Chapter Nine

When the Qing army finally breached Fujian Province, the situation in the southeast became clear at last. Anyone with eyes could see that Geng Jingzhong’s days were numbered. In truth, the circumstances need not have been as favorable to the Qing as they now appeared; perhaps even Geng himself had not anticipated his downfall would come so swiftly. As the Qing forces achieved military victories at the front, the imperial court’s political campaign to win hearts and minds also reaped tremendous results. The Kangxi Emperor’s mastery in deploying traitors and sowing discord was fully displayed under his direct guidance. Thus, Geng’s supposed ally, Shang Zhixin, tore off his mask, marched troops from Guangdong to seize territory and mercilessly attack the already defeated, while Zheng Jing’s army from Taiwan—long at odds with the “Qing dogs”—crossed the sea to launch a northern expedition, seizing new footholds on the mainland. Their forces swiftly captured more than a dozen counties. Facing enemies both within and without, the authority of the Prince of Jingnan in Fuzhou soon found itself in dire straits, and now his concerns were not about how to continue the war, but to whom he should surrender to achieve the most dignified outcome.

At this juncture, the Qing court finally recovered a bit from a series of sudden blows. The Prince Kang of Hešuo, Jieshu, and General Fularma commanded over a hundred thousand troops, stationed at Xianxia Ridge, overlooking the infighting among rebels from a commanding height. They began to reorganize the rear, dispatching General Laita of Pingnan and the Zhejiang provincial governor Li Zhifang to pacify the region.

To be fair, this Qing decision was exceptionally wise. Although their victories in major battles were brilliant, the aftermath was troublesome. On the battlefields of Zhejiang, Geng Jingzhong’s army had been “destroyed,” but in the era of cold weapons, “destroyed” did not mean every single soldier was killed. The standard for measuring military success was more lenient than later times—a force that scattered and ceased to appear as an organized unit was considered eliminated. Thus, only a portion of the original hundred thousand troops were killed or captured. The rest dispersed throughout the provinces, prefectures, and counties of Zhejiang. These soldiers, separated from their families and unable to return home, lacking clothes and food, naturally turned to crime, threatening society. According to reports from various locales, the bandit problem was especially severe in the rugged Yandang Mountains. The prefect of Taizhou was so distressed he could not sleep at night.

A report from the officials sent to Linji County revealed that a force of several thousand regular troops had established themselves in his jurisdiction without his knowledge. Their banners were neat, their soldiers strong and well-mounted, discipline was strict, and they guarded the main roads, letting no one pass—not even the prefect himself. The official, aggrieved, recounted that when captured by these soldiers, he immediately revealed his identity and produced the imperial warrant, but the troops ignored him, beat him soundly, and then threatened him before letting him go.

At first, the prefect paid little heed; he knew most imperial armies behaved this way. If they were reasonable, could they still be called regular troops? Yet when he sent several letters sealed with his own hand and received no reply, his patience snapped. While Qing commanders traditionally looked down on local officials, such disregard for protocol was unprecedented. Furious, he wrote to his friend in the Jiangnan Grain Administration, who had authority with the military, asking him to report to Prince Kang and inquire which unruly bastard was stationed in Linji County.

Of course, this force could not be found in the Qing military roster, so the question quickly drew high-level attention. A mysterious army appearing quietly behind their own lines, with no news reaching officers of any rank—this was intolerable. Laita’s troops, tasked with pacifying Zhejiang, were given clear orders: deal with these thousands promptly.

As the impostor troops surfaced, Lin Feng still knew nothing of it. By now he was aware that Geng Jingzhong was doomed, and he was in the county office discussing the state of the world with Zhou Peigong.

Zhou Peigong smiled, “How old is the Emperor now? And how old is Wu Sangui? Who has had more time to prepare?” He shook his head. “By preparation, I mean only supplies and pay, not military strength. Since the defeat of Ao Bai and the Emperor’s assumption of power, reducing the power of the princes has been his top priority. He began stockpiling grain and strengthening the treasury in anticipation of conflict. But expanding the army has caused much concern, easily arousing suspicions, so it was delayed, resulting in insufficient forces now. Today, the realm is newly stabilized, and people are weary of war. If Wu Sangui were to attack relentlessly, strike while the court is unprepared and send a flanking force across the Yellow River to disrupt the heartland, the situation might not be settled. But the man lacks true ambition, content with his domain in the south. The court, fighting for righteousness, commands all the north for supplies—like a strong man against a child—his defeat is inevitable…”

“Old Zhou, can't you speak plainly? You know I hate that stuff!” Lin Feng yawned. Wu Sangui’s defeat was no mystery to him; the textbooks had made it clear long ago. “I get your meaning: the court’s current lack of troops is temporary; soon, new forces will be trained, supplies will increase, and Wu Sangui will be swept away. Right?”

“Not necessarily!” Zhou Peigong replied with a smile.

“Oh? You mean Wu Sangui could win?” Lin Feng’s interest was piqued. He wondered, had his arrival in this world changed the outcome?

“The north holds many hidden dangers; the court now walks a difficult path!” Zhou Peigong held up his fingers. “First, after the Manchus entered, they indiscriminately seized land, leaving northern provinces full of displaced peasants with no fields, clothes, or food, spreading everywhere. Though the Emperor tries to remedy it, time has been too short. The land is tinder dry—if someone stirs trouble, we may see disasters like Li Zicheng and Zhang Xianzhong. Second, the Mongol tribes remain unconvinced: the great Dzungar Galdan commands two hundred thousand horsemen; the lesser Chahar has thirty to forty thousand. If they invade the heartland now, the court may lose its footing. Third, the capital is emptier than ever; enemies like the ‘Heaven and Earth Society’ and ‘Four Lords Society’ are scattered nationwide—if they act and respond to the rebels…”

“Heaven and Earth Society!” Lin Feng suddenly became excited, slapping the table. “They say, ‘If a man does not know Chen Jinnan, he cannot call himself a hero!’ Do you know this Chen Jinnan?”

“Chen Jinnan? Isn’t he a rebel leader? The court wants him arrested—how could I know him?” Zhou Peigong looked at Lin Feng, puzzled, and frowned. Why was Lin Feng so interested in banditry? Displeased, he said, “Such a minor figure—how dare you call him a hero?”

“How is he not a hero? Didn’t you just say the Heaven and Earth Society could influence the northern situation?” Lin Feng scratched his nose awkwardly, stubbornly retorting.

“Sir—sir—something terrible has happened!” Wang Dahai burst in, covered in dust, sweat streaked black across his face, his eyes full of terror, his dark cheeks now tinged purple. He tripped at the threshold and fell heavily inside.

“Sir…” Zhao Guangyuan looked utterly defeated, limp in Lin Feng’s grip. “Wang Dahai gathered some defeated soldiers. They told us themselves, and we sent scouts to confirm—the report is true!”

“How could this happen…how could this happen?” Lin Feng slumped in despair. The history books had been clear: when Kangxi suppressed the Revolt of the Three Feudatories, he was generous in recruiting defectors, his policies highly lenient. Why, now that it was his turn, did it suddenly become so ruthless, leaving no room at all?

He sat motionless, turning blankly to Zhou Peigong.

“It must be true,” Zhou Peigong’s face was grave. After a long silence, he said slowly, “This time, the court’s policy is both suppression and appeasement. ‘Appeasement’ means sowing discord at the front, breaking the enemy’s spirit; ‘suppression’ is establishing the court’s authority, disciplining minds. Now, with Zhejiang pacified, the court will focus on suppression here—using slaughter to intimidate and pacify. In Fujian, they will focus on appeasement, coaxing Geng’s main forces to surrender without a fight, eradicating the root!”

Lin Feng suddenly understood—the Emperor’s policy was cunning: recruit the main enemy force, but for small fry like them, kill to set an example. How pitiful, how laughable. He had blindly trusted the history textbooks of his previous life, only to end in this desperate situation.

With a bitter smile, Lin Feng bowed to the assembled officers, thinking, at this point, what else can I do? Helplessly, he turned to Zhou Peigong and made a deep bow. Sincerely, he said, “Old Zhou, I’ve implicated you. You have nothing to do with us—out of friendship, I won’t make things hard for you. Pack your things and go to Laita’s camp.”

Zhou Peigong stared at him for a long while, then sighed deeply and said with a wry smile, “‘Go’—go where? Given the current situation, can I even go?” He shook his head at Lin Feng. “According to the Great Qing Law, as Linji County magistrate, I’ve failed to report, haven’t died for the court, and everyone has seen me chatting happily with you—the ‘rebel leader.’ This crime of ‘colluding with rebels’ is as solid as stone; I can’t wash it away. My whole family will be executed!”

Lin Feng felt deeply guilty. According to history, this old friend would have flourished and held great power, but because of his arrival, all had vanished. He felt ashamed. “It’s all my fault—I’ve implicated your parents and every relative and friend of the Zhou family!”

“‘Parents? Zhou family relatives?’” Zhou Peigong suddenly laughed, pointing to his nose. “The whole Zhou family is here. If my family is executed, it’s simple—kill me and the Zhou bloodline ends.”

Lin Feng was stunned, then understood, and managed a bitter smile. “You’re still joking at a time like this. Truly reckless.”

Zhou Peigong smiled slightly, then grew serious. “What are your plans, General?”

Lin Feng calmed himself. At worst, it was death; he’d muddled into this world, already died once—what was there to fear? He pondered, then said slowly, “The Qing are too strong now; our four or five thousand men have no chance. We absolutely cannot fight. But west, south, and north are locked by imperial forces—we can neither advance nor retreat. It’s a dire situation.” He looked up at Zhou Peigong. “Any ideas, Peigong?”

Zhou Peigong smiled, but said nothing, glancing sideways at Yang Haisheng, standing nearby.

Lin Feng followed his gaze, then froze, exclaiming, “By sea?!” But he frowned. “Where could we go? South to Fujian meets the invincible navy of Zheng’s family in Taiwan—that’s a dead end. Further east, we cross the sea to Japan—are we supposed to serve the little Japanese? I’d rather fight the Qing!”

He looked bitterly at Zhou Peigong, whose smile remained. Suddenly, inspiration struck Lin Feng, and his own idea startled him. He licked his dry lips and asked tentatively, “Could it be…Peigong means…northward?!”

Zhou Peigong immediately grew solemn, his chest heaving with tension. He took a deep breath, leaned close to Lin Feng’s ear, and whispered, word by word, “The carp leaps the dragon gate—ride the wind to the nine heavens!”

Lin Feng stared at Zhou Peigong, neither agreeing nor objecting, silent for a long time. He paced back and forth, his face alternating between flush and pallor, sometimes anxious, sometimes delighted. After much thought, he suddenly raised his head and met the eyes of his officers. Their gaze was full of hope and trust, each tense, all watching him intently, none daring to interrupt.

Looking at these honest men, Lin Feng stood abruptly, finally steeling himself. He shouted, “Yang Haisheng!”

“Present!”

“Prepare the ships! I’ll give you a hundred thousand taels of silver—go to the fishing villages, find your pirate friends, get ships—bigger, more, faster! By this time tomorrow, I want to see them—enough for at least five thousand men. If you succeed, I’ll reward you greatly; but if there’s one seat short, I’ll take your head!”

“Understood! By tomorrow, you’ll see ships—or my head!” Yang Haisheng answered confidently.

“Zhao Guangyuan, Liu Lao Si, Wang Dahai!”

“Present!”

“Order the army to gather at the fishing village where my headquarters are. Break camp and head east; tonight, we camp on the beach!”

“Understood!” The officers filed out. Lin Feng looked at Zhou Peigong, who was smiling. Suddenly, agitation seized him. He drew his saber and, with a loud crack, split the wooden table before him in two, gritting his teeth and laughing fiercely, “Kangxi, you bastard! Extermination—let’s see who dies first!”