeated the "Root Out the Strong, Eliminate Evil; Protect the Realm, Secure the People" slogan—now Committee-approved as the current main propaganda message. He emphasized their victory at Bairren Rapids. Local tyrants like the Gou family would be struck down one by one, until they could no longer harm the people. He called on the masses to boldly expose such people, including their lackeys.

This speech caused great commotion. Commoners were not interested in slogans—but crushing the manor lord and settling scores with formerly arrogant lackeys was truly satisfying. Some with lackey relatives or friends grew uneasy.

"Bring up the Gou family lackeys!"

At the command, captured Gou family martial arts instructors, stewards, accountants, hangers-on, managers, attendants—even the head cook from the main kitchen—plus some Gou kinsmen, all wearing colorful paper dunce caps, were marched before the platform, forced into bent-waist, bowed-head confession postures.

These formerly swaggering, domineering figures were now gray-faced, their rear ends raised in the air—ridiculous. Laughter rippled through the crowd—first a few, then spreading until everyone roared. Xi Yazhou and others looked pleased. Humiliating opponents worked.

Next: salt-villager Tan Chengqing spoke. Ten days at Du Wen's Peasant Training Institute had taught him to deliver speeches effectively. Clearly and orderly, he embellished Gou Xunyi's crimes at the salt village. He expressed that salt-villagers and Damei-villagers were all Ming citizens—they could not tolerate tyrants' outrages. He quoted founding-emperor Zhu Yuanzhang's suppression of strongmen—diminishing worries that this seemed like "rebellion."

Tan Chengqing did not know these examples—Zhang Xingjiao the intellectual had provided the materials.

Then Zhang Xingjiao took the stage for personal testimony. His story was well-known, but hearing his emotional accusation directly still moved many.

Wu De saw Zhang Xingjiao produce something resembling a thigh-bone, weeping while speaking, then embracing it and wailing on stage. The crowd below also wept. Puzzled, Wu De asked Xiong Buyou: "What's Old Zhang saying?"

"Saying his ancestral grave was desecrated by the Gou family. Generations of ancestors' bones—only this bone remains."

"Didn't he say before the bones couldn't be found?"

"He's making it up." Xiong Buyou said. "He just found this bone in some wild grave somewhere."

"Old Zhang's truly talented material. Really can fabricate."

"Not exactly fabrication—the grave-desecration is fact. This bone is just a propaganda prop. A little fakery in propaganda isn't a big deal."

Zhang Xingjiao grew more excited on stage—finally demanding: bring these people up, let the masses struggle against them. Salt village militia, eager and waiting, immediately dragged them on stage.

Zhang Xingjiao seized the feng shui hanger-on's collar—cursing, beating, fists flying. The old man, already beaten earlier, now pummeled again—too pained and scared to stand—collapsed, excrement flowing. Spectators grew more excited, pressing forward.

Zhang Xingjiao had secretly contacted several villagers with major Gou family grudges. They now stepped forward, exposing various crimes: land grabbing, usury, molesting women, setting dogs on people—major and trivial, everything.

But these mostly did not directly involve Gou the Elder or Gou the Second. Wu De felt the impact was insufficient—the atmosphere was not building. While thinking of solutions, someone suddenly strode on stage and kicked a Gou kinsman. The portly middle-aged man, already unsteady, crashed flat on his back.

The crowd gasped—until now, no one had dared touch Gou family members. Looking closely: the Gou family's cook, Gou Buli.

Gou Buli actually had no history with Zhang Xingjiao—no grudges between them. But Zhang Xingjiao knew this cook had pilfering habits—nothing unusual, as the old saying went, "cooks don't steal, harvests fail." Though surnamed Gou, he was an outsider. Having some skills and strength, he was disliked among servants. Managers constantly made trouble—beatings or docked wages.

Months ago, fed up, he had stolen some silver to flee—but was caught by a Gou kinsman steward, beaten half to death, and thrown in the dungeon. He had grudges against the Gou family. Plus he fit the "fearless thorough proletarian" profile—perfect for transmigrator exploitation.

Gou Buli, on stage, was initially nervous. Glancing at Xi Yazhou nodding at him from a corner, he mustered courage:

"I'm a poor cook. Made meals for Gou family masters, mistresses, young masters, young misses for years. These years, bad weather—drought or floods, typhoons and hail. Everyone struggled. Adding sweet potato to porridge was like New Year's." (Note: Before Hong Xiuquan rebelled, his greatest wish was daily white-rice porridge with sweet potato. Common people's poverty was imaginable.)

"The Gou family?" He continued. "I'm a lowly cook—don't know grand principles. I'll tell you just what I know about their eating:

"Their head chefs could make dozens of dishes from one pig. A plate of fried meat used only one specific back muscle—the rest discarded. Fish must be breathing; shrimp must be jumping. Their rice was triple-milled—always pure white, without a single grain of husks or sweet potato! Tired of white rice? Make fried pastries—a huge pile at once. Wine was ten-year-aged. Ginseng soup used Liaodong ginseng—must be half-foot long.

"Most hateful of all was Gou Xunyi's son, Young Master Gou. Since childhood eating baozi—too hot, wouldn't eat; too cold, wouldn't eat. At just-right temperature, two pretty maids would each hold a corner, present it to his mouth—he'd bite the center once, throw the rest to dogs—"

Wu De frowned and whispered to Xi Yazhou: "Who wrote this? Fabrication needs limits!"

Xi Yazhou was unperturbed. "Du Wen and Zhang Xingjiao's work. Not bad, right? You think it's outrageous—commoners love exactly this tone."

"This is nonsense..."

As Wu De spoke, the toppled Gou kinsman suddenly stood, trembling: "Lies! There's no—"

His voice cut off—nearby salt village militia were already raining blows on him, stuffing a gag in his mouth, dragging him aside.

(End of Chapter)