Chapter 41: Negotiations

“Old Wu, you’re here!” Just as he was looking, Zhou Dongtian came in from outside, his work uniform stained with ink. Before the transmigration, he had been a fire safety officer and later a judicial worker. However, his familiarity with printing had made him the head of this printing room, and he had personally purchased most of the equipment.

“What, publishing a newspaper?” Wu De pointed to the proof sheet.

“Yes, the Executive Committee approved Ding Ding’s proposal. It’s just an irregular tabloid for now. We’ll print fifty copies of the first issue.”

“I don’t think the positioning is right. Who is this for?”

“You think we don’t know about Marx?”

“If it’s for the locals, why use simplified characters? And has the Executive Committee considered the literacy rate?” Wu De thought it was a joke. Among the 138 captives he managed, only Zhang Xingjiao could read and write. A couple of small landowners knew a few characters, but the illiteracy rate was over 95%. In such an environment, wasn’t printing a newspaper pointless?

“We’re about to start a literacy campaign for your labor teams,” Zhou Dongtian pointed to a computer. “The Culture and Education Group has already drafted the first version of the literacy textbook. We’re also planning to use lithography to make flashcards.”

“They really are full of ideas.”

“It’s all Ding Ding’s doing,” Zhou Dongtian chuckled. “That reporter has big ambitions. Besides the newspaper, he wants to get into textbook publishing.”

“Ideas are good. Anyway, here’s my manuscript. Please print it for me as soon as you can.”

“This little thing? I can just use the printer to cut a stencil for you. It’ll just be a minute.” He went to turn on the computer. Wu De’s manuscript was already on the network, sent directly to the office automation system, saving him the trouble of even typing it out.

“Since we have a computer network, why are we still printing documents? Such bureaucracy!” Wu De lamented.

“Probably to leave a paper trail for the archives. The computers will break down eventually.” Zhou Dongtian adjusted the mimeograph machine and inserted the wax paper. “In another ten years, we’ll probably have to handwrite everything. I brought an old-fashioned Chinese typewriter, just in case. If the machines fail, we’ll have to rely on that to cut stencils.”

After printing the materials, he followed protocol and left a copy for the intelligence archives, then went to speak directly with the key leaders of the Executive Committee.

“You’re saying the captives are restless?” Wen Desi asked.

“Yes, and I’m afraid some will remain so.” Wu De pointed to his report. “According to the latest intelligence, the small landowners, rich peasants, and middle peasants with their own property are agitated. The busy farming season is approaching, they can’t go home to work, and they’re worried about their families.”

“There shouldn’t be too many of them.”

“True, but the tenant farmers have similar concerns. If they can’t harvest their crops, they can’t pay their rent, and their families’ livelihoods are at risk.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“The only ones who seem content to live anywhere are the destitute with no family ties, or the long-term hired hands.”

“So, not many are willing to join us,” Wen Desi said, sounding discouraged.

“Correct. We are attractive to the poor, especially with the ‘staff’ benefits we’re offering. For the former hired laborers, working for us is far better than for the old landlords. But for tenant farmers and poor peasants with a little property and family, it’s a different story. They care more about a ‘stable life.’ They’re the ones worried about ‘how long the red flag will fly.’”

“Until we achieve a greater victory or some form of legitimacy, I’m afraid that concern won’t go away,” Xiao Zishan added, equally disappointed.

“Even with their concerns, we have to press on,” Wen Desi mused. “Remember our guiding principle? The ‘beacon effect.’ As long as people see that serving us leads to a better life, they will naturally gravitate towards us. The common folk tend to focus on what’s right in front of them.”

“I agree. As long as we provide tangible benefits, the people won’t forget.”

“Also, what about the eight Li captives? They’re still in the POW camp and haven’t been assigned to a labor team. What does the Executive Committee plan to do with them?”

“We’re planning to use them as a breakthrough to establish contact with the Li and Dong peoples to the south,” Xiao Zishan explained. “Mu Min is handling it. We should have results in a few days.”

The implication was clear: it wasn’t Wu De’s concern. He nodded. Just then, Wen Desi’s PHS phone rang. After a brief conversation, Wen Desi said, “Have them wait. Treat them well. We’ll be right there.” He turned to Wu De. “We have some local visitors.”

“Oh?” Wu De was intrigued.

“It’s about the captives. You should come with us. And bring Xiong Buyou. Also, what’s-his-name, the local translator. Get them all.”

“Right, I’ll see to it.”

---

After the disastrous failure of the county’s two-pronged counterattack, tension once again gripped Lingao. The returning militiamen spoke of the pirates’ terrifyingly powerful firearms, which could kill swathes of men with a single volley. Even the renowned militia of the Huang Family Village had been crushed, and their leader, Huang Shoutong, was seriously wounded and carried back to his village. Panic spread through the town. Some of the gentry began moving valuables and family members to relatives in remote areas or to their own fortified manors. Others feigned illness or urgent family matters and fled home. Even the refugees who had sought shelter in the town now wanted to leave, fearing the kūnzéi pirates would come to sack the city in revenge.

After a few days, when it became clear the “Kun” bandits had no intention of attacking, the officials and gentry breathed a collective sigh of relief. The heavy losses, however, sparked internal squabbles. The ignominious failure of the supposedly perfect plan proved that Scholar Liu’s strategy was useless. Rumors spread that he was an armchair general, misleading both the court and the local populace. The gossip infuriated the already frail Liu Dalin, who had worked tirelessly for a month only to end up like this. Citing his poor health, he retired to his home to recuperate.

Magistrate Wu was furious but couldn’t stop him. He spent his days sulking and worrying. It had been nearly a month since the pirates landed, and they showed no sign of leaving. The gentry had lost faith in him, and morale in the city had collapsed. If the “Kun” bandits attacked now, the archers and militiamen would likely scatter instantly. As for the prefectural government, they had sent nothing but a letter with useless platitudes like “defend the city diligently,” and a reminder that the autumn grain tax was due, urging him to see to its collection.

“Collect grain, collect grain! Everything is a mess, what grain is there to collect!” Wu Mingjin fumed. He had no choice but to consult his private secretary.

This Secretary Wang, named Zhaomin, was a Guangdong native who had served in various prefectures and counties for years and was well-versed in local politics.

After a long pause, Secretary Wang spoke in a low voice. “Your Excellency, since we cannot drive the bandits away, our only option is to negotiate.”

“Negotiate?” The magistrate was so startled he almost jumped up and shouted “Absurd!” But years in officialdom had taught him to keep his composure.

“Will it work?”

Secretary Wang stroked his beard and smiled. “It is an expedient measure. The most pressing matter is the autumn grain. If we can just get this season’s harvest collected, all will be peaceful. As for pirates, they are rampant in Fujian and Guangdong. Why not here?”

“Yes, yes, you are right, old sir.” The magistrate felt a wave of relief, but then he frowned. “But I fear this cannot be hidden from my superiors, or from the secret police…” He glanced around nervously.

“Your Excellency need not worry,” Secretary Wang whispered. “In official matters, less is more. As long as the grain is in the granaries and the county seat is secure, why would the Prefect concern himself with this? The same goes for others. Given the ‘Kun’ bandits’ strength, they could have taken the city long ago. Why build a camp at Bairen Beach? They haven’t plundered or killed anyone in the county; they seem quite benevolent. We can consider this buying peace, just to get by for now.”

“Reasonable, very reasonable,” Wu Mingjin nodded. “But this is no small matter—”

“Rest assured, Your Excellency,” Secretary Wang said with confidence. “I suspect it is not we who are most anxious to negotiate with the ‘Kun’ bandits, but the gentry.” He lowered his voice and continued speaking.

And so it was. The gentry, worried about their harvests and with some of their own men missing after the “bandit suppression” campaign, were already eager to establish contact with the pirates. A subtle hint from Secretary Wang was all it took for them to begin making their own arrangements.

After some discussion, the gentry chose as their representative a down-on-his-luck landlord named Zhang Xingfu. His gambler father had squandered the family fortune, leaving him with only a hundred-odd mu of hillside land that depended entirely on the weather. However, his wife’s family had a distant connection to the pirate leader Liu Xiang, which gave him some sway with the various groups active in the area. He was often called upon to negotiate with pirates over ransoms and other matters. Though no one fully trusted him, they had no choice but to use him as an intermediary. He, in turn, used this position to earn a little extra on the side.

Accompanying him were stewards and distant relatives of the gentry, who were too afraid of being captured and held for ransom to go themselves. They came bearing gifts of pigs, sheep, and other presents, along with formal calling cards. On the cards, following the custom of the scholar-gentry class when addressing peers, they humbly referred to themselves as “your students.”

Less than an hour’s walk from the county town, they saw earthen ramparts and watchtowers in the distance. They had reached the pirates’ main camp. The pirates had been ashore for over a month, but the locals had only heard their name, never even their voices. They knew the pirates had crushed the county’s strongest militia in an instant, felling even Huang Shoutong. But the rumors of their good discipline offered a small measure of comfort.