Chapter 1723: The Mayor Enters the City
With those words, his head lolled to one side and he breathed his last.
Wu Guangzhi was stunned. He had no roots here, even less influence among the military. He had maintained everything through silver alone, which was why he had always worried about unstable morale and spent lavishly. Yet they had still fallen into chaos.
He knew the gentry must have instigated this. Those shameless men would sell out their monarch and their fathers to preserve their own lives and property!
Since the soldiers had mutinied, the city could no longer be held. Yet he set aside the thought of suicide. He would die on the battlefield and repay the Emperor's grace. Drawing his Japanese saber, he shouted: "Everyone, with me! Today we give our lives for the country!"
The handful of trusted servants beside him had followed him all the way from Shaanxi. As one, they drew their blades and charged out behind him.
The defending militiamen and soldiers were already rushing toward the county yamen. The small squad of officers and soldiers guarding the entrance collapsed without resistance. Only a few of his servants fought back—they were cut down in moments, their bodies falling on the main hall's steps.
Wu Guangzhi, leading his remaining servants, hadn't even cleared the second hall when he met the mutineers in close combat. Though a scholar, his swordsmanship was excellent, honed through considerable combat experience in Shaanxi. Without panic, he cut down one soldier with a single stroke and smoothly drove his blade into another militiaman's belly. The surging mutineers, seeing his ferocity, hesitated to advance. He pushed them back down the steps.
But they were too many. Soon they surrounded master and servants alike. In moments, all his men were dead or wounded. Wu Guangzhi himself had taken several wounds and was drenched in blood. He refused to surrender and would not take his own life—he fought on. Then several mutineers thrust at him with long spears. He was stabbed multiple times; blood poured from him. Knowing he was finished, he used his saber to prop himself up, knelt facing north, and rasped: "Your Majesty, your servant dies for you in loyalty..."
Before he could finish, a spear pierced through his back and into his heart. He toppled forward into a pool of his own blood.
An hour later, Shi Zhiqi received a messenger's report: Xin'an had fallen.
"...The magistrate is dead."
This detail was specifically mentioned because, according to the "Guangdong Occupation Guidelines," all local Ming officials who were captured—whether surrendered or seized—were to be registered and sent with their families and servants to Hong Kong for centralized detention. The Military Control Commission required a detailed accounting: officials should be confirmed alive or their bodies recovered; those whose whereabouts were unknown had to be registered and reported.
"Did our people suffer any casualties?"
"Report, Chief—none!"
"Well done!" Shi Zhiqi drew a blue circle marked "Occupied" over Xin'an County on his map.
Looking at the progress, less than twelve hours had elapsed since the operation began. Wherever the Fubo Army went, they encountered almost no resistance. The few sporadic incidents were completely unorganized—mostly just a handful of people fighting spontaneously. The only organized resistance had been at Xin'an County. It seemed pacification by proclamation was essentially a foregone conclusion.
For the scholars and commoners of Guangzhou and the surrounding counties, this was an unforgettable day. The Australians had come from the sea, silently and without bloodshed, seizing the largest city in southern China. By full daylight, the city gates were manned by "Hair-shorn soldiers" in blue-gray short uniforms carrying muskets. Squads of soldiers in gray patrolled the streets. The entire city was quiet and orderly; many shops had opened their doors. The commoners were both shocked and fascinated: just like that, overnight, Guangzhou had changed masters!
Fortunately, the new masters were not strangers. In recent years, the Australians had become a semi-public presence in Guangzhou. Even those with no business or labor dealings with them had bought Australian goods: various kinds of "Australian paper," "Australian matches," "Australian cloth," "Hair-shorn socks"... These small items had long become part of daily life.
In the past, they had been merchants who traveled armed. Now they had openly become the rulers here. No one knew how the Australians would govern this great city.
Rumors about their governance in Lingao County had spread here to some extent, though many dismissed them as exotic tales from overseas. Others who knew the actual situation were curious to see if Australian methods could work in Guangzhou—after all, the population of a single street here exceeded that of all Lingao County.
As Liu Xiang had told the Northward Expedition team members before entering the city, this was a "major examination" for the Senate. Previously, they had only governed semi-agricultural small county towns. Even Qiongzhou, the prefectural capital, was negligible by mainland standards. Guangzhou was not merely the largest city in Lingnan—it was the premier metropolis of China in this era. Lin Baiguang estimated the resident population at no fewer than five hundred thousand.
Governing a city of half a million was no easy task even in the twenty-first century. If before they had been painting on blank canvas, now they had to repaint one already smeared with a kaleidoscope of strange and brilliant colors—erasing the flaws while preserving what was precious. The difficulty was immense.
These problems now circled through the mind of Liu Xiang as his sedan chair bore him into the city.
He had originally wanted to ride a service carriage to display the Senate's dignity. A Red Flag carriage had been shipped to Wuyang Post Station for this purpose. But Lin Baiguang had pointed out that carriages couldn't travel through the city. Apart from a few main thoroughfares, the streets were too narrow. More problematically, the bridges in the city weren't designed for wheeled vehicles—they were all steep arch bridges with densely packed steps. Guangzhou Station had once tried to promote rickshaws within the city, but ultimately abandoned the idea because of the bridge problem.
Though Liu Xiang didn't mind walking, his subordinates objected on two grounds: first, it would complicate security; second, for the dignified Chairman of the Guangzhou Military Control Commission and Mayor of Guangzhou to walk into the city would diminish the Senate's prestige.
Given these concerns, the small two-man chairs at the sedan shops near the Great South Gate wouldn't suffice. Fortunately, an official sedan was available at Wuyang Post Station. The Postmaster, who had formally surrendered, hurried to prepare it, summoning four bearers and rounding up all the various ceremonial functionaries—spirits and demons alike—who lived scattered around the post station outside the Great South Gate.
"Quickly! Clear the way for the Australian master!"
When Liu Xiang emerged, the full ceremonial procession was already arranged. The clearing gong, the "Silence" and "Make Way" signs, various flags and ritual implements—all were in place and imposing. The personnel stood in official attire, waiting.
Seeing him, the Postmaster rushed over and knelt: "Your Excellency! The procession is ready. Please mount the sedan!"
Liu Xiang didn't know whether to laugh or cry. The ceremonial pomp of feudal officialdom was certainly impressive. He instructed: "There's no need for all these people. Just prepare one sedan..."
The Postmaster, obsequious since his surrender, was insistent on this point: "Your Excellency's words are mistaken. The Great Song has recovered Guangzhou, and Your Excellency is an Imperial Envoy. It is utterly unacceptable to present yourself too simply. Otherwise, the scholars and commoners will lose respect for the Great Song. In my humble opinion, even this ceremonial display is too modest to manifest our Great Song's majesty properly."
Liu Xiang noticed the naturalized citizen cadres and soldiers around him nodding in agreement. He felt moved. He said: "These elaborate items and flags are all based on the Ming ritual system. How can I use them?"
This was a fair point. The Postmaster considered, then said: "Since that is so, the clearing procession should still be used. Otherwise, the commoners might unknowingly give offense to the procession."
Liu Xiang couldn't refuse further. So he "mounted the sedan" and set off. The gong-striker didn't know what rank Liu Xiang held as a Great Song official and didn't dare strike at random. He asked a naturalized citizen cadre: "What rank is Master Liu?"
The cadre replied: "Chief Liu is a Senator—supremely noble. What rank could there be?"
The gong-striker reasoned that this meant "above all ranks"—generally, a duke or marquis. More courtesy was always safer, so he struck the gong thirteen times.
Amid the gong's proclamation of "All officials, military, civilian, and others, make way!" Liu Xiang's entourage marched majestically toward the city. Behind the clearing gong and the "Silence and Make Way" signs, the Morning Star Flag fluttered in the wind. Thirty guards carrying rifles with fixed bayonets flanked an eight-man sedan, behind which someone held aloft his Senator's Eagle Flag. Following the flag were more than ten naturalized citizen cadres, and at the rear marched another twenty fully armed guards.
Liu Xiang's destination was the Guangzhou Prefectural Yamen. This office was his primary concern. As Guangzhou Mayor, the archives and experienced clerks of the Prefecture and its two subordinate counties—Panyu and Nanhai—held immeasurable value. Much essential information had to be obtained from them. So when formulating the occupation plan, he had specifically requested that the National Army entering Guangzhou secure these locations first.
Liu Xiang's procession passed slowly through the main streets and alleys. Spectators packed the route like walls—the Guangzhou citizens, recovered from the morning's shock of the city's fall, knew that the "Guangzhou Prefect" of the Australians was coming. Everyone wanted to see the bearing of this new "Prefect Lord." The National Army had to deploy along the route to maintain order. Even the runners from the yamens of the one prefecture and two counties came to offer their attentive services, rushing to clear the way and shout commands. The splendor was endless.
Liu Xiang sat upright in the sedan, watching this scene, his heart stirring with emotion. As the saying goes, a great man should live like this—this was probably what it meant. He had been a PhD student, kneaded and exploited by his advisor, and now he had become a local grandee sitting in the seat of a high official. How could ordinary people experience such feelings...
Amid the monotonous gong sounds, they arrived at the Guangzhou Prefectural Yamen. He dismounted before the spirit wall. Liu Xiang stepped out and stomped his slightly numb legs. Before him, the spirit wall was concave in shape, five meters high and more than twenty meters wide, built of gray brick. The bricks bore the inscriptions "Guangzhou Prefectural City" and "Guangzhou Prefecture." Opposite, on the Great Eight Characters Wall at the gate, gray brick walls on both sides each had four stone tablets inlaid. He couldn't read the inscriptions from here.
Even before entering the yamen, just this entrance already felt imposing.