Chapter 2626: Gold Pig
This issue of War History Research was another piece of black material produced by the Ministry of Truth. The exposé required no special fabrication or embellishment—simply placing the self-contradictory elements of Liaodong's management strategies side by side and examining them from hindsight made it clear that the Great Ming's war situation in Liaodong had no future whatsoever. Far from "Recovering Liao," the campaign was nothing more than a festering wound bleeding the empire dry.
When Gou Xunli finished speaking, Li Guangyuan let out a long breath. He realized he had been listening with rapt, anxious attention. For wealthy rural households like his in Guangdong, the Liaodong war had always seemed the stuff of legend—something distant that no one imagined had any connection to their lives. But these articles examined both battlefield conditions and strategic implications, incorporating geopolitical theories far beyond their time. The breadth and depth of analysis vastly exceeded the so-called "Military Affairs" discussions of traditional bureaucrats.
Beyond his nervousness, Li Guangyuan felt a twinge of surprise. They had been speaking of the Kun thieves, so why suddenly drag in the Eastern Barbarians? The two were as far apart as the southern sky from the northern sea—poles that couldn't possibly touch.
The monk clearly had something important to say. Li Guangyuan immediately dismissed his attendants and asked, "The Liaodong situation is indeed perilous! But what does any of this have to do with the Guangnan region?"
Gou Xunli nodded. "Master sees clearly across a thousand li!" He lowered his voice. "Master can presumably also see that the Liaodong campaign has already become a complete rout in the making." He glanced at Luo Heying, who nodded slightly in agreement.
For an unlettered man like Gou Xunli, whatever he knew about Liaodong came entirely from his time in Old Master Shi's service. But learning something fresh and selling it immediately didn't diminish its effect. Seeing that Master Li had taken the bait and his appetite was whetted, Gou Xunli knew the moment had arrived. He lowered his voice further and unleashed the long-prepared bombshell:
"The Court intends to negotiate peace with the Eastern Barbarians and abandon all territory beyond the Pass. The Guan-Ning Iron Cavalry will withdraw to Shanhaiguan. Before long, they'll march south to exterminate the roving bandits and expel the Kun thieves."
"What?" Li Guangyuan was stunned. He had heard something of the Guan-Ning Iron Cavalry's fearsome reputation.
"Consider this, Master: the Guan-Ning Iron Cavalry are elite soldiers maintained by the Court at a cost of millions in provisions and salary each year. Once they withdraw inside the Pass and rely on the natural defenses of Shanhaiguan and the strength of fortified cities, they won't need nearly so many crack troops. Could they simply sit idle, consuming rations for nothing? Inside the Pass, roving bandits rampage everywhere, and the Kun thieves grow ever bolder—both are thorns in the Court's heart. Within a year or two, a great army must surely march south for a decisive purge."
Li Guangyuan listened, nodding unconsciously. Luo Heying saw that Monk Haixiang's bombshell had detonated as intended, and knowing the iron was hot, stepped forward to fan the flames: "This is just rumor, of course. In my humble opinion, the Court openly negotiating peace is unlikely—the weight of the Hua-Yi Distinction is simply too great. I doubt even the current Emperor would dare make such a decision. However, private negotiations are entirely possible."
"Private negotiations?" Li Guangyuan pressed. "How would that work?"
"They would dispatch a secret envoy to talk behind closed doors. Afterward, the Court would probably abandon defense of all passes and cities beyond the Great Wall. Soldiers and civilians would all withdraw inside. Once these troops are stationed behind the Wall, they can rely on it for defense, and the Eastern Barbarians won't be able to raid southward anymore. Furthermore, the empty lands beyond will attract Mongol tribes. When the Eastern Barbarians and Mongols inevitably clash, neither will have the strength to threaten the south. This is likely the Court's most viable strategy at present."
Monk Haixiang added, "From the Court's perspective, this is probably the only option. Hundreds of thousands of soldiers are gathered in Liaodong, winning not a single battle, yet consuming vast quantities of provisions and salary. Meanwhile, smoke and fire rise everywhere inside the Pass—they even burned the Imperial Mausoleum at the Middle Capital. Better to withdraw everything and put those forces to use."
"Then you're saying the Court is about to send troops south?"
"It's imminent," Monk Haixiang said with certainty. "Why else would we take such risks, making connections everywhere? I'll speak plainly—in every county under Guangzhou Prefecture, there are Righteous Gentlemen feeding their horses and sharpening their weapons, waiting for the Court's great army to reach the Five Ridges so they can rise up in swarms to answer the call..."
Since ancient times, nothing stirred men's hearts like the prospect of official rank. Li Guangyuan was the wealthiest man in his corner of Dongguan, a local strongman of considerable means. Yet his clan had never produced a Provincial Graduate or Metropolitan Graduate. Whenever he went out, he always felt a head shorter than others. It stung especially when passing through other villages and seeing their examination flagpoles—symbols of scholarly achievement that filled him with envy.
And that was merely nominal prestige. The practical benefits of official rank were too numerous to count. Marriage alliances alone—the advantage of matching doors with proper families—could occupy hours of discussion. When he thought of the arrogance of the county's great examination clans, families he could only look up to and never dare provoke, something fierce stirred in him.
Lost in these thoughts, almost as if possessed, he found himself wishing the Court would hurry south immediately so his family could "raise troops in response." A sense of urgency gripped him: "When will the Court's Heavenly Army march south to sweep away all this ugliness?"
The sun had already slanted toward the west. Rice stalks on both sides of the dirt road bent their heads in humble submission, heavy with ripening ears. Frogs in a distant pond argued endlessly about something. Birds stealing grain from the fields were suddenly startled into the air by the thud of solid footsteps, fleeing to a nearby tree where they perched in a row, watching the approaching stranger with wary eyes.
The man had gaunt cheeks and an unshaven beard. He wore a short jacket patched many times over, with fresh holes worn through at the shoulders and back. His feet were bare—a pair of pitch-black soles that struck the dirt road with each powerful step. A bundle rode on his back, a bulging pouch (Da Lian) hung from one shoulder, and the other bore a straw bag more than half-filled with grain. A string of loaches threaded on a willow branch swung from his waist.
His name was Li Xiujie—though that name existed only on the clan register. Everyone called him Jin Zhu, "Gold Pig." He was in his early thirties. His home lay just ahead, near the Li Family Enclosure. Though he bore the Li surname, he had not a drop of blood relation to the local Li clan. His ancestors had fled famine from elsewhere and settled here as long-term laborers for the Li family. Only when Jin Zhu's father was born did things change. Li Guangyuan's grandfather happened to be celebrating his birthday, and Jin Zhu's grandfather went to beg the Old Master for a favor. That was when they were finally united with the Li clan and permitted to enter the ancestral hall.
Admission to the ancestral hall improved the family's fortunes considerably. The hall looked after its various branches to some degree, and seeing that Jin Zhu's family owned no land, they rented out more than ten mu of clan fields to his grandfather and allocated three thatched rooms. At last they had a house and fields to call their own, and could finally put down roots.
By Jin Zhu's generation, however, there were many brothers at home. When their father died and the brothers divided the estate, Jin Zhu received not even half a sliver of poor field—only the ancestral house, those same three thatched rooms. And the house came with an obligation: caring for his elderly mother. He had no choice but to walk his grandfather's old path and hire himself out as a laborer again.
With Jin Zhu's circumstances, taking a wife should have been nothing but a dream. But Li Guangyuan's mother, who managed the household's inner quarters, went to plead on his behalf. Recognizing three generations of loyal service, Li Guangyuan bestowed one of the household's rough-work slave girls as Jin Zhu's wife. The woman had originally fled famine from the north and sold herself into servitude with the Li family to survive.
Once he had a family, working as a live-in laborer was no longer practical. Besides, there was his ailing mother to care for at home. Jin Zhu switched to making his living through odd jobs. He worked outside while his wife cared for Mother Li and her persistent cough, tended a few vegetable patches around the house, and took in washing, sewing, and mending work from the manor's wealthy households to help make ends meet. Jin Zhu himself traveled to Xiaoyao Market to find work as a porter.
Xiaoyao Market was a ferry crossing on the river more than ten li away. Merchants traveling between Dongguan and Guangzhou mostly passed through there, and the market bustled with shops of every kind. Finding odd jobs was never a worry. Between that and the rice distributions from the clan granary during festivals, some years his family actually fared better than his brothers who rented fields. But ever since the Kun thieves had occupied Guangzhou, fewer boats plied the river. Merchants at the market had grown cautious, reluctant to do much business. Consequently, Jin Zhu's earnings had dwindled compared to previous years. He reckoned the rice would ripen soon and the fields would need hands—demand for short-term workers would surge. Better to head home, see how things stood, and figure out a plan after the harvest was in.
He reached his door just as the sky turned fully dark. The house looked as crooked and worn as ever. The yellow mud courtyard wall had mostly collapsed, its gaps patched carefully with bamboo fencing. But there on the lintel hung something new—a red lantern. Jin Zhu studied it for a moment, then strode into the central room.
His wife was not home. Mother Li, hearing footsteps from the inner room, propped herself up on her bamboo bed and called out between fits of coughing: "Who is it? Who's there?"
"Mother, it's me. I'm back." Jin Zhu set down his bundle and pouch, then upended the straw bag to pour the rice into the storage vat.
Mother Li had already wrapped herself in a jacket and put on her shoes. She came into the central room. "Jin Zhu, ah—" she coughed twice, "Jin Zhu's home." She took the emptied straw bag from his hands and looked her son over carefully. Noticing his bare feet, she couldn't help asking, "Why aren't you wearing shoes? Where are your shoes?"
Common folk in those times mostly went barefoot. Rural people thought nothing of it. But Jin Zhu did loading and hauling work—running around the wharf without at least a pair of straw sandals meant cut skin and torn flesh from all the broken debris. And those sandals weren't homemade; they came from specialized craftsmen.
"One pair wore out. The other fell in the river while I was unloading cargo. I'll buy more tomorrow when I go back to work." Jin Zhu seemed unconcerned about his shoes. He unhooked the string of loaches from his waist and handed them to his mother. "Here, Mother. I caught these loaches on the way. I heard eating them is good for your cough. Where's Lian Niang? It's already dark and she's not back to cook. What's she running around for?"
Qiao Lian was his wife's maiden name. Since the couple had no children, everyone called her Lian Niang.
Mother Li took the loaches and covered her mouth through another coughing fit before defending her daughter-in-law: "Lian Niang went to cultivate magic and seek medicine with Fairy Huang. She should be back soon."
"Cultivate magic? Cultivate her worthless magic!" Jin Zhu had been holding in a stream of frustration ever since his recent wages had fallen short of expectations. He couldn't help cursing. "A young woman can't stay peacefully at home—has to run wild like an untamed horse. If she gets kidnapped and sold off like Old Tian's wife, she'll have no one to blame but herself! I'm away for a few days and already her skin's itching for trouble again. Just wait till I give her a good thrashing! And that Fairy Huang—who knows what kind of wild fox spirit she is, seducing decent people. For all we know, she could be a kidnapper."
(End of Chapter)