Chapter 42: Peace Talks (Part 1)

The group approached the earthen rampart with a mixture of fear and curiosity. The gate was closed, but to their surprise, there was no drawbridge over the moat. Instead, a section of the road had been left intact—a practical necessity, as a drawbridge could not have supported the weight of the heavy machinery that frequently moved in and out of the camp.

They stopped an arrow’s flight away and hailed the gate. It seemed their arrival was expected, as someone answered immediately. Zhang Youfu, a veteran of many dealings with pirates, could speak some Mandarin, Cantonese, and Minnan. The pirate at the gate spoke a strange, hybrid form of Mandarin, but they managed to communicate. After Zhang Youfu stated their purpose, the gate opened, and a dozen men emerged.

Zhang Youfu was accustomed to the ostentatious displays of power that pirate chieftains often used to intimidate negotiators. But this group was different. Only a dozen men came out, all dressed in simple, short green garments, carrying muskets with bayonets. The leader, in the center, was indistinguishable from his men, save for a certain air of command. His appearance, his demeanor, his speech—all were gentle and refined, without a trace of the brutish outlaw.

“To think the chieftain of the ‘Kun’ bandits is so unassuming,” Zhang Youfu marveled.

The man, who introduced himself as Xi Yazhou, was polite. He did not invite them into the stockade but had chairs and benches brought out for them to sit on the riverbank. Others brought wooden bowls and buckets of water for the porters.

The items brought for Zhang Youfu and his companions made their eyes widen: glass cups! Even on Hainan Island, they knew the value of glassware. Two or three taels of silver could buy a colored glass bowl, but a crystal-clear glass cup like this was a rare treasure.

The contents of the cups were less impressive: a small white paper bag floated in the water, slowly dyeing it a pale green and releasing a faint, tea-like aroma.

“What a grand display,” Zhang Youfu thought, a mixture of pleasure and worry. The high-end items suggested sincerity, but also a high price for the negotiations to come.

Xi Yazhou spoke some Cantonese, and they exchanged pleasantries. Then, a roar from inside the gate announced the arrival of a small, four-wheeled vehicle, causing a stir among the locals. The news of the ‘Kun’ bandits’ horseless carriages had already spread through the city, sparking wild speculation.

Zhang Youfu knew that those who rode in such vehicles were high-ranking chieftains. He quickly stood, trembling.

The men who emerged from the vehicle were dressed in the same simple attire as the others. Then, a few more people walked over, including a bald man in local homespun clothes, presumably a local who had joined the bandits.

The interpreter, Xiong Buyou, spoke the Lingao dialect with a strange accent, but his meaning was clear. Xi Yazhou explained that they were not pirates, but Chinese merchants who had lived overseas and had returned to their home country to start a business. (Xiao Zishan chuckled to himself: “When did we become ‘sea turtles’?”) Since arriving in Lingao, he said, they had not harassed the people or opposed the government. His tone then hardened as he accused the local “vicious gentry” of organizing militias to attack them without cause, forcing them to act in self-defense. He reserved the right to take further action.

Zhang Youfu was obsequious, praising their non-disturbance of the populace. He presented the gift list: one hundred taels of fine silver, eight bolts of bright red satin, twenty bolts of assorted silk, twenty bolts of Songjiang cotton cloth, ten dan of assorted grains, two pigs, four suckling pigs, one dressed deer, and two hundred jin of wine. Xi Yazhou read the list and passed it to the others. Seeing that the items were all useful, he smiled.

“We have caused much disturbance by building our fortress here. How can we accept such a generous gift? But to refuse would be to disrespect the kindness of you gentlemen. In that case, we have no choice but to accept it all. We are truly unworthy.”

Seeing him accept the gifts, Zhang Youfu brought up the gentry’s requests: first, that they not plunder the farmers during the upcoming autumn harvest; second, that they ransom the captured men; and third, that they return the bodies of those killed in the last battle.

He promised that if they agreed, the county’s gentry were willing to “assist with provisions and funds.” The specific amount could be negotiated.

Xi Yazhou nodded politely but did not answer. He conferred with Wen Desi and the others. They agreed that the matter was too important for a few of them to decide, but that they should respond positively to the other side’s de-escalation.

Xi Yazhou returned and agreed to the return of the bodies and the release of a few of the wounded and disabled captives. The other two points, he said, required further discussion. He asked Zhang Youfu to return the next day.

Zhang Youfu had not expected to settle everything in one go. He was pleased with their ready agreement to return the bodies. The remaining issues, he thought, were just a matter of price, a cost the gentry would bear. His own reward for a successful negotiation would be substantial, and he would have established a connection with this powerful new group.

Before he left, Xi Yazhou, following Wen Desi’s instructions, gave Zhang Youfu a freshwater pearl necklace, originally priced at twenty-five RMB, and gave each porter fifty wen as a reward. Everyone was satisfied.

Magistrate Wu and the city’s officials and gentry were anxiously awaiting Zhang Youfu’s return. They were surprised to hear of the ‘Kun’ bandits’ willingness to return the bodies and their leaders’ unassuming demeanor.

In the past, even a dead captive’s family would have to pay a hefty ransom to retrieve the body. This time, they had agreed so readily. The villages hurriedly gathered men and made simple coffins. The next day, they came with carts loaded with coffins, reed mats, and bags of lime. The transmigrators provided a guide to the burial site and then withdrew, leaving only observers with high-powered binoculars to watch from a distance.

Xi Yazhou and a few others watched from the watchtower. Through the binoculars, they could see the villagers, their faces and hands wrapped in cloth, digging. With each exhumed body, women, children, and the elderly would rush forward to identify it. Some wailed and beat the ground; others fainted. After a while, he couldn’t bear it anymore. He had never thought much of killing in battle, but the gruesome aftermath was deeply unsettling.

“We should have just cremated them all,” he said. The bodies, buried for over ten days, were mostly decomposed and unrecognizable.

“Burning the bodies would have earned us their hatred,” Xiao Zishan said, refusing to look through the binoculars. “That would be like ‘destroying the bones and scattering the ashes.’ This way, the families can at least give them a proper burial. It’s a way of winning hearts and minds.”

After the battle, the sanitation team had suggested either cremating the bodies or dumping them at sea. Most had agreed. But Yu E’shui had objected, arguing that the ancients held the bodies of the dead in high regard. “Collecting the bones” was a sign of benevolence. Destroying the bodies would damage their image. And so, the bodies had been buried. The many doubts about why the grandiloquent Yu E’shui deserved a seat on the Executive Committee vanished after this.

It took a whole day for the villages to collect all the bodies. Some of the dead, the “dregs” of their villages, were unclaimed. They were collected by the county’s charity hall and buried in a common grave.