Chapter 12: Lingao Town

Guo Yi’s spirits lifted. No wonder the leaders often went abroad; the scriptures chanted by foreign monks were indeed different. He quickly pulled Xue Ziliang aside to ask for more details.

Xue Ziliang asked, “Have you heard of the World Republic case?”

“Not really.”

“It’s a very typical case, and I think it fits the current situation very well.” It was a strange case that occurred in 1960. A man named Frotz-Boot, who claimed to be the illegitimate son of Adolf Hitler, founded the so-called World Republic. This person announced in the European media that on December 16, 1960, the third flying saucer fleet from Venus would land at Berlin’s Tempelhof Airport. Atz, the commander-in-chief of the cosmic mobile team, would immediately declare the earthling Frotz-Boot as the president of the supreme government of the World Republic. President Frotz would then immediately demand the surrender of all armies on Earth, destroy all military arsenals, and forbid all soldiers from leaving their barracks.

This case was no different from various other scams, with the only distinction being that this Frotz-Boot did not commit any fraudulent acts. He genuinely believed he was the president of the World Republic chosen by the Venusians, so he was not held criminally responsible later.

“Isn’t this very similar to the situation we are facing? I believe they all, from top to bottom, think they have arrived in a new world. In reality, this is likely just a deserted island in the waters of Vietnam, perhaps specially rented by someone in the organization with ulterior motives.”

“Isn’t this just a foreign version of playing emperor…” Little Guo yawned, thinking this was nothing. Since 1949, there had been at least a dozen self-proclaimed ‘True Sons of Heaven’ in the remote corners of our country. He had read through these case files in his spare time—most of them were very entertaining.

The explanation was not bad, but it still couldn’t account for the disappearance of all signals. As his mind wandered, the cabin door opened, and someone threw in three blankets.

“Get a good rest. You’re hitting the road tomorrow,” the person announced simply.

“Looks like they’re moving us to another place tomorrow. I need to get a good rest to have the strength to walk tomorrow.” Xue Ziliang, having eaten and drunk his fill and chatted for a while, was already sleepy. He wrapped himself in a blanket and went to sleep. Sarlina had been silent all this time and also went to sleep.

As a true Chinese, Little Guo had a deep appreciation for the vastness and profundity of the Chinese language. For someone in such a predicament, the phrase “shàng lù” (to get on the road) was a truly inauspicious term.

Meng Xian, who had thrown in the blankets, was obviously unaware that his casual remark had caused Little Guo to lose half a night’s sleep, during which he scribbled and rewrote several pages of a last will and testament in his small notebook.

---

At night, Lingao county town was deathly still.

After the first watch, a curfew had been imposed in the town, and the dark city walls looked particularly gloomy. Soldiers stood at the intersections of the stone-paved roads that ran through the town, ready to question pedestrians. Many people had already poured in from the surrounding countryside and outside the town today, dragging their families along, some even with pigs, cattle, chickens, ducks, cats, and dogs. The county had opened up all the temples along the roads to accommodate these refugee farmers, but many were still sleeping on the sides of the stone roads. Even the animals, perhaps sensing that disaster was imminent, rarely made a sound. Only the ignorant children were still crying, being hushed by the adults.

Red or white paper lanterns hung outside the government offices and temples, their light dim, swaying under the eaves. In the faint light, notices could be seen pasted on the walls. From time to time, a night watchman would pass by, carrying a small lantern and beating a wooden clapper, accompanied by a few militiamen.

The top of the city wall was very quiet. Lanterns were hung at regular intervals, and militiamen patrolled back and forth. Since the Bopu beacon tower had raised the alarm in the morning, and then Inspector Fu had fled back in panic, the atmosphere in the town had become extremely tense. People whispered in the dark shadows of the streets.

“Do you think the pirates have retreated?” someone whispered under the eaves.

“There’s no news from the villages yet. It’s hard to say.”

“These pirates usually just grab what they can and leave. Maybe their ships are already gone.”

“If they were really gone, would Magistrate Wu still be sending people for help?” someone said mysteriously. “This afternoon, Master of Records Wu went to the Rear Post (Housuo, a military colony under the Hainan Guard, located in Lingao County) to ask for reinforcements.”

“Are the pirates that powerful?” a dark, thin man asked uneasily. He was a “shooting cultivator” [Note: Settlers from Fujian. They “shot” for land to cultivate, and their descendants all spoke with a Fujianese accent]. He had worked hard to build a small fortune by reclaiming land in Lingao and had just brought his new wife from his hometown last year. At this moment, his wife was tightly clutching a piglet, and beside her were two large bamboo cages, reeking of chicken and duck droppings, which she paid no mind to.

“Not just powerful, very powerful,” a small merchant-like person, who had probably seen a bit of the world, said vividly. “The seas off Guangdong and Guangxi haven’t been peaceful these past few years. There’s Yang Er, Liu Xiang… the government forces can’t do anything about them. Marshal Yu has suppressed them countless times, with more defeats than victories. I hear the court is discussing offering them amnesty.”

“If they get amnesty, things will be peaceful, right?” someone said.

“Peaceful? I doubt it,” the small merchant said resentfully. “That Yang Er was granted amnesty once, but he still ended up harming the common people. Every time I’ve crossed the sea these past two years, my heart has been in my throat. Fu San from Can Village was killed while crossing the sea, not even a body was found…”

“These pirates, they won’t attack the county town, will they?”

“The last time the county town was besieged was thirty years ago during the Li rebellion in Tinan Village. My grandfather was even conscripted as a militiaman to defend the city. Those Li people were like madmen, attacking the city in human waves. Then Ma Shi came again, and although they didn’t attack the city, the gates didn’t dare to open.” [Note: The Tinan Village Li people’s uprising was in the 25th year of the Wanli reign, and the Ma Shi Li people’s uprising in Ding’an was in the 27th year of the Wanli reign.]

“This time should also pass peacefully, right?”

As they were talking, the Master of Law, leading a few men, passed by on the street. Seeing the group talking animatedly, he couldn’t help but shout, “What nonsense are you barbarians talking about? If you keep spouting nonsense, I’ll have you punished for disturbing the peace!”

[Note: In the Ming Dynasty, people in Hainan’s towns called rural people ‘barbarians’, while rural people called townspeople ‘red fathers’. Both were, of course, insults.]

With the official’s display of authority, no one dared to make a sound. Since the martial law began this morning, a dozen unlucky souls had been beaten with the cane or put in the cangue for public display just for saying a few extra words or looking around too much.

Only after the Master of Law and his men were far away did the small merchant grumble, “He only knows how to flex his muscles on us common folk. If he’s so capable, he should go fight the pirates…”

“You should say a few words less!” an old man stopped him. “What time is it now? Stop wagging that useless tongue.”

---

Tonight, the Magistrate of Lingao County was sitting in his flower hall. His name was Wu Mingjin, a native of Southern Zhili. He looked to be nearly fifty, his hair already graying. He was a provincial graduate, but had been unlucky in the imperial examinations and had not passed even in his forties. He was selected for a county magistrate position, and a remote one at that. Although Lingao had been a county for a long time, even counting from when the county seat was moved to Mocun, it had been five hundred years. But in the eyes of this man from the south, it was still a barren and desolate land. Since taking office, he had tried to do some things for the common people: building water conservancy projects, reclaiming wasteland, promoting agriculture… hoping to leave a good name. But these years had been filled with natural and man-made disasters. The coastal beacon towers raised the alarm several times a month, whether it was Bopu, Shipai, or Ma’niao. Pirates attacked everywhere, and the government forces were helpless. The county could only close its gates and adopt the strategy of “letting the thieves leave after they’ve had their fill.” Last autumn, there was another typhoon that destroyed countless villages and houses, displacing the people. He had set up soup kitchens and collected unclaimed bodies, but an epidemic still broke out, and many people died.

[Note: According to the Lingao County Annals, there were five recorded magistrates during the Tianqi-Chongzhen era. Among them, Ye Yao and Wu Mingjin were in office during the late Tianqi-early Chongzhen period. Since the exact dates of their terms are unknown, the latter was used.]

Originally, he hadn’t paid much attention to this beacon alarm. Pirate harassment was already a common occurrence here. But the words of Fu Baiwen, who had fled back with his archers, had truly frightened him.

The pirates had arrived on an unprecedented “giant ship,” its hull taller than the Great Accomplishment Hall of the Lingao Confucian Temple. The accompanying ships were each larger than the government’s warships, and they moved freely on the sea without sails or oars, as if by magic.

The most incredible thing was that the ships were actually made of iron! An iron giant ship that could float on water was far beyond his comprehension. People have an instinctive fear of things that are beyond their understanding.

By the time he saw these people actually begin to land, Fu Baiwen had quickly led his men on a mad dash back to the county town. He instinctively felt that these people were different from any pirate or merchant he had ever seen or heard of. They couldn’t have come to Lingao just to rob the common people of a few loads of salted fish and a few shi of rice!

Of course, Wu Mingjin couldn’t just take his word for it—it was common for military men to exaggerate out of fear of battle. In his panic, he still sent a bailiff of Dan origin from the county yamen, who was familiar with the Bopu area, to investigate. When the bailiff returned at noon, he could barely speak coherently. From his jumbled description, Magistrate Wu understood that there were many pirates, over a thousand of them. After landing, they had vehicles that could move on the beach, without horses or oxen, that moved just by having people sit in them. Some vehicles could easily lift very large iron boxes and move them around… and many other things he couldn’t describe… In short, this group of people was full of evil magic.

Only then did he become anxious. He didn’t really believe in things like evil magic. When Wu Mingjin came to Hainan to be an official, he had seen the large ships and cannons of the Portuguese in Guangdong on the way, and had also seen a telescope. He knew that people from overseas often had strange and ingenious things. How could he know if this group of pirates wouldn’t rely on some strange overseas object to attack the county town? In Lingao town, besides the bailiffs and yamen runners, there were only eighty militiamen and the twelve archers who had returned from the inspection office, a total of just over a hundred men.

So he quickly sent the County Adjutant, Wu Ya, with silver to the Rear Post to ask for reinforcements. Wu Ya had now returned to report: the Commander of a Thousand at the Rear Post had agreed. He would send thirty men and one cannon over tomorrow morning, but he demanded a reward of one shi of rice per man afterward.