Chapter 183: Building a Harmonious Lingao (Part 2)

Wu Mingjin had chosen to receive them in the main hall for two deliberate reasons. First, this was the chamber reserved for trials, signifying that the baldies were criminals rather than guests. Second, conducting the meeting here demonstrated that his dealings with them could withstand any scrutiny.

When the baldy envoy entered, Wu Mingjin found himself studying the young man with reluctant interest. He was in his early twenties, fair-skinned and slightly plump, carrying himself with an unsettling composure. Clearly a son from a respectable family. Even without passing the imperial examinations, he could have lived prosperously as a commoner. Why throw in with bandits?

Xiong Buyu, for his part, was seeing the county magistrate for the first time and examined him with equal curiosity. A middle-aged scholar—nothing remarkable there. But the rest of the yamen told a more interesting story. The runners were gaunt and wretched, their uniforms so faded they had lost all recognizable color. The building itself was pathetically shabby: paint peeling from the pillars and beams, cobwebs festooning every corner, mold creeping up the walls, plaster falling away in patches, and floor tiles cracked like old pottery.

A strange fondness stirred in Xiong Buyu's chest at the sight. Compared to the "White House" back at camp, this yamen was the very picture of austere governance. What he didn't realize was that this state of dilapidation owed nothing to frugality—local superstition held that yamens should never be repaired. So long as the roof hadn't actually collapsed, no magistrate would spend a single coin on maintenance.

Wu Mingjin watched the young man cross the threshold without the trembling deference that commoners usually displayed, and disappointment flickered through him. Worse still, the baldy offered no bow, made no move to kneel. Anger kindled in the magistrate's chest. He was just drawing breath to thunder "How dare you not kneel before this official!" when his gaze slid to his own runners. These men, who normally puffed out their chests and bellowed threats with practiced menace, now wore the expressions of whipped dogs, refusing even to look at the two baldies. Beyond them, visible through the doorway, stood a dozen more—gray-clad and armed. Wu Mingjin's rising anger deflated by half. A servant appeared with tea and slipped him a note. Secretary Wang's handwriting. A single ink character: "Endure."

Xiong Buyu wasted no time on pleasantries, simply handing over the letter Yu Eshui had drafted. Wu Mingjin unfolded it and found the prose crude—an awkward mash of vernacular and classical styles—and the calligraphy thoroughly mediocre, clearly the work of someone unlettered. But the meaning was plain enough. First, it stated that Liu Xiang's pirate fleet, accompanied by Westerners, had attacked Bopu the previous day and been defeated. Three enemy ships sunk. Over five hundred pirates killed. The rest had fled in panic.

So last night's disturbance had been a pirate attack—criminals fighting criminals. Wu Mingjin had long dreaded the frequent incursions. That the pirates had been driven off brought him some relief. At least the people had been spared their ravages.

The second part claimed that the Australian merchants were descendants of Chinese who had fled overseas during the chaos following the Song Dynasty's collapse. Having returned to their homeland, they would never harm their compatriots. Their guiding principle was "strike the strong, aid the weak, protect territory and people"—they sought only local peace and harbored absolutely no intention of rebellion.

Talk is cheap, Wu Mingjin thought, and skimmed ahead to the substantive demands. Pirates raided Lingao constantly. Bandits ran rampant. The people suffered, and county governance proved impossible because the Ming Dynasty's imperial grace did not reach everyone. Therefore, the transmigrators proposed organizing the villages of Northern Lingao into a joint-defense militia. They hoped Magistrate Wu would approve and support this initiative.

Finally, the letter promised that once joint defense was established, local pirates and bandits would be completely eliminated. Moreover, the county's summer and autumn grain tax quotas would no longer present any difficulties.

Transparent ambitions indeed. Wu Mingjin looked up at the two envoys, taking in their arrogant expressions, their utter lack of deference to hierarchy. The scheme was obvious: the baldies would use joint defense to control every village's militia forces. Before long, decrees would issue from the East Gate Market rather than the yamen.

Seeing his silence, Xiong Buyu spoke: "Magistrate Wu has long suffered from pirate incursions. Here is a humble gift."

He waved his hand. Workers pushed wheelbarrows into the courtyard, each loaded with wooden boxes and straw bags. A pungent odor drifted through the hall—something like dried fish. Wu Mingjin, puzzled, sent a runner to investigate. The man pried open one of the boxes and immediately recoiled. Everyone could see clearly now: inside lay a salt-preserved human head.

The contents of the remaining boxes and bags required no further inspection. A chill crawled down Wu Mingjin's spine. Barely suppressing his panic, he demanded: "How dare you! Where did these heads come from?"

"Reporting to Your Honor," Xiong Buyu replied evenly. "These are the pirates who attacked our Lingao county yesterday. According to their confessions, they served under Liu Xiang, the great pirate chieftain of Guangdong. Please verify at your convenience."

So many heads. Wu Mingjin hastily summoned a coroner to examine them. The inspection revealed red-haired foreigners and South Sea islanders among the Chinese faces, plus several men matching descriptions on wanted notices. The claim that they were pirates appeared genuine.

Killing so many pirates in a single engagement was unprecedented in the county's history—no, not just the county. In the past decade, even imperial troops had not achieved anything comparable. Wu Mingjin was quietly staggered. The pirates plaguing Fujian and Guangdong had been rampaging for over a decade, since the last years of the Wanli Emperor. They had resisted the combined forces of two provinces and tens of thousands of soldiers. The court had been forced to hold its nose and grant amnesty to the great pirate Zheng Zhilong just to stabilize the coast...

"How do we know you didn't kill innocents to fake military credit?" Wu Mingjin barked suddenly.

"What did you say?!" Wang Ruixiang's Mandarin was good enough to catch that. Anger flared in his chest—only regular troops stooped to such despicable tactics. Judging gentlemen by petty standards, truly.

Xiong Buyu intervened smoothly: "Your Honor errs. We hold no office and seek no official reward. What possible reason would we have to fabricate achievements? These heads are merely an expression of our sincerity. We want nothing from the court. That our county could eliminate such a fierce bandit gang is entirely thanks to Your Honor's excellent moral instruction..."

This last bit was pure flattery, but his logic was sound. The baldies had no need for heads to advance their careers—there was simply no motive to slaughter innocents for false credit.

So many pirate heads. If reported to the prefecture, this would constitute major merit. Wu Mingjin's previously gloomy mood brightened considerably as official ambition warmed him from within. His expression softened involuntarily. "You are all men of extraordinary talent," he said, his tone now almost gentle. "Why not serve the court instead of becoming outlaws?"

Xiong Buyu laughed silently. If not for your decent reputation, the Director would have stormed the city and put you through a "struggle session" by now. Our gradual peaceful evolution is already quite courteous.

After the transmigrator group had established themselves along the Bairen-Bopu line, the Executive Committee's next policy had been encircling the cities from the countryside. Through village joint defense, the villages would be gradually incorporated into the transmigrator administrative system, hollowing out the Lingao county seat's governing role. The transmigrators would draw in and divide local farmers through agricultural technology cooperation, ultimately bringing the villages under their control.

But implementing this strategy required convincing people that Bairen Fortress was not simply another rebel gang. The yamen's attitude was crucial—Wu Mingjin's especially. If he insisted on branding the transmigrators as rebels and pirates, people would harbor too many reservations to interact with them freely.

"Here also are captured pirate banners, documents, tokens, and weapons," Xiong Buyu continued, maintaining his polite demeanor. "All submitted to the county."

This generous gift ought to move Wu Mingjin. In an era when fires raged across the empire, imperial troops suffered repeated defeats, General Yu faced court-martial, and the Ming could only stabilize the coast by granting amnesty to Zheng Zhilong—news of Lingao county defeating Liu Xiang's forces and killing four hundred Chinese and foreign pirates would be a major bright spot indeed.

Xiong Buyu watched the magistrate's continued silence and made as if to leave. Wu Mingjin nodded slightly. "Court dismissed!"

Wang Ruixiang followed Xiong Buyu out of the yamen. The laborers waiting with the wheelbarrows all wore pleased expressions—the county had sent reward money along with twenty jars of wine and two whole roast pigs. Refreshments, apparently.

Back at Bairen Fortress, they reported everything to Wen Desi. Wang Ruixiang couldn't help asking: "That's it?"

"Watch. Within a few days, he'll almost certainly contact us," Wen Desi said. "Too many eyes and ears in the main hall. There were things he couldn't say openly."

"Damn officials and their endless scheming," Wang Ruixiang sighed.

"If he were as stubbornly righteous as Hai Rui, we'd have to resort to violent methods," Wen Desi replied. "Fortunately, he's not. Much easier to handle. Just wait."

Sure enough, the next evening at dusk, a furtive figure appeared at the Wenshui Bridge checkpoint. He told the sentry he wanted to meet "the baldies' big official." Checkpoint chief Luo Duo didn't dare delay and immediately called the Executive Committee.

The visitor was brought to the quiet Security Team building. After questioning, they learned he was a servant of Zhang Youfu, requesting that the baldies' big official attend a banquet.

Wen Desi remembered the name—Zhang Youfu was the envoy the county had sent to negotiate after their failed encirclement months ago. This sudden meeting request was obviously on someone's behalf. He agreed immediately. The servant explained that Zhang Youfu's manor lay just outside the West Gate. Wen Desi decided to go personally. Zhang Youfu spoke several dialects including Cantonese, so there would be no communication difficulties.

After dark, two sedan chairs arrived at the manor. Wen Desi and Xi Yazhou went together. For safety, Bei Wei had selected eight men from the Recon Team as escort. Besides their personal weapons, Wen Desi carried a signal flare—if anything went wrong, he could fire it, and Bei Wei would bring reinforcements.

Wen Desi and Xi Yazhou swayed through pitch-dark fields in chairs carried by Zhang Youfu's tenant farmers. The lantern leading the way ahead was dim as a will-o'-the-wisp. Without the eight recon men flanking them, they would have felt distinctly uneasy.

The sedan chairs were old and stuffy, handled clumsily by inexperienced farmers. After half an hour of bone-jarring bouncing, they finally stopped. Climbing out, Wen Desi saw an ordinary farmhouse courtyard before them.

Someone was already waiting at the gate. Seeing them arrive, the figure quickly ushered them inside, immediately closing and barring the gate behind them.

The courtyard was equally dark. Lanterns hung beneath the veranda, but everything remained shadowy—wheelbarrows, haystacks, and millstones visible only as vague shapes. Zhang Youfu, though called a landlord, was actually impoverished. His "manor" consisted of a single large courtyard. He lived in the five main rooms; farmhands and servants occupied the wing rooms; animal sheds lined the walls. But the walls themselves were high—clearly brick-and-stone construction—and the thick wooden gate was plated with iron. All of it built for defense against bandits.

(End of Chapter)