Chapter 180: The Trial

“If a powerful family like the Luos can control Sanliang Market for generations, acting as the local emperors, why can’t we?” Shi Zhiqi said. “Our people will only do a better job than these traditional local tyrants!”

Of course, native personnel trained in modern administrative skills would certainly outperform the self-serving gentry clans. However, ancient society was a typical “acquaintance society,” where the label of “outsider” was very difficult to shed. A family could live in a place for two or three generations and still be considered outsiders by the locals.

Outsiders were excluded from the local social network, making it hard to gain trust. Naturally, their words carried little weight. Being few in number and weak in influence, their interests were often bullied and encroached upon.

This situation might be better in a large metropolis like Guangzhou. But in the semi-closed society of the countryside, it was extremely difficult for outsiders to peacefully seize local power.

Even in 21st-century Chinese, the term “waidiren” (outsider) carries a derogatory connotation, let alone in the 17th century, where society was far more closed off and the population barely mobile.

Without the support of a major local clan, how to settle their own people and establish sufficient authority was a question Wen Desi had been contemplating constantly.

Now, the powerful local gentry who had resisted them were ashes and dust. Most had been killed, and the rest were either hanging from the gallows or about to be. According to established operational guidelines, these individuals would be “cleansed”—a euphemism in the documents for “executed.”

Those fortunate enough to escape death—including their clansmen, distant relatives, and retainers—had all received some favor from them and were thus beneficiaries of the old system. They would all be relocated to Lingao to await “resettlement.” The People’s Committee for Civil Affairs would disperse this population across the entire island of Hainan.

After these measures were completed, the “aristocracy” of Sanliang Market would be thoroughly swept away. Newcomers, provided they had sufficient funds and strong capabilities, could easily establish authority in the area.

…

Lost in thought, he had dozed off, half-leaning in his chair. When he awoke, the sky was already bright. Wen Desi remembered the town-wide meeting scheduled for today. He quickly sat up and called for his orderly to bring water for him to wash up.

He didn’t need to personally attend the meeting, of course. A dedicated elder from the People’s Committee for Civil Affairs would handle it. Wen Desi sat in his temporary office, reading through the rapidly accumulating pile of reports and requests on his desk.

The captured militia, retainers, and servants of the gentry needed to be screened. The general principle was to punish those with public grievances against them and release the ordinary ones. However, distinguishing between a public grievance and a private grudge was a messy affair. Since early morning, a stream of people had been furtively coming to the headquarters to “denounce,” “file complaints,” or submit anonymous letters. The civil affairs team had brought a group of native personnel specifically to handle such matters.

The town-wide meeting at the threshing ground went smoothly. Wen Desi wasn’t surprised; meetings held at bayonet-point rarely went otherwise, not to mention that a hundred or so people had been hanged since yesterday. During the meeting, several liaisons were selected to be responsible for maintaining public order, handling the aftermath, and assessing the “reasonable burden” tax. Among them were Manager Chen, the innkeeper; Li Cunfa, the owner of a small straw mat business; and finally, Monk Dao Le, the abbot of the only local temple. Dao Le’s temple was a small, hereditary one with little property. Fortunately, it was the only temple in town, so he handled all business related to the non-material world, and the income was just enough for him and his disciples to get by.

These three men worked under the direct leadership of the civil affairs team. Wen Desi ordered five hundred taels of silver and several hundred shi of rice to be allocated to the team for expenses. At the same time, some of the town’s original public service organizations were reinstated. The fire-fighting guild reopened its doors, the watchmen who had gone into hiding resumed their nightly patrols, and those who had lost their homes and property in the fighting received relief rice. The civil affairs team was also preparing to distribute relief silver.

“It’s truly surprising,” said Ji Xin, the Arbitration Tribunal representative responsible for inspecting and handling legal affairs for the task force, as he watched the temporary administration get up and running. Manager Chen was in charge of security, Li Cunfa handled the economy and the “reasonable burden,” and Monk Dao Le managed the collection of bodies and charitable relief for the poor. Soon, everything became orderly. “Before I came to Guangdong, I was worried that the locals would be too afraid of government reprisal to step forward for such public liaison roles.”

In traditional Chinese society, it wasn’t considered “collaborating with the enemy” for influential local figures to step forward and maintain local affairs after a period of conflict. In fact, it could even earn them praise for “protecting their homeland.” Such people were often local gentry and large households, the very grassroots partners the government relied on for rule. Of course, when the old authorities returned, they wouldn’t be punished for their actions. Among them were genuinely upright individuals dedicated to serving the people, as well as despicable villains trying to profit from the situation and exploit the populace. The situation was complex.

At this moment, the elders had no other choice. Most of the native populace had not yet built up a basic level of trust in them, so they had to employ those who volunteered. The quality of these individuals could only be assessed through practice over time.

With local liaisons, the civil affairs team’s post-conflict work progressed rapidly. They began collecting and burying bodies, providing relief to the poor, hunting down escaped “enemies,” and repairing buildings damaged by cannon fire, both private and public. The latter was especially important—the Senate, to some extent, still subscribed to the concept of the inviolability of private property. Of course, this was on the premise that it did not interfere with the interests of the Senate and the Empire.

Liu Deshan’s residence, being heavily damaged, was among the first to be slated for repairs. A squad of marines, carrying tools and pushing carts loaded with construction materials, arrived at his house. Liu Deshan had just attended the town-wide meeting at the threshing ground that morning. Although he knew his life and property were safe for the time being, he was still apprehensive about the upcoming “reasonable burden.” When that tax was levied, it would likely be a considerable sum. In the midst of his anxiety, this squad of men suddenly appeared before his house, making him think the “Kun thieves” were coming to confiscate his property. He assumed the tools were for digging up floor tiles and tearing down walls to find “hidden treasures,” and he was frozen with fear.

“Sir, we meet again,” said the leader, an Australian who had been to his house the day before. He smiled and brandished the axe in his hand, which nearly made Liu Deshan wet his pants. “We keep our word. We’re here to help you repair your house.”

“This… uh… ah…” Before Liu Deshan could react, the marines had swarmed into his courtyard. Some immediately dismantled the makeshift door frame his servants had hastily put up yesterday and pushed in the “Zidian-Gai” wheelbarrows filled with bricks, tiles, and lime. Others skillfully set up ladders and climbed onto the roof, while some directly asked the servants for buckets to mix lime for mortar. They all set to work repairing the house with practiced ease.

Liu Deshan was utterly dumbfounded. In his mind, soldiers were all idle, lazy scoundrels, nothing more than “official bandits.” For them not to rob and kill was already a sign of strict discipline. An army that would compensate commoners for their losses after a battle and even personally help repair their houses was simply unheard of.

“To think such troops exist in this world!” Liu Deshan exclaimed repeatedly in admiration. He quickly ordered his servants to boil water and prepare tea.

“Sir, we’re out of the old tea…” a servant reported. “We used it all up yesterday.”

“You idiot! Brew the good tea!”

While Liu Deshan was busy arranging for tea, Manager Chen came to the public office, cursing and swearing as he led a group of people. The “public office” the corporal mentioned was the former militia headquarters. It had originally been a temple that, after falling into disuse, was renovated to serve as the office. It had many rooms and a spacious main hall, making it well-suited for administrative work. The detachment had set up its offices here after breaking through the stockade on October 26th.

The group was taken to a large courtyard next to the office, which now served as a temporary detention center. The side rooms were filled with people, all wearing mournful expressions.

The three of them were taken separately to another courtyard. This was the former main hall of the office, where the militia committee members had held their own private court to “try cases.” Any “suspicious person” captured by the militia in or around Sanliang Market, or any unlucky soul who had offended the masters, would be brought here for severe torture. Except for the plaques and ceremonial instruments of a government court, it had everything: a judge’s bench, instruments of torture, all fully equipped.

This place now served as a temporary military tribunal for various cases. Ji Xin, the representative from the Arbitration Tribunal, had been trying cases since morning. Most were complaints brought by local people against the former powerful clans. There were accusations of driving people to their deaths, of abducting women, of forcibly seizing property… a whole range of charges. Some came in person to submit petitions and cry for justice, while others secretly sent anonymous notes. These materials were now piled high on a table behind the bench.

Some cases no longer needed a trial, as the accused had either died during the assault on the stockade or been executed by hanging that same night. There was a particularly large number of complaints against Luo Tianqiu, whose list of crimes was a “compendium of all five poisons.” Ji Xin thought this man was a classic “evil landlord.”

Although a trial wasn’t necessary, Ji Xin still had his native staff organize all the materials, especially collecting as much witness testimony as possible. This would be excellent propaganda material for the future!

For the accused who were still alive, they were brought in for questioning one by one according to procedure. This mode of trial, which had no legal basis and no presented evidence, relying only on the two parties’ verbal arguments, made Ji Xin very uncomfortable. He had to rely on his own common sense, knowledge, ideals, and even intuition to make judgments.

Ji Xin didn’t subscribe to the theory that “the poor are inherently good, and the rich are inherently bad.” He was well aware that when a new ruler arrives, many people will take the opportunity to plunder others’ property to change their own fate. False accusations and exaggerations were bound to be common at such times.

Therefore, he paid special attention to the fairness of the trials. His oft-stated principle was: “Just because a person is guilty of one crime doesn’t mean every crime can be pinned on him.” This was at odds with the “iron fist of public security, procuratorate, and court” theory championed by Du Wen and the “law is a tool” doctrine promoted by the pragmatists.

“Liaison Chen has brought in several militia instructors,” someone reported. “These people won’t confess.”

“Oh,” Ji Xin nodded. “Of course, they won’t confess.” He was very dissatisfied with the Senate’s order to execute all militia instructors, believing it risked killing the innocent. But this was a high-level decision he couldn’t oppose.

“Bring them in for questioning,” he said, moving a stack of closed case files from his desk and opening a new one.

Qingxia and the other two were brought into the hall. The scene was as grand as a county yamen, but there were few people, and no fierce-looking bailiffs, only three or four men who looked like the Kun thieves. In the center sat a stout man, six and a half feet tall, with a square face, thick eyebrows, large earlobes, and very fair skin. He had a very official air about him, likely a high-ranking official among the Kun thieves.

Qingxia quickly pulled Jiang Suo to his knees.

“This humble woman, Qingxia, kowtows to Your Lordship—”

“No need to kneel and kowtow. Stand and speak,” the stout Kun thief said. He seemed amiable, not as fierce and imposing as a typical official. Qingxia felt a little more at ease.

“Thank you, Your Lordship.”

“No need to thank me,” the Australian actually smiled. “What are your names? Where are you from? What do you do for a living?”

Qingxia answered each question, saying only that they were a troupe of horse-riding performers and acrobats. She didn’t dare mention they had been militia instructors, claiming they were framed by Manager Chen, who was trying to seize their horses and property.

“Your Lordship, please see the truth! We are performers, homeless wanderers, and outsiders. How could we possibly be militia instructors here?” Qingxia knew that her only chance of survival was to deny everything.

Ji Xin nodded, sizing up the three individuals. The woman speaking was in her twenties, tall and well-proportioned, with large feet, clearly a martial artist. Beside her was a young man of sixteen or seventeen, short but sturdy. The third was a woman in her early thirties, with some lingering beauty, but her face was pale and she could barely stand, seemingly ill.

It was indeed hard to believe that these three were militia instructors.

“Chief!” Manager Chen immediately jumped forward. “These three were definitely militia instructors, and they even fought against you chiefs! If you don’t believe me, you can ask the captured militiamen. Some of them must know them!” He then pointed at Qingxia. “This woman even had a thing with Luo Tianqiu!”

Qingxia’s face flushed crimson with rage. As a woman performing in public, her chastity was a constant subject of suspicion and gossip. She valued it immensely and couldn’t tolerate the slightest misunderstanding. To have her virginity slandered so baselessly, she wanted to rush forward and grab Manager Chen. Only the sight of the Kun thieves’ gleaming bayonets restrained her anger. She turned, knelt, and kowtowed.

“This humble woman is indeed a virgin and has never had any involvement with Master Luo! This Manager Chen is spouting malicious slander! I beg Your Lordship to see the truth!”

Seeing the woman’s intense reaction, Ji Xin knew she was telling the truth. He glanced at Manager Chen, who had a smug look on his face. Although jurisprudence shouldn’t be about personal impressions, the behavior of these two inevitably left Ji Xin with a sense of preference and dislike.

Regardless of whether these three were militia instructors, Manager Chen clearly had ulterior motives. His attempt to extort the horses might very well be true.

“Qingxia! Whether you are a virgin or not is irrelevant to this case,” the Kun thief behind the desk said, clearly annoyed that the matter had inexplicably veered into the “virginity” issue. “You may rise. Manager Chen says you were militia instructors and fought in battle. Is this true?”

“To answer Your Lordship, absolutely not!” Qingxia denied it flatly. “We are performers. Our skills are just for show, flowery fists and embroidered kicks. How could we possibly train a militia?”

Seeing Qingxia so cleanly and firmly deny everything, Manager Chen feared the Australian would believe her. He quickly added, “Chief, they have real skills! You can ask anyone in town if you don’t believe me. This woman’s archery is superb; she can shoot a coin from a hundred paces. Luo Tianqiu specifically hired her to train the militia in archery…” He then pointed to Jiang Niang. “This woman can throw knives! And she has a fresh wound on her leg from yesterday! If she wasn’t fighting for the militia, where did she get that wound?”

This was an undeniable point. Qingxia was momentarily at a loss for how to respond.

“Is what Manager Chen says true?”

“To answer Your Lordship! We are performers and martial artists. It’s not surprising that we have some skills to make a living. You can’t just assume that because we have skills, we must be militia instructors.”

The Australian then asked Jiang Niang, “Are you injured?”

Jiang Niang didn’t dare to answer. She didn’t know whether to say yes or no. But she had limped in, supported by Qingxia, so she couldn’t deny it. She could only whisper, “This humble woman is indeed injured.”

“How were you injured?”

Qingxia quickly interjected, “To answer Your Lordship! She was accidentally injured by me during practice.”

“Chief! They are lying!” Manager Chen hadn’t expected this young woman to be so composed, calmly trying to shed all responsibility. He was furious. At this point, he no longer cared about the horses; he felt he had lost a great deal of face. He quickly produced the inn’s guest ledger.

“Chief, please look,” he said, pointing to the names in the ledger. “This group arrived in town three months ago. There were eight of them. They stayed at my inn until half a month ago, when they moved out and into the side rooms of the Luo ancestral hall. The ancestral hall is not an inn, and Luo Tianqiu is no philanthropist. Why would he let them live there for free? Your Lordship can find out the truth with a single inquiry!” he said triumphantly. “And now there are only three of them left! Where is the old man? Where is the other man? And the three children, where have they all gone?!”

Hearing this, Ji Xin knew that Manager Chen was not lying. He nodded silently and asked:

“Is what Manager Chen says true?”