Chapter 40: Tōtarō's Conspiracy

“I wouldn’t dare…” Ning Liujin nodded repeatedly.

“Here are your twenty-five dollars. Take them for now,” the man said. “After this is done, you’ll get another hundred!” With that, he tossed a money pouch, and he and his men left, leaving Ning Liujin standing stunned among the rocks.

The leader of the group was none other than Tōtarō.

After escaping the ambush, he found a secluded spot, buried Zheng Zhilong’s head, and marked the location. He then stripped off his tattered clothes, discarded them, and changed into a set he had taken from a corpse on the road. He hid his weapons and quietly returned to the vicinity of Zhongzuosuo, where he happened to encounter the “White Horse” team on a pacification mission. Having lived in China for many years, he spoke fluent Southern Min and had long since grown his hair into a topknot. During the interrogation of prisoners, he lied and claimed to be a routed Zheng army soldier and was sent to the “B” section of the POW camp—a camp specifically for ordinary members of the Zheng clan.

He had always been by Zheng Zhilong’s side, and many of the mid-to-high-level officers and those close to Zheng Zhilong knew him. However, few of the common soldiers and sailors recognized him. In the past, he had worn a European-style uniform and had the air of a dashing Japanese samurai. Now, in his tattered clothes, with his hair deliberately disheveled and his face haggard, he managed to fool them.

In the camp, he found several other former members of the Japanese guard who had also concealed their identities and made contact with them. Tōtarō was a very capable leader, and they were not only of the same ethnicity but also of the same clan, their internal unity far stronger than that of the average person. Tōtarō quickly took command of these men and began to operate in secret.

He gathered these men not just for a simple escape. Shortly after being captured, he had learned from the other prisoners that Zheng Zhilong’s eldest son, Zheng Sen, had also been captured by the Kunzei. These important prisoners were all being held in the “A” section, two li away.

The “B” section of the POW camp, housing only low-level soldiers and sailors, often sent out teams for various odd jobs. As long as the prisoners behaved well, were willing to work, and showed a “positive attitude towards the Senate,” they could gradually earn a small wooden tag to hang around their necks and be moved to the labor camp, where they would have greater freedom of movement.

Tōtarō and his men worked hard and soon earned their wooden tags, moving to the labor camp. With their newfound freedom, they began to secretly gather information. One day, while working, he ran into an acquaintance, a servant from Zheng Zhilong’s mansion. He told Tōtarō that he had seen Fukumatsu being captured by the Kunzei and taken to a special POW camp for “nobles.” Recently, they had even brought in several of his former servants to attend to him in the camp.

After receiving this important news, Tōtarō was both shocked and overjoyed. To protect his own secret, he secretly lured the servant to the seaside, killed him, and threw his body into the sea. Tōtarō then used his work assignments as an opportunity to retrieve his hidden wakizashi and some valuables for his operations. He was very familiar with the entire island of Xiamen and knew of a very secluded reef cave by the sea, which he used as his base of operations.

Although he knew Fukumatsu was in the “A” section, they couldn’t get in. A rescue by force was out of the question. Since they couldn’t “break in,” they had to find a way to “lure him out.” So, he set his sights on the few laborers who could enter and leave the “A” section. Ning Liujin was young, and Tōtarō believed he would be easier to “persuade”—and a young person was less likely to arouse the suspicion of the Kunzei.

The “persuasion” of Ning Liujin went smoothly. Tōtarō didn’t think Ning Liujin was likely to report him, but to be cautious, he still sent one of his men to keep an eye on him.

Sure enough, after returning to the labor camp, Ning Liujin continued to work. Although he seemed a bit dazed, the man tailing him saw no signs of him reporting to the authorities.

That evening, Ning Liujin went to the administration office to collect the military grain tickets. As their number one prisoner of war, Zheng Sen, along with Zheng Zhilong’s wife Dong-shi and other most important prisoners, enjoyed special provisions. They did not eat the relief grain or fish porridge but were supplied with rice, fresh vegetables, and fish and shrimp, and even had a daily ration of tea—a treatment almost on par with that of high-ranking Fubo Army officers.

Ning Liujin collected the rice, tea, salt, and other items from the supply depot, loaded them onto a “Zidian” handcart, and halfway there, a short man appeared beside him. It was one of the men from before.

“My name is Wang Dachui,” he introduced himself simply. “I’m going with you.”

Ning Liujin dared not refuse. He could only give him a few instructions, telling him to pull the cart from the front while he pushed from behind.

The two of them, pushing and pulling, arrived at the gate of the “A” section. The guard on duty already knew Ning Liujin, but he still checked his wooden tag as per regulations. He then tilted his chin and asked, “Who is this?”

“He’s helping me push the cart. It’s heavy today, I can’t push it alone,” Ning Liujin said cautiously. “He has a tag.” He then quickly called out, “Wang Dachui! Show the officer your tag…”

The man named Wang Dachui quickly put on a broad smile, took the tag from his neck, and showed it to the sentry for inspection, bowing and scraping. Although only Ning Liujin had permission to enter the camp, the sentry apparently saw no harm in this laborer helping to pull a cart inside. He didn’t say anything more, just carefully inspected the cargo on the cart. To prevent theft, tampering, or poisoning during transport, such goods were packed in special transport boxes sealed with wax.

“Go on in,” the sentry said, waving them through.

Ning Liujin’s heart had been in his throat. Seeing that the sentry didn’t question the extra person, he quickly said his thanks and pushed the cart inside.

“Wang Dachui” was one of Tōtarō’s Japanese mercenaries. He spoke fluent Southern Min and was quick-witted and eloquent. Upon entering the “A” section, he quietly observed his surroundings. The camp was surrounded by barbed wire, with watchtowers and sentries, looking very secure. Inside, however, it was quite relaxed. Tents and straw huts were arranged on both sides of the road, and the captured families lived together as units. Although their faces were filled with sorrow, they looked otherwise normal and not haggard. Their clothes were clean and tidy. It was clear the Kunzei were treating them quite well. Most reassuringly, there were no Kunzei soldiers patrolling inside the camp.

The two of them pushed the cart to the main kitchen, delivered the goods, and got a receipt. Ning Liujin wanted to leave as soon as possible. He picked up the cart and was about to leave with Wang Dachui, but Wang Dachui shook his head slightly.

“Take me to Fukumatsu!”

A cramp shot through Ning Liujin’s calf. “M… my lord… this… this is too risky…”

“Are you going or not? If you don’t, I’ll go and confess that you and I were plotting to kidnap Fukumatsu,” Wang Dachui said with a smirk. “I’m not afraid to die. Are you?”

Ning Liujin was scared out of his wits. He knew he was in too deep. He secretly regretted not reporting them earlier. Now that he had brought the man in, he could no longer clear his name. If he was found out now, the Kunzei would surely not spare him. He had no choice but to agree.

Fukumatsu’s tent was set up in a corner of the camp. Although he was young, his status was different, so he occupied a separate tent, living with the female servant and a young male attendant who served him.

Ning Liujin led Wang Dachui to Fukumatsu’s tent. He didn’t dare to go in himself and just stood outside as a lookout.

He could faintly hear Wang Dachui and Fukumatsu speaking in a language he didn’t understand. He was terrified and felt as if their conversation would never end. Every time there was a sound on the road, he thought it was an Australian sentry coming to arrest him. Cold sweat dripped from his forehead.

He suffered through this state of constant alarm until Wang Dachui finally came out. Only then did Ning Liujin breathe a sigh of relief and quickly led him out of the labor camp.

Wang Dachui quietly returned to the labor camp. Although entry and exit were free during the day, a roll call was held at the beginning of the night watch, after which the camp gates were closed. Anyone absent from the roll call was considered to have escaped, and the punishment was severe. There were also surprise roll calls at night, so Tōtarō and his men dared not stay out.

However, once the gates were closed, it was basically the laborers’ own world. The sentries and supervisors did not interfere in their daily lives. In the labor camp, there were small stalls set up by the Kunzei’s camp followers, selling daily necessities, as well as tobacco and alcohol. The alcohol was a very light fruit wine, and they also served snacks to go with it—clams and razor clams gathered from the sea, boiled in salt water, and served with some boiled soybeans. If you were willing to pay a little more, you could also buy grilled fish, shrimp, and oysters, seasoned with something unknown that smelled incredibly fragrant.

Although the laborers in the camp were essentially forced labor, the Kunzei issued them a small amount of “circulation coupons” every day. Those who behaved well and worked hard could earn more. As a result, the small stalls did a brisk business.

Tōtarō and his men rarely went to the stalls to drink; the owner and the workers were all Kunzei’s men. But drinking was a good excuse for a meeting. So, he had someone buy some wine and snacks, and they sat on the ground outside their straw hut, talking under the guise of drinking.

“Did you see Fukumatsu?”

“I saw him,” Wang Dachui said. His family name was Honda, but he refused to reveal his full name. The Chinese called him Old Ben. The Japanese mercenaries, however, probably knew he had once been a samurai of a domain. People like him, nine times out of ten, had ended up overseas because of their Catholic faith. But Honda never prayed, nor did he wear a cross; he was not a believer at all.

“Young Master Fukumatsu is in good health,” Honda said. “I told him about our plan to rescue him.”

“What did he say…”

“He only said to wait for good news.”

“Hmm!” Tōtarō nodded forcefully. “As expected of the young master.” He took a sip of wine and asked again, “What kind of man do you think the young master is?”

“What kind of man is he…” Honda thought for a moment and said, “Very decisive, and of a stubborn nature.”