Chapter 722 - After the Fall
When she awoke, the sky outside was growing light—was it already dawn? She remembered returning to the inn at dusk. Now she found herself lying on straw. There was the smell of horse manure, and she heard familiar equine breathing—her horse.
After a moment, her mind cleared. She realized she was lying in the inn's stable. Guangdong rarely kept livestock; inns prepared stables only as a courtesy for rare visitors. The small space could hold only a dozen horses or mules. At this moment, only their horse was here; shadowy figures sat everywhere else.
"You're awake?" Jiang Suo said happily. "Have some water." He brought a bowl. Qingxia had been fighting since morning with barely any water. Now she felt exhausted and parched, her throat dry as smoke. She took a sip—it seemed to be medicinal tea, slightly bitter, but it filled her mouth with moisture, like divine nectar. She drank it all in one breath.
"No hurry—there's plenty more." Jiang Suo poured another bowl from a teapot. "That black-hearted innkeeper—he came back last night. When I asked for water, he refused. Only when I slapped my knife on the table did he bring out a bucket—like we were horses! I kicked the bucket right at him, and now we have tea and snacks." He laughed smugly, then produced some biscuits. "Eat these."
After drinking, her mood calmed somewhat, and hunger followed. Her stomach growled. Qingxia blushed and ate two biscuits quickly—only then did she think to ask about the others.
"How's Aunt Jiang?"
Jiang Suo saw her eating fast and handed her another piece. "Eat more—I have plenty." Then: "She's lying over there. A crop-head stabbed her in the leg. We can't get a doctor now—it's chaos outside." Jiang Suo lowered his voice: "The crop-heads have taken the town."
Qingxia immediately asked: "What about the Luo Residence?"
"Fallen. I heard there was a fire at the end. The crop-heads had it completely surrounded—no news got out. Only saw prisoners being marched to the threshing ground. Master is probably fine—most likely captured. The crop-heads don't kill indiscriminately. Even militia and guards who surrendered were spared. But I heard many Luo family members were killed or committed suicide. Lord Luo probably died too." His last sentence carried a note of satisfaction.
Hearing her father was probably safe, Qingxia relaxed slightly. Hearing that Lord Luo might be dead left her strangely numb. Lord Luo had never once spoken to her privately. He had simply valued her martial skills and given her a bow. Perhaps because of this, her secret longing had burned even hotter. Now hearing he was probably dead, an inexplicable grief settled over her heart, nearly bringing tears.
But she quickly suppressed herself.
"What about Uncle Zhou and the children?"
"Still no word. Don't worry, Sister—once street curfew lifts, I'll go look for them. As long as those little rascals are alive, I'll find them." Jiang Suo hesitated. "But Uncle Zhou... it probably isn't good..."
According to Aunt Jiang, when their militia group was hit head-on by crop-head fire, everyone retreated. Part of the militia got caught in close combat with the crop-heads. Aunt Jiang was shot in the leg and barely escaped into an alley, but Uncle Zhou was left behind.
This news that Uncle Zhou might be dead deepened Qingxia's despair. But she was effectively the troupe leader now. Aunt Jiang was wounded; Jiang Suo was too young; the others were missing. She couldn't just lie here doing nothing. She struggled to rise.
"I need to go look around."
"Sister, don't go out—you're not recovered yet. Besides, the curfew isn't lifted."
"I'm fine." She pushed herself up. Her body wasn't injured—she had trained since childhood, building strong constitution. After one night's rest, she had recovered eight or nine-tenths of her strength. "I'll just look around the courtyard. Help me up."
"Right away." Jiang Suo happily took her arm and helped her stand. Others sheltering in the stable sat or stood, also wanting to check outside but not daring. Seeing someone willing to go, they watched hopefully.
Qingxia walked outside. The courtyard was empty. The rear gate was tightly closed, as was the gate to the front yard. She scooped some water from a jar to wash her face, feeling refreshed. Seeing her reflection, she suddenly realized she was still wearing her archer's jacket—if the crop-heads suspected she was a militia instructor, there would be trouble. She quickly tore off her head-wrap, but had no change of clothes—her spare clothes and luggage were all at the Luo ancestral hall.
Checking herself, she saw some dark stains—probably blood spatter from yesterday. But against the dark blue fabric, they were barely visible. After thinking, she told Jiang Suo to hide their weapons somewhere.
"There's this yidouyuan here." Jiang Suo pulled a ragged cloak-like garment from the grass. "Your archer's jacket is too conspicuous! Cover yourself with this."
"Good." She put on the yidouyuan and smeared some soot and ash on her face and hands.
Just then, they heard gongs outside: "Curfew lifted! All clear!" The call approached from far away.
"Junior Brother, stay here and watch Aunt Jiang. I'll go gather information and see if I can find a doctor for her wounds. Did you apply our trauma medicine?"
"Yes, but this wound is serious—almost went right through her leg. Don't know if it damaged bone or tendon." Jiang Suo said worriedly.
If bone or tendon was damaged, she could never perform again. The troupe would have to support her as a burden.
"Even if it's damaged, we'll take care of her!" Qingxia said firmly. Aunt Jiang's life had been pitiful—widowed at nineteen, no children, her natal and marital families all dead. For over a decade, she had traveled with the troupe. The troupe was her family; the troupe members were her relatives.
More gongs sounded outside, calling all household heads to assemble immediately at the threshing ground. The Australians had "important business" for a meeting. Every household must send one person—no excuses, no substitutes—or face "death without mercy." The courtyard erupted in anxiety. Many worried about what the crop-heads intended, but none dared refuse.
Qingxia thought this was a good opportunity. They were outsiders—no one would notice them. Perfect time to scout the town's situation. She told Jiang Suo to care for Aunt Jiang, then slipped out the back door.
The back alley was deserted, but the main streets were gradually filling with people. She kept her head down, sticking to empty alleys.
Her first destination was the Luo Residence. Her father was trapped inside. She had to check on him no matter what. She also wanted to know if Lord Luo was really dead. For some reason, she couldn't let go of this man.
The once-vast, imposing Luo compound was now smoking ruins. The magnificent gate had become rubble. The high, thick courtyard walls had collapsed in many places. Everywhere lay broken bricks, charred timbers, shattered weapons. Some corpses had not been removed yet, laid out in rows on the open ground before the gate, covered with straw mats. From exposed feet and hair, they appeared to be militia and guards' bodies. Some wore silk and satin—probably Luo family women and maids. Qingxia felt sorrowful, silently reciting Buddhist prayers.
About two hundred prisoners—apparently captured militia—were clearing rubble under crop-head supervision. Occasionally, boxes and barrels were carried out from inside. All were styles Qingxia had never seen. Sometimes furniture, fabric, and rice in straw sacks were brought out, piled in an open area surrounded by barriers. Someone was recording and counting.
Before the gate stood a gallows-frame with a row of hanging corpses—twenty or thirty at least. Silently praying, she slowly approached. Most of the hanged were strangers. Old and young, from their appearances and clothes, they were local gentry and magnates—probably Militia Bureau committee members and officers. Several looked fit and muscular—clearly martial artists. Either militia instructors, training leaders, or guard captains.
She quickly spotted Luo Tianqiu. His topknot was undone, eyes wide open, an expression of defiance still on his face. He had apparently been fighting when captured—his clothes were bloodstained. Qingxia grieved but dared not weep. Seeing the crop-heads busy guarding prisoners, cleaning the battlefield, and moving goods, with no one watching here, she knelt, hands clasped, silently recited Buddhist prayers, then quickly rose and left.
She circled to the ancestral hall area. Since this was abandoned early by militia and guards, damage was minimal. Only a few local-looking people were clearing the street. Qingxia summoned courage to ask a kindly-looking old man what had happened to the people inside.
"There was no fighting here." The old man told her. "Few died. But everyone was taken by the crop—the Australians."
"Taken where?" Qingxia asked anxiously.
"All prisoners were sent to the Militia Bureau for questioning." The old man looked around and whispered, "Young lady! Do you know someone from the Luo family?"
Qingxia knew the Luo family's reputation here was bad. She lied, saying her father was a Luo family tenant who had come to town a few days ago to deliver offerings to the ancestral hall.
"Then don't worry. The Australians are good to common people. Your father's just a tenant—once he explains, he'll be released. He'll be fine." The old man reassured her.
Qingxia thanked him and walked to a deserted alley. She couldn't help covering her face and weeping. Sadness or joy? She couldn't tell. After crying, she felt somewhat relieved. Only then did she dry her tears and head toward the Militia Bureau.
Though the Bureau had seen fighting, it fell quickly, so buildings were mostly intact. Now it held captured committee members, their families, and their lackeys. The entrance was heavily guarded—no unauthorized entry. Qingxia circled several times but couldn't find anyone to ask about her father.
She walked the entire town, asking about Uncle Zhou and the three young disciples. In desperation, she went to the open area outside town where corpses were collected. A shelter of reed mats had been erected. All who died in the battle were brought here for families to identify and claim. Those unclaimed would be cremated.
Fighting fear and the stinging smell of chemicals, Qingxia checked corpse after corpse under the reed-mat shelter. Finally, she found no Uncle Zhou or young disciples among them. This greatly improved her spirits. If they weren't among the dead, they must still be alive.
Along the way, she noticed most shops had reopened. Street corpses and debris were being cleared in orderly fashion. Pedestrians were increasing. No panic or fear. Apparently the crop-heads had not looted or burned after taking the town—discipline was strict. But she couldn't find any doctor—all town doctors had been requisitioned by the Australians. Unable to get a doctor, she could only buy herbs from a pharmacy. Performers always kept prescriptions for bruises and wounds.
After this round, she returned to the inn at midday, hungry and thirsty. In the back courtyard, some locals had left; only refugees from other villages lingered, not yet daring to leave. They sat in twos and threes eating dry rations; some were boiling water.
Qingxia first checked on Aunt Jiang. Her wound had been cleaned with alcohol and bandaged with trauma medicine, but it had swollen. Qingxia saw her pale face, sweating, and touched her forehead—feverish, burning hot.
She remembered her father saying wounds and fever were a terrible combination—once fever set in, life was uncertain. Her heart grew heavy.
"Junior Brother, cool Aunt Jiang's forehead with well water. I'll boil the medicine."
"I'm fine." Aunt Jiang's face showed an unhealthy flush. "How's Master? Any news?"
"Nothing yet—but he should be fine." She reported what she had learned and seen at the morgue. "Probably captured by the crop-heads. After questioning, they'll release him."
"I'm worried about Brother Zhou—" Aunt Jiang closed her eyes, breathing laboriously. "He led militia against the Australians face-to-face. The Australians execute all captured training leaders and militia instructors..."
"If they wanted to kill him, they would have already. He'll be fine." Qingxia knew Uncle Zhou had feelings for Aunt Jiang, though both were too shy to admit it. She wouldn't say anything discouraging now—only comforting words.
"I hope so. Heaven protect our whole troupe, keep everyone safe..." Aunt Jiang drifted into fitful sleep.
Qingxia found a cracked pot to brew medicine for Aunt Jiang. Suddenly the innkeeper and several clerks appeared in the backyard, each brandishing thick clubs.
"All of you! Everyone out here—stand in the courtyard!" The innkeeper had somehow become incredibly aggressive. Yesterday he had abandoned the inn and fled. This morning he had hidden indoors. Now suddenly he had transformed into this.
They didn't know that Innkeeper Chen had become one of three liaison officers newly appointed by the Australians—specifically responsible for arranging lodging and provisions for the occupation forces, and later for collecting "Reasonable Burden."
Seeing Jiang Suo in the courtyard, the innkeeper immediately started cursing: "You worthless beggar! Joining the militia to bully common folk! Seize him! Take him to the Australian masters for judgment!"
The clerks roared threateningly, but none actually charged—they knew these performers' skills. Rushing forward might not end well.
Others from the stable came out to see the commotion, frightened by the scene, and retreated back inside. One old man tried to mediate: "Innkeeper Chen! Let it go. The town just fell. Let's all stay peaceful, not cause trouble..."
"Stay peaceful?" Innkeeper Chen's eyebrows shot up. "This kid waved a knife in my face yesterday—lawless! If I don't teach him a lesson, where's justice?" He jabbed a finger at the old man. "And all you locals—neighbors though you may be—you can't stay for free. Before leaving, everyone settle their bills! One qian of silver per person per night! No Tianqi or Chongzhen coins accepted!"
"Heavens—one qian of silver for a night in the stable..." someone muttered.
"Don't like it? Sleep at the threshing ground!" For some reason, the innkeeper had become ferociously arrogant, utterly fearless. His clerks joined in the shouting.
"No money today means no leaving! Everyone pays up first!" The innkeeper sprayed spittle, then pointed at Jiang Suo. "You penniless beggars—your master here will be merciful. Leave the horse and you can go!"
Jiang Suo, young and hot-headed, seeing this shameless innkeeper bullying them, reached for his knife.
"Junior Brother, don't!" Qingxia quickly grabbed his hand. She laughed coldly: "If you want the horse, come take it yourself. Don't send your men to die! We're leaving now."
"Leave without paying? Grab them!" The innkeeper shrieked. "Take them to the Australians!"
But though the clerks postured threateningly, none dared approach. Qingxia knew they couldn't stay. She had Jiang Suo lead out the horse, then supported Aunt Jiang. The three prepared to leave together.
Seeing them about to leave, the innkeeper threw himself heedlessly at the gate to block it, shouting and making a great commotion.
(End of Chapter)