Chapter Fifty-Six: Unable to Swallow

People often say that the road to the county yamen is fraught with danger.

When Liu Chengzong and his companions pushed their cart toward the yamen, they were robbed on the banks of the Yan River outside the city. The robbers, if they could be called brave, were only six in number, daring to confront their party of four.

They wore the look of men born to hardship; the leader carried a tasseled spear, wore a leather belt, and jingling bells at his waist—most likely dismissed couriers from the post stations. They claimed to seek only money, not lives, and demanded the goods from the cart.

Liu Chengzong’s uncle, Cai Zhongpan—who, judging by the wanted posters, was a god of war—reached for his pistol, but Liu Chengzong stopped him. In the past, roadside robbery would have marked them as scoundrels, but here in Shaanxi, in these times, it was simply how the poor fought for survival.

And these men did not kill, nor did they threaten to slaughter like beasts if refused. Their business was human business.

Liu Chengzong led his uncle and the others aside, letting the robbers lift the plain cloth from the cart and take what they wanted. But when the six men uncovered the cloth and saw the densely packed heads beneath, five of them fled in terror. Only one remained, his legs turned to jelly. He forced a smile, set down his hatchet, steadied himself on the cart for a moment, and then slowly backed away.

Receiving their commendation at the county yamen was no trouble. The reward was ten official papers, exemption from miscellaneous labor for five years, and the right to build a righteous citizen’s archway in their hometown—though they could not afford it. The honor of the ninth-rank cap and robe meant a green court uniform and black hat, carrying the social status of a ninth-rank official, though without any actual position.

While Liu Chengzong was being commended, his uncle visited the office scribe, Zhang Pan. When he emerged from the yamen, Cai Zhongpan was already waiting on the street.

“Did you receive your official robes?” he asked.

Liu Chengzong nodded. “Uncle, why did Scribe Zhang want to see you?”

“Nothing major. The southern trade route has reopened, and the prefect’s yamen has recently raised some silver by selling these honors. They’re organizing a merchant convoy to Weibei to bring back grain.” He referred to the ninth-rank honors. “He knows I used to protect caravans in Weibei and asked about the journey. I’ll send Rujie along to fetch your aunt back.”

Liu Chengzong nodded, but his thoughts were on the grain. “How long will it take to buy grain and return?”

“Round trip is five hundred li. At best, half a month. With grain to transport, and if all goes well, a month.”

Liu Chengzong thought that perhaps he could lay claim to some of this grain.

Upon leaving the city, only Guo Zhashi, Cai Zhongpan, and Cai’s brother-in-law, Chen Rujie, remained with Liu Chengzong. One was a loyal follower with nowhere else to go, one was his uncle, and the last, his uncle’s brother-in-law who had fled with him—each could be trusted. Moreover, his uncle was wanted in the south, not at all like his father and elder brother who still harbored hope for the court.

When the official road was empty, Liu Chengzong turned to his uncle. “Uncle, the clan elders sit and debate in the mountains, but in the end, each seeks his own survival. My father has no better plan. What do you think?”

“Don’t worry yourself so much,” Cai Zhongpan replied, more sanguine than Liu Chengzong expected. “Don’t force yourself like your father, who’s nearly crushed by the weight. When the boat reaches the bridge, it will naturally straighten.”

He smiled. “Your uncle is a killer at heart. If I can’t feed everyone in the mountains, I’ll just turn to hired blades for private revenge. You won’t starve.”

It was true. Even in a year of famine, a strong man who flouted the law could, until he met an untimely end, keep his family fed. The length of that time depended only on luck.

“But I want to feed everyone in the mountain.”

Cai Zhongpan laughed, though with a trace of bitterness. “Don’t be foolish, Lion Cub. With what will you feed them all?”

“By robbing.”

Cai Zhongpan pointed at Liu Chengzong but said nothing, pushing the empty cart ahead. After a dozen steps, he set it down and spoke solemnly. “Your Liu family is a respectable scholarly household. Your father would rather starve than be a thief. That’s the first thing.”

“Second, look around—nothing but barren earth. Whom would you rob? Those six thieves? All you’d get is a rusty hatchet, like today.”

Liu Chengzong was equally earnest. “I’ve thought long about this. My father’s decisions are correct and good in every way—but they cannot keep people alive.”

“The carpenter’s son died. He saw thieves in his family’s fields, went mad, and rushed to chase them off, only to be cut down three times. Why? He’d only trained for two days—didn’t know the military codes that would have saved him.”

“Why only two days’ training? Because of the busy farm season. Morning drills were cut.”

“In Xingping there were one hundred and ten households. First four fled, then six more. Dozens who left either starved or were killed. If more bandits come, more clansmen will die.”

Liu Chengzong could not bear to see any more of his kin die within the five degrees of relation.

He straightened his neck. “I have studied. I know a scholar must cultivate righteous spirit, strive for virtue, and serve the court and country without fear of death.”

“But people must eat to live. I joined the army and was a good soldier, but the court gave me no pay—I could not fill my bowl. I returned home to be a law-abiding commoner, but with the land allotted by the clan, I still could not feed my family. Even after selling everything to buy more land, still I could not fill my bowl.”

“It’s not that I was born rebellious or ungrateful. It’s not that I haven’t tried. I have a body full of martial skills—why should I live as a soldier without pay or a farmer without grain?”

Cai Zhongpan had no reply. He too had been a soldier, returned home when wages vanished, seeking little more than a peaceful life. If his wife and children could eat well, have white flour on occasion, some soy milk in the morning, a little wine at night, he would be content to do whatever the court commanded. Only a fool would want to be the war god from the wanted posters.

Wang Zuo let bandits ravage Sanyuan; the northern city was defenseless, and the gentry raised volunteer soldiers to protect their homes. They fought the bandits for three months, ready to die if only the court would care for their families. But in the end, the militiamen who fought bravely were killed by government troops for taking bandit heads as trophies. No true man could bear such a thing.

It ended in exile.

“It shouldn’t be this way,” Cai Zhongpan muttered.

Liu Chengzong shook his head, hand resting on the lime-dusted cart. “Now I’ve decided. Only robbery remains—not from the poor, for the poor have no grain and it is a waste of life. The target must be the wealthy—those who possess a thousand stones of grain in a single raid.”

“They’re either in the city or behind walled enclosures outside. We can’t besiege them blindly like starving peasants. We must choose those country forts far from the prefectural city, prepare carts loaded with gunpowder, and find caves five or six li apart along the route for storing grain.”

“We’ll strike by night, masked, using false names. If we can scale the walls, good; if not, we’ll blow them open. No need for senseless slaughter—take half the money and grain, distribute the rest to the poor around the enclosure. If the owner is a good man, the people will spare him. If he’s a villain, they’ll not let him live.”

He raised a finger. “Just once. One strike. After that, the people of Black Dragon Mountain can leave the fields and survive in whatever way they choose.”

“Lion Cub, even if your plan is flawless, have you thought what will happen if something goes wrong?”

At this, Liu Chengzong remembered the time he was extorted by Chief Zhang for fifteen hundred meals. He said fiercely, “If the two hundred militia of Black Dragon Mountain train for three months, and the guards dare come, we’ll wipe them out. They won’t dare fight real bandits. Pity that would make us outlaws. Uncle, will you help me?”

Cai Zhongpan nodded slowly, exchanging a glance with Chen Rujie. “If the grain is brought to Black Dragon Mountain, it will be too late to turn back. Your father won’t object—but we must be thorough in our preparations!”