Chapter 181: Ji Xin's Verdict

“My father, Uncle Zhou, and the three young apprentices were separated when the stockade fell!” Qingxia said.

Seeing that Manager Chen was about to say more, Ji Xin, having grasped the gist of the matter, waved his hand. “Since there’s an injury, take her to the doctor for treatment first.”

He then ordered Qingxia and her group to be taken into custody, and all their belongings to be sent to the public office. Manager Chen, having caused a scene without gaining anything tangible, felt a sense of relief but also a nagging worry. He feared that if the Australians were somehow swayed by this woman, he would be the one in trouble. He returned home with an uneasy heart.

Ji Xin summoned one of his native clerks, handed him the materials, and instructed him to immediately investigate Manager Chen’s claims among the prisoners. Then he moved on to the next case.

A little over two hours later, the clerk returned. Ji Xin listened to his report. As expected, everything Manager Chen had said was true: Qingxia and the young man named Jiang Suo had served as militia instructors and had fought on the watchtower. Someone even mentioned Qingxia’s remarkable archery and that Luo Tianqiu had gifted her a bow.

As for Jiang Niang, she and a man from their troupe surnamed Zhou had led militiamen to fight the Australians. The man, Zhou, was killed in the melee. The medical report from the temporary hospital also confirmed that Jiang Niang’s wound was indeed from a bayonet—a weapon no native forces used, making the claim of an accidental practice injury impossible.

The clerk’s competence far exceeded his expectations. He had not only verified the information and collected testimony but had also located Qingxia’s father and the three young apprentices. They were all being held in the prisoner-of-war camp.

Ji Xin reviewed the report. It seemed that Qingxia’s father, who hadn’t been involved in the fighting, and the three young apprentices, who were at most ordinary militiamen with no public grievances against them, could all be released. As for Qingxia, Jiang Suo, and Jiang Niang, according to the current regulations, they were all facing execution.

At this thought, Ji Xin couldn’t help but feel a pang of pity. These people’s deaths seemed so unjust. They were just trying to make a living and hadn’t even reached the lowest rung of the “vested interest” group, yet they were to be buried alongside the Luo family. However, the fact that they had acted as militia instructors and directly participated in the battle was undeniable.

He went to discuss the matter with Wen Desi, wanting to gauge his attitude.

“If you’re asking for my opinion, it’s clear,” Wen Desi said. “Follow the regulations.”

Following the regulations meant execution. He then smiled slightly. “Are the two girls good-looking?”

“They are decent-looking,” Ji Xin answered honestly. “But I feel it’s a bit unfair to them… The martial arts masters executed yesterday had at least received a few months’ pay. These people haven’t even received a single month’s wages. They just got a few days of free lodging and food from the Luo family…”

“If they hadn’t directly participated in the fighting, I wouldn’t care whether they were executed or not,” Wen Desi said. “But since they did fight, and that little minx might have even wounded our men, letting them off so easily would be too lenient. Of course, you are the head of the military tribunal now. The verdict is yours to decide. I will absolutely not interfere.”

“You have a point,” Ji Xin nodded. He had a great deal of discretionary power in this matter, but he feared that exercising it would undermine his long-held principle of “equality before the law.” Yet, he found it difficult to simply order their execution.

Wen Desi suddenly chuckled. “It’s not a problem if you’ve taken a fancy to these two women…”

“No, I absolutely have not taken a fancy to them—”

“Alright, old brother, stop deceiving yourself. If this group were all burly men, would you be so conflicted? You’d probably just sigh and be done with it. We’re all men; I understand that bit of compassion for a beautiful woman!” Wen Desi said. “This group is mostly women and children—and what we lack in Lingao is women and children. I suggest you treat them as militiamen with no public grievances, spare them death, and sentence them to servitude.”

In the temporary hospital, Jiang Niang’s wound was cleaned. The medic, seeing the severe inflammation, not only applied anti-inflammatory powder but also had her take sulfa pills orally.

Jiang Niang was sent to the building where they were being held—a large hall filled with many prisoners. Qingxia and the others were in a corner. Qingxia’s father and the three young apprentices had already been brought there. Just as they were weeping in each other’s arms, they saw Jiang Niang return. The group felt a mix of joy and sorrow: their entire troupe was finally reunited in this turmoil, but Uncle Zhou was dead.

“I don’t know what the Kun thieves will do to us,” Qingxia said, wiping away her tears. “Once they start asking around, they’ll know everything about us. The people here won’t necessarily cover for us.”

“What can they do? The worst is death,” Jiang Suo said, still with his fearless demeanor.

“I think, next time we’re in court, we should just confess everything honestly,” her father sighed. “And beg the Australian masters for mercy. I think they conduct themselves justly and treat the common people well. We’re just performers; they don’t have to kill us.”

“Haven’t you seen enough officials using commoners’ heads to make a point?” Jiang Suo grumbled, dissatisfied. “I’d rather die than beg for my life.”

“If you want to die so badly, then go die!” the old man flared up. Having lived a long life, he knew the value of it. He scolded Jiang Suo, “Your head isn’t a turnip in the field; it won’t grow back if it’s cut off! You’re so young, why are you in such a hurry to die?”

Jiang Suo fell silent, feeling wronged. He had been firmly against working for the Luo family from the start. It was his senior sister who had been willing, and the master who had tacitly agreed, that led to this situation.

But saying this now would solve nothing and only cause more pain. Jiang Suo kept his mouth shut. Like most in the troupe, he had no family ties and nothing to leave behind. Yet, even as he claimed not to fear death, the thought of being hanged, kicking his legs as he suffocated, sent a chill down his spine.

“Stop daydreaming!” said a mournful-looking militiaman nearby. “Just the fact that you served Master Luo… Luo Tianqiu as militia instructors is enough to get you hanged. The Australians are good to the common folk, but if you’ve ever picked up a weapon against them, they show no mercy when they kill. The three instructors hanged yesterday were tempted by Master Luo’s monthly pay of eighteen taels of silver. And now? They’ve left their families behind—and since they’re from out of town, their families probably don’t even know they’re dead…”

Qingxia cried, “If I had known, I would have just given the horses to that black-hearted Manager Chen. I had to be stubborn, and now I’ve doomed everyone…”

Seeing her cry so sorrowfully, Jiang Suo also felt a sense of gloom, not knowing what to say. The thought of dying here for nothing was suffocating.

The others also felt a sense of hopelessness, and the three young apprentices began to cry as well. The hall was already filled with a gloomy atmosphere, and this set off a chain reaction. Soon, everyone was weeping, turning the large hall into a funeral parlor. It took a marine guard shouting at them seven or eight times to finally stop the crying. The crowd fell silent, their heads bowed.

The return of Jiang Niang brought a small measure of relief. They quickly laid her down on a straw mat. They heard the Kun thieves had re-dressed her wound, and now it was no longer swollen and painful, and her forehead wasn’t as hot.

“Senior sister,” Jiang Suo whispered, “don’t cry. I don’t think the Kun thieves will kill us… If they wanted to kill us, why would they treat Jiang Niang’s wound?”

Early the next morning, a clerk came to summon someone, saying the military tribunal was continuing its session. He called Qingxia’s name and was about to take her away. Fearing she would be tortured, Jiang Suo, worried for his female senior sister, quickly asked to go in her stead.

“You don’t need to go. It’s none of your business,” the clerk said flatly and led Qingxia away.

In the courtroom, Ji Xin presented the testimony of multiple witnesses, as well as the bow found in her luggage. Qingxia could no longer deny it. She knelt on the floor, begging for mercy, explaining that her father had been ill and they had fallen into high-interest debt with the Luo family. Later, having received Luo Tianqiu’s favor, she had no choice but to serve as a militia instructor.

“…Your Lordship, please understand, this humble woman truly had no choice. In short, I was foolish and couldn’t distinguish between good and evil…” As she spoke, she thought of Luo Tianqiu hanging on the gallows, and a pang of sorrow struck her heart. A few hot tears fell. “All the decisions were mine. I implicated everyone in my troupe. I will bear all the blame. I beg Your Lordship not to involve the innocent…”

“It’s good that you know you were foolish.” Seeing her cry so pitifully, like a pear blossom in the rain, Ji Xin felt a ripple in his heart, which had been as still as an old well. He quickly composed himself and ordered her to be taken away.

He then drafted the verdict: Jiang Suo, Jiang Niang, and the three young apprentices were found guilty. As they had served the Luo family for a short time and had no public grievances against them, their sentences were reduced by one degree. They were sentenced to seven years of indentured servitude and were to be sent to Lingao immediately to await assignment. The old troupe leader had not participated in the battle nor served as a militiaman and was acquitted.

Their personal luggage and belongings were protected as private property and could be taken with them to Lingao. Their weapons were confiscated. The troupe’s common property was returned to the troupe leader.

All that remained was Qingxia. Ji Xin had wanted to spare her, but the testimony against her was overwhelmingly damning. Not only did several militiamen testify to her brave fighting on the watchtower, but someone had seen her shoot several marines, one of whom seemed to be an officer—likely Shi Zhiqi.

With such a crime, even if President Wen agreed to use his power of pardon to spare her life, many in the Senate would vehemently object. From the perspective of legal justice, it would be impossible to justify—why should she be spared when other militia instructors who also participated in the resistance were executed? They too had only been there for a month or two and had no significant public grievances against them.

Ji Xin sighed deeply and signed the death sentence.

“In the name of the Senate and the People, I order the necessary disposition of the following personnel.”

He signed his name below the sentence. A sense of exhausted powerlessness washed over him, just as it had when he lost his wife. Sometimes, human effort cannot overcome fate; sometimes, it cannot fight against society. At this thought, Ji Xin shed a tear.

The cleanup work in Sanliang Market lasted for a week. During this time, fewer people were killed, but a great deal of goods were acquired, and the “reasonable burden” tax was fully collected. Wen Desi left with a large amount of spoils and prisoners, and also established an “underground government” in Sanliang Market.

This underground government was fronted by Li Cunfa and Monk Dao Le. Their actions in dealing with the Australians, managing supplies, and collecting bodies over the past few days had earned them the recognition of the local populace. The innkeeper, Manager Chen, one of the original three liaisons, was executed the day before the withdrawal for repeated extortion, after being reported by others. At Ji Xin’s request, his body was not displayed after the execution but was immediately collected and cremated.

The real power in the underground government was a sleeper cell sent by the Foreign Intelligence Bureau. They had quietly entered Dongguan, and many of the contracts and deeds seized from the eliminated gentry in Sanliang Market had been secretly transferred to them. Once the situation calmed down, the sleeper agents could openly use these deeds to take over the properties. The long arm of the transmigrators was thus extending into the villages and towns of the Pearl River Delta, with the ultimate goal of “poisoning” and “reforming” from the grassroots level.

The task force’s large-scale raids in the Pearl River Delta plunged Guangzhou into unprecedented chaos and turmoil. A flurry of true and false reports flew into the city, causing great panic and leading to a mass exodus of wealthy families. Li Fengjie had originally been urging Xu Tingfa and others to strengthen their defenses, preparing to fight the Kun thieves before negotiating peace. He never expected that the Kun thieves would bypass his heavily fortified Wuyong batteries and instead raid everywhere. Urgent reports from various counties flew into Guangzhou like snowflakes.

There was news of villages and towns being captured, of prominent gentry being killed, and of “taxes” being forcibly levied. When the news that the Dongguan county magistrate had been forced to pay a “ransom” to the Kun thieves reached his ears, Li Fengjie, instead of being angry, felt a slight sense of relief—at least the county seat was saved. If the Kun thieves had captured it, the situation would have been even more embarrassing.

The official army was as timid as a mouse before the enemy and completely useless in protecting the people. Even the formidable local militias were routed by the Kun thieves. In a series of battles at Shawan, Sanliang, Daojiao, and Dafeng, the joint-village militia forces were utterly defeated by Kun thief forces that were only a quarter or even a fifth of their size. The original hope that the villages could defend themselves and use a scorched-earth policy to force the Kun thieves to retreat due to lack of supplies had been dashed. Now, not only were the Kun thieves capturing large amounts of loot, but the villages they passed through were also forced to provide them with supplies. With such ample provisions, they could stay as long as they pleased.

At his wit’s end, Li Fengjie made a desperate move. He dispatched Chen Qian, the commander of the Humen garrison, with two thousand newly recruited waterborne troops to seek out and destroy the Kun thieves’ small boat squadrons. However, the moment they left Wuyong, they were caught by a squadron of special service boats on patrol. The eight special service boats attacked the hastily assembled fleet of converted salt and rice boats. After the first volley of cannon fire, the waterborne troops began to abandon their ships and flee. In the ensuing battle, the disorganized mob had no will to fight and simply fled for their lives. Chen Qian’s flagship was soon exposed to the special service boats’ cannons. Under intense fire, the ship caught fire, and he nearly lost his life, saved only by the timely rescue of his personal guards.

This battle completely shattered Li Fengjie’s hopes for a naval engagement. Neither the official navy nor the recruited waterborne troops were any match for the Kun thieves’ firepower. His last hope now rested on Li Luoyou, who had secretly gone to Macau to negotiate with the Portuguese for mercenaries. But so far, there had been no word from him.

Macau, the Jesuit Society.

“Mr. Lando has returned?” Geronimo asked with a frown.

“Yes, he says he has urgent matters to report to the President.”

“Let him in.” Geronimo remembered recently reading a letter from Nicolas Trigault, which, besides praising how “the light of God has shone upon his dark soul,” also mentioned that the Italian scoundrel was in poor health, languishing in the Australians’ hospital, and would likely be summoned by the Lord soon.

It had only been two months. How could he have recovered so quickly? Geronimo was highly skeptical. He picked up an ivory ball and played with it in his hand.

Lando walked in, still dressed in his stylish attire. He looked very well, with no sign of illness, making Geronimo question Trigault’s powers of observation.

He knelt and kissed the President’s ring, then stood up respectfully.

“Your Excellency, I have important news to report.”

Geronimo nodded to his servant, who immediately disappeared behind a curtain.

“My child, what news do you have that is so urgent?” Geronimo was somewhat displeased. Although Lando was capable and had served the Jesuit Society well, he was, after all, only the secular attendant of a priest. Even if he had important news, he should have reported it to Trigault or Ruggieri first, who would then report to him. Such a breach of protocol was far too presumptuous.

This scoundrel must have gotten hold of some news he considered extremely important to act this way.

“The Chinese officials in Guangzhou are plotting against Macau.”

“What did you say?!” Geronimo’s hand trembled, and the ivory ball nearly slipped from his grasp.

Although Geronimo was not a member of the Macau Municipal Council, he was one of the most powerful men in the city. Nothing could be hidden from him. He knew that recently, an envoy from Guangzhou, representing the Ming officials, had been negotiating for Portuguese help in suppressing the “Australian pirates” wreaking havoc in the Pearl River.