Chapter 2099 - Abandoning the Australians for the Ming
Torn endlessly between these impossible, irreconcilable dilemmas, Jiang Suo finally deserted. During a routine naval training exercise in the Pearl River estuary near Hong Kong, when his Marine unit was practicing amphibious landing procedures, he deliberately let himself fall overboard during a chaotic embarkation, then swam far out into deeper water before crawling ashore on a deserted stretch of beach far from the exercise area.
He stripped off his distinctive Fubo Army uniform and discarded everything that could identify him—insignia, papers, equipment. In a nearby fishing village, he stole a set of plain civilian clothes hanging out to dry. He had given absolutely no thought to what he would actually do after deserting, or whether he still seriously intended to seek revenge somehow. His mind was essentially blank; he simply vanished into the night with no clear destination in mind, driven only by the need to escape.
He knew full well with perfect clarity what awaited captured deserters—especially one guilty of the capital crime of "fleeing before the enemy" during wartime. He begged his way north to Guangzhou as a vagrant, and knowing that the Elders' annexation of all Guangdong was imminent and inevitable, he continued desperately north beyond the province, wanting only to put as much distance as humanly possible between himself and the Council of Elders' reach.
Jiang Suo had no intention whatsoever of throwing himself on the mercy of the Ming authorities. A man like him at this point—little better than a filthy beggar, utterly penniless and unknown to anyone—would never gain an audience with any official of consequence. Even if he miraculously did through some chance, he would immediately be suspected of being an Australian spy and likely dragged out for summary execution. Back in his home region, the local fortress lord had been known to casually behead innocent travelers simply for looking "suspicious" or speaking with the wrong accent.
Jiang Suo was somewhat familiar with Guangdong's road networks from his years with the traveling troupe. Master Ban had brought their entire company across the Five Ridges mountain range into Guangdong years before, and now he intended to carefully retrace that route northward in reverse—the farther he could flee from Australian territory, the better his chances.
But he had barely reached Nanxiong Prefecture when a passing column of Ming soldiers forcibly impressed him into corvée labor to carry military goods.
The loads were heavy wooden crates of unknown contents, extremely heavy and awkward. The impressed porters strained painfully under shoulder poles and backloaded carrying baskets, forced to march day and night with minimal rest. If Jiang Suo hadn't spent the past few years in the fishing village with adequate food and drink—fishing, military training, and systematically toughening his body—he might well have been literally worked to death within days like some of the weaker porters.
Jiang Suo desperately sought opportunities to escape from the labor column, but the armed guards watched closely with paranoid attention, and any attempt to flee meant immediate decapitation as an example. He could find absolutely no viable chance to slip away.
Then one fateful day, an exhausted porter stumbled badly on rough ground and smashed open one of the heavy crates he was carrying, scattering its mysterious contents across the road—and Jiang Suo's entire life might have ended unremarked on that dusty road were it not for what spilled out into plain view.
What fell from the broken crate were several brand-new Nanyang-pattern rifles, still packed in protective grease!
Though Jiang Suo had never formally served in the National Army garrison forces, he had seen this particular type of rifle more than once during training. It was clearly a grade below the superior Minié rifles routinely used by the regular field army—shorter effective range, poorer accuracy, less stopping power. Only the National Army garrison units and municipal police forces used it for internal security. Yet even so, against ordinary bandits and pirates armed with traditional weapons, it was already a genuinely fearsome and devastating weapon that gave enormous advantage.
How in the world could the technologically backward Ming army have acquired these modern rifles?!
His visibly astonished expression immediately attracted the sharp attention of the officer in charge of the column. That night, when the column made camp in a secure location, Jiang Suo was bound hand and foot with rough rope and dragged unceremoniously before the commanding officer for interrogation.
"You recognize this bird-gun?" The officer's voice was grave and suspicious, studying Jiang Suo's face carefully.
Perhaps the endless days of grueling labor and near-starvation had dulled Jiang Suo's fundamental will to survive. He nodded honestly. "It's a Nanyang rifle. Australian manufacture."
At the specific words "Nanyang rifle," the officer's brow twitched visibly with surprise. "Who exactly are you?! How do you know this weapon?"
Jiang Suo held nothing back at this point and immediately revealed that he was a deserter from the Australian army—he had nothing left to lose.
"So you were one of the Hair-Bandits' soldiers, then." The officer's tone was neutral, assessing.
"Yes, sir."
"Hmm..." The officer studied him intently for a long, uncomfortable moment, then exhaled thoughtfully. "Do you actually know how to properly use this weapon in combat?"
"What's so difficult about it?" Jiang Suo replied with a trace of his old confidence. "Among the Australians, this is merely a second-rate firearm issued to the National Army for garrison duty. The real army uses far better."
"In that case, load it properly and fire a demonstration shot for me." The officer ordered his attendants to immediately untie the prisoner.
By now, Jiang Suo had completely put considerations of life and death out of his mind—whatever would happen would happen. In a few swift, practiced motions that spoke of extensive drilling, he loaded the paper cartridge, shouldered the rifle with proper form, aimed briefly at a distant target, and smoothly pulled the trigger.
The sharp crack of the shot cleanly extinguished the glowing incense stick someone had placed upright some twenty zhang distant in the gathering darkness.
The officer's eyes gleamed with unmistakable satisfaction. "Excellent!" he murmured appreciatively.
From that pivotal night onward, Jiang Suo was no longer treated as a mere expendable laborer.
"My surname is Yi, given name Haoran. I currently serve as a strategic advisor in Governor-General Xiong's personal staff," the officer said with surprising amiability, showing none of the typical condescending posturing and affected hauteur of the educated gentry class toward social inferiors. "Since you clearly know the Hair-Bandits' situation intimately and appear willing to serve the court loyally, your future prospects are potentially boundless. Guangdong's strategic situation is extremely precarious at present. I am returning with this secret shipment of firearms to Guangdong to prepare defenses."
Jiang Suo did not know exactly how these Nanyang rifles had ended up in Master Yi's hands—the supply chain must be fascinating—but he knew instinctively it must be a closely guarded state secret, so he kept prudently silent and didn't press.
"The rifles are fine quality weapons, and simple enough to use with basic training—but alas, no one in our forces can handle them as skillfully as you just demonstrated. The Hair-Bandits are justly renowned throughout the realm for training genuinely elite troops—what a terrible pity for the empire!"
As he said the word "pity," his gaze drifted wistfully toward the northeastern night sky, eyes filled with profound sadness and regret.
"If only the Australians were willing to serve our Great Ming loyally, what fear would there be of the Eastern Captives ravaging the north? Of the roving bandits devastating the heartland? But alas—it is already far too late for such dreams!"
Yi Haoran brought him back to the provincial capital at Zhaoqing as a valued recruit. Along the journey, Jiang Suo gradually learned that this scholar-advisor was originally a native of war-torn Liaodong who had earned the xiucai degree as a young man. Yet he was far more passionate about military strategy and tactics than the orthodox Four Books and Five Classics required for advancement. Classic works like The Art of War and The Essentials of the Military Classics he had read literally a thousand times over, until he could recite entire passages with his eyes closed. Having repeatedly failed the higher provincial examinations despite his military knowledge, and increasingly weighed down by growing family burdens, he had found respectable work tutoring in the wealthy household of a senior military officer in Guangning. Though the pay was quite modest, the family had lived in relative comfort and contentment.
Then, in Yi Haoran's fateful fortieth year, the imperial army suffered an absolutely catastrophic defeat at Sarhu under the brilliant Jurchen leader Nurhaci's devastating hand. Cities across Liaodong fell one after another like dominoes to the invaders; his employer died heroically in battle; Guangning itself was hastily abandoned to the enemy. He desperately led his terrified family in flight toward the mountain passes and safety. Along the nightmarish journey, his wife and children were tragically lost to him in the chaos, and by the time he finally found uncertain refuge in the capital, he was utterly alone in the world.
Through old friends and helpful relatives in the capital, through valuable connections cultivated as a Liaodong native who genuinely "knew military matters," Yi Haoran eventually secured a modest position in the expanded staff of Yuan Chonghuan, who was about to march out boldly beyond the passes to reclaim lost territory. Under the controversial Yuan Chonghuan, he witnessed a turbulent and dramatic chapter of imperial history—the brief, glorious blossoming of victory in Liaodong, and the bitter political feuding between Yuan Chonghuan and the pirate-turned-general Mao Wenlong. After Yuan Chonghuan was arrested and imprisoned on fabricated charges of treason, Yi Haoran suddenly had nowhere safe to go. Using his hard-earned credentials and reputation, he managed to attach himself to the recalled Sun Chengzong, helped intelligently plan the recovery of the four cities within the critical passes, then watched helplessly as Sun was once again politically sidelined and forced into retirement due to alleged illness. Already past fifty years old and growing weary, Yi Haoran obtained a precious letter of introduction from Sun Chengzong himself and joined the staff of Xiong Wenchan, Governor-General of Guangdong and Guangxi.
Xiong Wenchan's staff was absolutely teeming with advisors who had similarly arrived on the strength of introductions and political connections. Naturally, no one looked on this aging xiucai with any special favor or respect. They allotted him a small monthly stipend for basic expenses and gave him a decent room to live in, but rarely called on him for any substantive duties or consulted his expertise. Yi Haoran was initially content to remain idle, wandering the city and sightseeing. But he soon discovered that Guangdong was very far from the peaceful haven he had naively imagined. Several years earlier, Wang Zunde had mobilized the entire province's military forces against the mysterious Australians, only to suffer a humiliating, crushing defeat at Chengmai. The Hair-Bandits had sailed boldly into the Pearl River estuary, and Guangzhou itself had nearly fallen to their assault.
That shocking battle had caused an enormous uproar at court. Tens of thousands of soldiers were killed, wounded, or scattered to the winds, and numerous experienced officers perished. Afterward, word came down from on high that the "Hair-Bandits" had supposedly been defeated outside Guangzhou's walls and fled by sea in disarray. They had supposedly dispersed to engage in plundering along Qiongzhou's remote coast and were no longer considered a serious threat to imperial order.
Yet through his own investigations, he soon learned the actual truth was entirely otherwise. Not only had the Australians not retreated in defeat, they had effectively taken complete control of the entire wealthy Qiongzhou Prefecture—and there were even permanent Australian military encampments on the very outskirts of Guangzhou itself. Because they maintained strict discipline, didn't pillage civilian property or kill indiscriminately, and everyone could generally get by peacefully coexisting with them, the entire awkward matter had been systematically hushed up by embarrassed officials. The Guangdong officialdom was clearly "terrified of the Hair-Bandits," willfully and deliberately ignoring their threatening existence.
Yi Haoran understood immediately that the "bandit threat had matured beyond containment" and would inevitably become a grave existential peril. He systematically sought out survivors of the Chengmai battle and the clashes in the Pearl River estuary. Through careful interviews, he quickly realized that the Hair-Bandits were actually an even more dangerous and sophisticated adversary than the fearsome Later Jin.
Having personally weathered so many political and military reversals over his long career, he had long since seen through the endemic hypocrisy and corruption of Ming officialdom. Yet a lingering sense of loyalty to sovereign and country still burned stubbornly within him. Having witnessed firsthand the terrible ravages of war on innocent people, he believed passionately that the only realistic way to spare the common people from suffering was to actually win battles decisively.
"For all under heaven to know lasting peace, there must first be war to definitively end war," Yi Haoran said thoughtfully on the boat to Zhaoqing, sharing his philosophy. "The Hair-Bandits are men like any others—and their soldiers are mostly just poor common folk recruited like ours. What they rely on is nothing more than superior ships, powerful artillery, and rigorously disciplined ranks. If the court can finally steel its resolve, invest in refining its weapons properly, and train a truly new army with modern methods, there's absolutely no reason the Hair-Bandits cannot be defeated eventually."
Yi Haoran put on no scholarly airs whatsoever and showed none of the typical affected condescension of a superior deigning to seek counsel from an inferior. Speaking of himself, of the deteriorating state of the realm, of the Hair-Bandits' capabilities—he was entirely candid and honest. And Jiang Suo in turn spoke of the Australians and the Fubo Army with equal frankness and detail.
The two men—vastly different in age and social status—came to genuinely know and deeply respect each other during that extended journey. By the time they reached Zhaoqing, Jiang Suo had learned that this particular shipment of modern weapons had indeed come originally from the Hair-Bandits themselves through complex intermediaries. Xiong Wenchan had spent an enormous fortune acquiring a substantial batch of Nanyang rifles and ammunition through back channels from Fujian and Shandong contacts, intending to equip his elite personal guard. Because of the great distance involved and security concerns, Yi Haoran—the "idle man" with time on his hands—had been assigned to personally escort the valuable shipment.
Upon returning to Zhaoqing, Yi Haoran discharged his duty and quietly reported the matter of recruiting Jiang Suo to Xiong Wenchan in private, who immediately took great interest. He secretly summoned Jiang Suo for interrogation and praised him effusively for "casting off darkness for the light" and returning to imperial service. After a thorough round of questioning, though Xiong privately disapproved of Jiang Suo's "rebellious discourtesy"—the man had obviously "been tainted by Hair-Bandit habits" of speaking directly—he nonetheless genuinely commended him for his intimate familiarity with "Hair-Bandit matters" and practical expertise with "Hair-Bandit weapons." He awarded him fifty taels of silver as a recruitment bonus and the military rank of Company-Level Sentinel in his elite personal guard, specifically tasked with training the household troops in modern weapons.
Because Yi Haoran had carried out his mission so effectively—and especially because he had recruited a valuable "talent" like Jiang Suo—his standing in Xiong Wenchan's crowded staff rose dramatically. After several substantive discussions, Xiong Wenchan realized that Yi Haoran not only understood military affairs competently but possessed genuinely unique insights into "Hair-Bandit matters" based on careful research. He began to lean on him heavily for strategic advice. This sudden favor, however, provoked the intense jealousy of Chang Qingyun, the self-styled "foremost expert on Hair-Bandit affairs" who'd held Xiong's ear before. To carefully balance the two rival factions and strengthen his own overall forces, Xiong Wenchan diplomatically dispatched Yi Haoran to Guangxi to train a new experimental army using modern methods. Jiang Suo naturally went with him and was promoted to qianzong—the rank of company commander with real authority.
This new experimental army of just five hundred carefully selected men was not fully equipped with precious Nanyang rifles, but it was the elite force Xiong Wenchan had poured enormous personal resources into arming and training properly. Now Jiang Suo was leading these troops in defense of strategically vital Bangshan hill, west of Wuzhou, overlooking the crucial Gui River waterway. Since it felt like treachery to stab an Elder who had shown him favor in the back, and equally treachery not to avenge his beloved Qingxia's execution, then perhaps this long, tangled feud could be settled fairly—on the battlefield, soldier to soldier, with honor!
(End of Chapter)